A Turn in the Road (Blossom Street #8)(44)

Both men chuckled and Rooster sauntered over to the elevators. “Shall we?” Max said, offering her his arm. Once they were outside the hotel, the doorman got them a taxi. The restaurant Max took her to turned out to be a high-end steak house. Everything was delicious, from her salad to the rich dessert they shared. Max selected the wine, a rich cabernet sauvignon from France, and they discussed various Old and New World wines.

Max paid the bill, and when they left, he waved down a taxi. He gave the driver an address, and Bethanne asked, “Where are we going?” as he held her door.

He smiled, eyebrows raised. “To a biker bar.”

“Oh.” She’d feel terribly out of place.

“Don’t worry,” he said as he got in beside her. “It isn’t what you think.”

A few minutes later, they arrived at what appeared to be a honky-tonk tavern, where the band was loud and the crowd boisterous. Max found them a table in a shadowy corner and ordered drinks—pints of beer from a microbrewery she’d never heard of. Several couples were dancing, and before the waitress returned, Max led Bethanne onto the floor.

They danced until they were breathless. The live music was energetic, the atmosphere festive. Several men cast her questioning looks but she doubted their curiosity was due to her or the way she’d dressed. The men seemed surprised to see Max with a woman, which made Bethanne feel even more special.

When she was convinced she couldn’t dance another step, they went back to the table and collapsed into their chairs. Bethanne hadn’t spent that much time on the dance floor in years. Max dragged his chair next to hers and picked up his beer mug, draining half of it. Then he set the mug aside, slipped his hand around her shoulder and drew her mouth to his.

This time Bethanne didn’t hesitate. She closed her eyes and met him halfway. Winding her arms around his neck, she leaned into the kiss, which was gentle and soft. In the beginning. That quickly changed as passion flared between them. It’d been so long since she’d experienced desire, real physical need, that it rocked her. The kiss became so intense, she nearly slid off her chair.

Max seemed to feel just as shaken. He broke off the kiss and slumped back. His eyes met hers; he had the look of a man who was dazed, stunned. Bethanne understood, because she felt that same mixture of astonishment and wonder.

Neither seemed to know what to say. After a moment, Max touched her face. “You taste nice,” he whispered, sounding unlike himself.

She lowered her lashes. “So do you.”

He leaned forward and kissed her again as though testing his own observation. She clung to him. His kiss was urgent, needy, and once again desire sparked between them, scorching Bethanne’s senses. She turned her head away and buried her face in his shoulder, trying to understand what was happening to them. Max ran his fingers through her hair and continued kissing the side of her face.

Anywhere else Bethanne would have been embarrassed. Thankfully, no one here seemed to notice or care.

They danced and kissed and became so involved with each other that it was after two in the morning before she was aware of the time. Resting her forehead against his, Bethanne sighed. “I have to go.”

His hold on her briefly tightened. “Okay.”

“Don’t think that’s what I want,” she said. “I’d like nothing better than to spend the rest of my time in Vegas with you.”

“But you can’t.”

“No, we’re leaving for the Grand Canyon tomorrow morning.”

“It’s spectacular. You’ll love it.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m so glad you called.”

“I am, too. Can I call you again?”

She didn’t know how to respond.

“Tell you what,” Max said. “You call me. You should have my cell number in your phone index. If I don’t hear from you…let’s say by August first, after your son’s wedding, then I’ll know you’ve decided to go back to Grant.”

She nodded.

Max escorted her to the hotel and kissed her one last time. He was wrong about one thing, she thought. What happened in Vegas wouldn’t stay here. It would always be with her.

Fourteen

By the time Ruth, Annie and Bethanne left Las Vegas, it was almost noon. They’d slept in until after ten, eaten a late breakfast, packed up the car and were now on their way. This was the new rental and once again they’d opted to do without a navigational device. They had their map and an atlas; that should be enough.

No one seemed to be talking much, and the tension inside the car remained high as Bethanne headed toward Henderson, Nevada, and then over Hoover Dam south on Highway 93. It went without saying that Annie and Ruth were upset with her for staying out so late with Max, but neither commented. Just as well. Her relationship with Max was none of their business, regardless of what they might think. Soon the map directed them toward the cutoff for Grand Canyon National Park.

Finally, Annie broke the ice. “Will you be seeing Max again?” she asked from the backseat. Although the question was thrown out casually, Bethanne could see that both her daughter and Ruth were keenly interested in her answer.

Would she see him again? That depended on what she decided about Grant—a decision that was hers alone. She’d told Max she’d contact him after Andrew’s wedding. The beginning of August, he’d suggested, but that seemed so long to wait. Even after she’d slipped into bed beside Annie, all Bethanne could think about was the kisses she’d shared with Max. No man had affected her the way he did, not since she was in college and first met Grant.