"You're insane. You women all are. You think men have to be in love to stick their cock in somebody." He inclined his head for another kiss, but halted. "You know that's not true, right?"

I quirked an eyebrow. "Gee, we're drunk, we both just got dumped—"

"You got dumped."

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes. "Do I think you love me? No. I think you're trying to get laid to prove to yourself you don't care about Bella."

"Is that so evil and wrong?" His lips were a millimeter from mine.

I shrugged. "I guess not."

He kissed me again. Max is an insanely good kisser. But there was desperation in it, and sadness. I didn't need a blood tie between us to feel it.

"Let's do this, Carrie," he whispered, sinking his fingers into my hair. "Let's just have fun."

It made an insane sort of sense. As we tumbled through the door to land on the Persian rug in the foyer, I convinced myself that this wasn't terrible. People did this every day.

Max's mouth never left mine as he rolled us both over so that I straddled him, still fully clothed. With a chuckle, Max sat up. I felt him, hard and eager, through his jeans, but he didn't appear uncomfortable. In fact, he seemed more at ease and himself in this intimate situation than he ever did while doing mundane things. I wondered if I was with the real Max now, or just another character. Maybe that was part of his practiced magic. I pitied the women who didn't see it for what it was, because they could fall in love with a man like Max, who made them feel they were the most important woman he'd ever touched.

Luckily for me, I couldn't fall in love with him. I was already in love with a man who didn't find me very important at all.

As if on cue, the phone rang.

Max glanced at me, half imploring. Then guilt crept into his expression, and I couldn't look at him anymore.

I groaned and climbed to my feet, more wobbly than I had been when I'd been plastered. The realization that I had been about to have sex with Max forced the rest of the alcoholic haze from ray system, leaving awkwardness kits wake.

"Hey, while you're up, can you get that?" Max asked sheepishly.

"Fine. But if it's one of your girlfriends, I'm not going to be very good cover."

I was surprised anyone would hang on the line for as long as it took me to reach the telephone in the kitchen. Every ring seemed sure to be the last, until I picked up the phone and said tiredly, "Hello?"

"Carrie?"

Nathan.

Chapter Two
Reconnected

"Carrie?" Nathan repeated over the crackling of the line, his soft Scottish accent curling around my heart like a possessive hand.