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Like with Max.
From head to toe Max Hunter was about as perfect as a man could get. A lot of men started to go soft in their thirties, but not Max. He was tall, with strong shoulders and a flat stomach—every inch of his body was balanced power and masculine grace. His face was too masculine to be beautiful, but with his high, carved cheekbones and eyes so dark they were nearly black…just looking at him made a woman breathless.
She sneaked a peek at him. He seemed very distant and far away, and she bit her lip. Their friendship was more important than getting his help.
Long rays of light lit the garden as they approached the two houses. It was on the extreme edge of Mitchellton, more out in the country than in town.
Still silent, Max walked her to the back door.
Annie put her hand on the knob, then looked back over her shoulder. “Forget what I said, Max. I’ll manage by myself. I shouldn’t have said anything to you about my…situation. Just knock on the door when you want to drive into Sacramento. I’ll be around all day.”
“What about church? Aren’t you going tomorrow?”
She swallowed.
The children were putting on a special biblical play in the morning, in place of the regular service. They’d worked on the drama for weeks, but she didn’t think she could get through it without crying. Right now all those sweet young faces were a reminder of everything she might never have.
“No,” she said huskily. “I don’t expect to attend. I’ve got things to do here at the house.”
Max took a deep breath, wanting to say something, anything to fix what seemed unfixable, but Annie quickly slipped inside the house and just as quickly closed the door.
He should have said something else, he realized. Or hugged her, the way he’d wanted to earlier. He should have found a way to comfort her. But he’d blown it, letting his ego get in the way of being a friend.
With a sigh Max returned to his grandmother’s house and went out to the old sleeping porch. Grace kept a chaise lounge there, to sleep on during the occasional nights when the delta remained hot and humid. She wouldn’t let him put air-conditioning in the house, saying she preferred the old swamp cooler. And in truth, on most summer days the house caught a breeze from the river, making it livable.
He lay down on the chaise and put his hands behind his head. It was monotonously quiet away from the city. No traffic or other mechanical sounds, no energy, just the call of crickets and the underlying rhythm of the river in the distance.
Max closed his eyes, but he couldn’t escape the memory of Annie standing on the levee, highlighted by the sunset. And he couldn’t forget the longing in her voice.
In the end his own feelings weren’t important—he didn’t have to share her dreams to care about them.
He would help Annie the best way he could and accept the consequences.
Chapter Three
“How did you sleep?”
The question, coming out of the pink shadows of dawn, startled Annie, and she spun around.
“Fine, Max.” It was a lie, but there were certain polite lies you told to protect other people’s feelings…and yourself.
He had on the same shirt and slacks he was wearing the night before, which wasn’t surprising since he hadn’t planned on staying over at Grace’s. What did surprise her was seeing him at dawn, especially dawn during the summer. Max was not a morning person. While he might have changed since moving away from Mitchellton, she doubted it.
“What are you doing up in the middle of the night?” he asked.
The “middle of the night” convinced Annie that Max was just as antimorning as always.
“It’s morning,” she said. “You know, birds singing, sun rising, the world waking up.”
“Mmm. Waking up implies you’ve gone to sleep.”
“I see.” Annie cast a swift glance at Max and saw that he was just as solemn as when she’d left him the evening before. She’d spent a few sleepless hours herself, trying to decide what she should do about Max. He was a friend, and she wanted to keep that friendship, but part of her was angry and frustrated.
Just this once, why couldn’t he understand?
Wanting a baby wasn’t like saying she wanted to fly to the moon. It was a goal that millions of women set every month, and she wasn’t any different from them.
You should consider starting your family within the next six to nine months.…
The doctor’s reminder echoed in Annie’s mind, reminding her that things were different for her. In the first place, she didn’t have a husband. In the second, she wasn’t the least bit experienced with men. And last, she might not be able to get pregnant if she didn’t work quickly. Still, it wasn’t Max’s problem, and she ought to apologize.
“Annie—”
“Max—” She stopped at the same moment he did. “Go ahead,” she murmured.
“No. You…go.” They’d never been this awkward with each other, and she felt worse than ever. She should have realized a man would see things differently. Even more, she should have realized that Max hadn’t changed.
“I’m sorry about last night,” she said quickly, determined to get it out. “I shouldn’t have asked you to help. I wasn’t being fair.”
“You just surprised me, that’s all.”
Surprised was an understatement, Max thought wryly. He’d never thought a great deal about Annie’s romantic life. When the guys at high school were making noises about her, he’d made threats about treating her like a lady, but that was the extent of his involvement.
Annie was just…Annie.
And in less than twenty-four hours he’d had more uncomfortable thoughts about her than in all the time they’d known each other.
Well, except for that one time. Max rubbed his chin, remembering. They’d been chasing spilled change from the cash register, and her cheeks had been pink and damp from the heat. She’d seemed so breathless and elemental that he’d had a brief surge of lust before regaining his senses.
Odd, he hadn’t thought about that day in years, but it still was crystal clear in his memory.
Annie leaned over and moved one of the hoses she used to water the garden. The sun was higher on the horizon, spilling more light into the yard with each passing minute, and Max groaned silently. She’d put on the shorts she used for working in the garden. They were old and stained, the cotton faded and shrunk from being laundered, and he’d seen her wearing them a hundred times…but never quite this way.
Never with his body humming with awareness.
Really, Annie had very nice long legs and a tight, sexy bottom that was just right to fill a man’s hands.
Damn.
Max gritted his teeth.
“If you want, I can take you into Sacramento right now,” Annie offered as she straightened and shook drops of water from her hands.
With an effort he loosened his jaw enough to speak. “That’s all right. We can wait until later.”
“Aren’t you worried what Miss Blakely might do to your car?”
Max shrugged. “Not really. Buffy is a spoiled brat, but she isn’t stupid. She’ll probably leave it at my condo or the office and express me the keys. She might even drive back to Mitchellton and look for me.”
“Oh.” Annie drifted deeper into the garden, and Max could almost feel it growing, embracing her as she moved within it.
Ever since he’d moved next door there had been a garden in back of the two homes. At first it was Grace’s no-nonsense vegetables, with young Annie helping to tend the orderly rows of tomatoes, carrots and spinach. Now the garden spilled across both yards and was uniquely Annie’s.
Riotous flowers filled every nook and cranny with a cheerful explosion of color. Trellises covered by climbing roses and wisteria sectioned areas of the yard, including a small area Annie had designed to reflect the beauty and style of a formal Japanese garden. He’d helped with that part, installing a water system that included a water lily pond and several small fountains.
“Are you hoping she’ll come looking for you?” Annie asked after a few minutes. “Buffy, I mean.”
Max frowned at the peculiar note in her voice. “No. Why?”
“She’s very attractive.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
Annie turned and looked at him. “Really?” she asked dryly.
A grin tugged at his mouth. “Okay. I noticed it in the beginning, but the more Buffy talks, the less attractive she becomes.”
“Men don’t like talkative women?”
“Not when they talk like Buffy,” Max said lightly, yet Annie’s question had reminded him of her so-called plan. She wanted advice on catching herself a husband. Apparently even meaningless scraps of information were important to her, like a teasing remark.
He cleared his throat. “About last night—you’re still planning to go manhunting, aren’t you?”
Annie rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t have put it in such a crass way, but yes, I still want to find a husband. I don’t have any choice, Max. If I’m going to get married and have a baby, it has to be soon.”
“Then I’ll help…any way I can.” He could feel the fires of doom licking at his heels, but there wasn’t anything else he could do. Annie was his friend, and friends looked out for each other. She could get into a lot of trouble if she wasn’t careful.
“That’s all right. You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do,” Max said, more sharply than he’d intended. “I was wrong to get so upset when you asked. Cripes, I insisted you confide in me, then acted like a jerk when you did.”
A smile hovered on her lips, and he knew she wanted to agree. He had acted like a jerk. A typical knee-jerk male, as his grandmother would say. Grace wasn’t a man-hater by any stretch of the imagination, but she had pithy things to say about human folly.
Which raised another question…did Grace know about Annie’s problem? And what would she think of the solution?
As soon as the thought formed in his mind, Max sighed. He couldn’t escape the conviction that Annie was making a huge mistake and he was making an even bigger mistake getting involved.
“Annie, does my grandmother know about all of this?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t want to worry her.”
Max plucked a snow pea from a vine and ate the sweet, crunchy pod before answering. “Suddenly transforming yourself might make her worry even more.”
Annie rinsed her feet in the water flowing from the garden hose. “Grace can take it. Besides, she’s been encouraging me to make some changes, and we’ve talked about the sheriff and stuff. I’m sure she’ll approve of anything I decide to do.”
His eyebrows shot upward. If his grandmother was getting into the act, why did Annie need his help? Yet even as the thought formed, Max rejected it. Grace Hunter had been an attractive, stylish woman of her day, but she wasn’t interested in modern fashion or social customs.
“What kind of changes?” he murmured.
“To start dating. She seems to think I’ve been turning down all the eligible men pounding down my door.”
Though she said the words lightly, Max sensed a wealth of regret behind Annie’s statement. Like most women, she wanted to be beautiful and desirable. And she was beautiful…she just didn’t know it. Now it was worse because of her medical condition. What was it she’d said—that after surgery she probably wouldn’t be able to conceive?
Somewhere, beneath all his discomfort with the idea of babies and marriage, Max began to understand Annie’s uncertainty. Her identity as a woman was being threatened. It didn’t matter that the ability to bear a child didn’t make her any more or less of a woman, it was the way she felt.
“So,” he said. “Have you changed your mind about going to church? Grandmother said there was a special program today. She’s looking forward to it.”
Annie shook her head. “No. But you and Grace come over for lunch after you get back.”
She headed for the house, and Max took a deep breath. If only Annie could have asked him for something easy…like remodeling the house or putting in another lily pond.
He still wasn’t sure how Annie thought he could help with her crazy scheme, but the whole thing was bound to have more than its share of uncomfortable moments.
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