Blue Twilight. Maggie Shayne

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      He sighed, nodded. “Fine. I’ll sit. I need to talk to you, anyway.”

      “‘Bout what?” she asked.

      He sighed as he lowered himself onto the stool. “The truth is, kid, I want to go with you to Endover. I like working with you, and I’m scared shitless to think what kind of trouble you might get yourself into without me.”

      She rolled her eyes. “Your faith in me is overwhelming.”

      He lowered his head, searching for the right words. “The thing is, while I like working with you and I want to watch out for you, I don’t like some of the things you do.”

      She lifted her eyebrows. “You don’t?”

      “No. Now, don’t go getting all hurt and wounded on me, hon, but—”

      “Ooooh,” she said, drawing the sound out into a sexy purr. “I just love when you call me ‘hon.’” As she said it, she leaned closer, so her breath warmed his neck.

      Lou shot to his feet, slammed his palms on the marble. “Goddammit, Max, that’s exactly the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

      She jumped and stared at him, wide-eyed.

      “Look, this isn’t easy for me. It’s goddamn embarrassing, as a matter of fact, but I don’t know how to do this except to just come right out with it. I’m not a gelding, Maxie. I’m not a monk. When you play those games with me, I react, okay? My body—reacts. I’m a healthy, red-blooded man. I’m not too old to feel …” He let his words trail off, unable to finish the sentence.

      “Lou?”

      “I need you to stop, Max.”

      She blinked at him.

      He was sure he’d just fallen off whatever pedestal she’d placed him on. God, to confess to having sexual thoughts about her—sexual desire for her—it was mortifying. He wouldn’t blame her if she threw him out of here once she had time to digest his words, to understand what they implied. “I’m going to bed,” he told her. “I just … had to get that said.” He turned and walked away. “If you still want me to come with you in the morning, I will.”

      “Lou?”

      He stopped, but he didn’t turn to face her.

      “You’ve got it all wrong, you know.”

      “No, I don’t. Good night, Max.”

      Maxie paced her bedroom most of the night. Hell, she’d been nuts about Lou since her first year of college, when she’d taken a self-defense class he’d taught. But she’d kept her flirting minimal back then. Since he’d come back into her life, she’d turned it up several notches.

      But she hadn’t realized until now how her efforts were being received.

      There was a tap on her door. She hurried to yank it open, half expecting to find Lou there, ready to admit defeat and sweep her into his arms for a passionate kiss.

      Instead Stormy was standing on the other side, framed by an elaborately tooled, walnut-stained casing.

      She took one long look at Max’s face and said, “Lou talked to you, didn’t he?”

      “How did you know?”

      “Told me he was going to. Then I heard you pacing. Slamming doors or drawers or whatever. Figured I’d better come in before you broke something.” She smiled, a teasing sort of almost-grin. “So what did he say?”

      Max pursed her lips. “He claims to think I’ve just been teasing him, that I see him as harmless. A gelding. He actually used that word.”

      Stormy sighed, crossing the room and hopping onto the foot of the giant four-poster bed, where she folded her legs underneath her and sank into the softness of high-piled mattresses and bedding. “So, did you set him straight?”

      “I was just so stunned. I mean, he caught me off guard. I didn’t know what to say. Hell, I still don’t.” Max padded across the thick carpet to stand at the French doors, where she stared outside at the stars, twinkling from a velvet canopy of midnight-blue sky.

      “Well, clearly you have to tell him you’ve never thought of him as a gelding. I mean, if he really believes that, it can’t be good for his ego.”

      Max gnawed her lip for several seconds. “I know what I ought to do. I ought to put on that black teddy and march right into his bedroom and show him just how serious I am.”

      She strode away from the gorgeous view, yanked open the top drawer of the dresser that took up fully half of one wall and pulled out the teddy. A crescent-shaped mirror framed in scrolled wood was mounted to the dresser, and she held the teddy to her chest and stared at her reflection.

      “You sure that won’t send him running back to White Plains at the speed of sound, Max?”

      Max frowned and licked her lips. “I can’t have him thinking what he’s thinking.”

      Stormy slid off the bed, came behind her and put a firm hand on her shoulder. “I have my doubts he really believes any of that crap, anyway. Deep down, I mean.”

      “Then why would he…?”

      “Maybe it’s just easier that way,” Stormy said. “Telling you to stop teasing him is way easier than telling you to stop wanting him, don’t you think?”

      Max turned slowly. “You think he knows I’m serious, and just … isn’t interested?”

      “I know it’s a possibility you’ve never considered, hon, but don’t you think you have to?”

      “But … but how could he not want me?” She blinked away the stupid, ridiculous moisture that had gathered in her eyes.

      Stormy squeezed her shoulder. “Might not be about you. Might be about him.”

      “Now you sound like a goddamn man.” Maxie crammed the teddy back into the drawer, then slammed it closed.

      “Look, Max, you know the age difference bugs him.”

      “That’s an excuse, not a reason. It’s only eighteen years.”

      Stormy shrugged. “He’s been married before. Maybe he was burned so bad he’s sworn off women forever.”

      Max paced the bedroom. “Okay, that could be a possibility. At least that’s within the realm of reason.”

      Stormy nodded. “You know anything about the wife? What went wrong? “

      Max shook her head. “He never talks about it. If I ask, he changes the subject.” “See? Doesn’t that sort of prove it was bad?” “Maybe it just proves he doesn’t want to talk about it. The question is, what am I supposed to do next?” Max stopped pacing, spun to face Stormy. “How can I overcome whatever it is that’s keeping him from even thinking about me as a—a love interest?”

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