Almost Forever. Linda Howard
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the male sex.
Claire automatically gave directions, and too soon Max was turning into the driveway of her parents’ home. The drive was already crowded with her father’s BMW and her mother’s small Buick, Steve’s Jeep Cherokee, and a loaded-down blue Ford station wagon with Michigan license plates. Max parked his car off to the side, under a tree. Claire stared blindly at the roomy Tudor-style house where she had grown up, almost paralyzed with dread of what was to come. Everyone would be in the large backyard, under the enormous chestnut trees; it was too early in the year for the pool to be uncovered, so the children would be running wild on the grass instead of swimming. The adults would be sitting lazily in the chairs grouped under the trees, and her father would be guarding the steaks and hamburgers slowly smoking on the grill. It would look like suburban heaven, but everything in Claire shrank from the ordeal of walking across the grass toward the small group, knowing that everyone would be avidly staring at the handsome man walking beside her, wondering why on earth he was with someone as ordinary as she, when he could obviously have any woman he wanted. Oh, God, she couldn’t do it.
Max opened the car door, and Claire got out. The shouts and laughter of children at play came from the backyard, and he grinned at her. “That sounds like home. My nieces and nephews are hellions, every one of them, but there are some days when my sanity slips away and I miss their chaos. Shall we?”
His hand was warm on her back, and now she was aware of his touch, because he’d put his hand between her shoulder blades, and his fingers were resting on her bare skin, revealed by the low back of the cheery yellow-striped sundress. As they walked through the gate and came in view of her family, seated beneath the trees just as she’d pictured them, his thumb rubbed gently across her spine, and the sensation fractured the icy dread that had gripped her stomach. She was helpless against the surge of warmth that washed through her, tightening her nipples and making her breasts feel heated and full. That small touch had thrown her completely off balance; all her defenses had been raised against the dread of having Max meet her family and compare her to them, and she’d been totally unprepared to deal with the way she responded to him despite the caution of her common sense.
Then they were surrounded by her family, and Claire heard herself making the introductions automatically. Alma was practically beaming at Max, her beautiful face aglow with enthusiasm, and Claire’s father, Harmon, was both dignified and warm as he greeted his new guest. There were hugs and kisses as Claire greeted Michael and Celia, conflicting exclamations, the noise of the children as Martine’s two rowdy youngsters, followed closely by Michael’s two children, charged into the group to hug and kiss Claire, who was their favorite aunt. Martine, who was unbelievably gorgeous in a dazzling white knit top and white shorts that hugged her lithe figure and exhibited the golden length of her long, perfect legs, began good-naturedly trying to bring some sort of order to her children; Celia did the same, but it was several minutes before things settled down. Through it all, Claire was aware of Max standing closely beside her, smiling and chatting with that incredible charm of his that already had everyone eating out of his hand.
“Have you known Claire long?” Alma asked, smiling at Max, and Claire tensed. She should have known that Max would be grilled on his life from birth to present. It was her own fault; since her divorce from Jeff, she’d stubbornly resisted the efforts of her family to plunge her back into the social scene, so it was out of character for her to show up with a man in tow. Virginia’s party had been the only party she’d attended in years, except for small family get-togethers, and Claire had no doubt that Martine and Alma had discussed at length the fact that she’d finally given in to Martine’s urgings. Their curiosity over Max would be running high.
His eyelashes had drooped over his brilliant eyes, as if he were a little drowsy. “No, I haven’t,” he said, his tone gentle and faintly amused. Claire wondered if she were the only one who heard that amusement, and she darted a quick look at her mother. Alma was still smiling, and she wore that slightly dazed expression Claire had seen before on women’s faces when they saw Max for the first time. Suddenly Claire relaxed, no longer worried about any interrogation Max might face from her family; she sensed that he was perfectly at ease, as if he’d expected to be questioned.
“Max is new in town, and I’ve been showing him around,” she explained.
Both Alma and Martine gave her intensely pleased looks then glanced at each other as if congratulating themselves for a job well-done in finally getting Claire out of her shell. Now that she was older, Claire often found this silent communication between her mother and sister amusing, though when she was a child it had intimidated her, making her feel left out. Her lips twitched in a smile; really, there was something comforting in knowing your family so well that you could almost read their thoughts. Martine looked back at Claire and saw her sister’s amusement, and a sunny smile broke over her lovely face. “You’re doing it again!” she said, laughing.
“What’s that?” Steve asked, leaning toward his wife.
“Claire’s reading my mind again.”
“Oh, she’s always done that,” Alma said absently. “Harmon, dear, the steaks are on fire.”
Claire’s father calmly sprayed water on the flaming charcoal. “What type of work are you in, Mr. Benedict?” he asked, keeping an eagle eye on the coals in case they flamed up again.
“Investments and real estate.”
“Real estate? That’s a volatile profession.”
“Speculating in real estate certainly is, but I’m not in that area of the business.”
“When we get settled in Arizona, I’m going to begin studying for my real estate license,” Celia put in. “It’s a fascinating career, and now that the children are both in school I want to get back into it. I worked in a real estate office in Michigan,” she explained to Max. “I was planning to get my license then, but two babies persuaded me to put it on hold until they were older.”
Martine leaned forward, her dark blue eyes sparkling as she leveled them on Max. “Do you have any children, Mr. Benedict?” she asked sweetly, and Claire closed her eyes, wavering between horror and a bubble of laughter. Martine didn’t believe in tact when she was engaged in protecting her younger sister, and right now that protection took the form of digging all the information she could from Maxwell Benedict.
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