Page 72 of Maxwell

She found Maxwell in his studio, which smelled of wet earth and minerals. He was at the wheel in gray sweatpants and shirtless, the sunlight hitting his broad back and highlighting its muscles. His profile showed how much he was concentrating, the wheel humming at a steady pace while his hands moved over a small piece, coaxing it into shape. He displayed the type of patience she had occasionally had the privilege of seeing him exhibit to the little ones in his care at the practice. Knowing the reason he had gone into pediatrics endeared him to her even more.

He finally looked up and saw her, and a smile broke out on his face. “Hey,” he said, his voice still sounding rough as if he had just woken up himself.

He dropped his gaze to the piece collapsing in his hands once his attention had left the wheel.

“Oh no!” Jasmine exclaimed.

He laughed under his breath and pressed his foot to the pedal to slow the spinning wobble to a stop. “You’re dangerous. You’re a distraction.”

“Sorry about that,” she said.

“No worries.” Maxwell picked up a rag from a nearby table and wiped his hands. He came toward her and pressed a kiss to her cheek, as if he had done that every day for the past ten years. “I forgive you. You’re the best distraction I’ve had in a long time. Hungry?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s see what’s in the kitchen.”

She stepped into the hallway to walk ahead of him, and he slapped her on the behind.

“Hey!” she said.

“I like the way you look in my clothes,” he said, tugging on the hem of the T-shirt.

He took the lead and led the way into the kitchen. Saying he had a really nice kitchen was an understatement, considering all the appliances were high-end Wolf.

“Shoot.” He was standing in front of the fridge with something in his hand.

“What’s wrong?”

He turned to face her, and she saw the egg carton. “This is embarrassing. I promised you an omelet, but I only have one egg left.”

“That’s OK. What else do you have in there?”

He opened the freezer. “How do you feel about breakfast sandwiches? This one is sausage and egg. We can stick it in the microwave and in sixty seconds you’ll be eating.”

“As hungry as I am, if you offered me cardboard I’d eat it. I think I’ll be okay with the breakfast sandwich.”

“Breakfast sandwiches it is,” Maxwell said, pulling two from the box.

They ate at his dining room table. The egg was a little rubbery, but somehow this was one of the best meals Jasmine had ever had, and it was all because of the man sitting across from her.

They chatted with ease, discussing work issues as well as sharing stories about their families. Afterward, they took their dishes to the sink and Maxwell moved into the living room.

He dropped onto the couch and looked up at her. “What are you doing a week from Sunday?”

“Um... nothing that I can think of. Why?”

“My brother, Ignacio, is nominated for several awards for his film, Wrong. My family’s getting together for an Oscar-viewing party. Would you like to come?”

“I would... love to.” He had invited her to spend time with him and his family. Was it as big of a deal to him as it was to her?

“I’m not going to lie and pretend I’ve never brought a woman around my family before, but it was usually for big parties. This is an intimate event. Family only. I want you there with me, okay?”

“Okay.” Jasmine was overwhelmed by the significance of the invitation. She could barely get the word out.

“Why are you still standing? Have a seat.” Maxwell patted the spot beside him.

All of a sudden, that was the last thing she wanted to do. She needed time alone to process her emotions. To figure out why everything he said and did hit her so hard.