Don't Tell

  “Don’t put that on,” Max asked quietly. His hands had stilled on the coffeepot he held as he looked over at her. “I want to see you. In the daylight.”

  Caroline bit her lip. In the daylight. Up until this moment they’d made love at night. In the darkness. By firelight. Even yesterday morning he’d kept the shades pulled low, keeping his bedroom in semi-darkness. But this morning all the shades were pulled high, letting in every beam of morning sunlight. All her scars would be visible in the daylight. But he’d see them sooner or later, she told herself. She dropped the shirt back to the floor.

  “All right, Max.” Nevertheless she clamped her arms over the sheet, holding it in place as she took the plate he offered. “Smells good. I guess I was hungrier than I thought.”

  He raised a wry brow. “We worked up quite an appetite last night.”

  Caroline felt her cheeks burn, but couldn’t stop the smile that curved her lips. “I guess we did.” Oh, boy, they did. Her body still tingled from the exertion. Muscles ached that she hadn’t known existed. Max certainly didn’t let his handicap stop him from full mobility, in bed or out.

  Mercy.

  He was a most generous man, many times over.

  Max chuckled and sipped his coffee. “You have the most adorable blush.” He leaned over and covered her lips with his, almost knocking the plate from her lap. He glanced down at the plate. “Have you had enough to eat yet?”

  She’d yet to take a bite. “Depends. What are you suggesting we do instead?”

  “Mmm,” he murmured, running his mouth up the curve of her jaw to her ear, wringing the most delicious shiver all the way through her body. “Obviously you weren’t paying enough attention last night. Some after-school instruction is in order.”

  She smiled against his cleanly shaven cheek. “More places?”

  The plate was moved from her lap and pushed onto the nightstand where luckily it stayed.

  “You’re going to have sticky sheets if you’re not careful,” she admonished.

  “I’ll wash them,” he muttered, as he pulled her back down on the bed until she looked up into his face. His eyes had the look she’d come to know so well over the last forty-eight hours. He wanted her. Again. Her body grew warm just from the way his eyes took her in, as if she were … precious.

  He made her feel precious. And suddenly all the guilt that had been building assaulted her in one big wave. She owed him more honesty than she’d given him so far. She’d let this go way too far without telling him about that damned marriage certificate in the Buncombe County, North Carolina courthouse. She owed him the rest of the story, and she owed it to him now.

  “Max,” she began to say, but he interrupted her with a kiss so possessive it stole her breath. She reached for his shoulders to push him back—to talk to him, but her hands, treacherous hands that they were, continued across the breadth of his back. The heels of her hands dug into powerful sinew and muscle, drawing an appreciative groan from deep within his chest. His mouth left hers only to nibble a trail down the side of her neck.

  She tensed. In the morning light he’d see her scars plainly. But there was no shocked cry of disgust. He never even skipped a beat as his mouth heated her skin anew. He hadn’t noticed. Or if he had, he wasn’t so repulsed after all. She relaxed, sinking into the sensations he created simply by the touch of his lips. Her hands wandered, exploring him with a newfound freedom, sliding across his back, his hips, his buttocks that abruptly tightened in response to her feathery caresses.

  He lifted himself so that he was looking down at her, sexual tension making the lines of his face harsh. Without saying a word he brushed the hair from her face, so gently that her eyes filled from the beauty of the gesture, so at odds with the ferocity of his expression.

  She was precious, Max thought, this woman he held in his arms. She was his. “I love you, Caroline,” he told her, his voice husky. “I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”

  She blinked, sending two fat tears down the sides of her face and he wiped them away with his thumbs. “I’m glad I didn’t know then how beautiful this would be.” Her reply was a shaky whisper. “I don’t think I could have survived without it as long as I did.”

  His heart squeezed. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m so damn glad you did.” He took her lips then, driving away her sadness the way he’d found most effective. The way he intended to do for the rest of their lives. He kissed her until her arms came up to wind around his neck, until she kissed him back. Wholeheartedly, withholding nothing. It was what he’d been waiting for.

  She was arching against him now, driving him crazy with the way her body sought his, even through the sheet she clutched like a shield.

  It was time. The way he’d dreamed it all those years of nights alone in his bed. He lifted his head to say the words, but her lips chased for more, so he kissed her with a downward pressure that pushed her head back into the pillows.

  “Marry me, Caroline,” he said against her lips. And waited for her to say yes, as she had every time he’d played this scene in his mind.

  Instead her body went still. Stiff. And his heart stopped. He lifted his head to find her face ashen, her blue eyes wide.

  And horrified.

  “Caroline?”

  She opened her mouth, formed the word no, but no sound emerged to accompany the rejection. She shook her head. Hard. Decisively.

  His jaw tightened. He’d anticipated, in his more calculated plays of this scene, that she’d need time to think about it. That it was too soon. He hadn’t expected an unqualified no. He hadn’t expected horror. Not from Caroline.

  He pushed himself away from her, his spine now as stiff as hers. He sat up, widening the distance between them.

  “Care to tell me why?”

  She nodded.

  “Out loud?” he added.

  She licked her lips. Sat up and pulled that damned sheet higher. But still produced nothing resembling a verbal explanation. “Sometime this century, Caroline?”

  Her eyes flashed and she pressed her lips together. He’d made her angry. Good. Because so was he.

  “Let me make it easier for you,” he said, throwing his legs off the side of the bed to grab a pair of gym shorts from the closest drawer. He stumbled as he made the short walk to the chair in the corner. Anger surged, and he savagely controlled it as he sat down. He shoved his legs into the shorts, then pulled them up and stood in the same movement.

  “I’ll make it a multiple choice.” He searched the room for his cane, then limped over to pick it up. “Choice A. You’re afraid of me. You think I’ll hurt you like your ex-husband did.”

  He walked closer, leaning on the cane, staring at her in his bed, her back pressed against his pillows. She stared back, her now narrowed eyes locked on his, bright blue as the core of a gas flame. “Go on,” she said softly. “I’m anxious to hear the rest of my choices.”

  He stopped where he stood, his anger slightly subsiding. She was no longer horrified, no longer merely angry. She was furious. He’d never seen this side of her, this cold fury, even the night she swept into his house to yank him from the mire of his own self-pity. He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for her hand. She crossed her arms over her breasts in response.

  “What is multiple choice B, Dr. Hunter?” she asked in that same deceptively soft voice. One dark brow quirked up. “I truly want to know.”

  Max took a deep breath. He’d stepped in something. There would be no way around it now. He’d have to go through it. “That you don’t love me as much as you … led me to believe.”

  Her jaw clenched. “And choice C? Please don’t disappoint me, Professor. There simply must be a choice C or it’s not a fair test.”

  Max looked away. “These.” He pointed to the ugly red scars on his legs. “And this.” He held up his cane and winced when she laughed bitterly. The bed moved and when he looked back she’d pulled his shirt on and held it closed like a bathrobe.

&n
bsp; “Those are my choices?” she asked, picking up her clothing from the floor where he’d discarded them the night before. “I’m a fool, I’m a liar, or I’m a hypocrite.” She straightened and turned to him, her eyes bright, no longer with the flame of her fury, but with tears. “I guess I should be relieved to find out what you really think about me, Max, before you do something stupid like ask me to marry you. I choose D. None of the above.” She walked around the bed to where he still sat, the tears now running down her face. “I’d be a fool if I thought you were like Rob. You’re gentle. He was abusive and angry. The only common trait I can see is that you’re both prone to temper tantrums when you don’t get your way immediately.” He dropped his eyes to the curve of his cane, wishing with all his might he could take back the words. But of course it was too late.

  “I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t love you,” she continued, her voice breaking. He couldn’t look up. “Because I do. More than I ever thought possible. And I’ll tell you one other thing, Max. Rob hurt my body, but he never, ever broke my heart.” He heard her draw a deep breath. “Because I never loved him.”

  He stood to follow her as she moved to the door and stopped when she abruptly turned, her eyes now wild and hurt. “Don’t come after me. Don’t touch me. I don’t want you to touch me.” She wheeled around, the tail of his shirt flying in the wake of the breeze she created.

  Max held up his hands, palms out, in surrender. “Caroline, wait. Please.”

  She paused, her back still to him. “Why?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her back stiffened. “You’re sorry,” she repeated carefully. “That’s very nice. You’re sorry you accused me of being so shallow, so hypocritical, that I’d judge you based on your scars? Didn’t you listen to anything I told you last night? Damn you, Max. Think about someone besides yourself for a damn minute.” She turned her back to him and let his shirt drop to the floor.

  His gut reeled as if he’d taken a physical blow and bile rose in his throat, gagging him. He sank down to sit on the edge of the bed, barely conscious he’d done so. Her back …

  “Caroline.” It was as if her name was wrenched from his chest. Along with his heart and every last nerve in his body. He sat, unable to move. “My God.”

  “You want to compare scars, Max?” she asked, her voice quiet now. “I think I win.”

  Chicago

  Sunday, March 18

  9 A.M.

  The phone ringing jolted Winters out of a nice, easy sleep. He rolled over and stretched, watching Evie feel for the phone by her bed, her eyes still shut.

  There was something to be said for younger women.

  They may not rise with the chickens, but they certainly were … inventive.

  Evie managed to get the receiver to her ear. “Hello?” She paused, frowned. “She’s not here. Wait, Caroline! What’s wrong?” She paused again. “Because you’re crying, that’s why. What’s wrong?”

  Winters’s ears perked up at the sound of that name. It would seem little Mary Grace wasn’t having a very good day.

  “She worked last night,” Evie said. “She won’t be home for at least another hour.” She turned over and shot him a distracted smile. “Try paging her. Caroline, wait.” She rolled over and sat up, holding the phone with both hands. “Don’t hang up. Look, about what happened on Friday. I’m sorry I said what I did. I want you to be happy with Max.” Evie winced and pulled the phone away from her ear, frowning as she stared at it before hanging it up.

  “What was that all about?” Winters asked, keeping his voice at just the right level of interest.

  Evie gave the phone one last puzzled look, then turned to him with a shrug. “That was Caroline; you know, my friend I had the fight with. Oh, of course you know her— you were fixing her pipes.” She rolled her eyes and laughed at herself. “That was stupid of me. Anyway, she needed a ride back to her place.” She scrunched up one corner of her mouth. “She’s had a fight with Max. A pretty bad one, I’d guess. She told me I was welcome to him.” She looked down at him with a grin. “Too little, too late, huh?”

  Winters smiled back, his mind already processing. He needed to get to Caroline’s first. He needed to be waiting for her. If she’d had a fight, the tall guy with the cane would be absent. It was the opportunity he’d been waiting for. “Listen, hon, I’ve got to go. Your roommate will be home soon, and—” He rolled out of bed only to have her playfully pull him back.

  “We’ve got an hour, Mike. We can do a lot with sixty whole minutes. Besides, if Dana goes to pick up Caroline she won’t be home until past eleven. C’mon, it’s Sunday. Don’t tell me you work on Sunday.”

  Winters pulled her hands from his waist none too gently. “I really need to go, Evie. I’ll call you later.” He rose from the bed and began pulling on his clothes. She followed him, pulling his jacket from a chair and slipping into it. She was so tall his jacket barely covered her naked ass. He looked over, mildly admiring. She had a nice naked ass. “Give me my jacket, Evie. I need to go.”

  She smiled saucily. “You’ll have to take it off me.”

  Winters rolled his eyes. This had gone beyond amusing. “Give me my jacket. Now.” He reached for the collar and pulled it from her back. She struggled, still playing, then stopped when something small fell from his pocket. Winters tried to grab it, but she’d seen it and had already bent over to pick it up.

  “What’s this?” she asked, turning over the 3x5 fake gold picture frame.

  Winters watched her, gauging her reaction, hoping for her sake Evie Wilson was really, really stupid. She’d grown on him. And she was one of the best lays he’d had in months.

  She looked up at him, her brows furrowed. Damn. She wasn’t going to be stupid.

  “This is a picture of Tom Stewart. You stole this from Caroline’s apartment.” A look of revulsion crossed her face. “Oh, my God. You like boys. Oh, my God.” She looked down at the picture again and frowned at the small walletsize photo he himself had stuck in the corner. “This doesn’t make sense. This is Tom a long time ago.” She tugged the small picture from the corner of the frame and read the date on the back and her face went pale. She took a step back. “Oh, my God. You’re …” Her eyes flipped up to his, wide and terrified now.

  Damn. She had to be really not stupid. He’d always thought God wasted brains on women.

  She moved for the bedroom door, still wearing nothing but his jacket. He needed to get it off her. Blood was a bitch of a stain to get out. He gripped her wrist until she fell to her knees.

  Interesting possibilities. But he was in a hurry. No more time for fun. Even if the girl had a mouth like a Hoover. Which she did.

  She looked up at him, crying now. “Don’t. Please, don’t.”

  He pulled the jacket from her back before pulling her to her feet. “Now, Evie, what do you think I’m going to do?” He pushed her to the bed and reached inside his jacket pocket for the ball of twine he’d purchased on the way to pick her up the night before. Adelman had been unplanned. He didn’t intended to be so unprepared when he finally got Mary Grace in his hands.

  And good preparation always paid off.

  He glanced at his watch. He didn’t have a lot of time for this. Best to just get it over with and finish the job.

  He smiled down at Evie who was staring at him with glassy-eyed terror. He couldn’t wait to see that same look in Mary Grace’s blue eyes. “Evie, didn’t your parents teach you not to get into cars with strange men?”

  Chicago

  Sunday, March 18

  10 A.M.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Dana hissed as she stalked up the steps to Max’s front porch. “Why are you sitting here in the cold? And what happened?”

  Caroline kept her eyes on the big oak tree in Max’s yard, remembering the first time she’d seen it, the stupid fantasies of little black-haired children, begging to be pushed in the tire swing. “Just take me home.”

  “I’ll do nothing of the kind.
I talked to this man yesterday, Caroline. He cares about you.”

  Caroline surged to her feet. “He thinks I’m a liar and … shallow!” She walked down the front steps and pulled on the door to Dana’s old junk pile. Of course, being a prudent native Chicagoan, Dana had locked her doors. Caroline tugged on the door again and glared at Dana, who stubbornly still stood on Max’s front porch.

  Max opened the door and looked at her, his eyes anguished. As well they should be, Caroline thought. “She wouldn’t come in,” he told Dana, finally breaking the stare to look to Dana for help.

  Dana sighed. “Caroline is being stubborn? Tell me it isn’t so. Come in the house, Caro. We need to put whatever happened to bed.”

  Caroline laughed bitterly. “So to speak. You can put it anywhere you want, Dana. Just leave me out of it.”

  “I fucked up,” Max told Dana, his voice quiet. “He did,” Caroline confirmed.

  Dana looked from Max to Caroline, then sighed again. “Caro, I’ve been up all night. I met three separate families at the bus station. I’m tired and I’m coming up on that time of the month. If you plan to screw with me, you picked one hell of a time.” She looked at Max. “Let’s go in and hear it.”

  Caroline’s jaw dropped as Dana’s treason struck home. “What? You can’t do that.”

  Dana shot her a level glare. “Why not? This isn’t always about you, Caroline. You tell someone you love them, you involve them. You include them. Now grow up and get your ass in this house.”

  Caroline stared at her for a long minute, then rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” This was the Dana that kicked her out of Hanover House and pushed her to get her GED. It was the Dana that loved her like a sister. Unwillingly she made her feet move. Max held the door open for her and she walked through it, looking at his face.

  His drawn, haggard face.

  The face that had looked down at her with such tenderness as he’d made love to her all night. The face to which she still hadn’t told the whole truth.

  Dana patted the kitchen table. “Everybody sit. Do you have any coffee?”