So This Is Love

chapter Twenty

Emma sat cross-legged on Max's couch, dipping her chopsticks into a carton of chicken and noodles. She'd stopped by her parents' house on the way back from the fire to pick up a change of clothes. Fortunately, neither one of her parents had been home to grill her with questions, so she'd left a note on the refrigerator saying she was staying with friends for a few days and not to worry. They'd hear about the fire at her place from Burke or Aiden, but by then she hoped they'd have a suspect in custody.

She glanced across the room at Max, who had already finished eating, and was staring at the laptop computer he'd set up on the coffee table.

"What are you looking at?" she asked.

"My email. I was hoping the Sheriff in Lake Tahoe might have found someone who saw Margaret in the area. But there's nothing yet."

"A lot of those cabins are remote, and if it was night when she was taken into the house, it's possible no one saw her."

"It is a long shot. I checked to see if the Morettis own property in Tahoe; they don't. Neither do the Bradys."

"But any one of their friends could have houses up there. Are you still focused on the Morettis? How do they fit into the fire at my apartment?"

"I don't think Jarod set the fire. We saw him minutes before. Tony could have been involved. He asked us a lot of questions about the investigation the other day. I haven't ruled out Christian Brady. You mentioned that he doesn't like female firefighters, and he was not particularly cooperative when you went to speak to his father. He knows how to set a fire."

She shook her head. "Christian loves his father and that bar. If this were just about my place, I'd put him on the suspect list, because I know he doesn't respect me as a firefighter or an investigator."

"What about his brother? What kind of relationship do you have with him?"

"Robert and I were in the same grade, so I was actually better friends with him than with Christian. Growing up, the Bradys spent a lot of time in our house. Christian and Robert's mother divorced Harry when the boys were really young, so my mom was always inviting them over for meals. Christian and Robert were like brothers. We argued and got annoyed with each other. But in recent years we haven't had much contact." She paused. "Are we taking Jeffrey Harbough off the list?"

"I don't think he's involved. He's too removed from this area. Our suspect has to be from the St. Andrew's neighborhood. And they have to know you."

She hated the idea that one of her friends could be involved. "I don't think they have to be from the neighborhood, but I do agree that they have to know me. They have to have some negative attitude about me. When I go to work tomorrow, I'm going to see if I can get a list of the candidates who applied for my job. If this guy thinks he's better than me, maybe he's upset that I got the job instead of him. I should have thought of that earlier," she added.

"You didn't believe you were the target earlier."

"But you were. You told me that outside of Brady's. You said I was the common denominator, and I blew you off."

"I was just guessing. And I was pissed that everywhere I went you seemed to be."

"Funny, I had the same feeling about you. And yet our mutual dislike brought us here."

"I wouldn't say I disliked you," he said quietly, his gaze turning more serious. "But I knew you were going to be trouble, Emma. You were going to have an impact on my life."

"Since I'm now your houseguest, I guess you were right. So have we run out of suspects?"

He stared back at her for a long moment, as if he were debating whether or not to tell her something.

"Don't hold back now," she said. "Whatever you want to say, say it."

"You're not going to like it. But I went to see Jon tonight."

Her jaw dropped in surprise. She had not expected those words to come out of his mouth. "My ex-boyfriend? Why would you do that?"

"Because I thought he could be involved. The spray-painted message used the word bitch, and we both heard him call you that the other day."

"Jon is not involved. That's ridiculous," she said, getting to her feet. "I can't believe you went there without telling me."

"You were busy looking for evidence. I was looking for suspects."

"How did you even know where to find him?"

"Aiden took me to his office."

"Aiden?" Anger raced through her. "You got my brother involved?"

"He volunteered. We were both worried about you." Max got to his feet. "Jon has been sending you text messages for days. I saw his agitation and desperation when he confronted you outside the deli. He wanted you back, and you refused. It's not that far of a leap to think he'd try to get revenge."

"It's a huge leap to think he'd become an arsonist."

"Is it? He thought you put your job before him. Maybe he wanted to show you that you weren't that good at it."

"So what did he say? Did he confess?"

Max's lips tightened. "He said he didn't do it."

She gave him a long, speculative look, wondering just how that scene had gone down. "What did you say?"

"I told him he better not be lying, and that if he bothered you again, he'd be sorry."

"You threatened Jon? What gave you the right to do that?"

"I'm a cop. I was investigating a crime. And I protect the people I care about. So you're just going to have to get over it, Emma, because I'm not going to let that lying a*shole get anywhere near you again."

She stared at him in shock. "I'm going to have to just get over it?" she echoed. "Did you really just say that?"

"Yes," he said flatly.

The air between them sizzled. Every nerve ending in her body was tingling with both anger and arousal. "How I am supposed to get over it?" she challenged.

He took a step forward. "I'll show you." His mouth came down on hers in a hard, demanding, possessive kiss that literally rocked her back on her heels.

All the emotions of the last few hours came together in one explosive moment. Emma couldn't fight it. She didn't want to fight it. She wanted to lose herself in Max, let go of the anger, the fear, and the sense of loss.

So she kissed him back, again and again, until she felt dizzy. They didn't make it to the bedroom. They barely made it to the couch.

Buttons flew in disarray as clothes were removed with rough and urgent hands, and it was no longer about who was in charge. She didn't care if she was on the bottom or the top. She didn't care if it was her kiss or his—her touch or his. She just wanted to be connected to Max in every possible way, to feel the delicious friction of their bodies, to breathe in his scent, and to take him deep inside her.

Their lovemaking was hot, fast and soul-shattering. Whatever barriers had been between them were completely stripped away. Neither one of them was in control. The result was a spectacular blaze of heat and a free-fall into what terrifyingly felt a lot like love.

* * *

Hours later, Emma snuggled up against Max in his king-sized bed, wondering how she'd become so addicted to a man so fast. They'd made love twice already, and she wanted more.

"Can't sleep?" Max asked, a husky, tender note in his voice, as he rubbed her back.

"I should be able to. We had quite a workout," she said lightly. "And by the way, I'm still not over it."

He suddenly moved, flipping her onto her back. He smiled at her. "I guess I have some work to do then."

"Stop. I'm exhausted," she said, unable to resist smiling back at him. "No amount of great sex is going to make up for the fact that you went behind my back. And I can't believe you took Aiden with you. He's got as hot a head as your brother. I could easily see him taking a swing at Jon." She paused. "Wait a second. Did either one of you hit Jon?"

"Worried about his pretty face?"

"Worried about whether one or both of you might get arrested for assault."

"Don't be concerned. He's fine. We didn’t touch him. I wanted to, but I didn't. I have to admit that for the first time I really understood how my brother felt when he thought Stephanie was being threatened."

"But you didn't let your emotions get the best of you."

"It was a struggle."

"What did you ask Jon?"

"I asked him where he was. I got his alibi. And after speaking with him for a few minutes, I didn't think he did it."

"Of course he didn't. I told you that."

"I wasn't sure you knew him as well as you thought you did."

She sighed. "I'm not proud of that relationship. I feel like a fool for not seeing how shallow Jon was. But part of me didn't want to see his flaws, because then I'd have to admit that I'd made a mistake. And that would be embarrassing. I learned a lot from that relationship though. So it wasn't worth nothing."

"I think Jon is very good at showing people what they want to see," Max said. "That's probably why he's successful."

She appreciated his words, but there was an odd note in his voice. "Is there something else you need to tell me, Max?"

"You don't want to know, Emma."

"There you go, deciding what I should know. I don't like it when you do that."

"What he told me will hurt you."

"I don't think it will. I'm over Jon. I have been for a long time. His words have no power over me. So tell me, I can take it."

"Jon is running for supervisor next year. He thought the Callaway union connections would help his cause. His political strategists thought you would look good on his arm."

She wasn't really that surprised. In fact, his sudden text messages made a lot more sense now. She'd suspected that Jon had had some ulterior motive for his sudden change of heart. "Okay," she said.

Max raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"That's it."

Max brushed her hair away from her face. "He really has no idea what he lost in you, Emma."

"You mean, besides my union connections?"

"Yeah, besides that," he said, giving her a tender kiss. "You're an amazing, strong, smart, beautiful woman. You're way too good for him."

"I like it when you leave out all my negative traits."

"It's hard to remember what they are right now," he said, giving her a teasing smile.

She could feel his hard groin pressing against her hips. "Okay, one more time," she said. Then she pulled his head down and applied her own special kind of pressure.

* * *

Max came out of the shower the next morning to see Emma fast asleep in his bed. Since he'd gotten up, she'd taken over the middle of the mattress and was sprawled across the sheets and pillows. Her blond hair was tangled, and her cheeks were pink. He thought she might just be the prettiest woman he'd ever seen. He was thinking about getting back into bed with her when his cell phone rang.

He walked into the living room and retrieved the phone from the pocket of his jeans. His mother was calling at eight o'clock in the morning. That couldn't be good.

"Hello?"

"Spencer is gone," she said dramatically. "I can't find him anywhere, and he's not answering his phone. I checked the beach, and he wasn't there. The surfboard is in the garage."

"He's probably just taking a walk."

"A walk in the wrong neighborhood," she said. "Spencer was on my computer last night and this morning I saw the search engine window open. Spencer was looking for Stephanie's address, and I think he found it."

His heart sank. "I'll go to her house."

"Do you want me to give you the address he found online?"

"I know where she lives."

"Thank you, Max. I don't want Spencer to get into any more trouble, and where that woman is concerned, he seems to have absolutely no sense."

"I'll call you later."

When he returned to the bedroom, Emma had left the bed, and he could hear the shower going. He finished dressing and went back to the kitchen to start some coffee. As it brewed, he wondered what Spencer had in mind. Stephanie was married with a child. Was Spencer just going to knock on her door? Or was it more likely that he'd wait until her husband left for work?

With a sigh, he grabbed a banana and ate it, then poured two cups of coffee and took one into the bedroom. Emma came out of the bathroom dressed in dark jeans and a black sweater. Her blue eyes sparkled when she saw him. "Is that coffee in your hand?"

"Made it for you," he said, handing her the mug.

"Thanks," she said with a grateful smile. "I heard the phone. Everything okay?"

"I'm not sure. It appears that Spencer has gone to look for Stephanie. I told my mother I'd drive over to Stephanie's house and see if I can find him."

Emma gave him a sympathetic smile. "Brothers can be a pain."

"Yes," he said, sipping his coffee. The last thing he wanted to do was chase down Spencer. And the second to last thing he wanted to do was go to work. He'd rather spend the day with Emma, in bed, out of bed, anywhere really.

She flushed under his gaze. "You're staring at me again."

"I can't get enough of you."

"Hard to believe after last night." She cleared her throat. "Why don't I go with you to find Spencer? Unless you want to go alone?"

"I'm fine if you want to come with me." Emma could be very persuasive, and he might need her help to talk Spencer into leaving Stephanie alone.

"I'll put on my shoes," she said, setting down her coffee.

"Do you need some breakfast?"

"I'll get something later. Let's go find your brother."

* * *

Stephanie lived in Noe Valley, a mostly residential neighborhood at the southern end of San Francisco. The houses were small but charming. Max pulled up in front of Stephanie's home. There was no sign of Spencer on the street. He turned off the engine and looked around.

"I don't see him," Emma said.

"I don't either," he replied, a bad feeling in his stomach. "Let's take a walk."

"Do you want to just knock on her door?" Emma suggested as they got out of the car. "That's probably the most direct approach. I could do it, make something up. She won't know who I am. I can make sure she's okay."

"He wouldn't hurt her. I'm more concerned that she'll hurt him, or her husband will. But you're right. We might as well check the house." He marched across the street and rang the bell. There was no answer. "She's not here. I don’t know if that's a good sign or a bad sign."

"Let's take a walk through the neighborhood," Emma said. "I saw some cute cafés and shops on the next street over. Maybe she took her baby out for a walk."

"Good idea."

"This is a nice part of the city," Emma commented. "It's a real family neighborhood," she added, as she playfully jumped through hopscotch squares drawn in chalk on the cement. "I didn't know kids still played hopscotch—an old-fashioned game for our technological age. It's nice to know that some simple pleasures still exist. Not that I would want to give up technology. I'm addicted to email and Internet. I can't go on vacation if there's no Wi-Fi."

"I feel the same way," he admitted. "When I went surfing the other day, I realized just how long it had been since I'd been without my phone. I was just sitting on a board in the ocean at the mercy of a wave for my next ride to shore."

"I used to think you were an impatient person," Emma said. "But I've since learned that you can be very patient."

He smiled at the mischievous look in her eyes. "Well, patience has its rewards. When you pick the right wave to ride, there's no better feeling."

She laughed. "Are you comparing me to a wave?"

"I thought we were talking about surfing, but now I see where your mind is."

She playfully punched his arm. "My mind was in exactly the same place yours was; don't try to pretend otherwise."

"Guilty," he said, enjoying their conversation, and their walk, and pretty much everything about this moment. He hadn't felt so relaxed, so in tune with another person in a very long time. He had a mental connection with Emma. They could actually finish each other's sentences. But then they were a lot alike in some ways. They were both driven to achieve, both intensely curious, although he thought Emma might have him beaten in that department, and they were both wary when it came to relationships.

He wasn't sure what they were doing at the moment. He didn't really want to define it or analyze it, because in his experience putting a label on something was a good way to kill it.

As they turned the corner, he saw a children's play park across the street. But on this side of the street, sitting on a bench at the bus stop, was Spencer.

Emma met his gaze. He nodded, knowing that Stephanie had to be in that park, probably with her child and any number of other mothers who would probably be hyper-aware of single men watching a play park with small children.

Spencer looked up as they approached, no apology in his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Max asked.

"I had to see her." Spencer tipped his head toward the park.

Max saw a slender brunette pushing a little boy on a swing. She didn't seem to be aware that she was the focus of Spencer's attention. "I take it you haven't spoken to her."

Spencer let out a heavy sigh. "That little boy should have been my son. She should be pushing our child on the swing, not some other man's kid. We talked about children a lot. We were going to have three, two girls and a boy."

Emma sat down on the bench next to Spencer and gave him a sympathetic smile. "It's hard to see your role being played by someone else."

Spencer turned to Emma. "That's exactly it. Some other guy has my part. It's not right."

"Let me take you home," Max suggested.

"I don't even know where home is anymore." Spencer gazed at Stephanie again. "My home was supposed to be with her." He drew in a long, ragged breath. "I loved her so much. She was my whole life—my everything. I just wanted to protect her. That's all I was doing that night. I was keeping her safe."

Max's heart tore at the pain in his brother's voice, the anguish of emotions that still hadn't died, even after so many years.

"How did I get to be the bad guy?" Spencer asked. "How did I lose her?"

"Let's get out of here," Max said, knowing that he couldn't possibly begin to answer his brother's questions.

Spencer ignored him.

"She loved me, too, once," Spencer said, gazing back toward the park. "She's actually more beautiful than I remember."

Max wanted to remind his brother that Stephanie was not the saint he'd made her into in his mind, but he doubted Spencer would listen to him.

"You did keep her safe," Emma said quietly. "You did protect her, Spencer. Whether she acknowledges that or not, you know it's true. If you hadn't fought that night, who knows what that man would have done to her."

"Thanks for saying that. Very few people see it that way." Spencer gave Max a hard look. "And I understand why you couldn't see it that way. Because you've never loved anyone the way I've loved Stephanie. You put your heart away a long time ago. For you there are no messy emotions." Spencer looked back at Emma. "Do you want someone whose heart is locked in a block of ice?"

"Leave her out of this," Max said sharply.

"It's okay. I can speak for myself," Emma said, her tone turning hard. "If you think Max is cold, then you don't know him at all, Spencer. He has deep compassion and a tremendous sense of loyalty. And he cares about you. He moved his whole life here to support you, although you probably haven't given him much thought these last few years. It's been all about you, what you lost, who you loved. What about Max? Do you know anything about his life? Do you even want to know?"

Max was as shocked at Emma's words as Spencer was. She'd nailed their relationship right on the head, and she was the first person who'd ever called Spencer out. He should be pissed off that she was speaking for him, that she was getting into his family business, but at the moment all he could do was admire her courage and her honesty.

"Max is a great person and you're lucky to have him for a brother," she continued. "From where I sit, you don't have too many people who care about you, so maybe you should appreciate those that do." She took a breath and looked at Max. "And yes, I know it's none of my business. I'll save you the trouble of telling me to shut up and go away." She got to her feet. "I'll meet you at the car."

She strode away, her shoulders thrown back, her hair blowing in the breeze. Emma was really something else. He glanced back at his brother.

"You're going to have your hands full with her," Spencer said.

"Tell me about it." He sat down on the bench next to his brother.

A moment of silence passed between them. "Did you really move back here for me?" Spencer asked.

"And Mom," he said. "I thought you both might need some support."

"I thought it was just a job transfer."

"I don't believe you thought anything at all." Emma had inspired him to be more direct.

Spencer gave him a quick glance. "You're right. I wasn't thinking about you, just about myself, my life."

The words should have hurt, but the admission actually made Max feel better. At least they weren't pretending anymore.

"I know I brought all my problems on myself," Spencer added.

"Stephanie helped," he said. "You need to see her the way she really is and not just the way you want her to be." He waved his hand toward the park. "She's moved on. She fell in love again. She had a child. She's a wife and a mother. She's not your girlfriend anymore. You have to let her go. She let you go a long time ago." He paused. "And you already know that. If you didn't, you'd be at that park talking to her, instead of sitting here on this bench."

"I needed to see her in her real life. She looks happy. I can see that she loves being a mother. She lost her family when she was young. But now she has a new family." He looked at Max. "Life isn't black and white. People are complicated—the good ones and the bad ones. You only saw the bad in Stephanie, but I also saw the good."

"I'm a cop. I see good and bad in people every day of the week. I also see people who get stuck in a pattern that will ultimately destroy them. I don't want to see that happen to you. Let me take you home."

"Mom sent you, didn't she?"

He nodded. "She was worried about you."

"I need to get my own place."

"You will. You're starting over, Spencer. And it's up to you how you want to live your life now. No one else is in charge of it anymore. It's all up you." He stood up. "We both need to go to work."

Spencer rose, sent one last wistful look across the playground and then followed Max down the street.

"So what's with you and Emma?" Spencer asked. "You're a couple now?"

"I'm not sure what we are."

"Did you spend the night together?"

"That's not your business."

"You're making my life your business. And I'm going to take that non-answer as a yes." Spencer paused. "I like her. She doesn't pull her punches. You ready for that?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I've never met anyone who made me want to think about the future."

"Until you met her."

"Until I met her," he echoed. "But the men in our family have a lousy track record when it comes to love."

"You sound like you think you have a choice."

"Everyone has a choice."

"Not when it comes to love, little brother. Trust me. I don't know much, but I do know that."