Almost Forever by Linda Howard Page B

friend,” Claire said, trying to evade any further questions, but knowing it was a hopeless maneuver. She looked up to see Max grinning at her, his turquoise eyes twinkling. He signaled that he had something to say, and she interrupted Alma’s barrage of questions before her mother could get up speed. “Hold on just a minute, Mother. I’ll be right back.” She covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “My cousins have arrived from Michigan, and they’ll only be here overnight, so Mother wants me to come over for a cookout,” she explained.
    â€œAnd you have already invited me to dinner,” he finished, coming close to her and taking the phone out of her hand. “I have the perfect solution.”
    â€œMrs. Westbrook,” he said into the phone, “my name is Max Benedict. May I offer a solution and invite myself to your cookout, if it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition on you? Claire really would like to see her cousins, but she has me on her hands, and she’s too well mannered to withdraw her invitation to dinner, and I’m too hungry to do the polite thing and take myself off.”
    Claire closed her eyes, not having to hear the other half of the conversation to know that Alma had completely melted at the sound of Max’s deep, smooth voice and that seductive English accent. Part of her was amused, but another part of her went into a panic at the thought of taking Max to meet her family. Everyone in her family was outstanding in some way, and she tended to fade into the background, overshadowed by their more exuberant personalities. Max perceived her as quiet—if he saw her with her family, he would realize that mousy was a more accurate description, and suddenly she knew she couldn’t bear that. Something in her would die if he compared her to Martine, then looked back at her as if wondering what had gone wrong with the family genes.
    â€œThank you for taking pity on me,” Max was drawling. “I’ll have Claire there shortly.” He hung up the phone, and Claire opened her eyes to find him watching her intently, as if wondering why she was so reluctant to attend her family’s impromptu outing. “Don’t look so frightened,” he advised, winking at her. “Perhaps I don’t have on my best bib and tucker, but I’ll be on my best behavior.”
    There was still a residue of terror in her eyes as she turned away. “It isn’t you,” she confessed, trying to make light of it. “Family gatherings tend to overwhelm me. I’m not at my best in a crowd.” That was a massive understatement, she thought, resigning herself to the bleak hours ahead of her. “Excuse me while I change clothes and—”
    â€œNo,” he said, reaching out to take her hand and effectively halting her flight. “You look wonderful as you are. You don’t need to change clothes, brush your hair, or freshen your lipstick. Waiting will only make you more nervous.” He watched her thoughtfully, wondering at the sudden urge he had to protect her, but there it was. There was something about her that made him want to gather her close and keepeverything hard and hurtful away from her. The realization that he wasn’t being completely honest with her gave him a tight feeling in his chest—what would happen when she found out who he really was? Would she withdraw completely from him, her soft, dark eyes becoming cold and remote? A chill ran down his back at the thought, and he knew he couldn’t let it happen. Somehow, some way he had to engineer the takeover without alienating Claire.
    His eyes were narrowed and brilliant as he watched her, and Claire felt uneasiness grow in her. He saw too much, read her too well. The realization that she was so vulnerable to him frightened her, and instinctively she withdrew behind a quiet, polite, blank wall as he led her back out to the car, his hand still clasping