New Year Escapes. Leslie Kelly

anger—at least that was passionate. He was acting like a stranger. He hadn’t made love with her, not since the day she’d been attacked by the paparazzi.

      That was when things had changed. When he’d shut her out completely. Her worst fear was that it wasn’t related to the incident with the press, but that it had to do with him finding out for certain he was the father of her baby. Maybe he didn’t want them anymore. And now, his get-out-of-jail-free card had been taken away from him.

      She moved away from the balcony and reentered the room. The one she and Max had shared when they’d stayed here. She shivered. It had been a stupid idea to come to the island. But her heart was breaking, splintering with every beat it took, and she had to try to fix it somehow.

      Maybe if there would have been a big blow-up fight it would have been easier. If he’d said ugly things and told her he didn’t want her, maybe then her love would have died. But it had just been this sudden, silent break. He had withdrawn from her completely with no explanation, but the separation had been a no less definite or final feeling than if they had experienced some kind of dramatic end to their relationship.

      The greatest irony was that their wedding was in two days. In two days they were going to stand before the congregation and make vows to love, honor and cherish each other. It would be difficult since they were barely speaking to each other.

      She rested her palm on her burgeoning belly and felt renewed determination. She wasn’t destitute. She had her baby, the most precious thing in the world. She loved Max. She loved him so much it actually hurt, but their baby was a piece of them. They may not have created life in the usual, physical way, but the baby was the best of both of them.

      She heard footsteps behind her on the travertine floor and turned, expecting to see Rosa Maria, the housekeeper. Instead she saw Max striding toward her. He was as intimidating as ever, a man who oozed control and sophistication. But there was something different. She noticed the fatigue etched in his handsome face. She could definitely relate.

      “What are you doing here, Maximo?”

      He laughed, the sound hollow, void of any joy or humor. “The same thing as you, I would imagine. Trying to escape.”

      “What is it you need to escape from?”

      He laughed again. “The same thing as you I would imagine.”

      “Please, Max, I’m not up to playing games with you.”

      “So it’s Max again, is it?” His voice softened and he took a step toward her.

      “What do you mean?”

      He gave her a half smile. “I was demoted to the more formal Maximo.”

      “I didn’t even realize.”

      “I did,” he said huskily.

      Her throat tightened. She couldn’t take this. This tease. He didn’t want her. He was stuck with her.

      “Why are you here?” she asked, anguish lacing her voice.

      “This is where I’ve been for most of the past week,” he confessed.

      “I thought you were working.”

      “In a way I was.”

      Frustration bubbled through her. “I don’t want your passion one moment and your silence the next. I can’t do hot and cold. I don’t know what happened to change things between us. But you won’t tell me. If I’ve done something then say it. If you’ve found someone else, or you’re simply tired of me, say it. Don’t freeze me out. Don’t make me play guessing games.”

      “I’m not a man of words, Alison. I’m a man of actions. You may have noticed that,” he said with dark humor. “I don’t always say the right things. But I want the chance to make you understand me. To make you understand how I feel.”

      She shook her head, her throat tightening with tears. “Don’t play with me.”

      He took her hand, and their first physical contact in a week rocked her to her core. The wanting hadn’t gone away. Not even for a moment. She could see from the molten heat in his eyes that he felt the same.

      “I’ve never been playing with you,” he said, his voice intense. “Please know that. I’ve handled things badly, but hurting you was the last thing I wanted.”

      “But you did hurt me,” she said. “We promised we were going to talk about things, but we didn’t. You just shut me out, and I have no idea what happened to cause it.”

      He raised his eyes and met hers; the stark, raw emotion in them shocked her. “I know,” he said roughly. “You cannot know how sorry I am. Please come with me, Alison.”

      She nodded slowly and let him lead her from the villa. When she realized where they were headed she stopped. “Max. I can’t.”

      “Trust me. Please.”

      She took a breath and allowed him to take her the rest of the way to the art studio, her heart a leaden weight in her chest. This was the place where she had shed her inhibitions, where she had laid herself bare to him. Where she had lost her heart. Coming here was the worst sort of torture mingled with the sweetest of memories. They had been connected then, and even though she hadn’t been able to name the things he’d made her feel, it was where she’d fallen in love with him.

      He opened the door and took her into the sun-bathed room. There was no question of what he had wanted her to see. It was there in the middle of the room, lit up by the incandescent natural light. It was her, but it wasn’t her. The woman captured on the canvas was beautiful. Her skin glowed with youth and joy. As though she had just been with her lover and he had left her satisfied. The painting was exquisitely detailed. Her hair was a lush mix of reds and golds, her flesh palest peach, her lips and nipples a dusky rose. Her eyes were closed, her full mouth curved, hinting at secrets. Secrets between her lover and herself, because there could be no doubt that this woman was well-loved.

      She looked at the painting piece by piece, something inside of her moved by it. The features were hers, but there was something more, something she didn’t see when she looked in the mirror. Something Maximo saw that she didn’t see in herself. It was more than a portrait, it was a revelation. A declaration. It spoke of feelings deeper than words; it mirrored what she felt in her heart.

      “Max?”

      “This is what I’ve been doing. I wasn’t working. I couldn’t work. My mind was filled with you, Alison.” He cupped her cheek and dropped a light kiss on her mouth. He tasted of desperation, of need, and her body responded; along with her heart.

      “Max …”

      “No, I have to say this. I was scared, Alison. Scared of how much you had come to mean to me. That day forced me to face what it might feel like if I were to lose you. I don’t think I could survive it. I realized how much you’d come to mean to me, how much I counted on seeing you every day, kissing you, making love with you. I realized how much I needed you. I did not want you to have so much power over me. I didn’t want to love you.” A sad smile touched his lips. “I tried to shut you out. To prove to you, and to myself, that I didn’t need you. I was very wrong.”

      He kissed her fiercely and she parted her lips for him, closing her eyes as she reveled in being held again by the man that she loved.

      He tilted his head and rested his forehead against hers. “I have more to say, but I’m afraid I won’t say it right. I need to show you first.” He kissed her neck, her cheek, her forehead. “Can I show you?” he asked against her lips.

      “Yes,” she half sobbed, half laughed.

      He lifted her shirt up over her head, exposing her sensitive breasts to his inspection. He groaned when he saw that she was bare beneath her shirt. “Oh, my darling, what you do to me.” He cupped her aching flesh reverently, his thumbs moving back and forth over her distended nipples. A cry formed on her lips and he kissed it away.

      She