Beautiful Stranger (Beautiful Bastard 2)

“He was here this morning,” George offered, casually.

I froze, halfway into my office, waiting.

“Seemed sad to have missed you, but I told him you’re kind of a bear in the morning before you’ve finished your seventeen cups of coffee and rarely get in before eight.”

“Thanks,” I grumbled.

“No problem.” He sat up and pulled an envelope off his desk. “He left this.”

I took the envelope into my office to read. Max’s handwriting was tiny, scribbly.

Sara,

I’m leaving Friday morning for San Francisco for a week for a conference. Might I see you tonight?

Max.

Lifting my phone, I swiped my thumb across the screen and pressed his name.

He answered after only half a ring. “Are you still in bear mode?”

I laughed. “No. I’m at cup sixteen.”

“Your assistant is a character. We had quite a lovely chat about you. I’m pleased to know he’s unlikely to be hitting on you while I’m away.”

“I think he’s more of a Max fanboy, if you want the truth. If you had any inclinations to play for the other team you might never be able to get rid of him.”

“I heard that!” George called from his desk.

“Then stop eavesdropping!” I yelled back, and then smiled into the phone. “And yes, I’m free tonight.”

“Where?”

I hesitated only a beat before offering, “My place?”

The line went quiet.

I heard the smile in Max’s voice when he finally growled, “For a bed?”

“Yeah.” My hands were shaking. Hell, everything had changed last night. The idea of being with Max in a bed felt like the wildest adventure yet. I almost wondered if we would survive it.

“Meet you there at eight? I have a late call with the west coast.”

“Perfect.”

I changed my outfit three times before eight—casual? sexy? casual? sexy?—before finally changing back into the outfit I’d worn to work. I straightened my bed, dusted my entire apartment, and brushed my teeth twice. I had no idea what I was doing and was pretty sure I hadn’t been this nervous on the night I’d actually lost my virginity.

I was still shaking when he knocked at my door. He’d never seen my place, but when he walked in, he barely looked around. His hands went to my face, and he pushed me back against the wall, mouth firm on mine, opening, sucking on my lips and tongue. There was nothing gentle about the way he kissed me. It was hard and desperate, hands gripping shoulders and pulling ineffectually at clothes that just seemed to be in the way, lips that almost felt bruised with how real it all was. He had a messenger bag slung across his chest and it slid forward, hitting the wall with a heavy thump.

“I’m losing my f**king mind,” he said into my mouth. “Losing my f**king brain, Sara. Where’s your bedroom?”

I walked backward, pulling him and his wild kisses down the short hall with me. I only had my bedside lamp on, and it cast a small cone of warm yellow light around the space. White walls, big bed, giant windows—all within a minuscule floor plan.

He laughed, looking around and letting his hands drop from my face. “Your flat is tiny.”

“I know.”

Slipping his bag over his head, he dropped it onto my bed. “Why? You could afford more.”

I shrugged, mesmerized by the way his pulse hammered in his throat. Why were we talking about the size of my apartment? I wanted to know what was in the bag. He only ever carried his wallet, phone, and a house key. “I don’t need more right now.”

His eyes moved to mine and he nodded once, lips tilting in a half smile. “You’re a complicated woman, Sara Dillon.”

Sometimes after I went for a long run, I was so high afterward that I couldn’t do anything but go back out and run some more. I would have so much energy in my blood, I couldn’t stand to be still. I felt like that now.

“Max, I’m . . .” I held up my hand to show him how much it was shaking. “I don’t know what to do right now.”

“Undress for me.” He dug into his bag and pulled out a huge, fancy camera. “I want pictures of everything tonight,” he said, gazing at me through the lens. The sound of the shutter set my heart racing inside my chest. I felt dizzy, lightheaded.

“Including our faces,” I said quietly.

“Yeah,” he said, voice hoarse. “Exactly.”

I looked down at my clothes: ivory silk shirt with small, pearl buttons, and a straight, black skirt.

Undress for me.

I liked having a task to focus on. The weight of last night still pressed on my heart, and the sight of him in my bedroom almost broke me.

I lifted my hands to the top button of my blouse.

My fingers still shook.

It was different like this, in my apartment with no one but his camera to witness. What was I showing him tonight? My body? Or everything beneath my skin: my heart and fears and wild, thrumming longing for him?

I heard the click of the shutter followed by Max’s deep voice. “The way you seem nervous makes me think you don’t know that I’m in love with you.”

I looked up at him, eyes wide and hands frozen.

Click.

“I love you, Petal. I’ve known it for a while now, but everything changed for me last night.”

I nodded, feeling dizzy. “Okay.”

He bit his lip and then released it to give me a wicked grin. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” I returned to my buttons, slipping each one free at a time. I fought the world’s most enormous smile.

Click.

“You have nothing to say but ‘okay’?” he asked, looking up from behind the camera. “I tell you I love you, and I don’t even get a ‘thanks’ or ‘how lovely’?”

I let the shirt fall to the floor and turned my back to him, reaching behind me to unhook my bra—click—and dropping it.

Click. Click.

I unzipped my skirt, and it joined the other items on the floor as I turned back to face him.

“I love you, too.” Click. “But I’m terrified.”

He lowered the camera, eyes on me.

“I didn’t want to fall in love with you,” I said.

He took a step closer. “If it makes you feel any better, you put up a very impressive fight.”

He didn’t put the camera down when he stepped forward again to kiss me. He just moved his hand to the side and cupped my face with the other, pressing his mouth to mine.