Page 19

By the time he arrived, she had worked herself up to being mad.

And she was also jumpy and cursing herself for being a fool because she was excited about seeing him.

Like a damn schoolgirl with her first crush.

But she was not a teenager anymore who mooned over him and was shattered when he left.

She was a grown-ass woman who was determined to take a stand.

"Hi."

Ignoring the swift kick of her heart on seeing him, she straightened her shoulders.

She was not going to let her heart tumble just because he looked so damn good in the pale gold sweater or the way the wind had whipped his hair into sexy disorder.

Nor was she going to do what she was yearning to do and jump him.

Stepping back, she let him in and closed the door behind them.

Swiftly evading his hands, she turned and walked down the hallway and into the living room.

She had come home, showered, and changed.

The black leggings were not exactly new, and the sweater was baggy.

She had chosen the outfit deliberately. She certainly did not want to give him the impression that she was dressing up for him.

"Would you like something to drink?" Her innate polite upbringing made her ask.

"No." Standing by the mantle, he watched as she started to pace. "What's wrong?"

She stopped and glared at him, her hands folded at her chest. "Everything's wrong.

Ever since you came back into my life, it's complete chaos.

I hate disorder." Her voice rose passionately.

Shaking her head when he opened his mouth, she went on.

"I had to lie to a perfectly nice man." She lifted her chin.

"And before you get on your high and arrogant horse, I have a date with Matthew tomorrow and I'm keeping it. "

His eyes narrowed dangerously, and he had to force himself to stay where he was. "What the hell for? What's the point of stringing the guy along?"

"I like him!" she shouted. She never shouted, she realized in horror.

She was always calm, rational, and serene.

She did not have an overbearing personality.

She had been brought up to be a lady and she was behaving like a fishwife.

It was unthinkable. "I like him," she repeated quietly, trying to tamp down the panic and temper. "He's sweet and good for my nerves."

"And another thing--" She started pacing again.

"I looked you up, really looked you up." She rounded on him, sparks shooting from her eyes.

"You're referred to in the business circle as Japanese royalty.

You're involved in aerospace. You took over several companies in Japan and here in the good old US of A.

You make magazine covers--several of them gleefully reported your 'conquests.

'" She made air quotes with her fingers.

"The latest being Marie Sato, the 'beautiful actress' whom you have been going out with for the past six months. "

"Your love affairs get reported and salivated over by the public.

I cannot be part of that. Worse, if we start this insanity of going out in public, our past will be rooted up and dissected.

People will know that you dumped me and went on your way.

" She had run out of steam by then. Wheeling around, she went to sit on the sofa and curled her feet under her defensively.

"Are you finished?" he asked quietly.

"Yes. No." She bit her lip and ran a shaky hand over her disheveled hair.

She had forgotten to go to the salon again.

"You cannot introduce me to your family, because they would never approve of me.

" That's another thing that had been burning her insides.

"I am not Japanese American. There has never been a black person in your long line of prestigious ancestors. Never--not once."

"It used to hurt so much that you got to meet my parents, and I never could be introduced to yours." She blew out a breath. "But it doesn't matter now. I'm over it."

He moved then and crossed to hunker down in front of her. He had hurt her even more than he imagined and it wasn't fair to ask her for another chance. But he needed it. Over the past week he had concluded that he could not spend his life without her in it.

Taking her hands in his, he spread her fingers out, admiring their elegance. Lifting her left hand, he brought it to his lips, eyes meeting hers.

"I'm trying to decide what to address first." His deep voice was quiet, eyes eloquent.

"I hurt you and that's a fact, one that I cannot change.

I have explained the reasons why I did." He shook his head.

"I cannot go back and change what was. I am me.

Yes, I have a presence, but that's business and I happen to be very good at it.

It does not take away from the fact that I'm in love with you. "

He watched as her eyes flared and widened. "Yes," a smile curved his lips. "I love you, Maxie. I think I always did. And I know that I always will. I left you, dammit, and that's--" He shook his head. "It will always weigh on me that I did."

Her breath caught in her throat as his words washed over her. She wanted to hold onto her anger, the shield that kept him at bay, but it was splintering under the weight of his confession. "You love me?" she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief.

He nodded, his grip firm as though anchoring her to the moment. "I love you enough to face every storm your words just conjured. Enough to stand against the whispers that will undoubtedly follow us. Enough to prove, every day, that you are not some fleeting part of my life but the center of it."

Her defenses wavered as the sincerity in his eyes made her heart ache. "It's not that simple," she murmured, pulling her hands away gently. She needed distance to think, to breathe. "How do I know this isn't just guilt? Or some passing whim?"

He rose, towering over her but somehow making her feel safe instead of trapped.

"Maxie, the only thing I regret is the time I lost with you.

Guilt doesn't make a man fly across continents to ask for one more chance.

Tell me you don't feel it too, and I'll leave.

I'll respect your wishes, but I'll never stop loving you. "

Her lips parted, but no words came. She had spent so much time convincing herself that she had healed, that she had moved past him and his absence. But here he was, upending everything she thought she knew about herself. A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.

"I don't know if I can trust you again," she whispered, her voice breaking. "But I can't deny that you're still in my heart, no matter how much I've tried to push you out."

He sank beside her on the sofa, neither speaking nor pressing. Instead, he simply sat close enough that their shoulders touched. She felt his warmth seep into her, a reminder of every moment they'd once shared. It was as if the world had paused, waiting for her decision.

Maxie closed her eyes, her mind racing. She wanted him to fight for her, to shatter every doubt she had. But deep down, she knew the real battle wasn't his to win--it was hers. Could she let him in again?

Suddenly she couldn't bear not being close to him. Turning, she crawled into his arms and buried her face in his chest, breathing him in, his spicy cologne a balm to her tattered soul.

His arms banded around her, gathering her against him. He inhaled her scent and felt himself settling.

"Tell me again," she whispered.

"I love you." Shifting, he tilted her chin up, eyes sober as they took in the moisture of the tears on her cheeks.

Bending, he used his tongue to capture a drop that rolled down her left cheek.

His lips trailed down the side of her face and lingered at the seam of her lips.

She opened for him, like a flower bud opening for the first glint of sunlight.

His lips were gentle, barely pressing on hers.

He was holding back, needing to savor the moment.

He wanted to taste her, let the essence of her settle on his tongue.

One hand came up to tug the elastic band from her hair.

Tossing it aside, he slid his fingers through the strands before crushing the silk of it in his hands.

He angled her head up, his mouth moving down to feast on her neck.

Her skin was petal soft and fragranced from her bath.

He sipped at her, taking little bites from her skin, all the while holding back, keeping a firm grip on his control.

He had been rough before, hurried, craving her--the hunger grabbing him by the throat.

This time, he wanted to show her passion and seduction. He wanted the moment to last, to linger as he explored her body.

"Let me have you," he whispered, breath mingling with hers. "Now, let me have you."

Their breaths mingled, forming an almost tangible connection between them, as if oxygen itself conspired to draw them closer.

She felt his fingers tracing slow, reverent patterns against her back, each touch an unspoken apology, a promise, a plea.

Maxie shivered, not from cold but from the surging warmth that his presence ignited deep within her.

Her hands slid tentatively against his chest, her fingers splayed as if trying to memorize the contours of his existence. "I'm afraid I'll lose myself again," she murmured, her voice barely audible, trembling with the weight of her confession.

He cupped her face, the pad of his thumb sweeping against her jawline, his gaze fierce yet tender.

"If it's the price of being with you, Maxie, I'd give you every piece of me to hold onto.

" His words were raw, stripped of bravado, a sincerity that cut through her doubts like sunlight through a storm-clouded sky.