Page 36 of Risk It All
Chapter Thirteen
Max
As Abuja drops away, relief finally arrives and my body begins to relax. I look over at Madeleine, who's sound asleep. I watch her, marveling at her bravery, humor, and beauty. She's warmed to me, but I know that her feelings could change once we get back to our regular lives.
In Nigeria, we were forced together and had to rely on each other. But now, we're returning to our normal world. I wonder how much time I'll have with her before she goes back to New York and I return to Los Angeles. I hope that even as we return to our lives, she will find room for me in hers.
A little oversix hours later we land in London. We manage through customs, which is a different kind of jungle. We then head to the nearest hotel where I’m faced with my next challenge. What sleeping arrangements should I make?
I wasn't ready to be separated from Madeleine, yet I didn’t want to presume we’d be sharing. At the same time, two rooms would feel distant, disconnected, even if they were adjoining rooms.
I want a two-room suite, but the best I can get is a single queen suite with a sofa bed. In my experience, sofa beds are lumpy, but it’s better than the cot or jungle floor I'd spent the last two nights sleeping on. Or maybe, Madeleine and I could share . . .
I briefly glance at Madeleine when I requested the single suite, wondering what she’’ll think. But her features remain impassive.
We head to the elevator and ride up to the room.
“You're minutes away from your long-anticipated shower,” I say, feeling surprisingly nervous and am trying to hide it through normal conversation.
“Mmmm, I can't wait. But first, I'll need to call my family and let them know where I am and that we're fine.”
I nod.
She studies me and I think she's about to ask a question, but then she opts against it.
“What?”
She winces looking reluctant. “I was wondering if there was anyone you'd be calling. You told Chisara you had no family.”
I shrug. “I have people who care about me.”
“Yes, of course.” She looks away, and if I'm not mistaken, she's embarrassed about asking me about people in my life.
“Madeleine, I'm not against talking about my childhood. It wasn't perfect, but I'm not ashamed or traumatized by it. If there's something you want to know, just ask. I don't have a family in a traditional sense, but there were some good people in my life who made a difference. And I have a good friend who's like a brother to me. We lived in the same foster home as teens.” I thought of my best friend, Springer, now a lieutenant in the San Francisco police department.
“I figured you would. You don't seem like a loner. You like people, thrive around them.”
The elevator door opens and I follow her out. When we get to the room, I use the keycard to open the door for her and step in after her. She immediately goes to the desk area, dropping her pack on the floor and looking over the telephone information.
“Would you mind if I showered while you make your call?” Truth be told, I feel rancid and I'm not sure how she can stand to be in the same room with me.
“No. Go ahead.” She barely looks at me. Is she still uncomfortable about having asked about my life? Or is she uncomfortable sharing a room with me? I decide that Madeline is an outspoken woman and if she's uncomfortable with me, she'll say so.
Madeleine
I hangup the phone after assuring my parents and then Eleanor that Max and I are fine and now in London. I look to the bathroom door and wonder how much longer Max will be. Thinking of him in the shower brings up delicious visions of him wet, soapy, naked. I have some sense of what he'd look like without his clothes on. I'd felt the hard planes of his chest that first night dancing with him and then later, on a terrace in Nigeria kissing under a starry sky.
I also know that God has been generous to him beyond devastating good looks. The memory of his hard length pressed against my backside while hiding from poachers in the jungle sends a shiver through me. It's been a long time since thinking of a man aroused me.
For a moment, I consider turning my thoughts into a reality by joining him. The only thing that stops me is uncertainty about how far and how fast this relationship should go.
When Max booked our room, I couldn't decide if I was relieved or disappointed that he'd gotten a room with two beds. What did that mean? I was grateful that he'd gotten a suite. Two rooms would have put too much distance between us, made it too easy to disconnect our lives. I know that at some point soon, he'll return to L.A. and I'll go to New York, and I don't know what will happen with our little flirtation when we do.
The door opens and Max steps out, wrapped in a plush robe with the hotel's emblem on the breast pocket. He runs a towel over his dark, wet hair. I bite back a moan at how sexy he looks.
He grins. “I think I left a little hot water for you.”
“If you value your life, you did.”
