Bedding The Bad Boy (Dalton Brothers Novels) (22 page)

“You were definitely in preterm labor, Mrs. Dalton,” Dr. Ellis said.

“Meaning?” Rhys asked.

“Melina’s body thinks it’s ready to have the babies. We’ve put her on medication but I’m going to recommend she stays in the hospital for the next few days while we get her stabilized.”

***

After the doctor left, Grace breathed in deeply, the scent of cleanser reminding her where she was, as though the beeping monitors weren’t proof enough. Thank God she’d been there to help Melina get to the hospital. And thank God Rhys showed up. Even though she’d been handling things and trying to hold it together beforehand, Melina had seemed to relax substantially once her husband appeared in the doorway.

It wasn’t lost on Grace that she’d been hiding her own anxiety and stress, but felt immeasurably better after Max stormed into the room, even with his brooding expression and fisted hands, and the way he initially ignored her.

Now Max and Rhys spoke quietly, making arrangements for Melina’s stay in the hospital. Watching them, she remembered her conversation with Max about whether she’d want two men to pleasure her. She doubted she’d ever actually do it, but the fantasy was hot as hell. The only thing hotter than imagining being taken by two men was imagining being taken by Max and his identical twin.

There’d be two pairs of hazel eyes to gaze into. Two sets of strong hands. Two muscled chests to caress and mouths to kiss. Two…

Max glanced up and cocked a questioning brow at her. Flushing, Grace looked away.

Mortification swept through her. What was wrong with her? Melina was in the hospital and here she was fantasizing about her friend’s husband doing her right along with Max.

She was a horrible, horrible person.

With her friend’s pregnancy at risk, her quest for an orgasm, even if it had been partially achieved, seemed all the more ridiculous.

More than ever, the scare they’d all had tonight proved what mattered most was family. It was also a reminder that she’d wronged Max by doubting he could be more than a good lover.

Time and again, she’d told herself he was the man the media presented to the world—the man he presented to the media.

A playboy.

A bad boy.

Hell, he’d even called himself those things.

But those monikers weren’t accurate. No, Max may have dated numerous women, and may have used the media’s attention to pump up his own reputation, but deep down, his family came first. He cared deeply—about his mother, his father, his brother, and now his sister-in-law and soon-to-be-born nieces or nephews.

She watched Max reach out and stroke a strand of hair behind Melina’s ears. Melina was right. If the way he treated his parents, Rhys and Melina, and yes, Grace, was any indication, Max was going to make a wonderful husband and father someday.

It just sucked that it wouldn’t be with her.

That meant she needed to stop wasting their time. She needed to push forward with her plan. When the time was right, she’d tell Max. Let him know he was off the hook.

“What can we do, Grace and I?” Max asked Rhys.

Grace started. That Max included her in his question surprised her. He’d referred to them as a “we,” reinforcing the conclusion Rhys and Melina would have jumped to when he’d reached out and held her hand.

They weren’t a “we.” Not an “us.” And yet when she glanced at him, she realized he was staring at her as if the word “we” was on purpose.

She cleared her throat. “Yes… What do you need done? I’m happy to help.”

Rhys ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t think of anything.”

Melina jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. “Uh… hello? Nursery. Cribs. Disaster zone?”

Rhys flashed her a grin, then turned to Max. “I started the project yesterday, but I was distracted by my beautiful wife. The pieces are still all over the nursery. Do you think you and Grace could put cribs together?”

Max looked at Grace. “Do you know how to use those weird hex screwdriver things?”

She couldn’t help it—she giggled. “I think between the two of us, we can figure out how to put together a couple of cribs. After all, neither of us has a beautiful wife to distract us.”

Something dark flashed in Max’s eyes, then was gone. “We’ll do it,” he said to Rhys. “Need anything else?”

“We need bedding for the babies, too,” Melina said. “I have a bunch of clothes and diapers, but other than the quilts, no sheets or blankets.”

“We’ll take care of that once we’re done with the cribs.” He bent to give Melina a light kiss on the cheek. “And we’ll be back later tonight to check on you.”

Another use of the word “we,” Grace noted. An odd tingle shot up her tummy and into her chest. In past relationships, the use of the word “we” had signaled a turning point—a moment when the relationship deepened from dating to a full-on connection. Was Max even aware of what he was saying or how it could be construed?

She gave herself a mental head-shake. She was reading way too much into a casual use of a pronoun. She may have finally admitted Max Dalton had much more depth than she’d originally given him credit for, but that didn’t change anything. He’d offered to give her orgasms in a variety of ways. He seemed to like her and enjoy her company. But he’d liked and enjoyed the company of many, many women over the years, and he’d continue to do so.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Max’s Magic Rule #14:

For good or bad, an audience can turn on you at any time.

The house was quiet—too quiet, Grace thought as she and Max walked into Melina and Rhys’s place. The ticking of a clock in the kitchen was the only sound. Eerie, given that hours earlier her and Melina’s laughter had filled the small home.

“I’ll probably need your help,” Max said, bumping into her as she came to a stop in the doorway of the nursery.

The room was a disaster. Crumpled instructions were scattered on the floor, as were slats, boards, screws and nuts. She nudged a board with her foot. “No problem, I’m happy to help. Looks like Rhys left us a bit of a mess,” she said. “I imagine it would be hard to put a crib together with just one person.”

Max barked out a quick laugh. “Yeah, especially when that one person is me.”

She glanced at him and was surprised to see his face lined with tension instead of humor, the way she’d anticipated. “What do you mean?”

Max shrugged. “Rhys is the one that designs the props we need for the show. When it comes to inanimate objects, I’m great with my hands once something’s built, but…” He shrugged. “Good thing I’m just the looks of the two of us or we’d be stuck with just cards and scarves rather than the intricate stuff Rhys creates.”

“Max,” she said quietly. “You’re not just a sexy and good-lookin’ guy. You’re every bit as talented as Rhys. I’m ashamed if I ever implied otherwise…”

He stiffened and his eyes widened before his expression went blank. “Thanks. Now, how do we get started?” He focused on the crib parts, picking up a piece at random.

He’s insecure and afraid, she realized. Just as insecure and afraid as I am. How is that possible?

“Max—” She stopped when he shook his head.

“Grace,” he said. “I think, despite what you said the other day, you know we’re friends. So given we’re friends, let’s just focus on the cribs, yeah?”

She wanted to shout no. She wanted to insist they talk about
him
and
her
and how much she liked him and how, if she thought it was really possible, she’d want to be more than his friend. Much, much more. Instead, she picked up the crib assembly instructions. “Here, take this and see what you can puzzle out. I’ll gather up the hardware.”

“Hardware?”

“Nuts. Bolts. Those hex screwdrivah things you mentioned.”

“Gotcha. I get the wood and you get to screw.”

She laughed.

Five minutes later, Grace watched as Max studied the lengths of wood and the plethora of metal bits she’d carefully placed in front of him, explaining where they all went and how to use the hex driver. He held up two identical screws. “What the fuck? Didn’t I already do this step?”

“Problems, Shugah?” Grace drawled, secretly pleased at how out of sorts Max seemed and how willing he was to let her see that. She suspected that wouldn’t be the case with just anyone.

He pretended to look indignant. “Of course not.”

Without being asked, Grace came over and started to help him assemble the crib. He’d admitted how bad he was at building things. Apparently that hadn’t been much of an exaggeration.

After a few minutes of them working silently, Max cleared his throat. “So we never really talked about that Skype conversation you had earlier. Still determined to go through with Operation Baby?”

Tension tightened her spine. She wasn’t so sure she was but he didn’t need to know that. “I really don’t want to argue with you about it, Max.”

“I don’t want to argue either. I’m really interested. Maybe… maybe I can even help.”

“Help?” Her hands froze, then she moved again, carefully laying out the odds and ends that confused Max to no end.

He shrugged. “Sure. I mean… I know guys…”

“You know guys…” What did he mean?

He cleared his throat again, obviously uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going, but apparently willing to persevere. “I mean, men who might want to make a family. Men maybe a bit more your style.”

“You’re pimpin’ me out?”

She was joking, but when Max slapped a crib part to the ground and furrowed his brow, she worried he’d taken her seriously.

“Are you still determined to find someone to co-parent with, or has that changed at all?”

“Changed, how?” Now she was really confused. What was it Max was asking? How did the conversation come to this place?

“I mean, have you reconsidered waiting for more? Love. Romance. In addition to…” He waved his hand, but this time she didn’t even smile at their private joke. When she just stared at him, he blew out a sharp breath. “Never mind. Let’s just get these damned cribs put together—and safely, might I add—and get to the baby store. Don’t we need to buy bedding? Or is it bunting? That’s a thing, right? A baby thing?”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “Buntin’ is a baby thing, or at least it is in nursery rhymes.” She hesitated, wondering if Max’s questions could possibly be motivated by self-interest in finding love and romance and passion
with her
? But that kind of thinking was just heartbreak waiting to happen.

“I’m goin’ to contact the agency,” she said, “and explain how Robert wasn’t anywhere close to what I wanted in a father for my child. But I’ll admit, talkin’ to him, it’s given me second thoughts about havin’ a baby with a stranger.” How practical her plan had seemed when she’d first come up with it. And yet now, watching Melina and Rhys, becoming aware of the real man Max was behind the mask he presented to the public, she felt confused and uncertain. What would it be like to get pregnant by a man she loved? What would it be like to have the father of her children rush to her bedside when labor started, to kiss her belly and brush her hair from her face? How wonderful would it be if that man was Max?

“Grace?”

She realized she’d zoned out, staring out the windows at the darkened sky. Flashing a quick glance at Max, she noticed how intently he stared at her—as if he’d somehow entered into her mind and had heard her thoughts. But if he’d done that, surely he’d be laughing himself silly. “Maybe you all have been right. I searched for years to find the right man to give me an orgasm. How could I possibility think it would be easy to find an intelligent, educated, career-oriented man who wants a child but not the hassle of a relationship with the child’s mom, beyond parentin’?” She shook her head. “Sometimes I think I really am a slice short of an apple pie.””

His expression turned fierce. “Hey stop it. You’re not a slice short of anything. You just want to be happy and fulfilled, and you’re willing to put your heart into it and take risks. That’s admirable.” His expression twisted. “Not many people do that.”

“You do.”

Once again, his expression went blank and for the first time, she realized how much practice he had at doing it. At performing in general. He was good at turning on and off, and concealing his feelings.

How much of Max was an act and how much of himself did he hide without even knowing he was doing it?

She shifted closer toward him. “Max. Are you unhappy in Vegas?”

“I like Vegas. I like being close to Rhys and Melina and knowing their kids are going to have some stability
and
adventure in their lives.”

“But?”

“But sometimes I want more. Doesn’t everyone?”

“Sure, but more of what? Money? Women? Fame?”

His mouth twisted and she mentally winced.

She didn’t mean to, but she kept hurting him. “Do you want the love and family that Rhys and Melina are buildin’ together? Because sometimes it seems like you do, and maybe you don’t think you can have it. Kind of how you accepted not bein’ able to watch Houdini while your parents are gone.”

“It’s not the same thing. I—oh shit. My parents. I’ve got to call them. Tell them what’s going on.”

“Won’t they just worry?”

“It’s Melina,” he said simply.

She nodded. “Right.”

He got to his feet, pulled out his phone, then hesitated. “Grace?”

“Yes?”

“I enjoy talking to you. I want to keep doing it.” His mouth twisted wryly. “Among other things, of course. Can we continue this conversation later?”

She bit her lip. “Yes, I’d like that, Max.”

Max left the nursery to call his parents and was back within ten minutes.

“Are they already on a flight back?”

“I convinced them to wait until we have more information from the doctor.” He rubbed his hands together. “So let’s get these cribs together.”

She turned back to the crib parts, stiffening when he said, “Unless you want to tell me why you blushed so hard when you were looking at Rhys and me at the hospital earlier?”

Her back to him, she closed her eyes before pasting a smile on her face and turning around. She handed him two blocks of wood and several screws.