what went down tonight."
Grace froze a moment. Those damn blue eyes of his pierced through to her soul. She promised Mary she wouldn't tell Max anything, but that wasn't her style. This was a police investigation, and she may have just had a conversation with their only suspect.
Turning her face away from Max, Grace tried to hide the sensations of fear that engulfed her body at the touch of the so-called Master.
"What is it, Grace?” he asked softly, holding the collar of her winter coat.
Grace turned away.
"I'm freezing.” Her voice shook.
Max followed her inside, through the metal entrance, then up the enclosed staircase to her front door.
"Wow! This is one hell of an apartment."
"Thanks. Do you want a drink?” She walked past the refrigerator, not waiting for his response and continued to the dining room to the small liquor cabinet.
Her hands shook, her body was cold and she was scared. She still felt the control the Master had restrained her with.
Anger built up inside her. She had vowed a long time ago to not allow her past to resurface and become a barrier in her life or her work. Now in one brief encounter with a possible killer, she was losing her fight against past demons.
Grace kept her coat on and poured herself a snifter of brandy.
After she took a deep long drink, she added some more. She held the table a moment, knowing damn well Max Mathews watched her every move. She glanced toward him just as he removed his coat and draped it over the back of the stool nearest to the counter.
"So when are you going to tell me what happened?” he asked.
Grace wasn't stupid and she suspected Max read her body language and her lack of enthusiasm at his presence. She purposely avoided making eye contact with him as she started to head in his direction. Grace immediately brushed past him and further across the kitchen. The dim light above the cabinets shone in her eyes.
"I'm fine.” She leaned against the island and held the snifter with two hands.
"I have to wind down and get out of my undercover mode ... you know what I mean?” She took another sip of brandy and avoided eye contact.
Why am I suddenly so scared? What is it about the man in the mask?
Max stood in front of her, silent. She feared she would give in to his demands, any of them. He had a way with those deep blue eyes of his, as well as those long, carved legs, trim waist, and muscular chest she could make out through his white dress shirt. She tried avoiding his eyes, but as she scanned his body, their gazes locked.
He was handsome, yet rugged with strong features and white teeth. But for some reason when he got angry, she felt like running and hiding, or just taking cover as fast as possible.
Max stood only a few feet across from her, leaning against the counter eyeing her as a suspicious detective would eye a guilty person. She looked away.
She tried to ignore her body's response to the closeness of his as she attempted an escape.
"Tell me what happened."
It was too late. Now Max was right in front of her with one hand against the counter, the other lightly on her hipbone. The burning desire traveled down to her thighs as she fantasized about the detective.
Grace gave into the fear and intimidation, telling herself it was only to avoid her sexual attraction to Max. At first, she stuttered, then regained some composure. She began to describe the club, the patrons who frequented it, the things she observed and finally, the Master.
"Did he hurt you?” Max asked, full of concern. He pushed the sleeves of her coat up to see her wrists.
They were red but no bruising.
"I didn't want you going there. I told you this was dangerous.” He raised his voice but still held her hand.
Grace turned her head to the side. “I'm fine."
Max moved closer.
Although their legs weren't touching, Grace felt his body heat against the nylon stockings covering her legs ... that began to shake.
Max cupped Grace's chin in his hand and turned her head so she
Grace froze a moment. Those damn blue eyes of his pierced through to her soul. She promised Mary she wouldn't tell Max anything, but that wasn't her style. This was a police investigation, and she may have just had a conversation with their only suspect.
Turning her face away from Max, Grace tried to hide the sensations of fear that engulfed her body at the touch of the so-called Master.
"What is it, Grace?” he asked softly, holding the collar of her winter coat.
Grace turned away.
"I'm freezing.” Her voice shook.
Max followed her inside, through the metal entrance, then up the enclosed staircase to her front door.
"Wow! This is one hell of an apartment."
"Thanks. Do you want a drink?” She walked past the refrigerator, not waiting for his response and continued to the dining room to the small liquor cabinet.
Her hands shook, her body was cold and she was scared. She still felt the control the Master had restrained her with.
Anger built up inside her. She had vowed a long time ago to not allow her past to resurface and become a barrier in her life or her work. Now in one brief encounter with a possible killer, she was losing her fight against past demons.
Grace kept her coat on and poured herself a snifter of brandy.
After she took a deep long drink, she added some more. She held the table a moment, knowing damn well Max Mathews watched her every move. She glanced toward him just as he removed his coat and draped it over the back of the stool nearest to the counter.
"So when are you going to tell me what happened?” he asked.
Grace wasn't stupid and she suspected Max read her body language and her lack of enthusiasm at his presence. She purposely avoided making eye contact with him as she started to head in his direction. Grace immediately brushed past him and further across the kitchen. The dim light above the cabinets shone in her eyes.
"I'm fine.” She leaned against the island and held the snifter with two hands.
"I have to wind down and get out of my undercover mode ... you know what I mean?” She took another sip of brandy and avoided eye contact.
Why am I suddenly so scared? What is it about the man in the mask?
Max stood in front of her, silent. She feared she would give in to his demands, any of them. He had a way with those deep blue eyes of his, as well as those long, carved legs, trim waist, and muscular chest she could make out through his white dress shirt. She tried avoiding his eyes, but as she scanned his body, their gazes locked.
He was handsome, yet rugged with strong features and white teeth. But for some reason when he got angry, she felt like running and hiding, or just taking cover as fast as possible.
Max stood only a few feet across from her, leaning against the counter eyeing her as a suspicious detective would eye a guilty person. She looked away.
She tried to ignore her body's response to the closeness of his as she attempted an escape.
"Tell me what happened."
It was too late. Now Max was right in front of her with one hand against the counter, the other lightly on her hipbone. The burning desire traveled down to her thighs as she fantasized about the detective.
Grace gave into the fear and intimidation, telling herself it was only to avoid her sexual attraction to Max. At first, she stuttered, then regained some composure. She began to describe the club, the patrons who frequented it, the things she observed and finally, the Master.
"Did he hurt you?” Max asked, full of concern. He pushed the sleeves of her coat up to see her wrists.
They were red but no bruising.
"I didn't want you going there. I told you this was dangerous.” He raised his voice but still held her hand.
Grace turned her head to the side. “I'm fine."
Max moved closer.
Although their legs weren't touching, Grace felt his body heat against the nylon stockings covering her legs ... that began to shake.
Max cupped Grace's chin in his hand and turned her head so she
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