Mad About the Man (16 page)

“Madelyn!”

“Question asked and answered. So, when did all this start? Before or after he showed up at Ivy's wedding?”

Brie spun her glass in a tight circle. “Kind of during, if you must know.”

“During?” Madelyn frowned. “What do you mean . . .
oh my God
, he was there, wasn't he? In your room? When I knocked and your door was locked. No wonder you sounded so weird.”

Brie opened her mouth to deny it, but realized there wasn't much point. “All right, yes, he was with me. But we didn't actually . . . Nothing happened. . . . Well, something happened but not what you're implying.”

“But enough. Wow, Maddox Monroe.” Madelyn sat back, clearly mulling over the revelation. Then she started to laugh. “You are so in trouble.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Madelyn laughed again. “It just reminds me of how much I once thought I hated Zack. I couldn't stand him and then, whoosh, straight to the heart.”

“Your situation and mine are nothing alike. Maddox and I aren't serious about each other. We're just having a bit of fun, that's all.”

Madelyn smiled. “So were Zack and I.”

“Yes, but this is different. There's no real relationship, not in the ‘we're dating' sense. We have sex and eat a meal together occasionally. For all I know, this fling, for lack of a better word, will be over by next week.”

“Or maybe it won't.” Madelyn ate a bite of her sandwich. “So he's the reason you're not coming for Fourth of July?”

Brie went back to eating her lunch too. “I'm spending the holiday here in the city with him. He said he wants to do something together, although we haven't really firmed up any plans yet.”

Not that they ever really firmed up plans. Generally he just showed up at her door, or told her, as he had today, that he'd stop by her place later.

“For someone you're not really dating, it sounds pretty involved. I don't see why you don't just bring him with you to Connecticut. He's already met most of the family and Mom quite obviously adores him. I can't remember the last time she gushed over a man like that, even Dad.”

“Which is exactly why I'm
not
bringing Maddox. She'll read too much into it. Knowing Mom, she'll probably starting hinting around about wedding dates and what venues we might want to reserve before all the good ones fill up. No way am I going to voluntarily submit myself to the inquisition.”

Madelyn chuckled. “Yeah, on second thought, I suppose you're smart to stay away.” She finished her sandwich and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Just promise me, Brie, that you'll be careful.”

“I'm always careful.”

“I know. But there's something about Maddox Monroe that makes me think he's different from the other men you've been involved with.”

“Oh, he's different all right. He's arrogant and opinionated and so pigheaded that he won't take no for an answer. He's like water on a rock; he just keeps dripping until he wears your resistance away. Which, I suppose, is why I've let him worm his way in despite my better judgment.”

“That and the fact that he's absolutely gorgeous. From a purely investigational standpoint, how is he in the sack?”

Brie met her sister's eyes. “What do you think?”

The pair of them giggled, then broke into full-blown laughter. Some of the other diners turned their heads to stare. Rather than deter them, the looks only made them laugh harder.

B
rie rolled over onto her back, her breath labored, heart pumping fast. A light sheen of perspiration glistened on her skin, the sheets twisted and forgotten beneath her naked body. Her body glowed in the aftermath, satisfaction tingling through every pore.

Maddox lay beside her, one arm pillowed beneath her head, his left leg tangled with hers. She snuggled closer, her cheek on his shoulder, and closed her eyes. For the moment, she was content to do nothing more strenuous than be quiet and let herself float.

She waited, part of her expecting him to climb out of bed soon and get dressed. It was a weekday and he usually didn't stay the night. It was easier on both their schedules if he went home so they could both catch a few uninterrupted hours of sleep.

But instead he lay there, making no move to leave.

She thought of her conversation with Madelyn, then shoved it away.

It's just sex. Period. End of story.

So why did every day with him seem better than the last? And why was she starting to anticipate the hours they spent together, even when they did nothing more than sit on the couch and hold hands while they traded stories about their day?

Crap
, was she wrong? Were they in a relationship and she didn't even know it?

Her eyes popped open; she scowled into the dark.

“I was thinking about Friday,” Maddox began, his deep voice breaking the silence.

Friday was July 4.

“Some friends of mine have invited me to a beach party in the Hamptons. They're doing a clambake and later there'll be fireworks. I was wondering if you'd like to go with me.”

It took her a moment to respond. “Go with? As in a date?”

Jesus, this is worse than I thought.

“I suppose ‘date' is as good a word as any,” he said, stroking an idle hand along her arm. “I've rented a house nearby as well. I thought we could spend the weekend.”

Oh, for crap's sake, we are in a relationship!

“I—” Her voice caught, the rest of the words sticking in her throat.

“Look, it's okay if you don't want to go. Think about it and let me know one way or the other.” He patted her arm, then began to move away. “It's late. I should get going.”

She rolled over, reached out to stop him. “No, don't go.”

“You need to sleep.”

“So do you. Sleep here. We can have breakfast together.”

Even though he'd stayed over and they'd shared breakfast on occasion, this was the first time she'd ever actually invited him.

He hesitated. “You sure I won't disturb you?”

You always disturb me.

“I'm sure. Stay.”

What was she doing? She was just digging herself in deeper, making everything worse. Yet strangely enough she meant every word.

“And I don't need to think about anything,” she rushed on. “Of course I'd like to go with you to the Hamptons. I haven't been to a real East Coast beach clambake in years. It'll be great.”

He played his fingers over her spine, and her muscles began to relax. “You're positive? Because we could do something else, here in the city, if you'd rather.”

“No, the Hamptons sound wonderful. It's where we first met, after all. Well, where we met again.”

His mouth turned up at the corners. “I remember. Hopefully you won't slug me with a tennis ball this time.”

“I won't. I promise. As for soccer balls or volleyballs . . .” She let her teasing words drift away.

“Very funny. Take it back.”

“No way. You were mean to me and deserved it, even if I did hit you by accident.”

“I'm not mean to you anymore. Now take it back or suffer the consequences.”

“What consequences?”

“These.”

Before she could stop him, he found a spot along her rib cage that was particularly sensitive and began to tickle her.

She squirmed, tried to get away.

He wouldn't let her go.

“Stop. Maddox, quit.”

She tried again to escape, twisting and laughing. When he only redoubled his efforts, she shrieked.

“Say you take it back,” he threatened, continuing his mock assault.

“I take it back.” She gasped. “Aw, God, stop. Please stop.”

“No soccer balls or volleyballs or any other kind of sports equipment used as weapons?”

“No, nothing.” She laughed and shrieked again. “Stop. You've had your revenge. I already told you I was sorry.”

“How sorry?” His fingers stopped their torment, gliding over her skin instead.

She shivered. “Very sorry.” Catching her breath, she reached up and cradled his face between her hands. “Very, very sorry.”

Gently, she caressed him, tracing the flesh that she'd once injured in a moment of anger and thoughtlessness. Leaning up, she kissed his cheek and temple and the corner of his eye, each touch as light as a feather, as soft as a murmur. “Very, very, very sorry.”

“Three verys,” he said. “That's a lot.”

“It is.” Her mouth whispered over his, pressing tenderly.

He rolled her over suddenly, pulling her on top of him. “I should let you get to sleep.”

“Yes.” She fit her lips to his again and kissed him deeply, her hands roving over his body in search of the places where she knew he most liked to be touched.

He shuddered and returned the favor.

“You need to sleep too,” she said at length.

“I do.” His fingers splayed across her ass, stroking her in a way that made her tremble from head to toe.

She kissed his neck and shoulders, then moved on to his chest, bending to rake her teeth across one of his flat nipples. “Surely a little while longer won't hurt,” she said.

“I don't see how it can, considering how ‘awake' I am already.” He shifted her so she could feel his hard, straining erection.

A smile curved her lips as she met his gaze in the moonlight that was creeping in around the curtains. “Ah, and so you are. Maybe I can do something to help cure your case of insomnia.”

He laughed and rolled her over again, parting her legs with his hips. “Yes, maybe you can.”

*   *   *

“How is everything? You need more quahogs or mussels or another ear of corn?”

Brie looked over at Maddox where he sat in a beach chair next to her own. They had plates of steamed seafood and an array of accompaniments balanced on their laps; bottles of home-brewed iced tea were nestled into the sand at their feet.

She shook her head. “Thanks, but I've got plenty. It's all delicious. Your friends really know how to throw a party.”

Maddox nodded in agreement, cracked open a lobster claw, and pulled out the succulent meat inside. He popped half of the tender morsel into his mouth, then gave her a closed-mouthed grin as he chewed with clear enjoyment.

She continued her meal with pleasure as well.

The sun was high and bright in the cloudless blue sky despite the lengthening evening hour. The temperature was hot, nearly ninety, but pleasant due to the refreshing breeze that blew off the gently rolling waves of the bay.

Even though she'd put on sunscreen, she was glad she'd worn her Mets cap to keep the sun off her face. David and Jana—or Janvid, as they were affectionately known—were the hosts of today's beach bash and avid Yankees fans in spite of the fact that they lived in the Hamptons. They'd good-naturedly chided her for her choice of team attire. She'd chided them back, proudly standing her ground, even though she got absolutely no support from Maddox on the subject. At an impasse, they'd put a cold drink into her hands, pointed her toward the options of relaxing in a beach chair, playing volleyball, or swimming, and left Maddox to handle the rest of the introductions.

He seemed to know practically everyone there, all twenty-plus of them, and was happy to make the acquaintance of the few he didn't. Although Maddox was the only person she knew, the rest of the partygoers openly welcomed her and she soon felt right at home.

Rather than hang back, she and Maddox had joined in on all the activities. First, they'd played volleyball, pairing up on the same side to make sure, he told her teasingly, that she didn't get any ideas about spiking the ball in his direction. Instead, she'd shot him a narrow-eyed glare over the top of her sunglasses, which made him laugh.

Next, they'd stripped down to their bathing suits—a sleek, sexy, blue one-piece for her and a pair of black swim trunks for him—and headed into the water to cool off.

They'd frolicked in the waves until they were tired, then ran, dripping, up to the beach chairs where they'd left their clothes. They'd toweled off, then stretched out in the chairs to relax under one of the big umbrellas Janvid had thoughtfully set up for their guests.

She and Maddox sipped their drinks and idly chatted with some of the others until the call went out that they should all gather round—the food was ready.

Brie ate the rest of her clams, sausage, and buttered lobster tail, then set her fork down onto her plate. She reached for her drink and relaxed back in her chair, more than well satisfied and a little sleepy.

Overall, it had been a really great day, one of the most fun and relaxing she'd spent in a very long time. A tiny nibble of guilt went through her when she thought of her family celebrating up north without her, but she couldn't regret her decision to skip out this year.

It was nice being here with Maddox with no need to worry over any potential parental grilling about where her relationship with him might be headed.

Jana and David and their friends were polite enough not to ask any intrusive questions about her and Maddox as a couple. Then again, maybe he brought a different woman with him to Janvid's beach party every summer, so his friends weren't surprised that he was here with someone new.

Little scowl lines formed on her forehead at the thought. She took another drink of her tea and gazed out at the water.

“You finished?” Maddox gave her an inquiring look. “Did you save room for dessert? They've got a real spread set up, including a cooler with ice cream for make-your-own sundaes.”

“Sounds delish, but I couldn't squeeze in another bite.” She laid a hand over her shirt-clad stomach for emphasis.

After their swim, they'd rinsed off in the outdoor showers nearby, then slipped back into their clothes again. Maddox had stolen a few kisses and touches while they'd been showering. Otherwise, they'd mostly kept the PDA down to innocent hand holding.

He took her hand now. “Why don't we go for a walk, then?”

Relaxing again, she smiled and nodded.

Hand in hand, they began strolling along the beach, sea-foam and salt water swirling in rhythmic waves, rushing over the sand toward their feet, then away once again. Seagulls wheeled overhead while the white sails of small boats fluttered on the blue-gray bay beyond. The shouts and laughter of people, young and old alike, floated on the breeze. And everywhere there was an excitement that hummed like a live thing, an anticipation for darkness to descend and the fireworks to burst free so that they would fill the night sky with color and light and sound.

She walked on with Maddox at her side, strolling at a lazy pace that suited them both, her sandal-clad feet sinking quietly into the sand.

“I was thinking, when we get back to the cottage tonight, that we could—” Maddox leaned over and whispered the rest in her ear.

It was a blatantly sexual suggestion that made hot tingles whirl inside her veins and a laugh escape her lips.

“I guess I have more than tonight's fireworks show to look forward to.” She stopped and wound an arm around his waist, stretched up on her toes to kiss him.

He tugged her closer and kissed her back, his tongue tangling passionately with hers. She smiled and playfully nipped his lower lip, wondering if the fireworks had started already.

One of her hands was stealing under the loose tail of his cotton shirt when something suddenly bumped against the edge of her foot.

Startled, she pulled away from Maddox and looked down. A green and white soccer ball lay on the sand near her heel. Automatically, she picked it up.

A boy of maybe ten or eleven years loped up the beach toward her, his eyes extremely green, his hair the pale color of a new moon.

He stopped, hands on his narrow hips. “That's my ball. Can I have it back?”

“Oh.” She glanced down at the ball. “Sure.”

But before she could toss it to him, a man jogged up, his long, thin build and light-colored hair marking him easily as the boy's father. But it was his eyes that sent a jolt through her body, her muscles suddenly frozen in place.

“Sorry about that,” he said with a smile as he drew to a halt about a yard away. “The kids kicked a shot wide and . . .” His words trailed off. “Brie? Is it you?”

At her side, she sensed Maddox turn and look at her.

But she couldn't look away from the other man, her heart slamming hard inside her chest like a hammer hitting a stone.

She swallowed, her mouth gone dry. “Hello, Stephen. It's been a long time.”

Almost seven years, yet sometimes it still seems like yesterday.

He straightened and came closer, his eyes, which were the exact shade of his son's, moving over her. “Yes, it has. You're looking good.”

“You look the same.”

Only he didn't, not precisely.

He was still dynamic, with Ivy League good looks and a well-mannered, innate charm that seemed to radiate from him like an expensive cologne. But there were lines on his face now that hadn't been there before and a hard, tired cynicism around his mouth and jaw that had barely been hinted at in times past.

Once, she'd been drawn to him, needing him the way a flower needs light and water, drinking in his every word, desperate for the tiniest crumbs of his attention, his affection. She'd been crazy about him, willing to ignore her whispering conscience that warned her that what she was doing was wrong.