Calia Read: Unravel

Anyone younger than thirty was dubbed “that boy” by Patrick, so this Max couldn’t be too old. But as curious as I was to meet this mystery host, I had to find Lana. She was the only reason I was there. “You know, I don’t have to meet him,” I said. “I’m looking for L—”

“Nonsense,” Patrick interrupted. “It will only take a few minutes.”

He continued to scan the crowd.

“He’s my stockbroker now and it was the best damn decision I’ve made in years!” Patrick said absently. “I had my reservations… yes, I did. Why should I trust this boy to help me invest? But he’s proved me wrong!”

Patrick laughed and finally looked at me.

I smiled politely.

I looked over my shoulder because that’s all I planned on giving this Max. A passing glance, maybe a polite wave hello. That was all.

But that’s not what happened.

What happened was that I looked once and never turned away. I don’t even think I blinked.

There was nothing old about Max. Nothing at all.

He was tall, around six-foot-two. With that height I expected him to be lean, but his white, oxford shirt molded against his shoulders. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and I saw the bluish veins that traveled from his wrist, up his strong forearms. His posture was relaxed, legs crossed, hands tucked into his black dress pants, as he listened to the man next to him.

I could tell you all about the features that made him textbook handsome. I could, but I hardly noticed them myself. All I noticed was the force of his confidence. It shone through his eyes, and his wide smile.

The longer I stood there, the more the room felt like it was closing in on me.

I stood on my tiptoes, peered around a shoulder and took him in.

A pretty redhead leaned in close to him. He smiled at her and scanned the crowd. The whole time I had been staring at him he’d been completely unaware, but then he caught me. Instead of looking away, I boldly stared back.

His brow lifted and his lips curved up into a sexy smirk. He moved away from the table and took a step forward in my direction.

That’s it. Come closer, I beckoned with my eyes.

That smile was for me. He looked right at me. Someone bumped into me, muttered sorry and I waved them off, refusing to look away from him. I felt possessed. I couldn’t look away. Frissons of excitement flowed through me as he walked toward me. If I was feeling this way with him clear across the room, what would it be like standing inches away from him?

“Come here, my boy,” Patrick said.

I jumped and looked over at Patrick. I’d forgotten he was there. Actually, I’d forgotten about everything. Forgotten about the music and laughter and the roomful of people.

“Have you met Naomi?”

I met his gaze head on. I knew I looked calm and in control, but past my dress, my flesh, directly behind my ribs, my heart was pounding like a drum.

Just breathe, Naomi. I told myself. He’s just like every other male.

“No,” he said. There was a playful gleam in his eyes. “I haven’t.”

He held out his hand. He gave me an intimate smile that made me question if we’d met before. Goosebumps broke out. But I would’ve remembered that smile. I would have remembered this feeling. We hadn’t met before.

“Nice to meet you,” he said.

That. Voice.

It was deep, almost hypnotic. He had a southern drawl. He pronounced every word slowly. Just one simple word coming from his lips sounded forbidden.

He smiled at me. It was a slow smile that tugged at his lips and traveled all the way to his eyes. I felt every inch of that smile pierce my heart.

I shook his hand.

My blood was starting to hum. His grip tightened. I went to pull away, but he held on a few seconds longer. Our gazes held. I couldn’t remember a time I’d ever been looked at like that. His eyes pierced me with one thorough look. I felt it go through my body.

I finally found my voice. “Likewise,” I said.

This is where he asked me for my last name. And I gave it to him. He asked more questions and I answered. A moment later I left with Lana.

Mission accomplished.

Game over.

We all go on with our lives.

Except that never happened.

“Naomi,” he said and I knew I could get used to my name coming out of his mouth. “Naomi, are you having fun tonight?”

“Am I having fun?” I mused and looked down at my empty glass. My hands were shaking. “Well, I was.” The waiter came by. I swapped my empty glass for a new drink and smiled at Max. “Never mind. Everything is better now.”

He crossed his arms and gave me a devastating smile.

Everyone’s always told me that my smart mouth gets me into trouble and they’re probably right. But Max didn’t seem to mind. In fact, it seemed to be the one thing that kept his eyes riveted on my face.

He took another step forward and tilted his head. “What do you think of the party?”

I took a step closer. “I don’t think you should be asking me that.”

“No?”

I shook my head and smiled. “Look over there,” I pointed toward an overweight, balding man in the corner. Max turned and his shoulder grazed mine. We both watched the man lift his glass, toasting to his friends. They drank and their laughter rang out around the tent. “I think he’s having enough fun for the entire crowd.”

Max smirked.

I looked over my shoulder and found my next target. Lana’s mom. “Take that beautiful lady.” She was directly in front of him, but he leaned in and peered closely at her. His jaw brushed against my hair. I sucked in a sharp breath and continued to talk, like I wasn’t feeling a thing. “She lives for these parties where she can be the center of attention. And she’ll stand there, complaining to her friends that the maid didn’t pick up her dry cleaning on time and the gardener didn’t prune her rosebushes.” On cue, the ladies around Lana’s mom leaned in and patted her arm. “And now her friends are giving their condolences because there’s nothing more tragic than unhealthy roses.”

He looked down and smiled at me. There was a pull between us. Talking to him came naturally. It was just so easy.

“You think that’s what they’re talking about?”

“I know so,” I said confidently.

“But you’re not like them?”

Max moved in just a bit closer. He smelled amazing. I couldn’t tell if it was cologne, body wash or his own personal scent, Eau de Max . Either way, I wanted to bury my face in his neck.

I blinked away the image and processed his question, but I couldn’t form a coherent answer. Standing this close to me I could see everything. His thick black lashes, the flecks of brown in his eyes, and the tiny scar below his right eye.

I wanted to keep looking at him, finding things that most people would never notice. But he stood there, eyebrows lifted, waiting for me to answer.

I raised the glass to my lips and took a drink. I needed all the liquid courage I could get. He followed the line of my jaw, curve of my throat, like he was transfixed. There was no champagne left. I stared down at the empty glass. “Other than my questionable drinking habits, no, I’m not like the people here.”

I lifted my eyes and prayed like hell that he found my comment funny. But he was staring at me with a thoughtful look on his face. A mixture of lust and fear. I couldn’t really blame him. How many times in your life do you experience this level of attraction?

I blinked and the white lights strung above us blurred yellow. Conversations around us died down. A curtain closed around the two of us. We were in our own world.

His eyes traveled slowly across my body. I took care to make sure I was dressed conservatively for tonight’s party, but Max was quickly stripping me, making me feel like my pale pink, cap-sleeved dress was non-existent. My blood went straight to my head.