Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Weirdly, Max had enjoyed meeting Violet's family.
But as the night went on, Violet became more withdrawn.
It seemed that being around too many people was taking its toll again, and he could only imagine the shock she'd felt when her family had walked right into the middle of her undercover op. He was still reeling a little himself.
When Samuel had started to yawn, the Lee clan had headed to bed, and Violet had immediately vetoed any notion of a team meeting to go over the evening's events.
Instead, Rodrigo and Katrina had gone to St. Patrice to see what Evan got from the drone footage.
And he'd returned to the bungalow with Violet.
Who'd promptly ordered him not to talk and to go shower.
Max had taken one look at her face then done as he was told.
But when he got out of the shower, dressed in his pajama bottoms and T-shirt for bed, Violet seemed to have disappeared.
He walked through the small bungalow, but there was no sight of her.
He was about to call Rodrigo when he noticed something on the floor between the bed and the curtained window.
When he went over to investigate, he found Violet lying on her back, head toward the foot of the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Her arms were straight at her side and her fists were clenched. Not a good sign.
"Are you having a breakdown?" he said as he sat on the edge of the bed by her head. "Do I need to call someone?"
"If I was, who would you call?" She kept staring at the ceiling. "Everyone I know would make it worse."
He slid down to sit on the floor beside her, his back against the bed. "The resort should have a doctor. Or there might be a psychiatrist on St. Patrice who makes house calls. Help me out here, what medical service do we need?" Without thinking, he reached out to stroke her black silken hair.
To his astonishment, she didn't flinch, and even seemed to relax some.
So, he carried on. For a few moments, they stayed like that, Violet staring at the ceiling and Max stroking her hair.
It was the most relaxed he'd been since they'd started this trip, and he almost didn't want the experience to end.
"I'm not a cat," she said at last.
It took him a second to catch up, he'd been so busy trying to find the right words to describe the sensation of her hair through his fingers.
"I know," he said.
"You don't have to pat me," she carried on.
"I'm not patting you, I'm petting you. And trust me, that is definitely something you can do to a person."
That seemed to be enough to appease her because silence descended again. Max found himself fascinated by the waterfall effect of her hair over his hand. It was one of the most sensual experiences of his life, and he couldn't figure out how something so simple could bring so much pleasure.
"Did you call your mum?" she said, her words echoing in the silence. "Because I wouldn't put it past my mother to track her down and tell her what's going on."
"Yeah, I called her." Her hair slid through his fingers to the floor.
Fascinating. Like everything else about Violet Lee.
"After your mom's not-so-subtle threat, I thought I'd better.
I explained we were on a job, trying to get information on Damien, and our cover was getting married.
I asked her to tell anyone who asked that she was aware of the wedding but because it was such short notice she couldn't attend. "
"What did she say?" Her fists had unclenched and now her hands rested on her stomach. Definitely an improvement.
"That she'd throw us a big wedding reception when we got back to Toronto."
Violet stiffened and angled her head to look up at him. Her chocolate eyes were dark pools filled with worry. "Didn't she understand that the whole thing is fake?"
"Oh, she understood. She was being funny." Or, serious. Sometimes his mother heard things in his voice he wasn't ready to face or say yet. He wasn't sure what scenario was at play this time. "She's got a good sense of humor," he said, choosing to believe that’d been her intention.
"Good, that's good. And you warned her my mum might call?"
"I figured there was a chance. After all, your mum had all the information she needed to track my family down once she'd grilled me in the restaurant."
"Your mum sounds a whole lot more reasonable than mine," Violet said.
"She's a criminal lawyer who understands what lengths you sometimes have to go to in order to get the bad guy." And that sometimes, an obsession for justice can do more harm than good. She'd warned him of that on more than one occasion.
"And your father?" she asked a little tentatively, as though this personal information thing was new territory to her.
And, from what he'd seen of Violet, it probably was.
She tended to keep herself at arm's length, even from her teammates.
He hadn't figured out yet if it was deliberate, or if she wasn't sure how to step over the invisible barrier she'd placed around herself.
Mysteries, mysteries, Violet Lee was full of them, and they pulled at him like nothing else could have. A mystery to a journalist? It was his catnip.
"Why don't you sit up and I'll give you a shoulder rub while we talk?" It was a risky ask, but honestly it looked like she needed it. Actually, they both might need it. Touching her was calming something deep inside of him and he wanted her to feel that too.
She thought about it before slowly nodding. "Okay."
Max felt a surge of relief, followed by triumph, as he stretched out his legs and spread them wide for her to sit between. Violet got herself into position, but the stiff body language and vulnerable expression were back in place.
"Bring your hair to the front, so it's out of my way," he said, making a show of clasping his hands and stretching them out. "Be prepared to be dazzled. I am the master of shoulder rubs."
She relaxed and moved her hair. Gently, Max clasped her shoulders and slowly began to rub away the tension. He smiled when she relaxed further under his touch.
"Your dad?" she prompted.
"I didn't know him. My mum was a teenage mother, and he ran off as soon as he got the news she was pregnant. I never bothered looking him up."
"Oh, was she okay? I mean…"
"Did she have support? Yeah. My grandparents are awesome.
Mom and I stayed with them while she finished high school then worked her way through college.
When I was fourteen, she met her husband, my stepdad.
" He paused. "Actually, I just call him dad.
They had two more kids. I've got two younger sisters who're fifteen and seventeen.
" He smiled at the thought of them. Now they would be pissed about missing the wedding.
They wouldn't care if it was real or not, they'd want to be there for the party.
"Your dad is a lawyer too?" Violet asked as she pressed back into his touch.
"Naw, he's an ice hockey coach."
She glanced over her shoulder at him. "That's a real thing?"
Max chuckled. "Definitely a real thing."
"How did they meet?"
He was surprised that the questions kept coming because Violet wasn't usually one for chatting about anything, unless it was about work. He liked this new relaxed Violet. He liked her very much.
"He was a witness in a case she was working," he said, rubbing at a knot near her nape.
She let out a little sigh of pleasure that made his blood stir—and another part of his body that he thought might make Violet less relaxed.
He looked down at his crotch and willed himself to relax.
This wasn't the time to show an interest. He didn't want to scare her away.
"It sounds like you have a nice family," Violet said.
"I'm lucky," he said. "I'm even luckier they aren't here for this fake wedding.
I've got a feeling our mothers would get on like a house on fire.
" He wondered where that particular idiom had come from.
When you thought about it, it didn't make a whole lot of sense.
Did it mean they'd get on so well it would cause friction that could burn the place down?
Or that their friendship would ignite quickly like a house fire?
Did house fires ignite that fast? Maybe it was—
"Have you zoned out?" Violet said.
"Sorry," he said. "I was thinking about idioms."
She stilled before looking back at him with dark, unreadable eyes. "Do men usually think about idioms when they're giving a woman a shoulder rub?"
"No," he said ruefully. "My brain is a mysterious place."
"I'm getting that." She turned around.
"If it's any consolation, I can wonder where a phrase came from at the same time as marveling over how soft your skin feels, or how toned your muscles are."
She looked back at him again. "Really?"
"Oh yeah," Max said, as he slid his hands beneath the neckline of her top to massage skin on skin.
"In fact, I could get lost trying to think of words to describe the way your skin feels, or the color it has in the moonlight, or the way your body moves as though it’s gliding through water.
" His hand stroked her hair. "Don't even get me started on the silken texture of your hair.
A man could wonder about how to describe it for the rest of his life. "
Her breath hitched before she suddenly got to her feet. Without looking at Max she said, "Thanks. You're good at giving a shoulder rub. Much appreciated." She stepped over his leg and strode toward the living room. "It's late. Time to get ready for bed. I'll check the locks again."
As Max stood, he smiled ruefully. He just had to push his luck, and now he'd spooked her. He climbed into bed, and reminded himself things could have been worse, at least he was still conscious.
Max closed his eyes and listened to Violet as she got ready for bed.
He hoped she was still wearing the pajamas she'd worn the night before.
He suspected that the black silken pajamas had been chosen for practical reasons, maybe to blend with the night or to make it easier to fight and run, if she had to do either.
He'd bet his life savings, if he had any left, that she hadn't brought them because she looked sexy as hell in them.
She probably didn't even realize how good they made her look.
The silk flowed over her curves, accentuating every inch of her body in tantalizing glimpses as she moved.
And the texture made a man want to touch, to caress, to linger.
Not to mention the color brought out the red highlights in her hair and made her porcelain skin seem even more touchable than usual.
There was a clank from the other side of the bed and Max opened his eyes to find Violet putting her phone, gun, and a bottle of water on the bedside table. Her face was set, as though she was daring him to question her.
He had more sense than that.
She pulled back the covers and climbed into bed beside him before switching off the lamp.
"Don't get any ideas," she said into the darkness. "This is just in case someone decides to check our room again tomorrow."
"I never thought it was anything else," Max lied.
"I'm only in this bed because of the mission," Violet clarified. "There's no other reason."
"I appreciate the sacrifices you're making for the sake of the op."
"Thank you. There will be no unwanted touching," Violet continued. "There's nobody here to impress with our romantic relationship, nobody who needs to be fooled, so we can knock it off for the night."
"Understood. My responsibilities are on hold until tomorrow."
"Exactly. Me sleeping here isn't a fake relationship thing, it's a security thing," she said. "And we agreed I'm still in charge of security."
"Wouldn't have it any other way. You're the expert."
"Yes. I am. For the sake of the mission, you won't distract me while I'm in this bed," she ordered. "I'm still your bodyguard and your safety is my priority."
"I will do my best not to distract you while I sleep," he promised.
"And no unnecessary touching," she reminded.
He turned his head toward her, barely making out her profile in the darkness. "Do you want to make a pillow wall between us?"
"Go to sleep, Max," she snapped.
And he did. With a wide grin on his face.