These characters don’t belong to me. I just borrowed them for a while.

Adult content.

It Was Always You

Part Four

by

Jan

Fran stepped through the door marked "Arrivals" and looked around for her husband. She spotted him leaning against the wall perusing a newspaper. God, he looked so good to her. She started toward him just as he looked up and saw her. A huge smile broke out on his handsome face, and he tossed the newspaper aside. She dropped her carry-on and began running. She needed to feel his arms around her, desperately needed to be reminded of the love and comfort they provided.

She reached him and threw her arms around his neck. "Hi, baby," he said into her ear as he squeezed her to him. "God, you’re a sight for sore eyes." She hugged him tightly, and then he gave her the welcome-home kiss of her life. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to hold back the tears that had sprung up at his words. He pulled away and looked at her as she let go a ragged sob. Jeff smiled warmly and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Looks like somebody missed her adoring husband."

All she could do was nod. She had missed him all right, but in ways she could never explain. "Let’s get your bags and get out of here. Then you can tell me all about your trip." Fran felt a wave of panic grip her. She had never been in this situation before, and she had no idea if her acting skills were up to the task. She reached up and quickly brushed away the wetness at the corners of her eyes as Jeff walked over and picked up her carry-on. Then he took her hand and led her toward the baggage claim.

He tossed a couple of sideways glances at her as they walked along. "Honey, are you ok? You haven’t said a word since you arrived."

She wiped away the last tear and gave him one of her beautiful smiles. "I’m fine," she said. "I’m just glad to be home."

He reached over and kissed her cheek. "Not as glad as I am to have you home."

The wait at the baggage claim seemed interminable, but finally they were in Jeff’s car and on their way to Great Neck. Fran slid over next to him, eager to feel that close physical connection to him. Jeff kept his eyes forward on the heavy city traffic. "Do you want to stop for some dinner?" he asked.

Fran thought for a second. She really just wanted to be alone with her husband. She longed to reconnect with him and everything they had together. "Can we just order in tonight? I’m really tired and I just want to get home."

"Sure, honey." He reached down and patted her knee. Then he took a quick glance at her as something caught his eye. "What’s that necklace you’re wearing?" he asked curiously. "I don’t remember seeing it before."

Fran’s left hand went immediately to the floating hearts and fingered them as she glanced down at the pendant. "Um, I got it in a little shop in Paris," she said. "Isn’t it pretty?"

"Yeah, but why two hearts? Do they mean something?"

"No, I just liked it."

"It’s just that it looks like the kind of thing I would buy you," Jeff said, sounding a bit slighted. Fran prayed he would keep his eyes on the traffic ahead so he wouldn’t see the uneasy look on her face.

"Well," she thought to herself. "There it is—the first lie."

Jeff noticed that she had suddenly become very quiet. But, he knew how to perk her up—get her talking about her shops. "Tell me about some of the other stuff you bought in Paris. Any good antiques there?" he said with a teasing little grin.

Fran spent the rest of the drive home describing to him some of her favorite pieces and telling him her plans for getting the new shop ready for its grand opening. "The shipments should start arriving any day, so it should give me plenty of time to get them stocked into the Manhattan shop," she explained. They pulled into the driveway, and Fran paused a moment to look around her neighborhood and remind herself of the wonderful life she and Jeff had built for themselves there.

Jeff carried her bags in for her and took them straight into the bedroom. As she walked through her house, she allowed her hands to glide over the backs of chairs and pause to touch the lovely objects that decorated the rooms. She picked up the photo of her and Jeff on their wedding day and ran her fingers over the intricate detail of the picture frame. She wrapped herself in the comfort of her home, the one she had dreamed of all her life, knowing that the love she and Jeff shared is what made it so perfect. Without allowing the thought to completely form in her mind, she had a sure sense that it was just where she was supposed to be.

As she walked on into her bedroom, she heard Jeff on the phone in the kitchen ordering take out from Hunan Palace. She smiled to herself thinking how well he knew her. Of course she would want Chinese her first night home. He didn’t even need to ask.

Fran decided she needed a quick shower before dinner. She told herself that she was weary from the long flight, but deep down she knew there was much more than that sapping her energy. She started the water running and then opened her suitcases to start putting things away. As she moved about her bedroom touching familiar objects, she forced herself to focus on the things she saw around her that made up her life—her home, her husband, and all that was important to the two of them. It was so easy to let her thoughts drift back to Paris, but she had made up her mind to put all that behind her and concentrate on her life with Jeff.

She took off her clothes and slipped on the short aqua robe while she continued unpacking. Just then, Jeff came into the bedroom, and his eyes lit up when he saw her. He stood staring at her. She was so beautiful, even when she wasn’t trying to be, and he loved her so much. She looked up at him. "What?"

"Uh, I ordered you the moo shi pork. They’re kinda busy tonight. It won’t be here for about thirty minutes," he explained, still watching her intently.

"That’s ok. I’m gonna take a quick shower."

He crossed the room and stilled her movements. He drew her to him and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her tenderly. "Want some company?"

She gave him a sweet kiss and laid her head on his shoulder. Standing there in his arms felt so good, but she just didn’t feel ready for anything more than that. It was too soon after—she couldn’t really put it into words, but she knew she had to come up with an excuse. "Oh, honey, I’m really tired tonight. I just want to eat and collapse into bed. Do you mind?"

Jeff tried to hide his disappointment. He had missed her so much and couldn’t wait for her to get home. "No, baby, that’s ok. You take your shower and I’ll finish unpacking for you. Just take your time and call me if you need anything." He gave her a lopsided smile and walked back out of the room.

Fran took a deep breath. "Oy," she said aloud. She headed for the bathroom and slipped off her robe. Stepping into the shower, she turned her face into the water, allowing it to flow over her and hoping it would help wash away the remnants of Paris. But almost immediately, she felt tears well up and mix in with the water as it ran down her face. Enclosed there with the sound of the running water to protect her, she could no longer control all the day’s emotions she had been holding back. She leaned back against the wall as she felt her legs start to give out from under her, and she slid down until she sat coiled in the corner of the shower stall. The water still pounding her, she dropped her face into her hands and allowed deep sobs to rack her body.

She didn’t know which was torturing her more—the painful look on Max’s face as she kissed him good-bye at Charles de Gaulle International or the warm smile that lit up Jeff’s face as he greeted her at JFK. How in the hell was she going to survive with her heart divided between the two men she loved? How in the world did her life get so complicated?

And the guilt. It pressed down like a one-ton weight on her chest. She told herself she had better get used to it. The feelings of guilt brought on by the choices she’d made in Paris were something she would be dealing with the rest of her life.

Finally, when she felt drained of her tears and emotionally spent, she pulled herself up off the floor and finished washing quickly. She wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out of the shower. As she was drying off, she heard Jeff’s voice from the bedroom. "Honey, I was just about to come in after you. You’ve been in there over a half an hour. Are you sure you’re ok?"

Slipping on some comfy lounging pants and a tank, she gave him one of her best smiles and said, "I’m fine, sweetie. Would you stop asking?"

Jeff looked at her strangely. "Your eyes are all red."

Fran took a quick glance at herself in the mirror. "Uh, I got some shampoo in them. It stung a little, but they’re ok."

"Lie number two," she told herself. How many more would there be?

They walked into the dining room, and Fran couldn’t help but be touched—the table set with the good china, their dinner served, the wine poured, and the candles aglow. She gave Jeff a hug and murmured, "Thank you, sweetie," as she marveled at how he was always so willing to do the little things that made her happy. She truly didn’t deserve a husband as thoughtful as Jeff was. She took a deep breath as he pulled out her chair for her and she sat down. As soon as he was seated, he held up his wine glass and spoke the sentiment that went straight to her heart. Looking lovingly into her eyes, he said, "Welcome home, baby."

*******************

Fran laid her head back on the pillow and thought about how easy it had been to slip right back into the routine of her daily life. Seeing Jeff off to work that morning, putting in a full day at the Manhattan shop, going out to dinner at their favorite Great Neck restaurant. She’d only been home one day, but already Paris seemed a million miles away.

Just then, Jeff turned out the light and slid into bed next to her. He immediately wrapped her up in his arms and began kissing her. He had shown tremendous patience with her since her arrival, but he had missed her and loved her so much, and he was desperate to feel her body against his. His patience had just about run out.

He ran his hand under her sleep shirt and relished the feel of her silky skin under his fingers. Over and over, he applied hungry kisses to her mouth, and she responded whole- heartedly. His heart lit up as she grabbed his shoulders tightly and pulled him over on top of her. He was so ready to show her just how much he had missed her. And she needed to show him just how happy she was to be home with him.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and he immediately felt himself growing hard. He forced himself to pull away from her kisses and look intently into her eyes. "Sweetheart, I love you so much. I can’t tell you how much I missed you."

Not trusting her voice, she mouthed, "I love you too," and then seized his mouth in a hungry kiss, seeking his tongue with her own. He raised up just enough to pull her up and slide her sleep shirt off. He started a trail of light kisses down her neck and across her chest until he came to her breast and began sucking on it, teasing the tip of it with his tongue. She ran her fingers through his hair as an instinctive moan rose from her throat.

Jeff quickly dispensed with his boxers and her thong and then proceeded to give equal attention to her other breast. Unable to stand the torture of not being inside her any longer, he brought his face up to hers and positioned himself between her legs. They locked eyes as he entered her slowly and sweetly, and Fran sucked in a deep breath at the sensation of it. He began with languid strokes and her eyes closed in response to the warm, loving sensation that enveloped her.

Suddenly, she saw another vision before her, one of green eyes hovering above her and her fingers sliding through thick, black waves of hair. She tried to open her eyes to dispel the vision, but it was far beyond her ability. Her eyes stayed clinched as her mind took her thousands of miles and an ocean away.

The speed of Jeff’s strokes increased and she clung to him and matched his thrusts. Her mind and heart were doing battle as she felt her breathing deepen and inner muscles begin to convulse. A deep growl rose from Jeff’s chest as shoved himself into her as far as possible and held himself there, pouring himself into her. She let out a cry of pure pleasure and kept her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

He clutched her to him as they waited together for their breathing to slow. Fran’s eyes remained shut as Jeff raised his head to study her face. He marveled at how much more beautiful she was in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Then he saw tiny tears escape from the corner of each eye, and he reached up to brush them gently away.

"Honey, what’s the matter?" he asked tenderly. She couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes and face him. The emotions coursing through her were so foreign to her yet so powerful, there was no way she could come up with any kind of an answer for him at that moment.

Jeff couldn’t contain his concern any longer. "Fran, open your eyes and look at me," he coaxed.

Slowly she complied, and as soon as she saw the look of misgiving on his face, she grabbed his neck and pulled his mouth toward hers. She couldn’t speak and she couldn’t tolerate the look in his eyes. She needed to let him know, though, how much she loved him and she made sure her kiss conveyed that message.

He pulled away from her kiss and studied her face. Taking a deep breath, he ventured, "Fran, you really haven’t been yourself since you got back from Paris. Did something happen over there? Is there something you’re not telling me?"

She looked at him solemnly. "No," she whispered. Lie number three.

He pulled his eyes away from hers and looked down at the floating hearts that lay against her neck. He looked back up at her and stared deeply into her eyes, trying to read what was there. Finally, without a word, he pulled himself off of her, got up and walked straight into the bathroom.

As he shut the door behind him, Fran rolled over on her side and stared into the darkness. Her heart was pounding, but she felt a numbness creep over her body. She drew in a ragged breath as she thought about the difficult choices she had made. Now she was beginning to realize that living with them was going to be even harder.

*******************

Max downshifted his Porche as he entered the busy Manhattan traffic. The drive home from the Hamptons had been quiet and leisurely until they neared the city. He and Laura had enjoyed the beautiful countryside as their conversation consisted mostly of small talk and comments about the picturesque scenes they passed.

Laura looked over at her husband. He had been unusually quiet the entire weekend. She couldn’t tell if he was just tired or if he had something weighing heavily on his mind. All she knew for sure was that he had been acting strangely since his return from Paris. Finally, she spoke up. "Honey, are you feeling all right?"

He glanced over at her, giving her a weak smile. "Of course, darling, I’m fine. Why do you ask?"

"I don’t know, you just seem a little—" she searched for the right word. "Not yourself."

Max tried to sound casual. "Oh, I suppose I’m still suffering a little jet lag is all. Don’t worry, a good night’s sleep and I’ll be good as new." Max took a deep breath as he thought about what it would really take to make him feel better. Holding Fran in his arms, tasting her mouth-- "Damn it!" he thought to himself. He had to figure out a way to stop torturing himself like that. It was just too painful, and obviously he wasn’t a good enough actor to hide it from Laura. He had to find a way to get back to his life with her and stop thinking about what he would never have again. Just then, Laura’s voice broke through his thoughts. "What did you say, sweetheart?" he asked.

He looked over at her as she held up her wrist with the beautiful diamond tennis bracelet. "I said I love my bracelet, honey. Thank you for thinking of me."

Max felt a slight pang as he recalled just how little he had thought of her while he was in Paris. He looked at the bracelet dangling from her wrist, and his thoughts went directly to the gold heart pendant he had placed around Fran’s neck. The image of it lying against her silky skin directly above her heart flashed before his eyes. At least she had agreed to wear it as a constant reminder of his love. Although he would never be able to say those words to her again, she could look at the necklace every day and know how much he loved her. If only he had said them five years ago when he’d had the chance. If only. . .

Max reached over and squeezed his wife’s hand affectionately. She was a wonderful wife, and he truly did care for her. He took a deep breath as he moved into the exit lane and prepared to get back to the normal routine of his life—running his production company and being a good husband, father and grandfather to his family. A normal routine that up until last week had seemed very fulfilling. But now he knew that there was a huge void in all of it that would never be filled. Fran was out of his life forever, and accepting that was something he would struggle with every day for the rest of his life.

*******************

Maggie looked up at the sign that read, "Fran’s Finds: Grand Opening," and pushed open the door. She looked around for Fran but couldn’t spot her among the crowd of people. Then, she heard that unmistakable voice and headed in that direction. She stopped along the way to give quick hugs to Sylvia and Val.

Fran’s face lit up as soon as she saw her. "Maggie!" she said, squeezing her shoulders. "Thanks for coming. Have some champagne."

"Thanks," said Maggie as someone handed her a glass of the bubbly stuff. Taking a sip, she said, "Man, this place is packed. Congratulations."

"Thank you," said Fran. "Where are B and Gracie?"

"Gracie should be by later. Brighton can’t get away. He’s got finals coming up. By the way," she said, reaching into her purse and handing Fran an envelope. "I really hope you and Jeff can come to his graduation party on the ninth. I know things are. . ." she searched for the right word, "weird between you and Dad, but it would mean so much to Brighton. It would really mean a lot to all of us."

Fran felt a quick shot of panic surge through her. The thought of even being in the same room with Max scared the hell out of her. She had been working so hard to put all that behind her, she couldn’t imagine seeing him again face to face and dealing with all the emotions that would dredge up. And with Jeff and Laura there too? No way, she thought to herself.

Fran gave Maggie her best fake smile as she took the envelope from her. "We’ll see, honey. Thanks for the invitation." Eager to change the subject, she said, "Why don’t you look around and see if there’s anything you like. I’ll talk to the owner—see if I can get you a discount," she teased.

Maggie laughed as she glanced around at some of the items on display. "Did you find anything really cool while you were in Paris?" she asked innocently.

Fran had just taken a sip of her champagne, and she nearly choked on it. Recovering, she allowed the memories to come rushing back to her. "Yes," she said, reaching up to cup Maggie’s chin. "I found some wonderful things in Paris." She sighed as she smiled nostalgically.

The moment was interrupted as Fran felt someone’s arms slide around her waist from behind. She reached up behind her and caressed Jeff’s cheek as he placed a loving kiss on hers.

"When did you get here?" she asked, turning in his arms. "Want some champagne?"

"Just now, and you know I’m on duty. I just wanted to stop by and see how it’s going. Looks like it’s going great." He looked over at Maggie. "Hi, Maggie," he said. "Thanks for coming." Maggie took that as her cue to slip away and give them a few minutes to themselves.

"Yeah, it’s going even better than I expected. Sales are almost twice what I projected. Oh, honey, you should have been here for the ribbon-cutting. There was a reporter and a photographer from Business Weekly here. It was so exciting!"

"Congratulations, honey. I’m so proud of you," he said, giving her a sweet kiss.

"Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without your support. You’re such a good husband," she said, returning his kiss. "How long can you stay?"

"Just a few minutes. In fact, I gotta go," he said, looking at his watch. "I’ll see you tonight at dinner. Why don’t we go to some place special to celebrate?" he said, brushing his thumb across her cheek.

"Ok, sweetie," she replied. He kissed her again, and as she watched him head toward the door, she couldn’t help but think of how lucky she was to have such a loving, supportive husband. She had all she’d ever hoped for, and she was so grateful for Jeff and the role he played in making all her dreams come true.

Fran watched as Jeff waved to her through the plate glass window, and then her eyes traveled over to the huge spray of sterling roses that had been delivered that morning. The card simply said, "Congratulations." It wasn’t signed, but she had recognized the handwriting immediately.

Suddenly, she remembered the invitation in her hand. Sighing, she could think of no reasonable way to get out of going to that graduation party. Brighton was still like a son to her, and she had played an important role in his growing up. She could hardly believe that mischievous little ten-year-old was now a Harvard graduate. She knew in her heart that she had to go. She also knew that walking back into that house and seeing Max again meant she would be facing one of the biggest challenges of her life.

*****************

Max sat at his desk looking over some contracts for the Marvin Hamlisch review. It was going to be a great show, and things were going very smoothly getting the whole thing up and running. In fact, the light workload meant he had plenty of time to think about other things, and there was one subject that he found himself focused on constantly.

He reached into his desk drawer and dug to the bottom of the stack of folders. He pulled out Fran’s picture and sat mesmerized by that gorgeous smile and those sparkling brown eyes. He ran his finger over the outline of her cheek and recalled how wonderful it felt to touch her face with his hand.

He found himself doing that more and more frequently these days. How long would it be, he wondered, before he would be able to put Paris behind him and get on with his life? He had told himself a million times that it was the only way he would ever survive, but saying it and doing it were two very different things.

Suddenly, his eyes were drawn away from Fran’s picture toward the photo of him and Laura. They were such different women, how could he love them both? But this was not a new experience for him. He knew all too well what it was like loving Sara and Fran at the same time, and he had had a tough enough time dealing with that and all the guilt it involved. But Laura was alive and here with him. Why wasn’t he suffering those same feelings of guilt now? He had held back his love for Fran for fear of betraying Sara, and Sara was dead. Now he couldn’t control his overpowering love for Fran, and Laura was very much alive. He was desperate to make some sense out of it.

He had always thought he was an expert when it came to guilt, but this was an entirely new type of guilt. In fact, it was the non-existent type. His love for Fran was so strong and so deep that it completely canceled out any guilt he might have felt for betraying Laura. So, he sat there, feeling guilty for not feeling guilty.

God, how did his life get to be such a mess? To be honest, though, he really didn’t have to think too hard to answer that. If he had only been able to say the three precious words to Fran five years ago, how different things would be now. It was all his own doing, he knew, and somehow he would have to figure out how to live with the consequences.

Just then, Laura came walking into his office, and he quickly shoved Fran’s picture under the stack of papers on his desk. She glanced at the stack. Had she seen it, he wondered? "Hello, sweetheart," he said, trying to sound casual and smiling up at her. "Was there something you needed?"

"Yes, I’ve got a meeting with some new clients this afternoon, and I’ll probably be gone through the evening. So, I thought if you could take a break now, we might have lunch together. Niles just about has it ready."

"Of course, sweetheart. That sounds like a wonderful idea. I’ll probably be tied up until late at the theater today myself." He grabbed the contracts from his desk being careful to scoop Fran’s picture up with them and slid the batch into a drawer. Getting up and coming around his desk, he placed his arm affectionately around his wife’s shoulders and they headed off to the kitchen to enjoy a nice lunch together.

It was almost nine o’clock that evening when Laura Sheffield came through the front door of their Manhattan townhouse. Her meeting with the new clients had gone well, but she was exhausted from the long day. The house was quiet. Gracie was probably in her room studying, she thought, and it was Niles’ night off. She really just wanted to go upstairs and soak in the Jacuzzi for an hour, but she decided she should touch base with Maxwell first.

She walked through the living room and headed toward his office. She was surprised when she got there to see that he hadn’t yet arrived home from the theater. She started to head upstairs, when a sudden thought struck her. Standing frozen for a minute, she tried to decide what to do. Maxwell had been acting so strangely of late, ever since his return from Paris. She was tired of asking him about it and getting one of those dismissive answers of his. She had a sneaking suspicion that some clue might lie among Maxwell’s things in his office. But, was she really ready to learn what that was? Which was better—not knowing and wondering, or knowing and having to deal with it?

Gathering her resolve, she walked around Max’s desk and opened the drawer where he had stashed those papers earlier that day. She dug to the bottom and grasped the photo she was certain he had been looking at when she had startled him at lunchtime. Turning on his desk lamp, she held the photo under it and studied the face captured there. It was a beautiful face with large, sparkling brown eyes and a million-dollar smile, all framed by cascades of ebony curls. "She’s absolutely stunning," Laura said out loud. She had seen that face in photographs before. Of course, there were none displayed around the house, but a few times she and the children had looked through some old family albums, and Laura could recognize the face of the nanny they had all loved so much and who had been such an important part of their lives before she and Max met. She stared at the picture another minute and then carefully returned it to its spot. Turning off the light, she walked upstairs to her office, fighting the numbness she felt creeping over her and the dull ache that was pressing on her heart.

She pulled her most recent issue of Business Weekly out of the stack on her desk and thumbed the pages until she came upon the news release she had noted the day before. There, in the photo, was the same face she had seen ensconced in her husband’s desk drawer. The caption read, "Fran Sheehan, owner of Fran’s Finds-Manhattan cuts the ribbon at the grand opening of her new shop at 57^th and Third Avenue." Laura had thought the face looked familiar when she was skimming the magazine the day before. And now here it was, staring back at her from a photo and, apparently, haunting her husband’s thoughts.

She had known when she accepted Max’s proposal that she would be competing with Sara’s ghost, and she had made up her mind that she could handle that. But this was an entirely different matter. And judging from the look on Maxwell’s face when she had come into his office earlier that day, it was a matter that would very likely determine the direction of all their lives.

*****************

Fran sat at her desk in her Manhattan shop going over her sales sheets for the last two weeks. Her grand opening had been a huge success, and several weeks later sales were still above projections. Yes, opening the Manhattan branch had been a smart move. Having lived there for five years had taught her a thing or two about the tastes of that particular clientele, and it was serving her well in her new business venture. Hiring Val to manage the Great Neck store was working out extremely well also. And the French antiques were selling well in both shops. The trip to Paris had been expensive, but the profits from the sale of those pieces would more than make up for it.

She put her pen down and leaned back in her chair, letting her mind wander back to Paris. Would she ever be able to return to that city and think of her trip there as nothing more than business? The city that held the memories of the most wonderful experiences in her life? Her mind began replaying scenes of her and Max—walking hand in hand down the Champs Elysees, eating at little sidewalk cafes, dancing at Nigel’s club. But the nights they had spent together, wrapped in each other’s arms making passionate love—those memories came rushing back to her more often than she cared to admit.

And they always brought with them the most poignant of tears. There was a time when she had pined incessantly for what she feared she would never have with Maxwell. Now she ached for what she knew she would never have with him again. The only way to endure those bouts of longing was to remind herself of all that she had with Jeff and how much she depended on his love and support. She picked up his photo from her desk and sighed as she looked at his warm smile and handsome face. Her Rock of Gibralter—she knew he loved it when she called him that. But she wondered if he had any idea how important that was to her. After all the years of wondering if she would ever find true happiness with someone, Jeff provided what was most important to her, and she thanked God every day that he had come into her life.

She never thought it would be possible to love two men so deeply and so completely. She had always thought of herself as a one-man woman—first Danny, then Max, then Jeff. But living with her heart divided kept her constantly off kilter, and she worried that Jeff had noticed a difference in her since her return from Paris. Whenever they were together, it seemed the slightest thing would send her mind back to her week in that beautiful city with Max, and being in her shop surrounded by reminders of her shopping there, she found it a huge challenge to stay focused on her goal to forget Paris and concentrate on her life with her husband.

It was so hard not to compare her two loves. But the truth was they were two such different men, it made her wonder how she could love them both so much. Jeff was a constant, who offered her unwavering love and complete support. She and Jeff were so well matched in every way, it seemed they were two halves of a whole. Max offered her nothing but uncertainty. He told her he loved her and he seemed sincere, but there would always be that nagging fear that he would take it back some day. And how did he know for sure that he truly loved her? He had always been such an emotional basket case, did he really know his true feelings? And she and Max were so mismatched, how could their love possibly last? The decision she’d made in Paris had been heart-rending, but she knew with certainty it had been the right one.

And that also meant living with a lifetime of guilt. She had always joked about dealing with Jewish guilt, but it was nothing in comparison to what she had been experiencing. She looked down at her beautiful wedding rings and fingered them lovingly, thinking about what they represented. She had betrayed that, and what made it worse was knowing for sure that Jeff would never in his life do such a thing to her. Just one more reason she knew she had made the right choice. After all, Max had cheated on his wife with her, which showed a side of him she didn’t know existed. Of course, she hadn’t known it existed in her either. But, would they ever be able to put complete and total trust in each other knowing what they’d both done? The weight of the issues she wrestled with constantly often wore her down.

Just then, the phone rang, startling her out of her reverie. She tried to gather herself before answering it. Picking it up, she said, "Hello?"

"Fran?" came Val’s voice from the other end.

"Oh, hi, Val. How’s it going?" Fran said, trying to sound cheerful.

"Everything’s fine. I just called to let you know that the last shipment of antiques arrived today from Paris. There was a note that they’d been delayed in shipping, but they’re here now." Val hesitated for a moment. "Fran, is everything all right? You sound a little upset."

Fran sniffed and cleared her throat. "I’m fine, Val," she said, taking a deep breath.

Val spoke softly. "Thinking about Max again?"

"Val!" Fran shot back at her.

"Relax, Fran. There’s nobody here right now but me. Are you sure you’re fine? Is there anything I can do to help?" Val asked.

"No, there’s nothing anybody can do." Fran took a deep breath. "I made my choices, and now I have to learn to live with them. But, thanks for asking."

"You know you can talk to me any time, right? I know you’re going through hell," Val told her sympathetically.

"Thanks, Val. Listen," she said, needing to change the subject. "This interior designer came into the shop this morning to order some things." Fran picked up the business card she had tossed onto her desk earlier that day. She held it up and read, "Laura Thomas Designs" aloud to Val. "Do you know her? She seemed really familiar to me, but I’m sure I’ve never met her. Has she been in the Great Neck shop?"

"No, never heard of her," Val replied. "Why are you asking?"

"Oh, I don’t know, she just said she’d been hearing a lot of good things about my shop from some other decorators and she wanted to check it out for herself. She was really interested in some of the French antiques and asked me if I purchased them myself or ordered them from a catalog. I just thought that was kinda weird. Anyway, she seemed very nice and said she was sure we would be seeing each other again."

"See there?" Val said. "Your reputation is spreading. Pretty soon, every decorator in New York will be coming to your shops. I tell you, Fran, you’ve got everything going for you now."

"Yeah," Fran said wistfully, looking again at Jeff’s picture. "I got everything I ever dreamed of. Thanks, Val, for reminding me. Good-bye."

As Fran was hanging up the phone, Josh stuck his head in her office door. "Fran, there’s a customer out here wants to know something about some candle sconces."

"Ok," she said, getting up from her desk. "Thank God for work," she thought to herself. It was the only thing right then keeping her from losing her mind.

****************

Fran took a deep breath and reached out to ring the doorbell of the Sheffield mansion. She prayed that Jeff couldn’t see her hand shaking. Could it really have been ten years since she stood on that very spot with her Shades of the Orient cosmetics case rehearsing her sales pitch? This time, no amount of rehearsal could prepare her for what she was about to experience as soon as they stepped inside.

The door opened and there stood Niles, her friend and confidante for so many years. They embraced warmly, and then she and Jeff came on into the foyer. Fran looked around nervously, wondering at what point she and Maxwell would come face to face and hoping they would both be able to look at each other without portraying all the emotions their reunion was bound to generate.

"Fran!" she heard three voices call out simultaneously as Maggie, Brighton, and Gracie practically bowled her over with hugs. Jeff stood by patiently allowing her the chance to reconnect with her former family. He knew well how much she loved those three kids, and he had never begrudged the time she had spent with them since leaving their home.

"Oh, B," said Fran, her face beaming. "I’m so proud of you! A Harvard graduate!"

"Thanks, Fran," he said. "I bet when you first saw me with that fake knife sticking out of my stomach you wouldn’t have thought I’d ever get this far."

Fran grew nostalgic as she cupped his chin tenderly. "Are you kidding, mister? I knew it all along." She smiled at him warmly. Then she heard the voice that sent a shock wave through her.

"Fran," said Max as he came up to greet her. "Thank you so much for coming." The three Sheffield children stood watching with interest. It was the first time they’d seen their father and former nanny together in five years.

Fran held out her hand to him and he held it graciously in both of his. "Oh, I wouldn’t have missed it," she replied, trying to keep her voice even. Reaching back for her husband’s hand and pulling him to her, she said, "You remember Jeff."

Max and Jeff shook hands. "Of course," said Max. "Jeff, good to see you again." Max fought back a quick stab of jealousy as he watched Jeff slide his arm around Fran’s waist. There was a moment of awkward silence as Fran saw that Max was looking fixedly at the floating hearts resting against her creamy skin. She reached up and fingered the pendant nervously. Finally, Max gestured toward the living room. "Well, do come on in. Just let Niles know what you’d like to drink."

Fran and Jeff walked on into the living room as Maggie leaned her head toward her dad. "See there?" she said. "Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?" Max just looked at her. Little did she know that he had just put on the best acting performance of his life.

Niles handed Fran and Jeff each a drink and Brighton began introducing them to some of his friends. Fran couldn’t keep from glancing around the room, hoping to spot Laura Sheffield. After what Max had told her about his wife, and she was anxious to meet her for herself. As she scanned the group, her eyes landed on a set of green ones from across the room. For a brief moment, two pairs of eyes locked, and a million unspoken thoughts passed between them. All the love Max wasn’t allowed to express with words came pouring out of his eyes, and Fran returned it all in kind.

Her attention was then drawn away by Brighton relating a humorous story about one of his professors. After a few minutes of light-hearted banter, Fran found that she could actually manage to enjoy herself as long as Jeff stayed right by her side and she was wrapped up in conversation with one of her kids.

Then from behind her, she heard Max say, "Darling, I’d like you to meet someone very special to this family." It was so unnerving. The last time she’d heard him use that term, he’d been referring to her.

Fran turned around and her mouth immediately fell open. There stood Laura Thomas, the designer who’d come into her shop. Max continued, "Fran, Jeff, this is my wife Laura. Sweetheart, this is Fran, the children’s former nanny and her husband Jeff."

Laura looked at Jeff and with a gracious smile, said, "It’s nice to meet you, Jeff." Then she turned to Fran and held out her hand. "I believe we’ve met before. Fran, how nice to see you again."

Fran still had not recovered from the shock. She looked at Max, whose own expression of surprise matched hers. "Wh—what do you mean, you’ve met before?" he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound as tremulous as he was feeling.

With complete calm, Laura looked at her husband. "Fran and I have met professionally. I ordered some things from her last week."

There was no way Fran could look at Max at that moment, but if she’d been able to, she would have seen that he was in a mild state of panic. She finally managed to say, "Your card said ‘Laura Thomas Designs.’ I didn’t make the connection."

"Oh, of course. Why would you? I didn’t see any reason to change the name of my business after Max and I were married. By the way, congratulations on the success of your new shop."

"Thanks," Fran stammered, still not quite able to fully grasp the situation. She just stood there at a loss for words.

Jeff noticed the lull in the conversation, and decided to step in. "Yeah, both of Fran’s shops are doing really well. I guess people really go for those French antiques she sells." Trying to be helpful, he continued, "You know, she buys them all herself in Paris. In fact, she just got back from a shopping trip there a few weeks ago."

Showing nothing but gracious charm, Laura said, "Oh, really. Paris, huh? That must have been very exciting."

"Uh, yes, it was," Fran replied, numb. Up until then, except for the moment she and Max had locked eyes across the room, Fran had been able to keep Paris and all that it signified pushed to the back of her mind by concentrating on appearing relaxed and normal. But now Jeff had managed, innocently enough, to bring it all right back to her.

Max searched Laura’s face for some sign that she had made the connection between what Jeff had said about Fran’s trip and Max’s own recent travels, but there was none. He suddenly spoke up, "Darling, I see someone else I would like to introduce you to." Then looking at Fran and Jeff he said, "Excuse us, won’t you?"

Finally, Fran managed to flash that beautiful smile of hers and said, "Sure. It was nice to meet you, Laura. I mean, again." Max and Laura moved to the other side of the room as Fran turned to her husband. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Well, she seems very nice."

"Yes," he agreed. "You know, honey, I think it was a really good idea coming to this party. I mean, I know things have been a little awkward between you and Max the last few years, but don’t you think it’s good for you two to get along? You know, for the kids’ sake."

Fran reached up and touched his cheek warmly. "You’re right, honey. This was a great idea." She smiled at him as she thought about what he’d said. But how in the hell could she and Max pretend to "get along" after Paris? The emotional roller coaster she’d been on all afternoon was not something she wanted to experience on a regular basis. The day she’d left Max in Paris, she told him they had to stay away from each other. And now even her husband was suggesting that they reestablish their friendship.

"Oy," she thought to herself. She didn’t know how much longer she could carry this act. Just then, Niles announced that the buffet was served, and Fran breathed a sigh of relief. Food was good, she thought to herself. Food was safe. She grabbed Jeff’s hand and headed toward the dining room.

As they worked their way down the line filling their plates, Fran couldn’t keep herself from glancing over at Max. Each time, she thought she caught him looking at her, and they both looked away quickly. The incidents sent a strange surge through her—something powerful, almost exhilarating. It was as if there was a distinct thrill in sharing some deep and dark knowledge that no one else in the room would ever even fathom. Only the two of them knew the secret of what had happened in Paris and that they were so much in love. The last time she glanced Maxwell’s way, he was definitely looking at her and he held her gaze for just a moment. But in that brief moment, she knew that he’d been feeling it too.

After eating and watching Brighton open his gifts, Fran felt that they had stayed an acceptable amount of time and suddenly found herself anxious to leave. The afternoon had been emotionally draining, and she just wanted to go home and spend some quiet time with her husband. She walked over to Brighton and gave him one last hug and congratulated him one more time. Jeff shook his hand, and he and Fran headed for the door. Fran knew it was only polite to thank Max and Laura, but she really just needed to get out of there. She gave Niles a quick hug but as he opened the door, Fran heard Laura Sheffield call out, "Leaving so soon?"

Fran stopped dead in her tracks and took a deep breath. Plastering a smile on her face, she turned around and said, "Yes, and thank you so much for inviting us. We had a very nice time."

"Thank you for coming," said Laura, extending her hand. Just then, she saw that Max had stepped away from the guest he had been talking to. "Max," Laura called to him. "Come say good-bye to Fran and Jeff."

God, could this get any more uncomfortable, Fran thought to herself? Max came striding up to them and reached out to shake Jeff’s hand. "Thanks for coming," he said, trying to look genuinely gracious.

"Thanks for having us," Jeff replied.

"Perhaps the four of us can all get together for dinner some time," Laura suggested. Fran swallowed hard. Did this woman get pleasure out of torturing her or what? Fran tossed a quick glance at Max and saw his eyes widen the tiniest bit. She put on the best fake smile she could muster and said, "Perhaps. Thank you again." With that, she grabbed Jeff’s hand and headed out the door.

On the way home, Jeff glanced over at his wife. "Well, that was nice, wasn’t it?" he said.

"Nice?" thought Fran. How about agony? Pure anguish? And the thought that there was now a chance it wouldn’t be the last time she would have to endure such a thing was more than she could process. Jeff thought she and Max should be friends, and Laura had invited them to dinner. Deluged with a multitude of emotions, Fran was barely able to utter in response, "Yeah, it was nice."

*****************

Max stood at the back of the theater watching the rehearsal on stage and making his producer’s notes. When his cell phone rang, he pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the read-out. Flipping it open, he said, "Hello, sweetheart."

From the other end, Laura said, "Hi, honey. Are you busy?"

"Oh, no more so than usual. What’s up?"

"I was wondering what time you’re going to be leaving the theater today."

Max looked at his watch. "I should be on my way in about an hour. Why?"

"Well, I’ve got a bit of a problem. Fran called this morning to let me know the mirror I ordered for the Robbins remodel is in, and there’s no way I can get by there to pick it up today." She paused for a second and then continued, "I really need it as soon as possible, and she can’t have it delivered until—"

Max had felt his heart begin to race at the mention of Fran’s name. As he realized what Laura was asking him, his mind suddenly began thinking about the prospect of seeing Fran again, and it wouldn’t even be his own doing. This was just too good to be true. "Say no more, darling. I’ll be glad to pick it up for you," he practically blurted.

"Are you sure you don’t mind? I know you’re so busy, and I don’t usually ask you to do this kind of thing for me, but. . ."

"Don’t worry. I don’t mind at all," he said, trying to sound matter-of-fact.

"Thanks, honey. I’ll see you tonight," Laura said, closing her phone. She took a deep breath and stared for a few seconds at her phone. Ever since Fran had called that morning to tell her that the mirror had arrived, she had been wrestling with the idea of asking Max to pick it up for her. She understood that she was probably taking a risk. She’d seen the meaningful looks between her husband and his former nanny, and after finding that picture a few weeks ago, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that she definitely had reason to worry. But it was the only way she could think of to get that mirror to the Robbins on time, and, after all, she was a professional and business was business. Sighing, she headed back into her meeting and prayed that her suspicions were nothing more than mere suspicions.

Back at the theater, Max looked around for C.C. Spotting her talking to the choreographer, he headed her way. "C.C.," he said a bit out of breath, "do you think you can handle things here the rest of the afternoon? Something’s come up, and I really need to take off now."

He barely heard her answer before turning around and heading out the stage door. He tried to stay calm during the short drive to Fran’s shop. When he got there, he suddenly became a bit nervous, unsure of how things would be between them. As he approached the door, he looked through the window and saw her standing behind the counter. His breathing suddenly picked up. "My God, she’s so beautiful," he thought to himself. How in the world was he going to be able to have a conversation with her and not want to hold her in his arms and kiss her mouth? It had been tough enough at Brighton’s graduation party with all those people around. But here with just the two of them... He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Fran looked up and her eyes opened wide when she saw him. "Max," she said in surprise. "What are you doing here?" She didn’t dare move from her spot. She stayed where she was with the counter safely between them.

"Uh, Laura called and said you had an order ready for her. She asked me to pick it up." He could tell by the look on her face that she didn’t believe him. "I swear, Fran, I’m just doing her a favor."

She stared at him a few more seconds before saying, "All right. I’ll get it. You stay here." She went into the back room while Max paced anxiously around the shop. There were no other customers in the store, and it was obvious the two of them were alone. His breathing became more rapid at the thought of seizing the opportunity to kiss her, to hold her again. It seemed like ages since he had touched her skin.

Fran came walking out of the back room with a hesitant look on her face. "Well, it’s here," she said. "But it’s very big and heavy, and I just sent Josh out on a delivery."

Max literally flew around the counter. "No problem. I can get it for you." Fran hesitated another second and then turned around and headed back into the stock room with Max right behind her. She walked over to where the mirror was leaning up against the wall and double-checked the shipping slip.

Max couldn’t control himself any longer. She felt his arms go around her waist and she instinctively leaned back into his body. "Max, please," she moaned, closing her eyes.

"I’m sorry, darling. How can I help myself when I’m so much in love with you?" He breathed in her fragrance and nuzzled her neck.

Once again, the three magic words melted Fran’s last ounce of reserve and she turned in his arms and seized his mouth, wrapping him up and holding him tightly against her. They stood there grasping at each other’s mouths over and over, their tongues seeking to caress and explore. Finally, they had to pull apart. Their hearts were beating so rapidly, and they were both gasping for air.

Touching his forehead to hers, Max said, "It has been torture these last few weeks. I think about you all the time. I want to make love to you so badly, sometimes I think I’m just going to stop breathing."

She looked deeply into those green eyes and read the pain she could hear in his voice. "Max, I love you, and I miss you too. But we just can’t. It’s too hard. It’s not—" she stopped herself before voicing the thought. They had never really discussed the issue of morality, although they were both very aware of how wrong their actions had been and each had wrestled with the ethics of what they had done. If they were ever to bring it out in the open and seriously discuss the matter, she knew it shouldn’t come during a stolen moment in the back room of her shop.

"Look," Max said. "I know you think it’s best if we have nothing to do with each other. But you have to admit that’s going to be impossible now. We’ve shown the kids that we’re no longer at odds, and Laura even invited you and Jeff for dinner. How will it look if you refuse her invitation?"

Fran thought for a moment. "Even Jeff said it was a good idea for us to come to Brighton’s graduation party," she admitted. "I guess you’re right. We’re bound to run into each other now. We’re just going to have to find a way to be around each other and handle our feelings."

Max breathed a sigh of relief. This was a step in the right direction. At least she wasn’t shutting him completely out of her life anymore. He knew he had to try to take it a little further. "Fran, can I see you again? Please?"

"No!" she stated promptly. "The only way we can be together is when Jeff and Laura are with us. Otherwise, I can’t trust you, and I know I sure as hell can’t trust myself."

He slowly leaned in and took her lips in a tender kiss. He continued the slow, sweet kisses one after another as he slid his hands up under her sweater and began caressing the silky skin of her back.

"Oh, God," she breathed into his mouth. "You don’t play fair." She ran her fingers through his thick, black waves and felt his heart beating rapidly against her own. They stood there for what seemed like forever lost in each other, allowing their mouths to convey all the deep feelings they held for each other.

At last, they pulled apart and Max looked at her intently. "Fran, can I see you for lunch?" She hesitated. "Coffee, then? Anything, I just want to be with you. Please." His voice quivered and he held such a desperate, pleading look in his eyes.

She sighed deeply. Against her better judgment, she said, "Lunch tomorrow. I should be able to get away for a couple of hours."

Max’s face lit up and he picked her up twirling her around. Setting her back down, he said with a broad grin, "I’ll see you here at 1:00 tomorrow." He kissed her again and then looked around for the mirror. He reached down and lifted it easily. It was large and cumbersome, but he had so much adrenalin pumping through him at that moment, it felt as though he were lifting an empty box.

They walked out of the back room and Max asked her, "Do I need to sign something?"

"No," said Fran. "I’ll send Laura the bill."

Max stopped for a moment and set the mirror down. He looked at her with those green eyes shining and said, "Tomorrow then. I love you." He picked up the mirror and headed out the door.

As Fran watched him walk away, she chastised herself for giving in while at the same time acknowledging her eagerness to see him again. It was time for her to admit that she loved him too much and for too long to ever feel certain that she had her feelings for him safely tucked away.

******************

Fran pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and scrolled through her contacts list. When she found Max’s number, she pushed the send button and started running through her head just what she was going to say. This was the third time she had cancelled lunch with him. The first time he had been so disappointed when she told him she had gotten tied up with a new client, but he seemed to believe her. Then last week, she had called at the last minute to say that there was a problem at the Great Neck store she simply had to go take care of. He had asked if she was avoiding him, but she had sworn it was really an emergency. She was pretty sure that this time he wouldn’t swallow any story, no matter how convincing she made it.

The truth was that she just couldn’t bring herself to be alone with him, even in a public place such as a restaurant. She knew he would just pressure her to see him again, and the next time it would be some place where they could really be alone. And although in her heart she wanted that just as much as he did, she had made up her mind to never let that happen again. She had let the romance of Paris and the joy of Max’s declaration of love break down all her reserve during their glorious week together, but that was thousands of miles away—away from Jeff and Laura and their obligations. Here, amidst the reality of their daily lives, she could be strong. She had to be strong, for the sake of her marriage and for the sake of her own sanity.

And if they ever did have an opportunity to talk—really talk—he would ask her why she refused to continue the passion they had captured in Paris, and she would have to give him an explanation. That would mean examining her deepest thoughts about what they had done, and although she had done plenty of soul-searching since their return, she wasn’t sure she was ready to share it with him and deal with any arguments he might offer.

She prayed she would get his voice mail so she wouldn’t have to listen to the disappointment in his voice when she told him she couldn’t see him. But when he answered, he didn’t even say hello. The first words out of his mouth were, "Fran, please don’t cancel on me again."

She took a deep breath. Maybe it was time for them to have that talk, even if it meant dealing with the feelings she didn’t even want to admit she had. "All right, but I’ll meet you at the restaurant." She couldn’t handle being alone with him in the back of his limo.

She heard him pause on the other end. Thankfully, he didn’t argue with her. "All right. I’ll see you at Elaine’s at 1:00. I love you." After hanging up, Max closed his eyes and breathed a huge sigh of relief. He wondered if she had any idea how much it tore his heart out every time she cancelled their plans. He knew being together was emotionally draining on both of them, but he was so desperate to see her that it was easy for him to convince himself that nothing else mattered.

He looked at his watch and saw that it was after noon. Only a little while longer and they would be together. And while he would have much preferred that she let him pick her up in the limo so he would have a chance to steal a few kisses and touch her soft skin, he told himself that he would just have to be satisfied with being in her company. At least, for now.

An hour later, Max sat in a quiet corner booth at the restaurant sipping his wine and looking anxiously at his watch. She was fifteen minutes late, and he began to wonder how long he would sit there waiting before he finally gave up on her. But he knew deep down he would wait all day long if that’s what it took. Hell, he would wait for her forever, he was sure.

Then he looked up and she was there, walking slowly toward him with apprehension written all over her face. He stood up as she slid into the booth opposite him. "I’m sorry I’m late, I…" she tried to come up with something plausible and finally said, "Hell, the truth is I wasn’t sure I was coming. But I finally decided I can’t just keep canceling these lunch dates with you. We really need to talk, so I’m here."

He poured her some wine just as the waiter appeared. They placed their orders and waited for him to leave. There was an uneasy silence between them, neither sure where to start. After a few moments, Max asked how things were going in her shop and she inquired about his new production.

They both knew the small talk was only prolonging the inevitable. Max reached across the table and took her hand in his. She immediately pulled it away from him and placed both hands in her lap. She couldn’t look at him. Quietly, she said, "Maxwell, I want you to stop calling and asking to see me. I’ve made up my mind to put everything between us in the past. You’re making it too hard." Then she raised her head and looked directly into his eyes. "You’ll just have to be satisfied with knowing that I love you very much, and I will love you forever. But that’s all I can give you."

Max stared at her as he fought the lump in his throat. What she was telling him caused a mixture of pain and panic to wash over him. He swallowed hard and croaked, "Why?"

Fran took a deep breath. That was the one question she was dreading. She had thought of little else since their return from Paris. There were so many answers to that question, and every one of them hurtful. It had been hard enough to deal with them on her own, but now to give them voice and make him understand was grueling.

She looked down at her hands again. "Because it’s not right. We both took vows—very serious ones. And we broke them. I never in my life thought I could be capable of such a thing. But at least now I can rationalize that it was the magic of Paris and being there with you so far away from everything that made me look past what was right. But if we continue, I wouldn’t have that excuse, and I don’t think I could live with myself. The guilt is already so overwhelming, I just couldn’t imagine…" She looked up at him. "Max, now I understand what you were feeling all those years, what kept you from giving me your whole heart. This guilt is a very powerful thing. I don’t know how in the world you dealt with it. How do you deal with it?"

Max gazed at his drink. He wasn’t sure how to answer her question. He was afraid if he told her how he’d been feeling, it would only make her feel worse. Then he looked into those gorgeous brown eyes that he loved so much and knew he had to be honest with her. "I don’t. You may find this strange knowing what I went through all those years, but the truth is I’m not really feeling any guilt now. I’ve come to terms with my guilt over Sara, and as for Laura, well, my love for you is so strong and so—" he searched for a description knowing there was none fitting— "so overpowering that it simply doesn’t allow for any guilt. It’s as if our love is so right that it completely cancels out anything negative."

"Oh, God, Max," she groaned.

"I’m sorry if that makes you feel bad, but it’s the truth," he said earnestly.

Fran looked at him incredulous. "Maxwell, are you telling me that you have no conscience at all about breaking your wedding vows?"

Max hurried to explain himself. "Well, in principle, yes, but in reality, it just shows how very much I love you."

She sat there shaking her head at him. "No, I think it shows how little I can trust you. I never would have thought that of you," she stated, her voice rising a bit. He could tell that she was getting really upset now.

"Darling, you can trust me. I love you so much, I would never do anything to hurt you."

"You cheated on your wife with me," she protested. "If you and I were ever to make any kind of commitment to each other, how could I ever trust you not to cheat on me?"

Max was growing very frustrated with this discussion. "Well, you cheated on your husband with me. Why should I ever trust you?" He regretted the words before they were even out of his mouth. What she was saying was sending him into such a panic, he couldn’t think straight.

The only thing that kept Fran from getting up and walking out on him at that moment was the waiter appearing with their meals. She sat glaring at him across the table as the waiter asked if there was anything else they needed. "No, thank you," Max told him dismissively.

As the waiter walked away, Fran reached for her purse. "Fran, please, wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that." She started to stand up when he reached out for her hand. "Please, Fran, don’t go. I’m begging you." She looked at him and realized that she hadn’t seen such a desperate look on his face since the day she’d left him standing at the airport in Paris. She sighed resignedly and slid back into the booth.

Fran tried to keep her voice calm. "Are you saying that you don’t feel guilty for betraying Laura because you don’t love her anymore?"

"No, I’m not saying that. I do still care for her," he offered tentatively.

Fran just rolled her eyes at that. "Max, if you want my trust, then you’re going to have to be honest with me. Do you still love your wife?"

"Yes, I still love her. But it’s a very different kind of love than what I feel for you. My love for you is so deep that it simply overwhelms me. When we’re not together, I can think of nothing but when I’ll see you again. Wondering when I’ll be able to kiss you and hold you again takes up nearly all my thinking."

"And why didn’t you tell me this five years ago?" She watched his expression and noted his hesitation. "What—as soon as I left you decided you were in love with me?"

"No, I was in love with you long before you left," he admitted. "I was just so confused back then, there were so many doubts. But I don’t have them anymore. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Oh, yeah, so sure that you went off and married someone else." Fran cursed herself for letting that come out. She had no right to begrudge him an attempt at happiness. After all, she had married Jeff. But his marriage to Laura had hurt her, she had to admit. She felt a twinge in her heart, and she had to ask. Quietly, she said, "Maxwell, if you loved me so much, why did you marry someone else?"

He reached across and took her hand, and this time she held on. "I just felt so empty and alone after you left. And Laura and I seemed well suited for each other, and I did care for her. I suppose it was a way to get back at you for the hurt you had caused me. I mean, you got married only eight months after you left." He looked directly into her eyes. "Do you have any idea the agony that caused me? Why did you do that?"

"Because I fell in love with him," she explained. "And because he offered me everything I’d ever dreamed of. Everything I really wanted from you but didn’t believe I’d ever get. I know you had your doubts about a relationship with me, but the truth is I had serious doubts about you too. I mean, you told me you loved me, and then took it back. I don’t think you realize how much that hurt me. And even now, no matter how many times you tell me you love me, there will always be that little nagging worry in the back of my mind that one day you’ll take it back again. And besides that, we are so mismatched. We come from two different worlds, and if we were to ever try to make a go of it, you know those worlds would eventually collide. And combine all of that with the fact that you didn’t really know your true feelings for me. You say you do now, but how could I ever really know for sure?"

Her question was met with only silence. He had to look away from her. They both stared down at their plates, completely untouched. He still held her hand, unable to relinquish her touch.

Finally, he spoke up, but his voice was shaky. "As if the fact that we’re both married to other people wasn’t enough, it seems we’ve just listed some pretty persuasive reasons that we should stay apart."

Fran took a deep breath. "Yeah, it seems so. We both made a choice five years ago, and now this is the result. And that’s just the way it is. We love each other, but we don’t belong together." She paused for a moment as the enormity of what she’d just said sank in. Finally, she said softly, "I think we’ve both known that all along. Don’t you agree?"

Max couldn’t speak. His heart was breaking. Hell no, he didn’t agree. How in the world was he supposed to live with all the tremendous love he felt for her and no way to show her, no way to experience her love in return? This was worse than the five years he’d lived without her. At last, he managed to nod his head slightly as he pulled her hand to his mouth and lightly kissed the backs of her fingers.

She reached up with her other hand and tenderly combed her fingers through the gray streak that she loved to caress. "I’m sure our paths are bound to cross now and again, you know, for the kids and all, but that will have to be the extent of things. But always know that I love you, and I will love you for the rest of my life."

"And I love you, more than you’ll ever know." As he said those words to her, she reached up and took hold of the double-heart pendant and gently caressed it with her fingers.

"I know," she murmured, locking eyes with him and giving him that smile that he loved so much. They stood up as Max threw a fifty down on the table and walked toward the door together, never having taken one bite of their meals. They walked side by side out into the warm afternoon sunshine. Fran turned to Max and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he pulled her to him in a tight embrace. They held each other for the longest time, neither wanting to let go. They both knew it would be the last time they would feel the other’s embrace, and they wanted to savor it. At last, they looked into each other’s eyes and Max placed a sweet kiss on her lips. Without a word, they turned away from each other and took their separate paths back to their own lives.

*****************

Max sat at his office desk waiting for C.C. to arrive. He was anxious to get a start on the day’s work so he would have something to occupy his mind rather than dwelling on the pain of missing Fran so much. Just then, the phone rang, and when he answered he was surprised to hear his brother’s voice.

"Hey, bro, did I catch you at a bad time?" Nigel asked.

"Not at all, Nigel. How are you?" Max answered, trying to sound nonchalant.

"I’m doing great, but I’ve been wondering about you." Nigel knew how Max hated talking about his personal life, but he wanted to let him know that he’d been thinking about him and was hoping he was all right. "I haven’t heard much from you since your visit and, well, I know you had some pretty heavy stuff going on, and I was just wondering how things are going for you and—" Nigel hesitated, not sure if he should continue.

Uneasy with the direction of the conversation, Max spoke up quickly, "Laura and I are doing fine, Nigel. Thanks for asking."

Taking Max’s cue, Nigel said, "Uh, glad to hear it, bro. When do you think the two of you might pop over for a visit? You said something last time about maybe in the spring."

"Well, I’m not sure about that now. We’re both very busy with work, you know." Max was stunned by the notion of taking Laura to Paris and visiting the sites that were so special to him and Fran. He couldn’t even imagine what that would feel like. In fact, the way things appeared, it was likely that he would never return to that beautiful city again. Without Fran, what would be the use?

There was a heavy pause before Nigel ventured, "So how’s Fran?"

"Oh, she’s doing fine, I suppose," Max answered. "Her shops are doing very well."

Nigel spoke tentatively. "No, Max. I mean how are Fran and you?"

Max thought for a moment. He wasn’t one to confide his personal pain with anyone, but Nigel was his closest confidante in the matter and, well, he had made the gesture. Finally, Max took a breath and said, "There is no Fran and me. She’s very happy with her husband and I’m—well, as I said, Laura and I are doing fine."

It was obvious that the subject was too painful for Max to discuss. Gently, Nigel said, "I’m sorry, bro. Really I am. If there’s anything I can do…"

"Thanks, Nigel. I appreciate it. Give my love to everyone. Good-bye."

Max hung up the phone and put his face in his hands. God, how he wished there was something someone could do. He despised everything about the whole situation. He loathed how unfair it was to Laura. She was a wonderful person and deserved so much more from him, but still he couldn’t dredge up much guilt over what had happened. His love for Fran simply surpassed it.

And he hated having to go through the motions of his life without Fran. He thought of what she’d said at the restaurant about them loving each other but not belonging together. And he had agreed with her—at least the logical side of him had agreed. But his heart longed for her. He yearned for the joy and the passion she gave him.

The thing he dwelled on constantly was the fact that this was exactly what he had feared from the very beginning. It was precisely why he had kept his love for her buried deep inside all those years. He knew that once he let it surface, it would engulf him. To admit it was to be utterly consumed by it, and that had scared the hell out of him. He had let it emerge in Paris, and that was exactly what had happened. So there he sat thoroughly conquered by his love for Fran. Tragically, though, it had been too late.

By the time he had finally confessed his love to her, too much damage had been done. He had hurt her too bad, leaving scars that would never heal. She would always hold back a piece of her heart from him, to protect it in fear that one day he might crush it again. No wonder she refused to carry on the passion they had known in Paris. No wonder she’d been so adamant about going back to her husband. Max had so little to offer her in comparison to Jeff. And he had no one but himself to blame. He reached into his desk drawer and took out her picture. Staring mesmerized by that beautiful smile and those sparkling eyes, he began to wonder which was going to be more difficult: living without her or living with himself.

******************

Fran sat in her office at the Manhattan branch of Fran’s Finds. She rubbed her temples and leaned back in her chair. She had been finding it more and more difficult these days to keep her mind on her work. The shop was doing great, and Val was doing such a good job of running the Great Neck store that Fran really had no worries there. In fact, she almost wished her work was a little more demanding so she wouldn’t have so much time to let her mind wander because whenever she did, her thoughts always settled on one particular topic—or rather, one particular person.

It had been especially hard since her return from Paris the week before. She could hardly believe an entire year had gone by since her last buying trip—the one forever seared into her mind as the wonderful week she’d spent with Max. God, how she had dreaded that recent visit, having to come face to face with the memories of their all too brief time together. She had caught up with Nigel at his club, but she couldn’t bring herself to stay more than a few minutes. And for the first time since she’d begun making the annual trek, she had completely avoided the Champs Elysees. It seemed everywhere she went in that beautiful city she found a poignant reminder of Max, and that made it impossible to forget all that they had shared there and impossible not to mourn what they would never have again.

But her week in Paris with Max was over a year ago and an ocean away, and she had made up her mind to put that part of her life aside and keep her attention focused on her life with Jeff. She had to keep herself grounded in the here and now, and that was her life with her husband. That in itself would have been hard enough if she and Maxwell never crossed paths, but ever since Brighton’s graduation party, the two of them hadn’t been able to completely avoid each other. There had been Maggie’s birthday party, and, of course, the Fourth of July picnic Gracie had begged her and Jeff to come to. But the worst was the night Laura had invited them for dinner, and that had come only a month after she and Max had reached that heart-wrenching agreement at the restaurant.

Fran laid her head back and closed her eyes. She recalled how edgy she had been that whole day, and Jeff had noticed. In the car on the way there, he had looked over at her several times before finally asking, "Honey, why are you so nervous? You and Max got along fine at the graduation party." Yes, she remembered thinking, but that had been with a lot of other people around. Dinner that night would be just the four of them. And she had chastised herself for letting her nervousness show. She had sworn to Jeff that none of that mattered to her anymore.

She remembered how badly her hands had been shaking when they arrived, and when Niles opened the door and Max came to greet them, she could see it in him too. After saying hello, she saw his gorgeous green eyes go straight to the floating hearts hanging around her neck, and she knew exactly the message he had conveyed.

Laura had been so gracious and charming that night that Fran couldn’t help but think it was obvious why Max had been drawn to her. And Fran had been very surprised when Niles had announced that dinner was being served on the terrace. In all the years that she had lived at the Sheffield mansion, she couldn’t remember Max ever entertaining dinner guests there. She had to admit, though, that once she got over her initial qualms, it had been a pleasant evening, except for once when she thought Laura seemed to be watching too closely for any interaction between her and Max. But then Fran had decided that she must have been imagining things. The only truly awkward moment had come when Jeff had stepped away to take a phone call from his sergeant and Laura had gone to the kitchen to check on dessert, leaving Fran and Max alone on the terrace for a few minutes.

"You look so beautiful tonight," Max had told her in a hushed tone as he looked lovingly across the table at her. "Do you have any idea how badly I want to kiss you right now?"

"Yes, as much as I want to kiss you," she had confessed. Then, there was a brief instant when she had thought he was going to lean across and capture her mouth with his, and she knew she would have welcomed it. But they both understood that one kiss was not nearly enough, and it would lead to another and another, and only serve as a painful reminder of what they had agreed to sacrifice.

Needing to change the subject, Fran had looked up at the night sky and said, "It’s such a beautiful night. Having dinner out here was a lovely idea."

"Actually, it was my suggestion," Max had told her. Fran had looked at him a bit puzzled before he explained, "It’s just that I remembered the looks on the children’s faces the first time Laura came for dinner and sat in your chair. I just thought it might be easier for you out here."

She had smiled her gratitude for his thoughtfulness. He knew, as she did, how difficult it was for Fran to walk back into that house and see Laura occupying the role she had once dreamed would be hers. At that moment, Jeff and Laura had both rejoined them on the terrace, and Max had allowed his eyes to linger on hers just one more second before turning to Jeff and asking if he’d had any interesting cases of late. That had been almost a year ago, but the memory of that evening and the emotions it had roused in her still surfaced easily.

Thankfully, she and Max hadn’t seen each other face to face for several months. Fran had hoped that time apart would make things easier, but it seemed to be having the opposite effect. She found herself thinking about him more and more as the days went on.

Damn, what was it about that man that would not allow her heart to let go? Besides the obvious—he was gorgeous, rich, and charming—she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was that made her love him so much. After all, he had crushed her heart numerous times over the years, and although he insisted that he was finally certain of his feelings, he didn’t exactly have a stellar record with her. Fran just sat there wondering if she would ever discern the essence of her deep and true love for Maxwell Sheffield. And she had finally come to the conclusion that the more she tried to figure it out, the more confused over it she would be.

Fran sat forward in her chair and took a deep breath. She had a sudden urge to remind herself of just how useless all this thinking was. There was a need to anchor herself in the reality of everything she had with her husband. She picked up her cell phone and dialed Jeff. When he answered, she felt a mist in her eyes at the sound of his loving voice. "Hi, baby. What’s up?" he said.

"Uh, I was wondering if we could have lunch together today," she said after clearing her throat.

"I’m sorry, honey, but I’ve got witness interviews scheduled all afternoon. I just can’t get away. How about dinner some place special tonight?" he offered.

"Well, I was going to cook, but if you insist," she replied, hoping her attempt at humor belied her gray mood.

Jeff laughed affectionately. "I’ll see you tonight, honey. I might be a little late. I love you."

"I love you," she said sincerely. Just hearing his voice made her feel much better. Maybe she would suggest some place romantic for dinner that night.

As Fran hung up, there was light knock on her office door. "Uh, Fran, this came in the mail for you," said Josh, coming up to her desk and handing her a small package. "It’s addressed to you personally, so I thought I better bring it in."

"Thanks, Josh," Fran said as she started ripping the paper off. She didn’t remember ordering anything that would come in a package that size, and, except for a Manhattan postmark, there were no clues as to who had sent it. It had a typed mailing label and no return address. She tore the last of the paper off and was surprised to find an unlabeled CD inside. She looked for a note or some kind of explanation, but could find none. She got up and walked over to the stereo and put it in. Immediately, she recognized the beautifully haunting guitar strains. On instinct, she buried her face in her hands as she moaned, "Oh, God, Max."

Her first thought was to yank it out of the player and throw it in the trash. She even started to reach her hand toward it, but as soon as she heard the first lyrics by that soulful voice, she froze. "Nobody else can make me happy. No one can hurt me like you do." She stood mesmerized as her mind took her back to Paris. She could almost feel Max’s arms around her as they had moved to the bluesy rhythm and looked into each other’s eyes. Bonnie’s burnished voice held her captive until the song ended with the message that Fran knew came straight from Max’s heart: "You and I, we were meant to be together. You—it was always you." She couldn’t control the cascade of tears as she reached out and turned it off. "Damn it, Maxwell, stop making this so hard!" she wailed.

She removed the disk from the player and put it back in its case. She walked over to her desk and started to toss it in the trash, but her hand wouldn’t let go of it. Quietly, she opened her desk drawer and slipped it inside. Then she reached for a tissue and began wiping her tears. Slowly, she felt the question she had pushed deep inside begin to creep its way to the front of her mind: How much longer would she be able to hold off the inevitable?

******************

Fran took her Bloomie’s credit card back from the clerk and slipped it into her wallet. She was so excited about the sweater she had found for Jeff’s birthday. It was a soft cashmere that would make him even more huggable than he already was, and the dark blue would bring out the color of his eyes. As she reached for the bag, her attention was caught by someone looking at the turtlenecks just a few aisles away. Suddenly, she felt as though her breath had left her body. It was Max. He glanced up at the same instant, but looked away quickly, pretending not to have noticed her.

Fran felt her pulse start to race at the prospect of talking to him again. The encounter would be completely by chance and innocent enough, she rationalized. There was no reason two old friends couldn’t take a few minutes to say hello. And besides, she wanted to find out how he’d been. Maybe she’d even find out if he had been thinking of her as much as she’d been thinking of him. If the surprise she had received in the mail from him a few weeks earlier was an indication, she figured he had been.

She stood there for a minute trying to slow down her breathing. She wondered if he even wanted to talk to her—maybe that’s why he had looked away. Maybe it would be too awkward to stand there exchanging pleasantries and then just walk away as if nothing had ever happened between them. Then she noticed that he had perused the same stack of shirts three times, and she could tell what he was doing. He had noticed her all right, and he was lingering over those shirts on purpose, giving her the opportunity. Always the gentleman, Maxwell Sheffield would honor her request to stay away from her, but he sure as hell wouldn’t pass up a chance to let her approach him. He pretended to check the shirt’s label as he willed her to walk toward him.

Taking a deep breath, she felt an overpowering draw to him and headed his way. Hoping he wouldn’t hear her heart pounding, she walked up behind him and said, "Hi, Max."

He turned around and his face lit up. "Fran," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. He reached out and took her hand in his, and his breath caught at the feel of her silky skin. They stood staring at each other for just a moment, and then Max cleared his throat and said, "How have you been?"

A myriad of responses could have answered his simple question. She could tell him her life was a constant roller coaster of emotions, or that she thought about him more than she should. She could say that she wondered every day if they had made the right decision, or that she sometimes found herself in tears from the ache inside of loving him so much. Or she could say that she and Jeff were doing well and were very happy together. Finally, she gave him that gorgeous smile and simply said, "Fine."

For the next few minutes, they chatted about her boutiques and his play and asked after their families, all while clinging to each other’s hand. Without really realizing it, he stroked his thumb back and forth across the back of her hand, caressing it gently. She was struck by the realization of how much she had missed his touch.

He gave her a gentle smile and said, "You look wonderful."

She blushed slightly and said, "Thanks. You look pretty damn good yourself."

Max took a few extra seconds to drink in those gorgeous chocolate pools and then said with a sigh, "Well, I’d better be going. It was great seeing you again."

"Yes, it was good to see you," she replied wistfully.

She felt his hand begin to slip from hers as she turned to leave. Then almost as an afterthought, he grasped the tips of her fingers and she looked back at him. "Can I call you?" he asked.

"Sure," she replied. Her heart had answered before her head could even form a thought.

They turned and walked away, both with hearts pounding and hands shaking. She knew exactly what he was asking with his simple question, and he knew precisely what she meant with her simple response. And they were both overwhelmed by the magnitude of what had just passed between them.

******************

Fran looked around checking the numbers on the buildings as she pulled into the parking lot. Then she spotted it—number 405. She slid into the parking space just in front of the steps and turned off her car. She sat there for a few minutes, trying to keep her breathing even while glancing around to see if she recognized anyone.

"I’m being ridiculous," she thought to herself. Who would possibly know her in that neighborhood? The apartment Max had rented was halfway between Manhattan and Great Neck and several miles south of Flushing. Although she was vaguely familiar with the area, she didn’t know anyone who lived around there and she was positive that Max didn’t either.

But she knew her hesitation resulted from more than just the fear of being found out, even though the devastation that would cause was certainly enough to make her turn around and drive straight back to her shop. It was a huge step, and she knew that if she went inside, all her rationalizations about being swept away by the magic of Paris would just fly right out the window. There were a million reasons not to meet Max for lunch there that day. And she had run through all of them in her head since the moment he had posed that question at Bloomingdale’s and she had acquiesced immediately. But no matter how many reasons she came up with and how valid they were, what she felt in her heart overrode them all. And the fact that she was there confirmed that.

She got out of the car and headed toward the steps. She couldn’t believe what she was doing. And she couldn’t believe Max was doing it either. He had invited her for lunch, but in such a private setting, they both knew the real purpose of their rendezvous. They simply had to be together, and neither had the strength to fight it any longer.

Fran walked up to the door of apartment #2 and knocked lightly. Max answered almost immediately, and he was visibly relieved to see her. He had been pacing the floor terrified that she wouldn’t show. But she was there and he was closing the door behind her. "Hello," he said tentatively.

"Hi," she croaked out, looking around and setting her purse down. The apartment was small but very charming and decorated in one of her favorite styles. She could see that he had set up a nice lunch for the two of them in the dining room, but she was way too nervous to eat. She wasn’t sure what to do or say. She never in her life dreamed she would find herself in that position. For someone who was always so sure of herself, at that moment she was at a complete loss.

But before she could even think Max had her in his arms and was kissing her so passionately it made her head reel. Instantly, everything felt so right. She responded to his kisses unreservedly, plunging her tongue deep, searching for his. He crushed her body to him as if he was trying to make her part of him. It had been too long since they had held each other that way, and neither could control the intensity of the feeling.

When the power of their kisses made it nearly impossible to draw a breath, he pulled his mouth from hers and looked deeply into her eyes. She could see the tears that had formed as he tried to speak, but his voice was too choked with emotion. She fought her own tears as she waited for him to find the words to express what he was feeling. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke just above a whisper, "I’ve been so afraid I would never be with you like this again. That I would never feel you in my arms or kiss you again—I love you so much."

"I love you," she said, barely able to get the words out. Then she kissed him again, more slowly this time, more tenderly, conveying all the deep-seated emotions she felt for him as she allowed her fingers to slide sensuously through his hair.

The passion rising up in them was more powerful than anything they had ever felt in their lives. They had held back their love for each other too long, and it was so overwhelming that nothing in the world mattered at that moment but the two of them there in each other’s arms loving one another.

He took her by the hand and led her into the bedroom. He stopped just inside the door and lit several candles. She waited as he turned on some music and shut the door. Then he turned to her and drew her into his arms. She rested her hands on his shoulders as she looked up at him with a coy little smile. "What’s all this about?" she asked. "Aren’t you being just a little too sure of yourself, mister?"

His hands began drawing sensuous circles on her back as he kissed her lightly. "No, I just wanted to be prepared in case you made my fondest wish come true. And there’s only one thing that I’m absolutely sure of, and that’s how much I love you." He captured her mouth in a kiss that was at once tender and passionate.

She broke their kiss and looked up at him with her eyebrows drawn together. "What’s this music?" she asked.

"It’s my own collection. I made a CD of songs that remind me of you. I play it whenever I find myself missing you too much." He kissed her again. "I play it all the time."

They stood there continuing the slow, sweet kisses while they undressed each other. Both fought to keep their overriding passion from hurrying their movements. They knew stolen hours such as these were precious, and they wanted to cherish every kiss, every touch in hopes that it would be enough to fulfill their longing for each other until the next time they could be together.

At last they stood naked and looked deeply into each other’s eyes. The flickering glow of the candles was reflected in those dark chocolate pools that held Max entranced. At that moment, the next song began to play, and when Fran recognized Bonnie Raitt’s voice and the melody of the beautiful song that captured the essence of their time together in Paris, she let go a moan from deep inside her and seized Max’s mouth in a searing kiss.

He slid his arms down to her lower back and lifted her up so that her mouth was level with his. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and clung to him, grasping hungrily at his mouth as their tongues swirled around each other’s. Holding her snugly to him with his strong right arm, he slid his left hand down, pausing momentarily to massage her bottom, and then continuing lower to slip between her legs. He lifted her right leg and pulled it around him, and her left one followed suit. As she locked her ankles behind him, he put both arms around her and held her to him. Then he drew her bottom lip into his mouth and suckled it.

Fran slowly withdrew her lip from between his teeth. Instinctively, her head fell back as she relished the feel of his growing manhood against her. She seized his lower lip and sucked it into her mouth as she began gently rocking her hips against him. Max felt his legs begin to weaken in reaction to her erotic movement, and he turned to lay her gently on the bed.

She kept her legs around his hips as he eased himself down on her. He began a trail of nips and licks and kisses that started just under her ear and continued down her neck and across her shoulder. Her hands moved up and down his back as her hips continued their gentle thrusts. He had grown hard as steel and felt as though he would die if he weren’t inside her soon. Placing a soft kiss between her breasts just under the spot where her double-heart pendant lay, he lifted his head to look at her. "Always you," he whispered just as the song was ending.

"Maxwell, I need you now," she whimpered.

As he pushed himself into her, a cry tore from his throat. He had missed the feeling of being inside her for so long. He watched her eyes roll back and heard a sigh catch in her throat. He pushed himself all the way in and held there, savoring the sensation of having completely filled her with himself. Slowly, he began grinding his hips in a circular motion while staying completely encased within her. He increased the speed of his movements until he brought a deep moan from her and saw a gratified smile cross her lips. As he captured that smile in his mouth, he pulled himself nearly all the way out and plunged back in forcefully. He couldn’t control his need to drive into her now with all his strength. Her head started flailing back and forth as she cried out, "Oh, God, Max!"

He drove in and out of her over and over, and she met his thrusts. Their eyes were locked on each other’s as their breathing came in short bursts. Her inner muscles began to pulsate and pull at him as she said his name over and over in her raspy voice. That was his undoing. A deep rumble rose up from his chest as he exploded and joined her riding the crest of their lovemaking. He buried his face in her hair as he felt her nails dig into the flesh of his backside. Slowly, they both descended from their highs, and he raised up his head to meet her eyes. Their breathing still rapid, they savored the moment, so grateful to find themselves back in each other’s arms.

When at last their breathing had returned to normal, Max reached up and brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?" he asked.

She smiled at him sweetly. "Yeah, I’ve got an inkling. And I love you more."

"Not possible," he declared. He kissed her again tenderly. Then he saw her beautiful brown eyes fill with tears and spill over. "What’s wrong?" he asked softly.

She just looked at him, and he could see all the conflict in her eyes. She couldn’t speak. Gently, he withdrew from her and rolled on his side, pulling her into his arms as she buried her face in his chest and let her tears flow. He rubbed her back soothingly until he felt her sobs subside. He put his finger under her chin and lifted her head so they could look directly at each other. "Tell me," he whispered.

She took a deep breath. "We shouldn’t be here, Max. There are so many reasons—we talked about them that day at the restaurant. We agreed that we don’t belong together."

"But don’t you see?" he implored. "None of those reasons matter anymore. I love you too much to stay away."

"I know, and that’s what scares me. Our love for each other is too much—it’s dangerous. It makes us do things we never thought we would do. This isn’t me, and it’s not you either. Look at everything we’re risking."

"I know, and I’m sorry about that. It’s my fault that we’re in this position. What do you want me to say?" he asked tenderly.

"I want you to help me understand. I mean, six years ago, you couldn’t even bring yourself to admit that you loved me. Now, you tell me over and over how much you love me and you’re willing to risk everything to be with me. Why, Maxwell? Why do you love me so much?" Her eyes dropped down and her words became barely audible. "Why do you love me at all?"

He put his finger gently under her chin and lifted her head back up to meet his eyes. "Why do I love you? I love everything about you. I love your energy, your spirit. I love the way you tackle life head on. And I love the way you love—with everything you’ve got. And I am madly in love with those sparkling brown eyes and that breathtaking smile. I can’t even begin to think what a mess my life would be if you hadn’t come knocking on our door all those years ago. You’re everything to me."

A tiny sob escaped from her as she asked, "Why did it take you so long to figure all that out?"

"Because I’m a bloody fool, that’s why. But I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone—"

Her eyes opened wide in surprise.

"Yes, and I mean that—more than any woman I’ve ever cared for in my whole life. Much more. This is the most powerful feeling I’ve ever experienced, and even though I know our situation is complicated, there is no way my love can be denied. You waited so long to hear me say I love you, and now I feel as though I can’t say it enough because those three little words seem so inadequate to make you understand how I feel."

She took a shuddering breath and nuzzled into his neck. "Just hold me. This is so much to think about—I can’t even process it all. I just know how I feel, and I love you so much, and knowing you love me so much is the most wonderful feeling in the world." She sighed deeply.

Max held her that way for the longest time. As she lay there in his loving embrace, she couldn’t stop her mind from wondering what it would be like to lay with him like that every day, to be together always. But she immediately pushed that thought aside, knowing just how impossible it was. It would cause too much pain for everyone involved. No, she told herself, there was simply no way it could ever happen, and thinking about it only added to the pain they were suffering over the situation.

Soon she heard Max’s gentle voice. "Hey," he said. "Are you hungry?

Keeping her head buried in the crook between his neck and shoulder, she uttered a soft, "Um-hmm."

With a teasing little tone in his voice, Max said, "Silly me. Look who I’m asking."

Fran raised her head from his shoulder to give him a little one-eyed glare. He slid quickly from beneath the covers and hurried from the room, pulling on his boxers on the way. Within minutes, he returned with his arms laden with their lunch. He handed her sandwich to her and slid back in next to her. She sat up and leaned against the headboard, keeping the covers tucked around her.

Taking a bite, she said, "Mmm, this is delicious. Did Niles make these?"

"No, I found a little Italian deli just a few blocks from here," he told her.

"How is Niles? I miss him," she state wistfully.

"Oh, pretty much the same, I’d say. He and C.C. do seem to be getting along better these days. I’m not really sure what that’s all about. Anyway, I’ll tell him you said hello."

"No!" she shot out, taking his drink out of his hand and taking a sip. "You can’t tell anyone that you’ve seen me."

Max looked at her at bit surprised and then said, "I know we need to be careful about…such things, but the truth is I’ve confided in Niles about us."

Fran looked at him a bit horrified. Instantly, she began wondering what her long-time friend thought of her now, and then her thoughts turned to the imprudence of letting people know what was going on between them. First Nigel, and now Niles. This couldn’t be good, she thought. "Max, do you think that was a good idea?"

"Sweetheart, don’t worry. Niles cares very much for the both of us. He won’t betray my confidence. I just thought we might need him some time to, you know—"

"Lie for us?" she finished for him.

Quickly, he scrambled to explain himself. "Well, maybe not actually lie, but at least not say something that would arouse suspicion. I’m sorry, darling, if that makes you uncomfortable, but I’m really trying to do what’s best for us. You know, I’m not exactly adept at these situations, so I just want to cover all the bases. If Nigel and Niles are the only ones who know, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about."

She averted her eyes from him, and he could tell she was hiding something. "They are the only ones who know, aren’t they?" he asked.

She took a breath and then looked at him. Finally, she admitted, "Val." A look of slight panic crossed his face. "Maxwell, I needed someone to talk to about all of this. Do you have any idea what it’s like having to deal with all the strong emotions this thing causes? I had to have someone to talk to, or I’d go insane."

She reached up and ran her fingers lovingly through the streak of gray that adorned his beautiful black hair. "Of course you know what it’s like. I’m sorry. Don’t worry about Val. I’m sure we can trust her." Fran then became a bit pensive as she took another bite. "Maxwell, now we need to be careful about a lot of things." The seriousness of their situation could simply overwhelm them if they allowed it to.

But they were determined not to spend what precious little time they had together fretting over the what-ifs. Anxious to change the subject, Fran began telling him about her most recent trip to Paris and, of course, that prompted comparisons to "their" trip to Paris. They enjoyed reminiscing about the wonderful time they had there together, and even though neither of them mentioned it, it left both of them wishing they could travel together again one day to the city they loved and that had come to mean so much to them.

Finally, Fran declared that she really had to get back to the shop, and Max said he would be needed soon at the theater. They both got out of the bed and Max began cleaning up after their meal and straightening up while Fran slipped into the bathroom to freshen up. By the time she came out, Max was dressed and had finished tidying. She collected her keys and purse, and Max walked her to the door. After giving her a long, slow, tender kiss, he slid his hand around her neck and cradled her head.

He stroked her cheek tenderly with his thumb as he said, "I can’t tell you how happy I am that we’re together again. Please promise me this won’t be the last time."

She laid her hand tenderly on his cheek and said, "I can promise you two things. This won’t be the last time, and you can always count on my love." She kissed him and then wrapped her arms around his shoulders and squeezed him to her.

She turned to head out the door when he stopped her. "Wait a minute," he said. Then he reached into his pocket and handed her a key to the apartment. She looked at it and thought for just a second about what it meant. This thing between her and Max was definitely happening, and as it looked now, was undoubtedly going to continue. She tucked the key into her purse and gave him a quick peck and left.

As she got into her car and began the drive back to Manhattan, she let her mind wander back to how wonderful it had felt to be in Max’s arms again, to feel his hands on her body and his mouth on her. The notion of ever giving all that up again would never cross her mind. But if it had, she would have dismissed it immediately as not having a snowball’s chance in hell.

****************

As the limo pulled away from the theater and eased its way into the busy Manhattan traffic, Max leaned back on the seat and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Opening night had gone splendidly, and this one was going to be a hit, he could tell. He looked around at all the lit up faces of his beautiful family.

"Congratulations, dad," Brighton said. "The show is great."

"Thank you, Brighton, and I really appreciate your making the trip so we could all be together."

"No problem, dad. It’s a family thing, right?" Brighton thought fleetingly about that day many years ago in the bridal shop when as a ten year old, he’d made a smart-ass quip about having to be nice just because they were a "family." Then he became wistful for a moment as he thought about the person who’d made them a family, and he looked up and caught his dad’s eye. As the two exchanged glances, they could tell they were both thinking of the same person.

Laura reached over and squeezed her husband’s hand. "Yes, honey, congratulations," she said, smiling over at him. "It’s a wonderful show."

"Thank you, sweetheart," Max said as he leaned over and kissed his wife’s cheek. Then he turned to look out the window and took a deep breath. It wasn’t her cheek he was kissing, and that kept him from fully experiencing the elation that a successful opening night could bring.

The pain of not having Fran by his side to share his triumphs became physical at times, and Max’s hand went to his stomach as he winced a bit. "Honey, are you all right?" Laura asked, concern in her voice.

He gave her a weak smile. "I’m fine, just a bit of a nervous stomach, I suppose, until I hear those glowing reviews."

"Honey, you know you always gets so nervous on opening night. Why don’t you take a little something before you leave the house?" Laura suggested.

"I’ll do that next time, sweetheart," he replied as he turned again to watch the city scenes pass by the window. He thought wistfully back to the comfort he’d always felt finding two Tums tucked into his cumberbund whenever Fran accompanied him to premiers. He missed having someone so attuned to his needs.

The limo pulled up outside of Sardi’s and they all piled out. C.C. was waiting for them inside with Niles hanging next to her. All but Max settled into a booth. He was too nervous to sit, so he went to the bar and ordered a drink. He looked first at his watch and then up at the television as he calculated how much time before "Critic’s Corner" came on. It would be at least another forty-five minutes. While he stood there waiting for his drink, several friends and a couple of the play’s backers came up and slapped him on the back and shook his hand in congratulations. They were all acting like the thing was already a hit. And deep down, Max knew it was. The performances had been top-notch and the music superb. It had all the earmarks of a long-running smash. Then why did he feel so empty inside? He really didn’t have to think too hard to answer that.

After what seemed an interminable amount of mingling and schmoozing, the reviews at last came on, and, as expected, Max’s play received two glowing thumbs up. He turned to Laura standing next to him and looked into her shining blue eyes. She was thrilled for him, and Max couldn’t contain his exuberance. He took both her cheeks in his hands and drew her to him. He placed a jubilant kiss on her lips and then looked at her, seeing the pride and the love reflected in her eyes. Suddenly, a mild shock wave went through him. He’d played out that scene before, but the shining eyes had been chocolate brown, not blue. And the hair long black curls, not soft blond. And the lips had been…

Thankfully, at that moment Maggie came up to give him a hug. "Congratulations, daddy," she said.

Max turned to hug her as he said, "Thank you, sweetheart." Then he shook Michael’s outstretched hand.

"Daddy, it’s really getting late and we need to get up early with the kids. We have to go," Maggie explained.

"Of course. Thank you for coming," he said, still trying to recover from his unsettling thoughts.

It wasn’t too long before the rest of the Sheffield family decided to call it an evening, and Max called for his limo to be brought around. The ride home was very quiet, as everyone seemed to be exhausted from the evening’s events. Laura couldn’t help stealing glances at her husband as she wondered why he appeared so lost in his thoughts. The night had been a huge success for him, and he should be basking in the glow of it, she thought to herself. Instead, he appeared to be somewhere else.

In fact, he hadn’t really seemed himself for quite some time, she had been thinking. Ever since that trip to Paris a year and a half ago, there had been a change in his demeanor. She could never quite tell what he was thinking, but of course he always assured her that everything was fine. And it seemed to have gotten noticeably worse the last six months. She took a deep breath and tried to rid herself of that particular line of thinking, because every time she followed it, it always led her to the same conclusion—that there was someone else occupying her husband’s thoughts. And she really didn’t have to think too hard to figure out who it could be.

Just then, the limo pulled up in front of the Sheffield mansion. They all got out and went inside. Gracie and Brighton said goodnight and went directly up to their rooms. As Laura hung up her coat, she said, "How about a nightcap, honey?" She had been hoping for a little time together with just the two of them.

Max looked at her briefly. "I think I’ll just turn in if you don’t mind. I’m really exhausted."

"That’s fine," she replied. "I’ll come too. It’s been a long night." The two walked up the stairs together.

As Laura lay in bed waiting for Max, she began toying with the idea of getting something romantic going with her husband. It had been quite some time since they’d made love, and she was really starting to miss that intimacy with him. Actually, their lovemaking had never been overly passionate and exciting. But she knew Max wasn’t one to allow his feelings to rule him, and she had learned to live with that. She just couldn’t shake the notion that there was a growing distance between them, and she was feeling a strong need to reconnect with him on an intimate level.

She watched him come out of the bathroom and noticed he still had that preoccupied look on his face. She was ready to do something about that and get his mind back on her. As he slipped off his robe with his back to her, he said, "Fran, sweetheart, did you remind Niles to pick up my blue suit from the cleaners?" He froze instantly as he realized what he’d said. Slowly, he turned around and looked at her. She just stared at him, trying to control the tears she felt coming to her eyes.

"Laura, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. I’m very tired, and I just…" He hurried over to the bed and climbed in between the covers. He reached out to pull her into his arms, but she just rolled over to her side of the bed.

Max took a deep breath and just stared at her back. Finally, he said softly, "Goodnight, darling."

"Goodnight," she managed through the lump in her throat. Whatever suspicions she had been having had just been confirmed, and she knew at that moment that she had lost him. And the pain of it would have been too much to bear if she thought that she had ever really had him in the first place.

***************

Fran rolled over and looked at the clock—12:30 AM. She had been in bed since ten o’clock and had dozed off a few times, but she knew restful sleep wouldn’t come that night until she heard the front door opening. She hated it when Jeff worked so late. The worst part about being a detective’s wife—always wondering if he would come home in one piece. She thanked God that there had been a lot fewer of those nights since their move to Great Neck, and while his cases were generally less dangerous than those he worked in Manhattan, Fran knew what peril he faced every day. And no matter what else was going on in her life, she still loved her husband a great deal and worried about him constantly.

Jeff had warned her that being a cop’s wife would be hard. They had made a deal the first week that they were married. He would call and let her know if he was going to be late, but he would never tell her what time. That way, if the hour came and went and he still wasn’t home, she wouldn’t worry so much. And he would never tell her what he was doing. Knowing he was on a dangerous case would have made it too hard to deal with. Her end of the bargain was not to ask too many questions and try not to worry. But she knew that all his odd hours lately meant he was working on a special task force, and that heightened the risk.

She settled back down and rearranged the covers. She had managed to just about doze off again when the blaring of her cell phone shot her bolt upright. "Oh, my God," she thought. Why would Jeff be calling her in the middle of the night? That wasn’t their deal. "Please, God, don’t let it be his partner calling to tell me—she couldn’t even finish the thought.

Fran turned on the light and reached for her phone, yanking it free from its charger. Flipping it open, she managed a panicked, "Hello?"

"Can you talk?"

It took her a few seconds to recognize the voice. It was so totally unexpected. "Maxwell, what the hell are you doing calling me in the middle of the night?"

"I needed to hear your voice," he explained.

"Maxwell, you scared the hell out of me! I thought something had happened to Jeff." Max fought back the jealousy that seized him at hearing that her first thought was of her husband. "What if Jeff had been lying here next to me?" she admonished him. "How could you take such a chance?"

"I figured if he were home, you could just say it was a wrong number. Fran, please don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry if I frightened you unnecessarily. I just wanted to talk to you. I miss you so much when we’re not together."

Fran softened at his heartfelt words. "I miss you too. What are you doing up at this hour?"

"Actually, I’m working late too. I’m at the theater going over the production schedule. I’m just about done here. Fran, can I see you?"

"When?" she asked.

"Right now," he entreated.

"Max, that’s crazy. It’s the middle of the night."

"I know, but I can’t go another day without being with you. Please, Fran. I can’t get any work done. All I do is think about you and when I’ll see you again. Please say you’ll come."

Fran was silent for a moment. Her mind automatically began listing all the reasons she shouldn’t go, and there were many. But in her heart, she was already out that door. "What if Jeff comes home while I’m out? How in the world would I explain that?"

"What time is he coming home?"

"I don’t know. He never tells me."

"Umm, you had a headache and had to go out for some aspirin. You woke up with a mad craving for Haagen Dazs. Make up anything, only please say you’ll meet me."

"Where?" she heard herself asking.

"The apartment. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes."

"I’m not sure I will," she said, knowing it was a lie.

"I’ll be waiting for you. I love you," he said.

She shut her cell phone and got out of bed. She walked into her closet and grabbed the first sweater and pair of jeans she came to. She got dressed quickly, but it all felt like slow motion to her. It was all so surreal, like she was watching someone else get ready, grab the car keys, and walk out the door.

The twenty-minute drive was nerve-racking. Fran kept looking at all the cars she passed to see if any of them was Jeff’s. What if someone recognized her? What if they told Jeff they had seen his wife out driving alone past midnight? But all her panicked thoughts amounted to nothing in comparison to the power that Max’s love had over her. She would do anything, risk everything to be with him. That was one true thing she knew for sure in all this confusion.

She pulled up in front of Building 405. Getting out quickly, she hurried up the steps. As she reached out to knock on the door, it suddenly opened, as if Max sensed her presence. He reached out and grasped her hand, pulling her inside. Before the door was even closed, he seized her mouth with his and crushed her to him. He ate at her mouth ravenously and plunged his tongue deep. Her heart was pounding and her head reeling as she responded to his hungry kisses. Breathless, she broke the kiss and looked directly into his eyes. Her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, she let out a groan as she shook her head at him and said, "My God, Maxwell, the things you get me to do!"

"I’d be absolutely insane if you weren’t here in my arms right now," he declared genuinely. Scooping her up, he carried her into the bedroom where the candles were already glowing and the soft music was playing. He placed her gently on the bed. Both sensing an unspoken urgency, they undressed each other hurriedly. Max let out an involuntary moan as he lay on top of her and felt her breasts against his chest and her warm skin against his. He ran a trail of hot kisses down her neck and kept going until he caught one of her breasts in his mouth and began pulling at it over and over, sucking harder each time. Fran let go a gasp, and he gave the other one the same sweet torture. She ran her fingers through his black wavy hair as she felt the passion for the man she had loved so long well up in her.

Max moved back up and seized her lips again. Her tongue slid into his mouth and he sucked on it sensuously as he felt her legs go around him. He breathed into her mouth, "Fran, baby, I don’t want to rush things, but—"

"Do it now. Please," she whimpered.

He pushed into her, but he was too overcome with passion to be gentle. He plunged deeply inside her, and she let out a cry at the sensation of it. He loved the feeling of being inside the woman he loved so much, but the passion he felt for her wouldn’t allow him to keep a slow rhythm. He drove into her feverishly, and she met him thrust for thrust. Just as he thought he couldn’t hold back another second, Fran sucked in a deep breath and cried out his name in one long moan, her body convulsing under him. A deep growl rumbled in his chest as he exploded into her, clutching her tightly to him.

They clung to each other as their breathing slowly ebbed. Max rolled over and carried her with him. He kissed her tenderly, and she laid her head on his chest. He rubbed her back and relished the quiet moment reflecting on what they had just shared. Suddenly, he felt her shudder.

"Sweetheart, what’s the matter?" he asked, tender concern in his voice.

She looked up at him, her eyes full of dread. "I’m afraid to go home, Max. What if he’s there? I don’t think I could face him. Not yet, not tonight."

"Calm down, darling. If he had got home and found you not there, he would have called your cell. It hasn’t rung, has it? Everything’s ok."

Suddenly, her fearful eyes turned to daggers. "Damn you, Maxwell Sheffield!" she shot out.

"What?"

"I said damn you! Why did you have to do this to us? Why couldn’t you have told me you loved me six years ago? We would never be in this impossible situation now!"

"I know, I know. I curse myself every day for being such a bloody fool. I loved you then, and I have loved you every second since. And, no matter what happens, I will love you forever."

Looking directly into his eyes, she could only mouth the words, "I love you too." She slid off of him and started reaching for her clothes. "I’ve got to get home," she said nervously. Suddenly, there was an extreme need to hurry.

Max got out of bed and reached out to still her movements. Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her softly and held her lovingly. "I don’t want you to go," he whispered.

His gentle declaration and his warm embrace melted her heart. "I don’t want to go," she confessed, laying her head on his chest.

"Then stay," he coaxed. "At least for a little while. Please, Fran. I just want to hold you and talk to you and be with you."

She tried to squirm free from his embrace. "No, I’ve got to get home and shower before Jeff gets home. I reek of your Aramis. Why do you have to wear so damn much of it?"

He tightened his arms around her. "I wear it for you—because I know how it turns you on."

She looked up at him. "Believe me, sweetie, you don’t need any help turning me on." She gave him that smile that lit up his heart.

"Good," he said. "Now, I think I can take care of both our problems." He took her by the hand and led her into the bathroom where he started the shower running. She stood amazed as he pulled out a loofa and her favorite bath gel and then handed her a hair tie so she could pull her hair up.

"Looks like you’ve thought of just about everything," she mused.

"I told you, darling, when it comes to you, I think about little else." He put his hand under the running water to make sure it had warmed up enough and then stepped in, pulling her in behind him and wrapping her up in his embrace. Her body melted into his as they stood giving each other slow, wet kisses with the water pounding down on them. Neither could believe the intense desire that welled up in them again so soon, but as he gently pushed her back against the wall of the shower stall, he felt himself growing hard against her stomach. He continued the soft kisses down her neck as he reached down and lifted her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist, he braced her against the wall as he entered her. That time was slow and sweet and gentle as he kept a sensuous rhythm in tempo with her raspy moans.

"Oh, God, Max," spilled from her lips just before she sucked in a deep full breath and closed her eyes at the supreme pleasure of the waves that overtook her. She clung to him as he pressed into her and allowed himself the richness of bathing her inside with his essence.

They remained motionless for the longest time, luxuriating in each other’s closeness and the feel of the other’s breath in their faces. Gently, he withdrew from her and eased her down onto her feet. Without a word, he reached for the loofa and drizzled some gel onto it. He used languid strokes to cover her body, washing her gently and worshipping every part of her. When he was done, he noted the warm and satisfied smile on her beautiful face.

"You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Maxwell Sheffield," she stated coyly.

He gave her a kiss and said, "Only you, my darling. It’s always been you."

She stepped out of the shower and toweled off while Max finished up quickly. By the time he stepped out, she was dressed and searching for her purse and keys. He slipped on his boxers hurriedly and caught up with her near the front door. "I really have to go now," she said.

He pulled her to him and said, "I want you to call me when you get there and let me know you’re all right. How long will it take? Twenty minutes?"

"Make it thirty. I have to stop at the all-night grocery for some Haagen Dasz. Remember?"

He gave her a crooked little smile and brushed a tendril of hair from her forehead. "I love you," he said. Then she turned and was out the door.

As she drove the highway to Great Neck, she had to keep an eye on the speedometer. She was in a rush to get there, but she sure as hell didn’t need to get pulled over and ticketed. How in the hell would she explain that? The lights from the all-night grocery made her squint as she whipped into a parking place right outside the front door. Five minutes later, she was back on the road.

Pulling into her driveway, she breathed a huge sigh of relief. No sign of Jeff’s car, and her cell phone still had not rung. She turned off the car, hopped out, and ran into the kitchen. Checking the machine, she said out loud, "Thank God!" No messages.

Fran tossed the ice cream into the freezer as she started pulling off her clothes, running up the stairs. She had to get back into bed quickly and find a way to calm her pounding heart before Jeff got home. If he leaned over to kiss her cheek as he always did when he came to bed, he was certain to hear it.

She was undressed by the time she reached her bedroom. As she tossed her clothes into the hamper, she remembered about calling Max. She grabbed her cell phone and hit the button. He answered almost immediately.

"Fran?" he said, apprehension in his voice.

"I’m home. Everything’s fine."

Max let out a big sigh of relief. "Sleep well, darling. I love you. Goodnight."

"I love you too. Goodnight." They hung up and both immediately started wondering how long it would be before they could see each other again.

Fran grabbed her sleep shirt and pulled it over her head, diving back into bed. Taking a deep breath, she lay there concentrating on returning her heart rate to normal and stopping her hands from trembling. She’d made it, and everything was fine. For now, at least.

Pushing away all thoughts of the dire circumstances, she allowed herself to bask in the warmth of knowing how much her Maxwell loved her. It was what she had dreamed of for so long. It felt so good, so right being in his arms, loving him and feeling his love in return. As she lay there enveloped in the warm cocoon of Max’s love, she drifted off into a peaceful sleep. She didn’t even stir an hour later when Jeff slid into bed next to her and leaned over to place a loving kiss on her cheek.

****************

"Val!" Fran called out from the stock room in her loudest nasal whine. She had been working all morning at the Great Neck store, taking inventory and rearranging things to make room for some new shipments that were due to arrive. She glanced at her watch to see how much time she had before she needed to leave to meet Max. It had been almost three weeks since they’d been together. He had been so busy with auditions for his new play and she had been splitting time between her two shops adding a couple of new lines to her merchandise. But they had both managed to clear some time that afternoon, and they were desperate to see each other. Max had told C.C. that he had set up a lunch with a potential backer who only wanted to deal with him, and Fran would be able to make a stop at the apartment on her way from Great Neck to the Manhattan store. She felt her heartbeat pick up just at the thought that she would be in his arms in less than an hour.

Val came around a stack of boxes and found her best friend lost in thought. "Fran?" she asked, trying not to startle her. "What did you need?"

Fran looked at her absently for a moment. "What?"

Val smiled thoughtfully. It wasn’t the first time she had caught Fran daydreaming about Max. "I said what did you need?" she repeated.

"Oh," Fran said, trying to recall why she had summoned Val to the stock room. "Uh, why don’t you go ahead and send Mike out on the Thompson delivery. I think you and I can handle getting these boxes put away. Then I have to get going."

They worked feverishly for the next forty minutes. She and Val had put away nearly all of the boxes when they heard a customer come in the front door. "Go ahead," Fran said. "I can finish up here." After a few more minutes of sorting and stacking, Fran looked at her watch. She thought to herself that she should have been out of there five minutes before. Now she was going to be a few minutes late, and that always sent Max into a panic. No matter how many times she reassured him of her love and her determination to be with him whenever she could, he seemed to always have this lurking doubt that she wouldn’t show. The truth was that he had never completely recovered from her walking out on him six years before. The mere thought of losing her again was more than he could even fathom, and he knew if it ever happened, he would never survive it. And the fact that she wasn’t really even his to lose was something he tried not to think about.

She wouldn’t have been surprised if her cell phone had started ringing. He usually did call her a few minutes before their appointed time just to make sure that she was coming and that she was on her way. Once, when she had been running really late, he had called and suggested that he come pick her up. Recalling that, she started to phone him to let him know she was just leaving. Then she suddenly remembered a report she needed to get from her office and decided she would call him as soon as she got on the highway.

Fran hurried into her office and walked over to her desk. As she was shuffling some folders around looking for last month’s profits report, she heard someone walk up behind her. Then she felt a pair of arms slide around her waist from behind and a pair of lips start nuzzling her neck.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked. "I was just about to leave."

"Good, then I’m just in time," came her husband’s voice from behind her.

A shot of panic seized her. "Jeff!" she shrieked, whipping around to look at him. Trying to disguise her shock, she said, "I wasn’t expecting you."

"Obviously," he said, noting her stunned expression. "I was hoping to surprise my beautiful wife and take her to lunch. Looks like I succeeded."

"Uh, yeah," she stammered. "You sure as hell did surprise me." Taking a deep breath, she said, "Well, um, lunch sounds great. What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I thought you wanted to try that new Mongolian barbecue down the street." He turned her completely around and pulled her to him, giving her a sweet kiss. "And I managed to clear a couple of hours, so I was thinking that afterward we might run home for a little afternoon delight." As he started running kisses down her neck, she was struck by the irony of his suggestion.

Although Jeff’s showing up had definitely caught her off guard, she found herself responding to his gentle kisses and the loving feel of his arms around her. She slid her arms around him and relished his touch. "Mmm," she moaned. "Try that over on this side." She tilted her head to give him access.

He gave her that disarmingly sweet smile of his as he moved to the other side of her neck and continued the trail. She felt a warm, tingling sensation well up in her. In a low, breathy tone she said, "Sweetie, if you keep that up, there won’t be any need to run home."

He let out a small chuckle at her words and then gave her an affectionate smack on the rear. "Come on," he said. "I’m starving." He took her hand as they headed out of her office. Just then, her cell phone rang, and she didn’t even need to look at the read-out to know who it was. She flipped it open and took a look, confirming her suspicion. She closed it and slipped it back into her pocket.

"Aren’t you going to answer that?" Jeff asked.

"No, it’s just this ceramics dealer who’s been bugging me. I already told him I wasn’t interested in his stuff." All those years of having to think fast to cover for the kids with their dad had really paid off, she thought to herself.

"Then why did you give him your cell phone number?" Jeff inquired.

"You’re right. I probably shouldn’t have," she agreed readily. Wanting to change the subject, she said, "It’s a nice day. Why don’t we walk?" Hand in hand, they strolled down Bayside Drive toward the new restaurant only a block and a half away. While they were walking, Fran surreptitiously slipped her hand in her pocket and silenced the ring tone on her cell phone.

The food at Wong’s Mongolian Barbecue was delicious, and Fran and Jeff had great fun going through the line several times, trying out new sauces and spices. As they were finishing their meal, Jeff said, "Honey, there’s something I want to talk to you about." Fran looked at him expectantly. "Our sixth anniversary is coming up, and I have some vacation time coming. I know you’re really busy with both shops, but I was hoping we could get away and go somewhere special to celebrate."

"You mean like a cruise?" she asked.

"A cruise would be nice, but I was thinking some place, you know, more romantic, more exotic."

What could be more romantic than a cruise?" she asked.

Jeff took a deep breath and paused for effect. "Paris," he said.

Fran had just taken a sip of her tea and nearly choked on it. "Paris?" she managed.

"Yeah, Paris. I mean, I know you go there all the time on your antique shopping trips, but I’ve never been there. Wouldn’t it be nice to go and enjoy the city without having to worry about work? We could go to some of the great restaurants and clubs, the Champs Elysees…"

Fran just sat there in disbelief. She couldn’t even imagine how it would feel to take Jeff to some of the places that held such meaning for her and Max. She had become a very good actress around Jeff whenever thoughts of Max threatened to overtake her. But not in Paris. Not in the city where she and Max had finally consummated their love. Again, she found herself in a spot where she had to think fast.

"You know, honey, it’s the rainy season now in Paris. I think I’d really much rather go to a tropical climate. Besides, like you said, Paris always makes me think of work. I don’t know if I’d want to take a vacation there."

Jeff hesitated for a minute and then decided not to push it any further. Her reaction was not what he’d expected. He had truly thought she would enjoy showing him the sights in the city she loved, but obviously he’d been wrong, and that was a bit unsettling to him. Since the moment he’d fallen in love with her, he’d been so attuned to all her needs and desires. And he’d made it his mission to give her everything he could to ensure her happiness. He had been so certain that she would be thrilled with the idea of them visiting Paris together, but she hadn’t even hesitated. Maybe, he thought, when it came to making his wife happy, he was losing his touch.

"Ok, honey. The Caribbean it is." He smiled at her, but she could see behind it, and she knew he was disappointed. But Paris belonged to her and Max, and she wouldn’t share it with anyone else—not even with her husband.

They finished their lunch and Jeff paid the check. They stepped outside into the afternoon sunshine and began strolling leisurely back to Fran’s Finds. Fran glanced quickly at her watch. Max had been waiting for her for over an hour, and she shuddered to think what state he was in. She just prayed that he would give up on her soon and head on back to the theater. The thought of him waiting anxiously for her to walk through that door tore at her heart.

She and Jeff stopped and peaked in some of the windows of the little shops they passed. One was a jewelry shop, and Fran paused to look at the bracelets they had displayed. Jeff pointed to a necklace with a silver heart pendant. "That’s pretty," he pointed out.

"Um-hmm," Fran concurred.

"I was thinking of something like that for your anniversary present," Jeff explained.

Fran could see her double floating heart pendant reflected in the glass of the shop’s window. "It’s very pretty, honey, but I have lots of necklaces. I really like a couple of those bracelets, though."

Jeff thought briefly about asking her why with all of her necklaces she only wore that one. Once again, it seemed he had missed the mark when it came to figuring out what it was that she wanted. "The bracelets are nice too," he said.

They continued their stroll and within minutes, they found themselves at Jeff’s car parked along the curb. He opened the door for her, and she got in.

The drive home was pleasant, and Fran was glad to be outside enjoying the afternoon rather than being cooped up in her office or working behind the counter of her Manhattan store. They pulled up in the driveway and went inside. Jeff went immediately to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle.

"You’re on duty," she pointed out.

He held up the bottle for her to see. "Sparkling cider," he pronounced. Then he poured them each a glass and brought hers to her. She took a sip as his arms went around her and he leaned in to suck on her earlobe. She took him by the hand and led him into the bedroom, taking both their glasses and setting them on the nightstand. Then she turned and slid his jacket from his shoulders as his mouth seized hers in a demanding kiss. She felt that undeniable tingling sensation that Jeff’s kisses always created in her, and she reached for his belt buckle.

"Now, Mrs. Sheehan," he murmured. "Do you really think you should be doing that in the middle of the afternoon?"

"Mmm, you betcha," she said, smiling coyly as she pushed him down on the bed and proceeded to undress him. When she was finished, she quickly dispensed with her own clothes and then got onto the bed, straddling him on her knees. He sat up and reached both hands around to cup and kneed her tush. Their respective positions put his mouth at just the right height to seize her left breast with his lips, sucking and pulling on it. Fran’s head fell back at the sensations he was sending through her. The sweet torture of it made her weak, and Jeff had to slide his hands upward to steady her. He repeated his actions with her right breast, which brought a deep and raspy moan from her. He slid one hand up behind her neck and, cradling her head, brought her mouth down to meet his in a sensuous kiss.

Slowly he lay back, pulling her down on top of him, never breaking their kiss. He gloried in the feel of her slight weight on him and her warm skin against his. As their kisses became more passionate with their tongues swirling and bathing their mouths, Fran began to rock her hips, pressing herself against his growing manhood. Jeff wrapped his arms tightly around her and crushed her to him. He breathed into her mouth, "God, Fran, I love you so much. Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

A lusty moan was all she could manage. Just then, he picked her up and rolled her over, scooting her up to the head of the bed and swiftly sliding in between her open legs. Their eyes locked on each other’s, he began pushing into her, trying to be gentle. But his overwhelming desire to feel himself completely encased in her drove him on. He fought himself until he heard her throaty cry, "Do it! Please!" He plunged deeply in her and withdrew quickly just so he could feel the sensation of shoving himself all the way into her again. The mewling cries she let out at each thrust were punctuated with jabs of her nails into the flesh of his back.

He drove in and out of her keeping his eyes on her beautiful face so he could thrill at the flush of passion he saw on it. "Oh, God," spilled from her mouth just as he felt her nails dragging trails down his back. Her body began shuddering and her head flailed back and forth as he let himself go and filled her with everything he had in him. Still, he kept himself propped up on his elbows so he could watch her descend from her high. Her passion was one of the many joys she brought to his life, and he thanked God every day that she was his.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and smiled into his. The beauty of her smile made his breath catch, and he captured her mouth in a loving kiss. They lay there in each other’s arms, soaking up the feel of each other’s bodies. Fran let out a deep and supremely satisfied sigh and said, "Can’t we just stay here the rest of the afternoon?"

"Nothing would make me happier, sweetheart, but I’m already late getting back." He pulled himself off of her and started grabbing his clothes. Fran hopped up and made a quick dash into the bathroom snatching her things along the way. Within minutes, they were both dressed and ready to head back out the door. Fran picked up the two flutes of sparkling cider from the bedside and handed Jeff’s to him. They touched rims and drank down the juice. Jeff reached over to kiss her as he took her glass from her. Running his tongue around the outside of his mouth, he smiled as he declared, "Mmm. Thanks, sweet lips."

They got into the car and Jeff drove Fran back to her shop. As he pulled up out front, she leaned over to give him a kiss. "I’ll see you tonight, honey," she said.

He kissed her again and said, "Bye. I love you."

"I love you," she replied as she shut the door. It was at that moment that Fran realized that she hadn’t even thought about Max since the jewelry shop. She hurried into her store and scooted past Josh, barely acknowledging him. Safely ensconced in her office with the door closed, she pulled out her cell phone. Flipping it open, she saw five messages, all from Max. She hit his speed-dial number and then send.

He answered on the first ring. "Fran?"

"Sweetie, I’m sorry. I hope you didn’t wait for me too long."

"Fran, what happened?" he asked, unable to mask the distress in his voice.

"Jeff showed up at the store just as I was leaving," she explained. "He wanted to surprise me and take me out to lunch."

"Why didn’t you call?" he pleaded.

"Max, come on. How the hell was I supposed to call when I was with Jeff?"

He was silent on the other end. She knew he was hurt and upset, but there was nothing she could do but apologize. "Max, I said I was sorry. With things the way they are, you should know that sometimes it’s just not going to work out."

"Can I still see you today?" he begged.

Fran thought back to how she’d just spent the last hour with her husband. "No, Max," she said gently. "Not today."

"Fran, I really need to talk to you. It’s important, and I don’t want to discuss it over the phone. Will you at least meet me for a cup of coffee?"

She hesitated thinking of all the work she still needed to do that day. "Honey, can we just make it another time? I really need to get to the Manhattan shop this afternoon and it’s already--"

"You’re still at the Great Neck store?" he interrupted.

"Yeah."

"Don’t leave. I’ll be there in ten minutes." He snapped his phone shut and pushed the accelerator to the floor.

Fran was behind the counter giving some instructions to Josh when Max came flying through the front door. She looked up and noted that he was a little out of breath. She finished up with Josh and then said to Max, "Hang on while I get my purse." She turned and headed into her office with Max right on her heels. He shut the door behind them and pulled her into his arms. Burying his face in her hair, he drank in the feel of her, clutching her tightly to him. Her arms went around his middle and squeezed snugly. She whispered in his ear, "I’m sorry, sweetie." They stood that way for the longest time, Max unable to relinquish his hold on her and Fran trying to calm him with her touch.

Finally, he raised his head to look directly at her. His eyes displaying a host of emotions, he took her mouth in a tender kiss. He kissed her over and over, as if praying that the next kiss would be the one that would absolutely guarantee her love for him.

He pressed his forehead to hers, trying to keep the plaintive tone out of his voice. "I don’t understand why you didn’t call. Couldn’t you have slipped away to the ladies’ room or something?"

She gave him a soothing smile and ran her fingers tenderly through his gray streak. She said, "You’re right. I should have called. If it ever happens again, I promise I will."

He pulled away from her and began pacing about the room. "And I don’t understand why you’re just now calling me. It’s nearly 3:00. What the hell kind of lunch takes three hours?"

Fran just stood there staring at the floor. That time, her talent for thinking fast wasn’t helping her. "Umm, we had a leisurely lunch and then we did a little window shopping and, uh…"

Max stopped his pacing and turned to look at her. His face was a mixture of shock and anguish. "And what?"

Fran took a deep breath. "We, uh… " Her hesitation said it all.

"Don’t tell me you were making love to him when you were supposed to be with me!" he wailed. "How could you?"

Fran had to fight her irritation at his audacity. She spoke in a steady voice. "Now, Maxwell, I’ve been honest with you about that from the very beginning. He’s my husband and I love him. Did you honestly believe I wasn’t still having sex with him?"

Max looked away from her. He stared at the floor and tried to control his breathing. He couldn’t halt the mental images of the woman he loved so much making love to another man, even if it was her husband. His hand went to his chest as he tried to rub out the jealous pangs he felt gripping his heart.

"Come on, Max, don’t tell me that you haven’t made love to your wife since we got back together," she asserted.

Max let out an exasperated breath and grabbed her hand. "Come on. That’s what I need to talk to you about." He almost pulled her out the door of her office and through the shop. Once outside, he headed directly across the street to the little bar on the corner. As they hurried through the crosswalk, he spat out, "Forget the coffee. I need a drink."

Max pushed open the door of the bar and headed directly to the empty booth in the far back corner still dragging her behind him. As he passed the bartender, he shouted, "Double scotch rocks and whatever she wants."

They settled into the booth and Max buried his face in his hands, digging the heels into his eyes. Then his head snapped up as he looked toward the bar. "Where the hell’s that waiter?" he almost shouted.

Fran reached across the small table and took hold of his hand. "Max, you need to calm down. I’m sorry our plans didn’t work out this afternoon, but things like this are bound to happen." She stroked her thumb across his fingers. She looked into his face and saw the pain in his eyes. "I know you’re upset, but I think you’re overreacting just a bit."

"Just how the hell am I supposed to react—" Just then, the waiter appeared and set Max’s scotch down in front of him. He waited for Fran to order, but she waved him away. Max continued, "to finding out that you’re off screwing someone else when you’re supposed to be with me?"

Fran had just about lost her patience with him. "First of all, I don’t appreciate your choice of words. And secondly, it wasn’t just someone else. He’s my husband—why am I explaining all this again?" She took a deep breath and tried to maintain a sense of calm. "Maybe you better go ahead and tell me what you wanted to talk to me about." Fran glanced at her watch and decided she was going to give him about two more minutes and then she was leaving if he didn’t get himself under control.

Max took a large drink of his scotch. Staring into the amber liquid, he took a deep breath and then spoke so quietly that Fran barely heard him. "Laura’s divorcing me."

Fran felt a wave of shock wash over her. "What? Oh, my God, Max. I don’t know what to say. What happened?"

"After breakfast this morning she just came into my office, shut the door and said we needed to talk. She told me that she had been sensing a growing distance between us, and she asked me if I wanted out. I just sat there. I couldn’t say anything. I guess she took that as my answer."

Fran reached across and took both his hands in hers. "I’m so sorry, sweetie. Are you ok?"

He looked up at her. "I’m not sure. I mean, on the one hand, I just feel awful. Laura’s so sweet and wonderful. She deserved much more from me. But on the other, I feel so relieved that I don’t have to keep up this pretense any longer. And I just feel terrible about feeling so relieved. I’ve been an absolute wreck since this morning, and that’s why I really needed to see you today." His eyes narrowed as his last few words came out sharply.

Fran decided to let that slide—no wonder he had overreacted. Her heart went out to him. He looked back down at their intertwined fingers. A look of realization came over his face as he whispered, "Damn."

"What?" asked Fran, trying to interpret his expression.

He looked back up at her with his eyebrows furrowed. "Maggie," he pronounced.

"What about Maggie?"

"The night she met Laura, she asked me if I saw the resemblance between Laura and Sara. She said that Laura deserved to be loved for who she was and not because she was a way for me to try to forget you by going back to Sara."

"Was she right, Max? Is that why you married Laura?" Fran asked tentatively.

Max lifted his eyes to meet Fran’s. "Yes," he stated solemnly. "I know that now, although I wouldn’t have admitted it even to myself at the time."

"Oh, God, Max," Fran moaned. As heavily as her conscience had weighed on her for their love affair, that confession of his had just multiplied her guilt tenfold. "Do you think she knows that?"

"I don’t think so. I never told her anything about you and me," he uttered weakly, staring into his drink again.

Fran reached up and wiped away the tears that had begun stinging her eyes. "Did she say why she thought you had become so distant?"

Max took another sip of his scotch. "She just said that she was sure my heart was somewhere else and not in our marriage. She didn’t mention your name, but it sounded as though she had her suspicions."

Fran’s hand went to her throat as she tried to process all that he was telling her. It was something she had feared from the very beginning. She thought back to that morning in Paris when Max had told her that all she had to do was say the word and he would never leave her side. And even though Laura had been the one to initiate the separation, Fran had to be honest with herself and admit that she must have been the cause. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. "Excuse me," she said quietly as she slipped out of the booth.

She went into the ladies’ room and turned on the cold water. She splashed her face trying to counteract the heat that had risen to her cheeks at the realization that the dire consequences she had feared were becoming a reality. The love that she and Max shared was so pure and wonderful, but it also brought about suffering and sorrow. As she pressed the paper towel to her face, she stood there staring into the mirror, wondering who the hell was the person she saw in her reflection.

She couldn’t imagine the pain that Laura was going through at that moment. And while Fran felt so sorry for her, she also admired her. To realize that you would never possess the heart of the man you loved because he had long since given it to someone else had to cut deeply. And then to just bow out gracefully took a tremendous amount of character. Suddenly, Fran felt a sense of dread. Would Laura just bow out gracefully? Max had said that he thought she had her suspicions. What if she shared them with Jeff? Fran finished quickly and hurried back out to join Max. He was already on his second scotch.

As she slid back into the booth, she said, "Honey, um, do you think she would, I mean, what if she…"

"Tells Jeff?" he finished for her.

"Yeah. Do you think she would?"

"I really don’t think so. That’s just not her way. It’s not in her nature to be vindictive."

Fran couldn’t keep her hands from shaking. Max didn’t think Laura would do such a thing, but divorce always seemed to bring out the worst in people. Fran had to acknowledge that it was definitely a possibility. "Max, maybe we should cool things for a while."

"Oh, God, no. Not when I need you the most. And besides, what good will that do now? What’s done is done."

"So what happens now?" she asked.

"She’s contacting her lawyer today and she’ll be moved out by the weekend. We agreed to keep things amicable. I told her how sorry I was and then she just turned and walked out of my office. That’s really all there was to it."

At that very moment, Jeff pulled up to the stop light at Bayside Drive in his squad car. He looked down the street at his wife’s store and thought briefly about popping in for just a minute to say hello, but he really needed to talk to a man several blocks over who’d filed a stolen property report and anyway, Fran was probably already at the Manhattan shop. Besides, he’d only left her a little while ago after an extremely satisfying lunch. He smiled to himself thinking about what a lucky man he was.

Just then, his eye was caught by the red Porche parked outside her store. It looked just like the one Maxwell Sheffield drove. He wondered what Max would be doing in Great Neck shopping for home décor items. Just as quickly, he dismissed the thought, thinking there must be hundreds of red Porches in that area of Long Island. At that moment, the light turned green, and without really knowing why, he flipped on his blinker and made the turn onto Bayside Drive. As he passed Fran’s Finds, he noted the license number on the Porche and reached for the microphone of his police radio.

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