A Reunion of Rivals

by Reese Ryan

  Quinn hiked an eyebrow.

  “Seems you’ve given this idea quite a bit of thought.”

  “I’ve given you a lot of thought, Quinn.” His voice was low and gruff as his dark eyes searched hers. “In fact, I haven’t been able to think of much else.”

  His words, uttered so sincerely, filled her chest with warmth and short-circuited her brain.

  But then, something about Max Abbott always had.

  “It’s already late tonight, but maybe I could come by your place sometime tomorrow.”

  One side of Max’s mouth lifted in a crooked half smile. “I’ll text you my address.”

  He saw her to her car. After the intimacy they’d shared over the past week, it seemed odd for him not to hug or kiss her goodnight. A part of her wanted him to—despite the risk.

  Quinn released a quiet sigh as she drove away from Max, still standing there in the parking lot.

  Do not fall for Max Abbott again.

  But even as she repeated the warning in her head, it was clear that her heart had a mind of its own.

  Nineteen

  Quinn climbed back into Max’s bed and cuddled against his broad chest. She traced her initials inscribed over his heart: something she often found herself doing absently as they lay together after making love.

  They’d returned from the trade show in Chicago—another successful outing—and she’d moved into Benji and Sloane’s cabin. But this Saturday evening, they were at Max’s town house on the outskirts of Magnolia Lake. And he was unusually quiet.

  Quinn lifted onto her elbow and stroked the whiskered chin that had sensitized her flesh as he’d kissed his way down her body earlier.

  “There’s obviously something on your mind tonight. Do you want to talk about it? Or would you prefer some space? If so, it’s okay. I understand.”

  Max clamped a hand on her wrist. His dark eyes locked with hers. “What do you want, Quinn?”

  Something about the question felt heavy and meaningful. He wasn’t asking about her career. He was talking about them.

  “You.” The immediate, genuine response surprised her. Made her feel exposed. “This, I mean,” she clarified.

  “You’ve got me.” He cradled her jaw, tracing her cheekbone with his thumb. “So now what do you want?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged, keeping her tone light. “What do you want?”

  “This isn’t about me. This is about you being comfortable with asking for whatever you want.” He pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. “Demanding whatever it is you need. You deserve that, Quinn. And any man worthy of you would be willing to give that to you.”

  “You’re proposing we play a naughty game of Simon Says?”

  He chuckled. “If it’s easier to think of it that way.”

  Tempting. She swallowed hard, her skin on fire with the possibilities. A vision of this beautiful man on his knees worshipping her body flashed through her brain. “You’re saying I should take control during sex? What brought this on?”

  Max dragged a thumb across her lower lip. “Being with you is incredible, Quinn. But sometimes it feels like you’re holding back. I don’t want you to feel like you need to do that with me. You should say or do whatever feels good for you. Ask for whatever you need from me.”

  “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but you do a pretty damn good job of anticipating what I want and what I need.” She kissed him again. “I assure you—I have no complaints.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Max trailed a finger along her collarbone, and she trembled slightly at his touch. “But I want this to be just as amazing for you as it is for me.”

  “In my experience, men don’t take instructions in the bedroom very well. They consider it an attack on their manhood.”

  “Ah, you’ve been with one of those guys.” He sighed. “The dumb, selfish fucks who never learn to please a woman because they’re too concerned about getting off themselves. They don’t realize how much better the experience would be if they’d learn to thoroughly please their partner.”

  Max brushed back her hair and tucked a few strands behind her ear. “If a dude gets upset because you’re telling him what does or doesn’t feel good to you, run. Because he’s not just selfish in the bedroom. He’s selfish about everything.”

  “God, that’s true.” Quinn sat up, scooting back against the headboard. She cleared her throat. “So all of the skills you’ve acquired... Never mind.”

  Quinn felt her cheeks getting warm as she smoothed the comforter over her lap. It was none of her business what Max had done in the years they’d been apart.

  “Yes.” He sat up beside her. “I learned by listening and observing, but also by asking.” He stroked her cheek.

  “What you’ve done and with whom...is none of my business.”

  Max’s expression was suddenly serious. “Ask me anything you want to know, Quinn.”

  There was something so sincere in his gaze. Butterfly wings fluttered in her stomach. Her heart felt as if it might burst. She wasn’t supposed to be falling for Max Abbott. She wasn’t supposed to be feeling any of what she was feeling right now.

  Quinn’s breath hitched. “Make love to me, Max. Now.”

  Desire. That was the emotion she should focus on. Not whatever it was that made her feel like her heart might beat right out of her chest.

  There was a momentary sadness in his expression. Her tactic wasn’t lost on him. He’d wanted to do an emotional deep dive. She wanted sex, plain and simple.

  “That’s a command, not a question,” he said.

  “You said I should ask for whatever I want.”

  He chuckled, a grin spreading across his incredibly handsome face. “I did, didn’t I?”

  Max retrieved a strip of condoms from the nightstand and reached to turn off the bedside lamp.

  “No.” She stilled his hand, her heart racing as he met her gaze. “Leave the light on.”

  Max’s eyes widened momentarily. Then a knowing grin curved the edges of his sensual mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And Max?” She trailed a hand down his stomach and cupped his growing erection.

  “Yes?”

  “How sturdy would you say this headboard is?” Quinn asked with a smile.

  “Fuck,” he whispered. “This is going to be one hell of a night, isn’t it?”

  It was, and she was going to enjoy every single minute of it. Because as good as things were between them, their little affair had a built-in expiration date. In a few months she’d leave Magnolia Lake, and eventually she’d return to Atlanta. But this time she’d walk away without expectations or regrets.

  * * *

  Max’s eyes fluttered opened. An involuntary smile crept across his face. His night with Quinn had been beyond amazing. It was a reel that would replay in his head until the end of time. He reached for Quinn, but she was gone.

  Rule number three: no overnights.

  Max wasn’t sure which he found more exasperating: being kicked out of Quinn’s bed or waking to discover that she’d disappeared from his.

  He grabbed his phone and checked the time. Apparently, great sex promoted sound sleep. He’d slept right through his alarm. Now he needed to hurry if he didn’t want to be late for another Monday morning meeting.

  Max climbed out of bed and headed for the shower, hoping the day would end better than it had started.

  Twenty

  “Nice of you to join us, son,” Duke Abbott teased as Max slid into the leather chair beside Zora.

  “Sorry, I...overslept.” Were his cheeks as bright red as they felt? His sister’s knowing grin provided a clear answer.

  Max avoided Zora’s gaze. “So what’s this about?”

  “Your grandfather and I have discussed Parker’s proposal. We’ve decided that selecting the next CEO based on merit is a
reasonable request,” his father said.

  “You’re naming Parker as the next CEO?” Zora asked.

  “We haven’t decided who will be the next CEO.” Duke gave Zora a pointed look. “We’ve simply decided the title will be earned, not inherited. I’m sure we can all agree that’s fair.”

  Parker shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose and grinned. As if the crown had already been placed atop his peanut head.

  “You can wipe that self-satisfied smirk off your face, Parker. You’re not the only one who has a shot at this.” The words left Max’s mouth before he could rein them in. He was already cranky about waking up to a cold, empty bed after the night he and Quinn had shared. Now this. “So get over yourself and maybe take the self-righteousness down a notch.”

  “Maybe use that same energy you’re coming at me with to step up your game,” Parker suggested smugly.

  Something in Max’s head snapped. He jumped up and his chair tumbled backward, crashing to the floor. Max made his way toward Parker, who was sitting at the opposite end of the table from their father, like he was already king of the court.

  Zora and his grandfather were calling Max’s name, and Blake had rounded the table and stepped between him and Parker.

  Blake braced his large hands on Max’s shoulders. “Park is just trying to get a rise out of you, Max. No one here is questioning your abilities.”

  Max was still staring down Parker, who seemed oddly confused by the entire ordeal. As always, Parker said whatever popped into his head—the things most people mused about and didn’t say aloud. It was difficult for him to know when to let thoughts just simmer in his brain rather than saying them.

  Parker was making an admirable effort to do better in that regard when dealing with his fiancée. It would be nice if he tried a little harder where his family was concerned, too.

  “Max, what’s gotten into you, son? You’ve never allowed your brother to get to you like this before,” his father said.

  When Max turned to respond, he noticed his grandfather clutching the back of his head.

  “Gramps, are you okay?” Max asked.

  “Suddenly got the worse headache of my life.” The old man wavered, as if dizzy. “Think I’ve got a touch of...”

  Grandpa Joseph slumped over onto the table, unable to finish his sentence.

  * * *

  Quinn had forgotten how therapeutic cooking could be. She’d loved spending time in the kitchen with her grandmother before a massive stroke had taken her from them.

  She’d been cooking for three days straight in Benji and Sloane’s state-of-the-art kitchen. A pot roast was going in the slow cooker. A ham was cooking in one of the ovens. A pot of collard greens cooked on the stove. And the surface of the granite countertop was dusted with flour and covered in strips of pie crust for the peach cobbler she was making.

  Three days ago, she’d been floating around the office on a high after an amazing night with Max. Suddenly, an ambulance had come and taken Max’s grandfather away. Everyone at the distillery was still stunned.

  The indomitable Joseph Abbott had had a stroke caused by a blood clot, and he’d been hospitalized for the past three days, surrounded by his family.

  She’d talked to Cole, who’d kept her updated on their grandfather’s condition, and Zora, who’d mentioned that first day that they were eating God-awful food from the hospital cafeteria. Since then, Quinn had made it her mission to feed the Abbott family home-cooked meals, which Cole transported to the hospital. She’d probably cooked more in the past three days than she had in the past three years.

  Quinn was grateful Joseph Abbott had chosen to work with Bazemore Farms, and she’d grown incredibly fond of the Abbott family. She was glad she could be there for them in some small way during such a stressful time. But more than anything, she wanted to be there for Max.

  According to Zora, he blamed himself for his grandfather’s stroke, despite the doctor’s assurance that it was better that it happened at the office because they’d quickly gotten him medical assistance.

  She’d tried calling Max, but he hadn’t answered his phone. Nor had he responded to her text messages. He’d sent her a single email authorizing her to make any necessary decisions on his behalf regarding the brandy campaign—including representing King’s Finest at the next trade show. And he’d copied his father, Zora and his assistant on it.

  Quinn picked up her phone and reread the email for the fifth time. As if the terse business message might reveal something more. Like how Max was doing or if he needed her. Which was ridiculous.

  She’d been the one who’d insisted on keeping their relationship a secret and on keeping it casual. What right did she have to be hurt by the fact that Max was clearly shutting her out now?

  Quinn checked on the ham and greens, then typed out a text message to Zora.

  How is Grandpa Joe?

  Same.

  How are all of you doing?

  We’re all holding up as best we can. Cole is trying to lighten everyone’s spirits, but we’re all on edge. Max is taking it especially hard. Still thinks this is his fault, though we’ve learned Gramps had a couple of mini strokes before this. Max hasn’t slept much. Mom sent him home to get some sleep about an hour ago.

  Give my love to Grandpa Joe and to everyone.

  Will do. Thanks. We’re all a wreck. You’ve been a godsend. Hugs

  Quinn put down the phone, her heart breaking for Max. She could only imagine the guilt he was feeling. Max adored his grandfather. They all did. No wonder he’d taken it so hard.

  Maybe Max wasn’t ready to let her in or talk about what was bothering him. But hadn’t she been the one who’d erected a wall around her heart first?

  Max was simply following her lead.

  She had laid out the rules. Rules meant to protect her heart and keep her from getting in too deep. But little by little she’d grown attached to Max and his family anyway. He’d been hinting at wanting more and trying to get her to open up to him. He’d even invited her to join him for Sunday night dinner at his parents’ home—as a friend. But she’d maintained emotional distance, determined not to be hurt again.

  Now it was Max who was keeping his distance. Reminding her of the casual nature of their relationship. They were business associates and fuck buddies. Not the person you turned to in a crisis.

  It was what she thought she wanted. So why did she feel such a deep need to be there for Max? And so powerless because he wouldn’t let her?

  Maybe it was because the wound still felt so fresh from her own grandmother’s death and her father’s medical emergency just a few years ago. She’d allowed her emotions to cloud her judgment, let down her defenses and gotten involved in ill-advised relationships.

  Was that what she was doing again?

  Quinn washed her hands at the sink and returned to assembling the peach cobbler. She needed to focus on doing what she could to help the family. Especially since her own grandfather was in Arizona visiting his ill older brother. So she was making sure the Abbotts were well-fed and that their plans for the introduction of the new brandies continued to move forward.

  It had been a long, somber day at the office, and she’d been cooking since she’d returned to the cabin. As soon as the ham and the cobbler were done, she’d turn in for the night.

  Quinn preheated the second oven then hopped into the shower.

  Afterward, she slipped on a short, vintage silk kimono she’d purchased at a little shop in Toronto a few years ago. There was something soothing about the brilliant turquoise hue and luxurious material with its colorful embroidery.

  She returned to the kitchen to put the cobbler in the oven. Then she saw headlights approach, flashing through the front windows. She peeked outside.

  Max.

  He parked his SUV and got out.

  Quinn’s heart thu
dded in her chest. Had something happened since Zora’s last text message?

  She opened the front door, startling Max as he bounded up the stairs.

  Lines creased his forehead and shadows hovered beneath dark eyes filled with sadness. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

  “Max, is everything all—”

  He captured her mouth in a hungry kiss that stole her breath and stoked the heat between her thighs.

  She leaned into the kiss, parting her lips to give him access as his tongue sought hers. Lost in his kiss, everything faded away except his clean, woodsy scent and the warmth and solidity of his hard body.

  Finally, Max pulled his mouth from hers, his chest heaving as he cradled her face in his large hands. His eyes met hers, as if there was something he needed to say, but he couldn’t.

  Oh no. No, no, no.

  Quinn swallowed hard, panic filling her chest. She gripped the back of his T-shirt, terrified of the words Max couldn’t bring himself to say.

  “Baby, what is it? What’s happened?” When he didn’t answer, she prodded gently, “Tell me, Max. I’m here. Whatever you need, just—”

  “You, Quinn,” he said in a breathless whisper. “I need you.”

  He kissed her again, swallowing her gasp of surprise as he glided his hands down her body and lifted her.

  Quinn hooked her legs around his waist. Gave into the comfort of his fiery kiss. Pushed aside the nagging questions about what his words meant beyond this moment.

  He needed this. Needed her. And whether he was seeking solace in the arms of his lover or the luxury of losing himself to a few hours of passion, tonight she wanted to be that for him. To be a source of shelter from the storm brewing behind those dark eyes. Even if it was only for a little while.

  Max carried her to bed. He toed off his shoes and stripped off his shirt, revealing the tattoos she’d kissed more times than she could remember.

  The space between her thighs pulsed at the sight of this man’s broad chest and toned body. His jeans hung low on his hips and her eyes were instantly drawn to the ridge beneath his zipper and then to the hungry gaze in his dark eyes as he climbed onto the bed, still wearing his jeans.