To his relief, the cold water had done the trick and there wasn’t an embarrassing bulge in the front of that damp towel. “Sorry,” Max muttered, clutching at the cotton where it was tucked around his waist. “I thought you’d take a little longer in the shower.”
“I didn’t want to take advantage,” she said. “It’s a nice shower. Big … enough for two.”
“I—I’m just going to go get dressed. I’ll be right back.”
When he returned from the bedroom, wearing basketball shorts and a T-shirt, Angela was still standing at the window. He stepped up behind her, then slipped his arms around her waist. “What do you see out there?”
“It’s a beautiful view. It’s so quiet up here.”
Max rested his chin on her shoulder. “The minute I saw this place, I knew I had to have it. And there was no way I’d stay at my parents’ place. My mother would drive me crazy and my father would expect me to help him with all of his household repair projects. I needed a place of my own here in Chicago.”
“So you dropped a few million on a condo? Why not rent?”
“It seemed like a good investment,” Max said. “And now that I’ve been here for a while, I like it. It feels like home.” He turned her around to face him. “What can I get you to drink? I have wine. And beer. Energy drinks and mineral water.”
“A glass of wine would be nice,” Angela said. “Red, if you have it.”
As Max walked to the kitchen, he smiled to himself. This was going well. She could have asked for a ride home. But instead, she’d stay at least long enough to finish a glass of wine and eat some mac and cheese. He found a bottle, struggled with the cork, then filled a wineglass nearly to the brim.
It would take her longer to drink a big glass of wine, giving him more time. But at the last minute he dumped half of it in the sink. She might think he was trying to get her drunk. He didn’t want to confirm all the worst things the press had to say about him.
“Take it slow,” he reminded himself. “And don’t make an ass of yourself.”
Angela pressed her hand to her chest. Ever since he’d walked into the room, dressed in a only a towel, she hadn’t been able to breathe. It had been a long time since she’d been in the presence of a naked man—or a nearly naked one. Almost a year. And she’d never been near a man with a body like Max’s. The fact that it was Max, the man of her teenage fantasies, made the entire incident surreal.
After he’d walked away, she’d thought about following him, about tugging the towel off the lower part of his body and exploring everything underneath. If she were only bolder, she could do something like that.
But Angela knew the dangers of allowing herself to surrender to a guy like Max. Though she wanted to believe that he genuinely liked her, she couldn’t help but wonder if this stop at his apartment was all part of a grand plan to seduce her. There was no ignoring the profiles on her Web site. Max did have an amazing capacity to separate a woman from her panties.
If he wasn’t interested in sex, then why had he brought her here? Angela suspected it had nothing to do with getting warm and dry. He’d probably waltzed through in a towel on purpose, just to tempt her. And she was tempted. It would be so easy to fall into his trap, to make the first move so he couldn’t be blamed for the seduction.
Angela had indulged in a few one-night stands over the years, only to regret her behavior the next day. But would she regret sleeping with Max? She’d finally have a chance to make her teenage fantasies come true. How many women would pass up a chance like that? If he were great, then she’d have a memory to keep for the rest of her life. And if he wasn’t, maybe she could finally consign her fantasies to the past.
If he offered, she’d accept, Angela decided. But what if he didn’t offer? What would that mean? Was she not woman enough to satisfy him? Though she hadn’t had the number of experiences that he’d had, Angela knew how to pleasure a man. She was good in bed. Not porn-star good, but she could get a little kinky when called for.
“Here. Red wine. Dinner should be ready in about ten minutes.”
Angela jumped at the sound of his voice. She turned and took the glass from his hand. “What are you cooking? It smells good.”
“Mac and cheese. I buy it in bulk from Whole Foods.”
“I love their mac and cheese,” she said. “And I am a little hungry. I haven’t stayed up this late for a long time.”
“You don’t go out much?”
Angela shook her head. “No. I don’t really like the bar scene.”
“What were you doing out tonight?”
“It was just a whim,” she lied. “Ceci convinced me to go. What about you? Do you do this often?”
“Drink wine?”
“Bring a girl home?” She might as well get a few more of her questions answered. “You’re very difficult to resist. Very … charming.”
“I’m having a nice time just talking to you, Angela. I’m not looking for anything else.”
“You aren’t?”
“No. I mean, I think it’s a little early to—not that I wouldn’t want to. You’re beautiful. Any man would want to … you know. But I think we should just let things happen ….”
Angela set her wineglass down on the windowsill. So how did he feel? Was he having second thoughts about seducing her? Didn’t he think she could handle it? Well, she was just as capable of enjoying it as any other woman. “Why don’t you kiss me again and we’ll see what happens?”
She’d be crazy not to take the chance when she had it, right? Forget the book, forget all the questions she wanted to ask. Her curiosity had completely overwhelmed her common sense and she wanted to enjoy what so many other women had.
It didn’t take him more than a heartbeat to change his mind. His fingers slipped through her hair and he pulled her mouth to his, steering her toward the sofa. This time, his kiss left no doubt in her mind as to where they were headed. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her lips and her tongue. Max was like a man, parched with thirst and desperately searching for a cool taste of water.
They tumbled onto the leather cushions and he pulled her down on top of him, his hands roaming freely over her body. There wasn’t much between them. Angela had left her underwear to dry in the bathroom and Max hadn’t bothered with his, either.
When he slipped his hand beneath the hem of the sweatshirt and skimmed it up her back, she moaned. It was the most delicious sensation in the world. Every nerve seemed to tingle as his touch drifted from one spot to the next.
In the past, Angela had always kept a small part of herself detached from the man sharing her bed, afraid to commit herself completely, afraid that she might be making a mistake. But with Max, she wanted to surrender, wanted to offer him every pleasure that he might find her in body. It was just one night, that’s all. Why not enjoy it completely?
She was breathless and giddy. Though Angela knew the risks, her body was on fire, the desire so hot that the only way to survive was to tear off all her clothes. Straddling his hips, she sat up and tugged the sweatshirt over her head. Her hair tumbled around her face as she tossed the sweatshirt aside. Angela watched as he slowly reached out to cup her breast in his palm. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, losing touch with reality.
Was this a dream? Would she wake up suddenly, alone in her bed, and realize that once again, her fantasies of him were just an illusion? No, Angela thought. She felt her skin tingle where he touched and she heard the pulse pounding through her veins. She smelled the scent of his cologne and heard the sound of his breathing.
If this wasn’t real, it was the most vivid dream she’d ever