Dancing on a Moonbeam (Bedford Falls Book 1) (22 page)

He walked up to her and lifted her chin. "Is Lily home?"

"She's at her friend's. She won't be home until eleven."

"Good." He bent his head and kissed her, his finger spearing into her hair at the nape of her neck.

She wound her arms around him and threw herself into the embrace, going from zero to sixty.

A voice at the back of his brain that was suspiciously like his dad's cautioned him. Max lifted his head and looked into her eyes. "No sex."

She blinked in surprise. "Why not?"

He could see her doubts rise, and he shook his head. "It's not that I don't want to have sex with you. I really do."

"But?" she asked, her expression curious.

"But our first time won't be because you're upset. I won't take advantage of your feelings."

Her lips pursed in thought. "What if I wanted you to take advantage?"

He shook his head. "I couldn't do it. I like you too much."

Her eyes filled, and a tear coursed down her cheek.

"
No.
Don't cry." He brushed it away. "Fine, we can have sex. I'll even put the tutu on."

She laughed. It was weak and watery, but it lightened her face. "I don't want to force you to wear the tutu or to have sex with me."
 

"Good. I was worried for a second." He pulled the rubber band from her hair and ran his finger through the tresses. "Since Lily's out tonight, what if we have dinner together? I'll go get wine, and you can yell and rant all you want, and then we’ll see if there's something we can do."

She looked up at him with a wide, vulnerable gaze. "You'd do that for me?"

"I would." He'd do so much more, he was surprised to realize.
 

Chapter 13

"Mom!" Lily yelled from upstairs at the same time the front door opened and Robbie called out, "Elle?"

Eleanor didn't know who to reply to, so she snipped her wheatgrass and turned her juicer on. She was still in a state over her dance studio, but last night with Max had been—

Well,
special
was the best description that came to mind. True to his word, he'd listened to her and sympathized, and then he'd even helped her pull together a list of people who could finish the remodeling. Really, just the fact that he cared had meant the world.

It'd been like the best date, and for a short while she'd forgotten that Barbara had tried to sabotage her dreams. They'd sat on the floor and drank wine, talking, sharing steamy kisses every now and then. Before he left, he'd kissed her again, but it'd been more like a statement of intent.
 

He wanted her.
 

What scared her, though, was how much she wanted him too. Her heart pounded just thinking about it. She knew the ball was in her court.
 

She wanted to play—badly. All night she'd thought of sneaking out and going next door. But she hadn't because of Lily.

Once Lily went to school, the only reason for holding back would be fear.
 

Eleanor wasn't going to be a coward any longer. She lifted her chin. She'd go to Max's and ask for what she wanted.
 

Robbie's big feet stomped into the kitchen.

Eleanor glanced over her shoulder. "You're here early."

"I missed you and wanted to say hi before I go to my job."

She arched her brow.

"Fine. My espresso machine died." He smiled hopefully at her.
 

Shaking her head, she turned off the juicer and picked up her glass. "Get the milk out," she said before she downed the shot.

He made a face as he handed her the carton. "That stuff is nasty, and the face you always make when you drink it does nothing to change my mind."

"Where's your job?" she asked, ignoring his comment.

"In Rye."
 

She stopped making the cappuccino and frowned at him. "That's in the complete opposite direction from here. You could have stopped at Clara's for a coffee."
 

"And have Clara or Debra try to set me up with someone?" Robbie made a face. "No, thank you."

"Mom," Lily barked as she clomped into the kitchen. She came to an angry halt and glared. "Didn't you hear me?"

Eleanor tipped her head, batting her lashes. "Robbie, do you hear anything?"

"No." Robbie shook his head. "Certainly not a disrespectful brat."

"Fine." Lily went to the fridge, stamping her feet with every step, and pulled out orange juice. Glaring at Eleanor, she drank directly from the bottle.

Eleanor shook her head. "I'm going to love you no matter how you act, so you can stop testing me."

"Whatever," the teenager said, setting the juice on the counter and walking out.

She watched her daughter leave, her chest burning with the need to go after her and wrap her in her arms like she used to when Lily was a little girl. But she knew Lily would only push her away now, and she couldn't bear another heartbreak right now.

"What's up with the brat?" Robbie asked. "She seems more sullen than usual."

"I picked a terrible man to be her father." She handed him his cappuccino.

Her best friend frowned. "You aren't responsible for his actions, and you had no idea that he'd end up being an abysmal father."

"Maybe." Looking back, there were signs that she ignored. Robbie was right—she wasn't responsible for what Charles did, but she
was
responsible for making sure Lily emerged as unscathed as possible, and she wasn't sure she was succeeding. "I asked my dad to spend some time with Lily."

Robbie nodded as he sipped his coffee. "That's a good idea. Jack's a good man underneath it all."

"He hasn't done it yet."

"Maybe you need to ask him again." Robbie set the cup in the dishwasher. "Or maybe you need to spend some time with him too."

The only man she was interested in spending time with at the moment was Max, although there was no way she was admitting that to Robbie. She didn't need the questions.

Truthfully, though, she wanted to guard the sudden magic she'd found next door to herself. It wasn't going to last—moonbeams couldn't be caught—but she was going to make the most of it for the rest of the time he was here.

"I've got to go." Robbie tugged a strand of her hair. "I like your hair down, by the way. You haven't worn it like this in years."

She touched it. Last night, Max had admitted how much he loved it down. "I thought it was time for a change."

"I approve." Then he frowned at her. "You're worried about something."

"How do you know?"

"You have little lines between your eyebrows." He touched the center of her forehead with a finger. "What's going on?"

"My work crew quit to take a job for Barbara."

"Your ex-Brunhilde?" he asked, eyes wide in surprise.

She nodded. "I need to find someone to finish the last of the work. The thing is, the names Travis Scott gave me are really expensive."

"So what are you going to do?"

She smiled winningly at him. "How are you with a paint brush? I'll feed you."

"Remember before Lily was born, and you needed help painting her room?"

"Yes."

"End of story." He crossed his arms. "There's not enough pizza and beer in the world to get me to paint again."

She made a face, although she couldn't blame him. "Maybe I'll ask Max to help."

Robbie put his chin on his fist and looked at her speculatively. "This is interesting."

"What?"

"There are only two reasons a man would help a woman he's recently met with something like painting. One"—Robbie held up a finger—"he wants to get laid by her. And two, he's already gotten laid and wants it to keep happening."

Eleanor felt her face flush. "No. He could just be neighborly."

Robbie leaned in and stared at her for a long, silent moment. "You
like
him," he declared, his eyes widening.
 

"I do not," she protested, hating that she sounded like a teenager.
 

"Yeah, you do. This is
very
interesting." He lowered his voice. "So which is it?"

"Which is what?"

"Which is the reason Amadeus Ravel Massimo will help you with the painting? Because he wants you, or because he wants to keep you? And, more importantly"—he lowered his head to look her directly in the eye—"do you want him?"

She pushed his forehead back. "You're blowing this out of proportion."

He poked her shoulder. "You didn't answer the question."

"And I'm not going to." She pointed a finger at him. "If you start singing 'Elle and Max, sitting in a tree' I'm going to hit you."

Robbie grinned. "You've kissed him."

No way was she going to comment on that. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

She faced him. "Do you think my dance studio is a stupid idea?"

He took time to think about it, which wasn't entirely reassuring. Then he shook his head. "It's not stupid at all, from a practical aspect."

She sighed in relief.
 

"But," he added, "I don't know that it'll make you ultimately happy. Because teaching dance isn't the same as dancing."

Her heart sank. "I thought we went over this."

"Yeah, but apparently you still have doubts."

"You just said you didn't think I was going to be happy with a studio."

"You aren't going to be happy teaching, but the studio is a brilliant idea," he said after a moment.

"Robbie, what else am I supposed to do? I'm nothing anymore. Lily's almost grown, and then I'll really be nothing. The fucker was my identity for twenty years. And what do I have to show for it? A wedding dress and a defunct anniversary in a few days."

"I say we take your anniversary date back. Think how you want to celebrate it. And you've always been more than some fucker's wife." He tugged her hair.
 
"You've been my best friend forever, and that's pretty great."

She hugged him. "Want to have drinks at Mama's Crowbar? Tomorrow night? I have to take Lily and her friend Madison shopping tonight."

"We haven't done that in years."

She felt a flare of guilt as she let him go. "I know."

"You going to be okay in the meantime?"

"Yes," she said, meaning it.
 

"I'll see you there." Winking, he walked out.

She hurried to the doorway and waited to hear the front door close.

It was time.
 

Going to her room to change, her step faltered, and she paused on the stairs, biting her lip. Oh God—was she actually going to
do
this? It'd been so long since she'd been intimate with a man. Would she know what to do?
 

And her body wasn't young anymore. She looked down at herself. Maybe she could suggest that they do it in a closet, where it'd be dark and he wouldn't see the stretch marks.

Maybe running next door to ask her neighbor to pleasure her was a bad idea.

But if not Max, then who?
 

She didn't want anyone else.

And it wasn't just about sex. She knew Max could find anyone to date—he was a very attractive, successful man. That he'd desired his pain-in-the-ass temporary neighbor, who had a bratty teenager and more baggage than an international flight, meant something.

She wasn't sure what it meant yet, but it gave her a warm feeling.

Turning around, she marched back down before she chickened out. So what if she only wore yoga pants and a top? Hopefully they'd just come off—in a room with blackout curtains, please.

She hurried over to his house and knocked on his back door. She reached for the knob to open it—

It yanked open, and a big hand drew her inside.

Before she could say anything, his mouth was on hers.
 

She sank into the kiss. It both excited her and relaxed her, making the nerves fade away