Grand Passion

desk. It also played over Max's dark, shadowed figure near the window.
    Cleo saw that he had taken off his shirt and shoes. The only clothing he had on was a pair of trousers.
    There was power in the smooth, muscled contours of Max's shoulders. Cleo stared at the dark, curling hair on his chest, fascinated by the way it formed a vee that plummeted beneath the waistband of his pants.
    Max's eyes met hers. “The riddle of The Mirror is who is the seducer and who is the seduced.”
    Cleo's fingers trembled as she dropped the key back into her pocket and reached down to pick up the tray. “I didn't come up here to be seduced.”
    “Did you come up here to seduce me?”
    “No.”
    “Then what are we going to do?”
    “Drink tea. At least you are.” Cleo kicked the door shut behind her and marched into the room. She put the tea tray down on the desk and poured a cup of the herbal brew. She held the cup out to Max. “Here, have some of this. It will make you feel much better.”
    “Will it?” Max's gaze was filled with a dangerously disturbing sensuality as he obediently took the cup from her hand. His fingers brushed hers.
    “Yes.” Cleo rubbed her damp palms on her jeans. “At least I hope it will. You're in a strange mood tonight, aren't you?”
    “Am I?” Max took a long swallow of the tea. Then he put the cup down on the desk. “The only mirror in this room is that one over there. I wonder what we'll see in it when we look into it together.”
    Cleo's gaze went to the old-fashioned full-length mirror on the wooden stand. A shiver of excitement stirred the hair on her neck. As if he knew exactly what she was feeling, Max reached out and took her by the hand. He led her toward the mirror.
    Cleo couldn't speak. She waited one last time for the crashing tide of uncertainty and wrongness to wash over her, but nothing happened. There was no fear with Max, no desire to pull back from the brink. She floated across the room as if she were a balloon on the end of a string that he held in his hand.
    Max drew her to a halt in front of the mirror. He stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. His eyes met hers in the silvered glass.
    Cleo felt the heat in him. A gathering sense of urgency welled up inside her in response. She was shaken to the core by the force of her own desire. She had not felt this way since she had written The Mirror .
    “I'm glad you used the key tonight, Cleo.” Max unfastened the clip that bound her hair.
    She watched the thick mass of her hair tumble down around her shoulders. Then she felt Max's thumbs slide beneath the weight of it. His fingers touched sensitive skin at the nape of her neck.
    “Max?”
    “Beautiful,” he whispered. He bent his head and dropped a kiss into her hair.
    Cleo looked into the mirror and saw the face of the man inside the glass. For the first time the reflection was crystal clear.
    The man inside the mirror was Max.

Chapter

7

    M ax removed Cleo's glasses and set them down on a small table. He managed to invest the small action with a startling degree of intimacy. It was as if he had just removed a protective veil. She felt naked and vulnerable.
    She could still see well enough to make out her own reflection and that of Max looming behind her, but the images were gently blurred. It was like looking at figures trapped in a silvery mist.
    Max's eyes met Cleo's in the mirror. His mouth curved slightly. “Who is the seducer and who is the one who is seduced?”
    Cleo shivered. The reflection in the mirror allowed her to see Max's hands move on her shoulders even as she felt the weight of them. The sensual power in him captivated all her senses. “I don't know. I never knew.”
    “Maybe there isn't an answer.” Max flexed his fingers gently. He watched her face. “Maybe it's supposed to be like this.”
    “Like what?” Cleo could not tear her eyes away from the mirror.
    “Like looking into a spectacular painting. Becoming a part of it. Seeing some of the layers and knowing that there will be no peace until you've seen them all.”
    “What happens when you've seen them all?” Cleo watched his hands slip slowly down her arms. “Do you grow bored with the painting?”
    “No. It's impossible to see all the layers. So you keep looking, reexamining the ones you've already seen and searching out new ones. The hunger is always there.”
    Cleo touched one of his hands with her own. “Hunger?”
    “You can satisfy it temporarily, but you know it will