Lola Carlyle Reveals All

He hooked the top of the sack with his finger and looked inside. “What ya got in there?”

“A few vegetables. Milk, chicken, hamburger, and some other stuff.”

“A king-sized Snickers,” he said as he pulled out the candy bar.

“Of course.”

He dropped it back into the sack. “Do you have rice to go with that chicken?”

She pointed to a cupboard above her. The bottom shelf was filled with food staples, the top two shelves with some of the foreign cookbooks she never used. “Up there.”

Max moved behind her and reached over her head, his chest brushing her back as he opened the cupboard and pulled out a bright red box. The touch was nothing, just a slight brushing of fabric, but it sent goose bumps up her back.

“Minute Rice?” he said just above the top of her head. “I can’t make arroz con polio with Minute Rice.”

Lola placed her hands flat on the counter. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to lean back into the solid comfort of his chest. To have him wrap his arms around her and melt into him. To close her eyes and let him take her mind off everything. To once again feel the warmth and strength of being with him.

“What’s arroz con pollo?” she asked.

“Chicken, rice, spices, a little tomato sauce, a little beer and peppers.”

Before she could give in to the urge, he put the box back in the cupboard and moved to the end of the counter, putting distance between them. It felt to Lola as if he were trying to put more than physical distance between them. It was as if he were purposely keeping a professional arm’s length, and she got that strange feeling again. The feeling of being suspended in air and waiting. “Can you barbeque?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” He took a package of chicken out of the grocery bag. “Lola?”

She frowned and stuck a rose in the vase. “Yes?”

“You never really answered my question.”

She thought she’d answered them all and looked up. “Which one?”

“How are you doing?” His gaze poured over her face and hair. “Really?”

“I’m okay.” She turned her attention back to the flowers and selected a beautiful closed tulip. “Everything is a bit weird, but I’ll get back into the swing of things. It was just my first day back to the office, so I wasn’t-”

“I’m not asking about your work.” He placed his fingers beneath her chin and brought her gaze back to his. “I’m asking about you.”

His light touch raised the hair at the back of her skull and little tingles tickled the hollow of her throat. She set the tulip down on the counter and looked into his familiar blue eyes. Into the face of the only person who might understand-even what she herself did not understand.

“I don’t know how to feel. I know that I’m supposed to be glad I’m home, and I am glad. But at the same time, I feel like something has changed and I don’t know what it is. My house, my job, my life, all look the same, but they… I don’t know. It all feels different. Disorienting. Weird.”

His brows lowered, he dipped his head a little, and peered into her eyes. “Are you having any sort of flashbacks or difficultly sleeping?”

“No.”

“Any bad dreams?”

“I dreamed I couldn’t get Baby out of the animal shelter.”

“Hmm. How about dreams of death or dying?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Jumpy?”

“No.”

“Afraid?”

“Not since I’ve been back.” She shrugged. “I’m just having trouble concentrating.”

He placed both his hands on the tops of her bare arms. “It sounds like you might be a little shell-shocked. It’s not uncommon with people who have gone through something traumatic. Maybe you should see somebody.”

“A psychiatrist?”

“Yeah.”

No, she didn’t want to talk to a doctor. She’d been through therapy before. Several years of it, and it had helped her then, but this didn’t feel like anything she needed a professional to help her through. She only wanted to talk to Max. Just the touch of his warm palms on her arms made her feel better. Just as it had the night of the storm and the night they’d made love.

“Have you ever seen a psychiatrist?” He laughed. “No, I’m afraid of what he’d find.”

“Like maybe you’re as crazy as a bullbat?”

“Definitely.” He slid his hands down her arms to her elbows, and again she had to fight the urge to lean into him. “Have you been eating?”

She’d been having a bit of trouble with that. She’d been having to remind herself to eat, but she’d been there before and knew the routine. It was nothing she couldn’t handle. Nothing she couldn’t conquer, and nothing she wanted to talk about. “Why all the questions?”

“I need to know you’re okay.” He dropped his hands to his sides, taking the warmth of his touch with him. “In my life, I’ve done some things I’m not especially proud of, but I’ve never screwed up the life of an innocent woman. I did that with you, and I’m sorry.” He looked into her eyes as if he could read her mind. “I want to make sure you’re going to be all right, and I want to help you get those photographs off the Internet. I owe you that much.”

He made it sound as if the only reason he’d come was because he felt responsible for her. As if he were here because he felt he owed some unpaid debt. As if she were just another job he needed to finish before he checked her off his list and eased his conscience. “You don’t owe me anything. I can hire someone to help me with Sam. And you didn’t have to drive all the way down here from Alexandria just to make sure I’m okay. You could have called to do that.”

“I’m on my way to Charlotte.”

“Oh.” She’d been a stop on his way to somewhere else, and she was embarrassed at how horribly that hurt.

“I would have come anyway.”

“Why?”

“You and I have been… a… we…” He struggled for the right words, just as he had the afternoon on the Dora Mae when he’d tried to clean up his language for her. “1 thought we were getting along better. More friendly, anyway.”

Yes, she’d say making love was more friendly. She wondered what he was really getting at. If he was getting at anything at all. With Max, it was hard to tell. “Are you trying to say you want to be friends?”

He folded his arms across his chest and rested his weight on one foot. “Friends is good,” he said, although he didn’t look particularly happy about the prospect. “We can do that.”

The man who’d stood on her welcome mat, looking at her as if he were sizing her up for his next meal, had not come for friendship. But the man in front of her now reminded her of the Max who’d told her she could walk around naked and he wouldn’t feel a thing. “Have you ever had a woman friend?”

“No.”

“Are you sure you can handle just being friends with me?”

“Sure.”

She stuck a tulip into the vase and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Because I remember several times when you kissed me and, before I knew it, your sneaky hands had unbuttoned my clothes.”

“I can keep my hands to myself,” he assured her. “Can you?”

“Not a problem.”

He tilted his head to one side and studied her beneath lowered brows. “You sure about that?”

“Positive.”

“ ‘Cause I remember you sticking your hand down my pants and grabbing my balls.”

Lola’s mouth fell open and Max smiled. She’d forgotten he could be so rude. “Well, that’s only because I