Born to Be Wild Page 16

  “Not part of the curriculum, was it?”

  “Goodness no. Betsy Endicott and I sneaked away from school one night and ended up in this terribly sleazy place. Poor Betsy. She was worried sick because we were under age, and she spent the longest time trying to drag me away, but I was having far too much fun. I didn’t know, of course, that I was drinking strawberry daiquiris instead of fruit punch, and I surely didn’t know that drinking three of those things in less than an hour would make me horribly uninhibited.”

  Max folded his forearms on the table and watched the animation in her face. “What did you do?”

  “A partial striptease, I’m afraid.”

  “Would you do that for me if I ordered you a strawberry daiquiri?”

  “I’m not seventeen any longer and definitely not as gullible as I was back then.”

  “Then how can I entice you to strip for me?”

  “Order me another beer, keep on smiling at me the way you’ve been doing, and who knows what will happen.”

  Max fetched another round from the bar, more than glad to oblige, grabbed a bowl of peanuts, and sat down for more Laurenesque chatter.

  “Want to tell me why you did only a partial strip?” he asked, watching her again press the icy mug to her chest. His eyes were drawn to her breasts, to the silkiness of her skin, the tantalizing black lace of her bra, and he wanted to strip her all by himself. But, hell, she wanted to go slow, and he was bound and determined to give her anything she wanted, operating in the hope that someday she’d give him everything he wanted in return.

  “It’s warm in here,” she said, “just like it was that night.”

  “Want to go outside?”

  “No, I like the music. The beer’s delicious. The company’s the best I’ve had in a long time.” She took another long sip, watching him over the top of her mug. “I was having a good time that night, too, dancing with anyone and everyone, and before I knew it, I was up on a table, unbuttoning my blouse because it was far too hot, and doing some kind of dance that I definitely didn’t learn in Mrs. Stravinski’s ballroom dance class. The men were watching me, lights were flashing, and my head started spinning. Before I got to the last button, I threw up.” She giggled. “You would have thought I was firing an Uzi around the place the way everyone started to scream.”

  Max couldn’t stop his laughter. “You didn’t throw up on people, did you?”

  “There were a lot of gawkers egging me on in that striptease and, I’m sorry, but I was only seventeen, they’d gotten me drunk, and they deserved everything I hit them with.” She took a long sip of cold beer and rested her arms on the table, leaning close, her pretty face only inches from his. “I can still hear the men yelling at me, and if poor Betsy hadn’t dragged me out right then and there, I’m sure I would have been lynched. I don’t remember how she got me back to school and I don’t remember going to bed, but I do remember my rude awakening.”

  “What happened?” he asked, as she picked a peanut from the bowl, cracked the shell, and popped one of the nuts into her mouth.

  “The headmistress flashed the front page of the local newspaper in my face and started to shout things about me ruining the school’s reputation. My poor mother was beside herself when the tabloids ran their own version of the story, saying they couldn’t print the X-rated photographs. My father, who I ended up staying with for a few weeks after I was kicked out of school, made me shovel horse manure as punishment.” She popped the other nut between her teeth and slowly licked her lips, a gesture that kept Max’s eyes riveted on her mouth. “I haven’t been in a sleazy bar or had another daiquiri since.”

  “Did you ever go back to finishing school?”

  “A different one, I’m afraid. I wanted to run away from that one, too.” She took another sip of beer and leaned forward. “May I make a suggestion?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Don’t ever send Jamie to finishing school or Ryan to a military academy. They’re terribly boring and, really, Max, children need their parents raising them, not the butler, even if he is one of the loveliest people on earth, not a nanny, and not total strangers.”

  Max shelled another peanut and held the nuts against her lips, definitely liking the feel of her mouth closing over his fingers and licking off the salt. He wondered if she had any idea what she was doing to him, wondered how he was going to keep his sanity when she was the most innocently erotic woman he’d ever encountered.

  For days he’d wanted Lauren, in his arms, in his bed, but tonight he realized he might want even more from her.

  “Do you want children?” The way the question slipped casually from his mouth surprised him. It seemed to surprise Lauren, too.

  She lifted the beer and drank slowly, watching him. If she was trying to figure out why he’d asked the question, she probably wouldn’t find the answer in his eyes, because he wasn’t too sure himself.

  “I’ve always wanted children,” she said softly. “Lots of them. But I don’t have the foggiest idea how to take care of a child, and how could I possibly be a good parent when I haven’t had the best role models?”

  “Instinct, I imagine. My dad disappeared when I was eight and my mom dumped me on one of her many boyfriends when I was ten. I didn’t have good role models either, until Philippe took me in.”

  “But you’re a good dad.”

  He shrugged. “I wing it every day. Sometimes I make mistakes, sometimes I do things right. I haven’t found a book yet that answers all the questions, so I do the best I can.”

  Sliding out of the booth, he took her beer from her hands, because she’d already had too many, and pulled her out to the dance floor and into his arms. “You’ll be a good mother when the time comes,” he whispered against her ear, and let the subject drift away as Steppenwolf took them on a “Magic Carpet Ride.”

  Her skin was warm and damp, and God, he liked the feel of her cheek against his as they moved to the beat, their hips, their thighs, her soft breasts and his chest melding together and swaying with the pounding tune. Her fingers twisted in his hair, and his found their way under her leather jacket to the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips.

  “Don’t ever dance naked for anyone but me,” he said, caught up in their sensual dance, thoughts of her long-ago escapade recurring in his mind.

  “I don’t think I’ll be dancing naked for anyone.”

  “Why?”

  “My thighs jiggle and so do my breasts.”

  “I know.” His tongue and lips briefly explored the sensitive hollow beneath her ear, and he thought about exploring other parts on her anatomy, especially the parts that jiggled. “I kept an eye on your body the other day on the beach.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did, and I liked what I saw. I like everything about you. Your honesty, your drive, the way you make the things you do look easy.”

  “Throwing parties is something I’ve done all my life, that’s why my planning looks like a piece of cake.”

  He pushed her far enough away that he could look into her eyes. “Why do you always downplay everything you do? Why are you so unsure of yourself?”

  “Because I’ve failed at all the things that really matter.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’ve told you that before and you’ve thrown it in my face. I’m a lousy wife.”

  “But you had lousy husbands. Have you ever wondered how good you’d be at something if you had someone encouraging you, making you feel good about yourself and the things you’ve done?”

  She just looked at him, tears welling in her eyes. Hell, hadn’t anyone ever told her what a wonder she was?

  He would have told her himself, right then and there, but Bear slapped him on the back and whipped Lauren right out of his arms.

  “You’ve monopolized this little lady for far too long. It’s my turn now.”

  The room buzzed with Credence Clearwater Revival, more Steppenwolf, and an endless stream of biker music and Lauren switched partn
ers more times than Max could count. She laughed, shook her delicious hips, and every so often Max cut in, slowing down her pace, loving the feel of her against him, tasting the beer and peanuts on her tongue and the salty perspiration on her neck. She was hot and sensual and she’d had too much to drink, but he was sure it had been years since she’d let her hair down, so he let her go.

  That proved to be a big mistake.

  “Have you seen Lauren?” Max asked Bear, when he’d lost track of her in the crowd.

  “Ten, fifteen minutes ago, I guess. Why?”

  Max plowed his fingers through his hair. “I can’t find her.”

  “Did she go home with someone else?”

  “She wouldn’t do that.”

  Bear raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

  He had to think about that question for a moment. Earlier today he thought the woman thrived on men and would latch on to anyone who paid attention to her. But rage and jealousy had been doing his thinking earlier. He was somewhat levelheaded tonight. “I’m positive.”

  “Did you check the john?”

  “No, but I will. Keep an eye out for her, will you?”

  “Yeah.”

  Max headed for the hallway and the dim red exit sign. He looked in the men’s head, just in case she’d accidentally stumbled in there and passed out. Fortunately, all he saw were men. God, he shouldn’t have let her have those few extra beers.

  He knocked on the women’s rest room door, and when no one answered he checked inside. Empty.

  Where had she gone?

  Pushing through the exit, he went out back, hoping she wasn’t in the alley with some other biker, praying she hadn’t left with someone else, frightened that someone might have led her out when she wasn’t thinking straight.

  He blasted back inside, making his way through the crowd, asking everyone he knew and even people he didn’t know if they’d seen the tall, voluptuous woman in the super short leather skirt and jacket. Heads shook everywhere, until he got close to Tattoo Annie’s artistic parlor. A guy waiting in line to add another illustration to the collage on his arms thumbed Max toward the door. “I think she’s inside.”

  “Ah, Christ!”

  Max tried the doorknob.

  “I’m busy,” came the woman’s voice from within. “Get in line and I’ll be with you later.”

  “I don’t want a tattoo,” Max shouted. “I want to know who’s in there with you?”

  “I think she said her name’s Lauren. I’d ask her, but she passed out halfway through.”

  Damn! “Open the door and let me in.”

  “Can’t. Not till I’m done.”

  “But she’s drunk and I don’t think she really wants a tattoo.”

  “Honey,” Tattoo Annie hollered back, “she knew what she was doing when she asked for this thing, and she plunked down good money to pay for it. Now if you don’t mind, I’m busy.”

  Max let out a deadly sigh and slammed himself up against the wall to wait. The next fifteen minutes seemed to be the longest wait of his life.

  Finally the door opened and Tattoo Annie, a woman with every visible inch of skin covered in embedded dye, stepped out of the room and glared. “Are you the one waiting for the woman?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, she’s dead to the world. I’ve got customers waiting, so you’re gonna have to haul her out of here.” Tattoo Annie slapped a piece of paper in his hand. “There’s instructions on there for cleaning my artwork. My phone number’s there, too... just in case.”

  “Thanks,” Max said, and stalked into the room, where he couldn’t miss Lauren lying flat out on a cushioned table, facedown. He tilted her head; her eyes were closed, her mouth open. Shaking his head, cursing himself out, he hefted Lauren onto his shoulder, grabbed her purse, and headed into the bar.

  “Well, well, well. This is a pretty sight,” Bear quipped.

  “Breathe a word of it to anyone and you’re dead meat.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it. So, how are you gonna get her home?”

  Max shoved his keys in Bear’s hand. “I’m calling her butler and I need you to follow behind on my bike. I’ll bring you back here after I’ve got her tucked in bed.”

  Bear put his hand on Max’s unencumbered shoulder. “Is she worth all this?”

  Max had been fairly unsure of a lot of things in his life, but he had no doubt at all about the answer he gave Bear. “Yeah, she’s worth all of this and a hell of a lot more.”

  oOo

  Lauren had the awful feeling that she’d fallen asleep in a construction zone somewhere and that a big burly guy had mistakenly thought her head was old asphalt that needed to be pecked away with a jackhammer.

  The pain and the excruciatingly loud noise subsided a moment, then started up all over again.

  “Excuse me, Miss Remington.”

  Cracking open one heavy eyelid, Lauren saw Charles’s blurry figure walk toward the bed. “I haven’t died, have I?” she asked, clasping her palms to her aching skull.

  “Not yet, but your mother is on the telephone. This is the fourth time she’s called today and I couldn’t put her off again.”

  “Fourth time? Where was I the other three?”

  “In various degrees of agony caused by the consumption of too much alcohol.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Would you care to take your mother’s call now, or do you have an excuse I could use to explain your absence? I do believe I’m fresh out of explanations.”

  Lauren ran her fingers through oily hair and had the feeling she looked even worse than she felt. But somehow she rolled toward the phone. “I’ll talk to her.”

  “Very well, miss.”

  “Before you go, Charles, do you by any chance know a hangover remedy?”

  “I believe I might be able to concoct something. I’ll bring it up shortly.”

  “Thank you,” she muttered as he walked out the door. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the phone. “Hello, Mother.”

  “Lauren, darling, I’m so glad you’re finally home. The most dreadful thing has happened.”

  “What is it, Mother?” Lauren asked, forcing herself to listen carefully when she heard the nervousness in her mother’s voice. “Are you in Rio? Has there been an accident?”

  “Yes, Bunny and I are in Rio and no, there hasn’t been an accident. However, Bunny and I were preparing to go out this evening and she opened her jewelry case to find out that her emerald necklace is missing.”

  Lauren sighed with relief. “Calm down, Mother. I’m sure Bunny just forgot to pack it. You know how forgetful she can be at times.”

  “I thought the same thing, darling, but she showed it to me before Betsy’s wedding. She couldn’t make up her mind which necklace to wear, and we sorted through several before she found the right one. You didn’t see it lying on the floor in the bedroom where Bunny changed, did you?”

  “No, Mother, and I’m sure Charles would have let me know if he’d found it.”

  “It’s worth a small fortune and can’t be replaced.”

  “Is Bunny sure she didn’t leave it at home?”

  “She hasn’t touched the jewelry case since the wedding. We left for Rio so quickly that she brought everything with her, rather than returning it to her safe deposit box.”

  Lauren could almost hear the flutter of her mother’s heart, the nervousness she felt over Bunny losing her jewelry.

  “I’ll go to Bunny’s home if you’d like,” Lauren offered, then wondered how she could possibly get there in the shape she was in. Still, she said, “I’d be happy to look around.”

  “She’s already called her maid, talked to her butler and her cook, not to mention the chauffeur to see if it might have been misplaced in the car. Having you look would be useless, darling. Bunny and I are positive it’s been stolen.”

  Lauren laughed lightly, the sound vibrating heavily between her ears. “That’s always a possibility,” she said, trying to soften her voice, “but
if it was stolen, it could have happened anyplace. On the plane, in Rio, at her home.”

  Her mother was silent a moment. “I hate to bring this up, darling, because I know that you like that man who catered Betsy’s wedding, but he had some very disreputable people working for him. One in particular.”

  “And which one would that have been, Mother?” Lauren asked, angry that her mother would even think such a thing about Max and his friends.

  “Well, Bunny told me there was a young man at the wedding who was admiring jewelry, or possibly her breasts, of all things, but now she’s sure he was scoping out her emeralds, planning a heist.”

  Lauren hadn’t wanted to hear this. Not now. Not ever. “That was Ryan, Mother.”

  “You know him, then?”

  “He’s Max’s son, and I know the entire story behind him looking at Bunny’s jewelry.”

  “Then why don’t you tell me.”

  “His hormones are in overdrive.” She could hear her mother’s gasp; young men’s hormones were something ladies didn’t talk about! “I know you’re going to find this reprehensible, but Ryan was looking at Bunny’s breasts, not her jewelry, and Max had a long talk with him about not doing it in the future.”

  “I certainly hope so. But if the boy didn’t take Bunny’s necklace, I’m sure one of those other people could have.”

  “You’re wrong about Max and his staff, and I’m sure you and Bunny are wrong about it disappearing during Betsy’s wedding.”

  “Those people had access to every room in your home, for several hours, I might add. You’re giving them too much credit.”

  “Max’s friends aren’t thieves,” Lauren stated adamantly. “Jazz is a cop. Bear’s a dentist and Gabe’s a social worker.”

  “That doesn’t mean they can’t have the inclination to steal.”

  “The same could be said for a hundred percent of the people who were at Betsy’s wedding.”

  Lauren heard her mother’s frustrated sigh. “That man’s got you beguiled, Lauren. Wake up and realize that he lives on the wrong side of the tracks.”

  “He lives in a beautiful home.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve been there!”

  “Of course I have. I like his friends, I like his children, and Max is warm and genuine.”