it to me. Go out with one my friends. Luisa has been waiting to meet you for months.”
“No.” The answer was on his lips before he could even think about it.
There was only one woman he wanted. More fool him.
Charlotte shook her head. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Max.”
He already knew that he didn’t. He’d let Maddy back into his life in every conceivable way—into his home, his art, his bed, his heart. And, as always, she had no idea how profound an impact she’d had on him.
For a brief moment he regretted finding her on his doorstep four nights ago. Then he remembered the sweet, searing heat of being inside her. The soft, needy sounds of her desire. The silk of her hair in his hands.
It made him ten different kinds of idiot, but he wouldn’t trade that experience for anything in the world.
Which only proved he really was a glutton for punishment.
MADDY PULLED ON her new pajamas when she got home and curled up on the couch to wait for Max. She’d hated leaving before him, but it had quickly become clear that it would be easier for both Charlotte and Max if she were gone.
Max’s sister didn’t like her.
Maddy had had people not like her before—temperamental choreographers, ambitious dancers keen to usurp her position, angry ex-lovers—so it wasn’t as though being the object of someone’s enmity was new to her. She was surprised by how much Charlotte’s reaction hurt.
She’d wanted so much for Max’s family to like her. Over the years, she’d often heard him talk about Charlotte. For some reason, they had never run into each other until now. Still, Maddy had always imagined that if ever they did meet, the connection between them would be as effortless and instant as it had been with Max.
Nice idea, shame about the reality check.
Charlotte had started assessing Maddy the moment she stepped over the threshold, and things had gone downhill rapidly when she stepped in to defend Max’s fledgling art career. Maddy winced as she recalled the utter surprise and hurt on Charlotte’s face when she’d understood her brother had been holding out on her.
Her thoughts shifted to Eloise, Max’s niece. Maddy was the first to admit she had next to no experience where children were concerned. But she knew enough to recognize that she had not witnessed a normal, everyday kind of tantrum and that Eloise had special needs. Maddy wondered why Max hadn’t mentioned earlier that his niece was autistic. Did he not trust her with the information?
Maddy’s stomach tightened as she recalled the high, distressed pitch of the little girl’s cries. That Charlotte had been unable to connect with her or comfort her…Maddy could only imagine how the other woman must have felt. How powerless and angry and sad.
A knock at the door pulled her out of her thoughts. She crossed to let Max in.
“Thanks,” he said as he stepped across the threshold.
She wrapped her arms around herself and followed him as he moved into the living area. “Did Eloise settle down okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. She’s back in bed, dead to the world. Absolutely exhausted.”
He peeled off his coat and rolled his shoulders. He looked tired.
“Can I get you a drink? Some cognac? Hot chocolate?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Look, I wanted to explain about Charlotte.”
“Max, you don’t need to. As I said back at the apartment, I totally understand.”
“She’s not normally like that. Her husband, Richard, has to travel a lot with his work, so she’s alone with the kids most of the time. Lately, it seems to have really been getting her down, but I’m not sure—” He broke off and smiled ruefully. “Sorry. This is probably the last thing you want to talk about after the night you’ve had.”
“Of course I want to talk about it. You’re worried about her, aren’t you?”
“She’s got a lot on her plate. And she never asks for help until she’s pushed to the limit.”
Maddy sat on the couch, drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them.
“Tell me about Eloise,” she asked quietly.
She wanted to know about Max’s world, about the people he cared about. More importantly, she wanted to ease the worried crease that had formed above his eyebrows. She wanted him to feel he could share his burdens with her, the way she’d shared hers with him.
He sat opposite her.
“What do you want to know?”
“How old is she? How long have you known she’s autistic?”
“She’s three. She had the first tests about eighteen months ago, but Charlotte already suspected something was wrong. Eloise was speech delayed, and she hardly ever made eye contact.”
“I don’t know much about autism,” Maddy admitted.
Max explained that there was still a lot of debate about what caused autism, and that patients were diagnosed on a spectrum. Some children grew up to have close to normal lives, while others remained profoundly isolated.
“Where does Eloise fit in?”
“It’s too early to judge. She’s responding well to early intervention, but there are no guarantees.”
“She was so upset,” she said.
“Current theory is that most autistic children are profoundly anxious a lot of the time. That’s why they respond well to routine—and badly to any break in it.”
“Right. That makes sense, I guess.”
Max yawned and stretched.
“I’m keeping you up,” she said guiltily.
“I probably should turn in,” he said, standing. “Yvette’s coming around early tomorrow.”
Right. Yvette.
“Good night,” she said.
He smiled faintly and headed for the bathroom. She watched him walk away.
She fought a sudden urge to race after him and put her arms around him. It seemed wrong that they would be sleeping in separate beds tonight when he was clearly troubled and in need of support. In the old days, if she’d thought he was upset or worried about something, she’d have come up with an excuse to crawl into bed with him.
Things had been a lot less complicated back then.
