She, the Kingdom (She #1)(10)

I used my fingers to wipe the smudged mascara from my eyes, and then reached into my wristlet for my lip gloss. I dabbed a bit on, and then used my ring finger to spread it around. I sighed. Nothing was worse than being not-really stranded.

“Stop fussing. You look beautiful.”

I turned, seeing Max standing in the dim hallway with his hands in his pockets. His bow tie was hanging on each side, past his collar, and he was without his tux jacket. His reaction to my reaction was nearly pitiful. He held up his hands, silently vowing not to come any closer.

“I have pepper spray in my purse.”

“Of course,” he said, turning to the side to allow me to pass. I walked by a few steps before he spoke again. “Sophie left, by the way.”

“On her broom?” I asked.

Max chuckled. “I have no excuse. She was awful.”

“I… don’t really know how to respond to that.”

“She’s just very eager to get a good night’s rest for the first time in nearly eight years.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell if she was your cheerleader or your pimp.”

Max raised an eyebrow, surprised by my nerve. “Where was that defiance when Sophie was here?”

“I don’t know. You’re not as scary as her, I guess.”

“I’m not? That’s a relief. I was afraid you’d feel intimidated.”

“I feel… like I’m being conned. Like I’d be part of some plan to help her divorce you and take all of your money.”

He smiled, seeming more relaxed. “Sophie has her own money. She doesn’t need mine.”

I crossed my arms. Whether it was the heat or the wine, my curiosity got the best of me. “Was she serious about the ten thousand?”

“Yes,” he said.

Again with the matter-of-factness. At least I was drunk enough to talk about it without wanting to bathe in holy water.

“A month?”

“If that’s your offer, then yes.”

“My offer?” I said. “This is your offer. Let’s not get it twisted.”

Max was grinning wide, now, looking almost playful. “Do you still have the card?”

“I still have the card.”

“Then call the number, day or night. We can discuss details. I saw the junk you’re driving. That can’t be safe.”

“It’s safe,” I said, pretending to be offended.

“Goodnight, Morgan.”

“I’ll have my own questions,” I said.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” he said, strolling from the hallway into the courtyard.

I checked myself in the mirror one more time, and then walked into the night air. The temperature in the wee hours of the morning was far better. The fountain gurgled, and the stragglers were cackling at the bar, so I ambled through the house to the entrance, and sat on the top step, wondering how much longer John and Amelia would be.

A silver car I didn’t recognize pulled forward, and the passenger window rolled down. It was Max.

“They’re going to be a while. Let me take you home.”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“Morgan, Amelia just had them open another bottle of wine. You’re here for at least another hour. The last gala, John left at sunrise.”

I frowned. “I still have pepper spray in my purse.”

“I’m a married man.”

“So was BTK.”

“The serial killer?” Max said, half-offended, half-amused.

He made a face, and I made a decision. We’d been alone before, in my home. He could have killed me then. Once again, the wine and the heat caused a poor decision, and before I could talk myself out of it, I was sliding into the passenger seat of Max Kingston’s car.

“This is a bad idea,” I said.

He reached across me and buckled my seatbelt. “I’ll get you home safe. I promise.”

Max drove down Dr. Collier’s long, gravel drive, and cruised through the open gate to a red dirt road. After a quarter-mile of dust and rocks, we hit pavement, and Max picked up speed. Street lights and mile sections passed by, and then houses and businesses. Once in my neighborhood, Max slowed, and then pulled into my drive. He hopped out, ran around, and then opened my door. When I leaned forward, but didn’t go anywhere, Max chuckled and reached across me to release my seatbelt.

“There you are,” he said, holding out his hand.

“What is this thing, anyway?”

“The car?” he asked. When I nodded, my eyes half-closed, he chuckled. “Bentley Continental GT.”

“Whatever that means,” I said, taking his hand. My hand felt so small in his. He helped me to stand, and then walked me to my front door. I reached into my purse, fully aware of how sloppy I looked.

“You’ve barely had anything to drink,” Max said, trying not to laugh.

“I don’t go out very often, so it doesn’t take much. And this isn’t a date, so you don’t need to walk me to the door.”

“Of course not. I’m just here to make sure you get in all right, and then I’ll leave.”

My reached into my wristlet for my keys, my fingers sliding over the hard metal before pulling them out. I missed, poking at the knob a few times before the key finally slid in. The motion felt strangely sexual while standing there next to Max.