Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Several hours later, the midday sunlight shone through the windows of his bedroom and glanced across Jade's bare skin. Max felt her try to draw away from the arm that encircled her. He somehow found the strength to lift himself so he could see her face. Her eyes were closed and a single tear coursed down her cheek. He couldn't help but wonder if she regretted what they'd just done.

He knew without a doubt nothing in his life would ever be the same. Nothing had ever felt as right as being connected with Jade mind, body, and soul, and he knew he was thirty-six years old and could say he hadn't realized what making love was until just now. It made a difference when you actually loved the person you were with.

He wiped the tear away with his thumb. "Did I hurt you?"

Her tear-drenched eyes opened and she shook her head. "No. You didn't hurt me. I'm just a little overwhelmed. I wasn't expecting it to be so—powerful."

"I'd never ask for you to forget him," he said softly. "He was a good man, and he loved you."

"I know that. I wasn't thinking about him. Not really." She licked her lips in hesitation. "It's just—I feel like I've broken away from that part of my life. Almost as if it never happened."

"Oh baby," he said, touching the side of her face. "Of course it happened. And no one, least of all me, would ever want you to forget what you had with Donovan. But you need to know that I think he'd be proud of the woman you are now. The strength you've shown over the last couple of years. And I think he'd give his blessing that you chose me."

The tears she'd been fighting fell down her cheeks, and he kissed each one away. "And I think if he were talking to me, he'd slap me on the back—God, he had giant hands, didn't he?" he said, making her smile. "Then he'd warn me that I'd better love you the way you deserved or he'd make me sorry."

Her smile froze and panic shone in her eyes, but he put his finger over her lips when she opened her mouth to speak, halting the denial he knew would come out of them.

"And I'd tell him he didn't need to worry. Because I've always loved you the way you deserved. Even when you belonged to someone else."

Her breath hitched on a sob and she rolled out of his arms until she lay flat on her back. Something felt like it was ripping inside of him. It was obvious she wasn't comfortable with his confession, and he tried to tell himself it was okay. That she probably just needed time. But part of him wondered if she had no deep feelings for him—wondered if he was just someone she felt comfortable with to help her move on to the next stage in her life.

She scrubbed her hands over her face and then sat up on the side of the bed, so her back was to him. "You think maybe we could grab something to eat?" she asked. "I'm starving."

He stayed silent for only a second, reminding himself to be patient. "Sure. I called the housekeeper before we left Dallas and she should have stocked the kitchen. If you can find something to throw together I'm going to grab a shower." He needed some time to think and lick his wounds.

"What if I can't cook?" she asked, a smile tugging at her mouth.

"I figure if you can calculate the wind and distance when you're firing that rifle of yours, then you can probably follow a simple recipe."

Her laugh was low and husky as she pushed off the bed and grabbed his robe that was hanging on the back of the bathroom door.

"You're taking a hell of a chance," she said as she left him for the kitchen. "I hope you like burnt toast."

He was pretty sure she was kidding.

Jade escaped to the kitchen, pretending she hadn't seen the hurt on Max's face. Her chest was tight and she was finding it difficult to breathe.

What had she been thinking? She wasn't the kind of person who could enter into a relationship and pretend sex didn't mean anything. All she'd done was complicate things.

She paced around the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and the pantry, noticing the kitchen had been well stocked with all the necessities. She dropped her head against the pantry door and listened intently as the water turned on from the shower.

"Get a grip," she told herself. "You're an adult woman. You've been in life-or-death situations. This is not one of those moments."

She shook her head and decided food could wait. It was time to get solid footing back under her, so she found the guest bathroom and decided to take a shower herself. Maybe it would be easier to face him again if she wasn't breathing in his scent.

When she came back in the kitchen twenty minutes later, still dressed in Max's robe, he was standing in the kitchen in nothing but a pair of sweats. His hair was damp and droplets of water beaded on the back of his neck. His back was to her as he stared into the fridge, but he sensed her presence.

"My kitchen skills are limited," he said. "But we've got lots of fresh eggs and I saw oatmeal in the pantry. I could probably figure out how to put something edible together."

"I'll make omelets," she said. "You couldn't pay me any amount of money to eat oatmeal." At his confused look she explained. "It's the breakfast staple of orphanages everywhere. Seven days a week, summer, winter, or fall, there'd be a bowl of oatmeal sitting on the table."

"Omelets it is," he agreed.

They worked in companionable silence. She gave him mushrooms and green peppers to chop, while she whisked the eggs. Before long the smell of melted butter and sautéed vegetables filled the air.

"That looks like a little more than a hot tub," she said, looking out the wide kitchen window into the backyard. A large pergola shaded the porch and framed a large rectangular pool with sparkling blue water. A waterfall trickled over the stone that led to a sunken hot tub, and she could see it was the perfect place to sit to watch the sun go down.

"I didn't get around to giving you the full tour. I guess I was in a hurry."

She laughed softly. "Well, your bedroom is very nice. And I love the kitchen."

"It's a big house," he said. "More than I need. At least for now. I had it renovated when I moved in. It's got three bedrooms, two baths, a game room and a living room. Once you've been fed I'll let you pick what room we make love in next."

She couldn't help but laugh at his attempt to get things back on steady ground. They'd been friends first. It was important to remember that.

There was a tablet on the kitchen counter, and Max clicked a few buttons and music played low out of the speakers hidden in the ceiling. Then he set the island with plates while she finished cooking.

"Was it all bad?" he asked, leaning against the counter.

Jade didn't have to ask what he was referring to, though she tried not to dwell on her childhood much.

She shrugged. "It wasn't great." She slid the omelets onto the plates, her mouth watering. "It was the little things that made it difficult. Never having any privacy. Making friends but never getting to keep them. Nothing belonged to you—not the clothes on your back or the battered schoolbooks that had been donated. It was harder for me because I was almost ten when I went into the system, and I knew what it felt like to be wanted. And then all of a sudden I wasn't."

"I read your file when you were transferred to my unit," Max said. "Atticus and I handpicked all of my agents. We knew someone was dirty on the inside and I needed a team with impeccable records."

"I didn't know that," she said. Her lips twitched as he got two beers from the fridge. It was an odd combination to say the least.

"Your parents were killed just outside of New Orleans?" he asked.

"Mmm," she murmured, pushing the food around on her plate. She'd never been comfortable talking about her past. Not even with Donovan, but Max just sat there patiently and waited her out.

She sighed. "It was just one of those stupid, senseless things. We were eating lunch at a little restaurant one Sunday afternoon, and some maniac drove his pickup straight through the plate-glass window at the front and opened fire. My dad shoved me down and behind the table so I was hidden, otherwise I probably would have been killed too."

"And you didn't have any other family to take you in?" he asked.

She snorted out a laugh and shook her head. "Family," she said, knowing the word sounded bitter coming from her lips. "My mother was the only daughter of one of the wealthiest men in New Orleans. Imagine their surprise when she eloped with a poor black law student who was on full scholarship at Tulane. They cut her off without a cent and told her she was as good as dead to them. They didn't even come to her funeral. So they sure as hell didn't offer to save me from the system. And my daddy didn't have any family, so I wasn't left with a lot of choice."

"You turned out to be good people, Jax. Your parents would be proud of what you've become."

"I wonder sometimes," she said. "I wonder if I would have ended up in the same place, doing the same things, if they'd lived."

Max held out his hand and she placed hers on top of it, and then he pulled her to her feet and placed his hands on her hips.

"I like to think you would've ended up exactly where you are." He leaned down and kissed the corner of her mouth. "That no matter where you'd gone or what you'd experienced before, that you'd still end up naked in my kitchen."

"I'm not naked," she whispered.

"Well—" A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. It was a smile she'd seen frequently from the old Max—the teasing grin and laughing eyes. "My bad."