“What’s the matter, chérie?”

 

“It’s just that, what, what are you doing here? What do you want?”

 

“I want you.”

 

“After all these years.”

 

“Yes. After all these years.” He paused, then went on. “Took me long enough, didn’t it?”

 

Maxie looked at Philippe. Through eyes that had lost their rose-colored glasses. Saw a man. A good-looking man. A man who was a doctor. A man who had saved her life . . . .

 

“I grew up.”

 

Philippe took one of Maxie’s hands, gently peeled it away, brought her fingers to his lips, kissed them one at a time, then looked her in the eye: “And so did I.”

 

Somehow, Maxie was now on Philippe’s side of the hot-tub. In his arms. His lips on hers. The years fell away. They were back in Red Rock Canyon.

 

His lips so soft and sensuous on hers so hot and eager. That connection so strong that it sizzled, snaking through her body, her nipples on fire, her belly convulsing in its need to close in on Philippe’s stomach and what stood below.

 

His hands slid over her shoulders, ran down her back, pulled her into him, roughly, demanding. The passion between them, the passion that had always been there, exploding out of its chains, the chains of convention, of what was right between a fifteen-year-old and a twenty-five-year-old, of what was acceptable between a eighteen-year-old being chaperoned and a twenty-eight-year-old about to move to Paris with his girlfriend.

 

His hands on her hips, fitting nicely over the thrusting bones that framed her pubes. She, pressing forward, pressing onward, unleashed by his demands. Both breathing heavily in the warm steam that shimmered in the moonlight.

 

“No!” Philippe pushed her away.

 

“Why?” Her cry of anguish.

 

He took a couple of deep breaths. “Look, Maxie, we have time. We have all the time in the world. Let’s just take it slow.”

 

“Like start at the beginning?” Maxie smiled.

 

Philippe nodded. “Exactly. Hold on a sec.”

 

He stepped out of the hot tub. Oooh, did he have a gorgeous bod. In the shadow of the tub, the water had blurred his body. Delineated in the moonlight, he was hot! 

 

Stepping quickly across the icy deck, Philippe returned with two glasses of champagne. He handed Maxie one, then slipped in beside her. “Salut.”

 

She raised her glass and sipped. Not bad.

 

He smiled. “Thought I’d bring the cheap stuff for Maxie?”

 

“You always did have class.” They both sipped.

 

Maxie was warm now. Too warm. She rolled over to float on top of the water, looking out to the desert, balancing her glass on the icy rim of the deck. “So." 

 

“So.”

 

She was going to have to be more direct. “We wrote. I wrote. You didn’t reply. And now you show up here.”

 

“Mmm. Yes. That.”