Uniformly Hot! Volume 1 from Harlequin: Letters from HomeBreaking the RulesComing Up for Air

by Rhonda Nelson

  Anger churned in Sophia’s belly, masking the lust. Oh, the lust was still there. She couldn’t be within five feet of Max without wanting to see him naked. But now she had an overwhelming urge to throw things at him. While he was naked.

  “Actually I might have had a little to do with it. I had to escort my mother to a country club dinner this evening and mentioned the show to a few people,” he explained with a shrug. “It looks like they were interested, huh?”

  “You just happened to mention it?” she asked, her frown fading to a furrow between her brows.

  “Yeah. I thought I’d seen a lot of their names on your mailing list when I was hanging out in your office last week,” he said, grinning when she narrowed her eyes again at his admission of snooping. “I don’t get why they seemed clueless about the show, but I figured you’d wanted them here and I could give them a nudge to attend.”

  “I sent invitations. Unless they all moved without a forwarding address, they shouldn’t be clueless.”

  He shook his head. “Nobody I spoke with had received an invitation.”

  Nonplussed, she just stared. She wasn’t used to men actually explaining their motivations.

  The anger was still there. But now it was scattered, with no specific focus. What had happened to the invitations she’d sent, then? Was it only the high society segment of her mailing list that hadn’t received them? Or everyone?

  “Mrs. Castillo?”

  Sophia reluctantly tore her gaze from Max’s, took a deep breath and turned to face the caterer.

  “Yes, Becca?” Forcing herself to focus, her frown deepened. The usually unflappable blond caterer looked as if she wanted to cry.

  “Um, we have a little problem.”

  Sophia gave Max a look, but he didn’t move away. She took Becca’s arm and pulled her to the side. Max followed. She didn’t bother rolling her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I was doing rounds with the canapés and Juliet was bringing in ice from the truck. We were doing our jobs. We weren’t being lax or careless or anything,” Becca insisted, blinking back tears.

  Sophia’s stomach slid into the toes of her pumps. “And?”

  “Someone got into the food. They dumped the crackers into the shrimp, poured the chocolate syrup over the ham bites and the stuffed mushrooms are floating in the ice chest filled with all the champagne.”

  It took Sophia a solid five seconds to decipher her words. Since they were said in such a rush, they all tumbled over themselves.

  It took her another five to blink the black mist of panic from her eyes.

  “All the food?”

  “And the champagne,” Becca confirmed, a tear tracking down her cheek.

  A quick glance confirmed that her gallery was still filled with fancy dressed patrons with no-limit credit cards and a taste for being served champagne and shrimp.

  It was all she could do not to start crying along with Becca. Sophia puffed out a breath and without thinking about it, slid her gaze to Max.

  His frown was a scary thing. It was also oddly reassuring. As if it gave her permission to be pissed instead of bawling like a baby deprived of its binky.

  With the anger came clear thinking. She had a gallery full of rich people whose money she wanted. To get that money, she had to make them feel relaxed and happy. Which meant feeding them.

  “Becca, is there any food left in your van? Any more champagne? Or wine? Or soda even?”

  “A couple bottles of champagne, a brick of cheese but no crackers, a tray of veggies and some petit fours left over from the baby shower we catered this afternoon.” The blonde hesitated, then added, “We still have a box of the penis pops and some frozen soft pretzel busts from the last show.”

  Sophia grimaced and shook her head.

  Despite growing up in the kitchen of her father’s restaurant, Sophia’s cooking expertise started and ended with canned soup, bagged salad and microwavable meals.

  “I’ll run across the street to the cantina,” Max offered. “Send around the veggies, cakes and champagne while I get some appetizer trays ordered.”

  Becca’s wince made it clear her catering menu wasn’t geared toward Mexican finger food, but she nodded and hurried out of the room.

  Torn between independence and the need to salvage the evening, Sophia hesitated. Then, realizing she was being an idiot, she laid her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

  His smile was slow and melting. He lifted her hand, brushed a kiss over her knuckles and murmured, “You can thank me later.”

  Oh, baby! It took her thirty seconds to catch her breath and force her legs to move. She did her hostess gig, charming her way through the crowd and enjoying every second of what was—thanks to Max—shaping up to be a fabulous show. Within a quarter of an hour, Becca’s staff was circulating with appetizers—because really, nobody could call empanadas an hors d’oeuvre—trays. Sophia watched anxiously, but everyone who tried it seemed to enjoy the food.

  And then Max was back at her side and the last of her tension seeped from her shoulders and spine.

  “Hi,” she murmured, smiling up at him. “Do you do this knight-in-shining-armor role very often?”

  “Do you like it?” he asked softly, reaching out to rub his index finger over her shoulder. Such a simple move melted her insides.

  “Sophia?”

  She reluctantly pulled her gaze from Max’s. “Yes, Danny?”

  “There’s a customer who’d like to speak with you about the Redwood series.”

  “I’ll be right there.” She looked back at Max, relieved to see him already nodding.

  “Go make a sale,” he said. “I’ll work the room.”

  Grateful for his help and his support, she smiled. Then, knowing what she was offering, she stepped closer and brushed her lips, just a tiny kiss, against his. “Thanks.”

  Sophia was halfway to the hall when she heard the scream.

  A bony, lace-encased woman wearing enough diamonds to buy a small country screamed again, falling onto the velvet settee and drawing her knees up to her chest.

  Sophia ran forward, Max right beside her. Gina came scurrying toward them, one hand holding a sales receipt, her other covering her mouth and nose.

  Before they could ask her what happened, the room gushed people. They just sort of poured out, hands over mouths and nose as they rushed for the door.

  The front door. Escaping.

  “No,” Sophia moaned, reaching out as if she could grab them all back. Or at least their credit cards.

  Shoulders sagging, she arched a brow at Gina.

  “Skunk” was Gina’s muffled response.

  Sophia would have dropped to the floor if Max hadn’t leaned in and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

  “How the hell…”

  Max’s growl worked as well as if he’d taken her by the shoulders and shaken her. Sophia battled back the panic, sucked in a breath and tried to remember the rules of control. She was pretty sure do something was somewhere on the list.

  “Gina, see if anyone’s left in the gallery and, if so, try and charm them into buying something.”

  “What’re you going to do?” Gina mumbled from behind her hand.

  Sophia wrinkled her nose. “The skunk didn’t spray, did it? I don’t smell anything.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then I’m going to get it out before it does something to ruin the upholstery.”

  “I can take care of this, Sophia,” Max offered, his hand on her shoulder as if he was trying to steer her in the opposite direction as the skunk.

  “It’s my gallery,” was all Sophia said.

  As she’d expected, Max stayed at her side as they crossed under the arch and into the smaller showroom. Despite her expectations, though, he didn’t try to push her aside and take over.

  He didn’t have to. She skidded to a halt in the doorway.

  It was a disaster. Broken champagne glasses, food all over the floor, one of the huge fic
us plants overturned and dirt scattered everywhere.

  Sitting there, in the middle of her red plush velvet settee with rosewood trim was a very large skunk, eating a canapé.

  “Shit,” Max breathed, taking in the mess with a quick look before wrapping one arm around her and pulling her close. His arms were safe, secure. She turned into him. His chest a warm haven.

  The sweet move almost melted her heart.

  For just a second, Sophia let herself be weak. She let him hold her, drew in his strength as if it had healing powers.

  All she wanted to do was lean in. To let him take over. Obviously she was doing a lousy job of things, so why not hand over the reins.

  “Soph?”

  Defeated, Sophia glanced around Max’s shoulder with dull eyes.

  “Everybody left,” Gina said quietly. “I called animal control to pick up the skunk.”

  “I need a break,” Sophia murmured, pulling out of Max’s arms. She instantly wanted to burrow back again and hide.

  She glanced at the mess again and winced. Yeah, she definitely needed a break. Maybe a long one.

  Shaking her head at Gina’s questioning look, she slowly made her way back to her office and shut the door. She didn’t even have the energy to turn the lock. Instead, the two steps feeling like two miles, she walked over to the couch and collapsed.

  God, what a disaster.

  MAX FINISHED HIS INSPECTION of the gallery. He’d talked to everyone, from the catering crew to Gina to the crowd at the cantina across the street to see if anyone had seen anything. Nada.

  He checked with Jorge, the cantina busboy he’d hired last Wednesday to watch the gallery when he couldn’t. Jorge had seen a motorcycle drive by and pause in front of the gallery, but it hadn’t parked. Max remembered seeing a motorcycle the day he’d first met Sophia, the day the gallery had been trashed. He’d bet it was the same bike.

  But other than Danny, who’d seen a guy with dark hair dressed in a catering jacket—in contrast to Becca’s assistants, who were all women—there wasn’t much else to go on.

  He didn’t need much to know that this was a personal vendetta against Sophia, though. And he was going to make sure whatever it was stopped.

  But first he had to make sure Sophia was okay. He headed for her office. A year of watching untold degrees of pain, suffering and misery had molded a hard shell around his heart. He needed that shell. And damn if he didn’t feel it melting away a little at the sight of her sitting at her desk. With her head in her hands and the luxurious curtain of silky black hair falling over her face, she looked defeated.

  “Sophia?” he said quietly, afraid if he crossed the threshold he’d push her over the edge.

  She shifted so her fists supported her chin instead of her forehead. Her eyes drooped a little at the sides, matching the heaviness of her mouth. It physically hurt to see her so unhappy.

  He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, tuck her away someplace quiet and fix this mess so she could get back to making her dream come true.

  Rico would have applauded that idea. Hell, he’d practically said as much in the email Max had received that morning.

  Sophia’s independent streak is a PITA, amigo. It’s easier to work around her, keep her distracted while you do the heavy lifting. She’s not much muscle-wise and needs someone to take care of her.

  Max was pretty sure that Sophia would take her not-much muscles and use them to kick her brother’s ass if she ever read that email.

  And his if he tried that kind of crap on her. So instead of doing the end run he’d prefer, Max steeled his heart and forced himself to add to her stress load.

  “The cops are here,” he said.

  “Can you deal with them?” she asked quietly. “I’m really not up to it.”

  He almost turned heel to do just that, then stopped. She’d damn near ripped his head off when he’d tried to deal with her business last week. He thought of Rico’s note again and with a sigh shook his head.

  “It’s your place,” he told her. “You’re the one in charge. Not me.”

  Her shrug said she didn’t give a damn.

  Max’s frown intensified.

  “You’re not going to let them win, are you?” he asked quietly, needing to see something out of her besides defeat. God, where was her anger, her fighting spirit? She couldn’t have used it all up on him.

  “Them?”

  “Someone’s screwing with you. Deliberately trying to run you out of business.” He glanced around the office, inwardly winced because he knew he was risking the best sex he’d ever had, and said, “Are you going to give up on the gallery the same as you bailed on your photography? Don’t you have any guts? Or are you, what’s the term Rico uses? El pollo loco?”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “A crazy chicken? You think I’m bailing?” Her voice hitched. “You think just because my big brother appointed you my protector, suddenly you’re the expert on my life?”

  “Nope.” He tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, forcing himself not to smile. “I’m the guy who thought you were a savvy businesswoman who knew what she wanted and had a plan to get it. But then, maybe I was wrong.”

  Her jaw worked. Her eyes sizzled. Lust speared through Max like lightning. He wondered how long they had before the cops came back here looking for her. Probably not long enough for what his body was craving.

  She shoved away from the desk so hard her chair hit the wall. Fists clenched at the sides of her pretty red dress, she stomped around the desk.

  Definitely not enough time to soothe her out of her tantrum. He was treading on thin ice but he couldn’t stop his grin.

  “I’ll deal with you later,” she said with a glare as she swept around him, all princess to peasant. “After I’ve spoken with the police.”

  “I can’t wait,” he murmured, watching the delicious swing of her hips as she stormed off. Then he rescued her chair and settled in behind her desk.

  But he was the one who’d be dealing. Only it’d be some comfort and soothing. And, once Sophia was feeling less stressed and upset, maybe they could find other ways to relax.

  Max thought of the bag he’d left in the backseat of his car. Bubble bath, candles, the docking station for his iPod. All he needed to set a soothing scene.

  And in the meantime? Time to do a little investigating. Starting by poking through the gallery’s files.

  9

  HER BODY WARM, LAX AND well-loved, Sophia slowly made her way to the surface of consciousness. She tingled all over. While she was finishing with the police, Max had talked Gina into letting him into her apartment, where he had filled her bathroom with candlelight, music and hot, frothy bubbles. Then he’d seduced her into forgetting all her woes.

  Eyes still closed, she sighed and stretched. She didn’t get far. Her toes skimmed a hair-dusted leg and her butt wiggled against a very hard male body.

  She gave a sleepy frown, her fingers tracing the arm that lay across her waist. The hand at the end of that arm slid up, cupping the heavy warmth of her breast.

  Her frown faded as the fingers worked magic on the tip of her breast. Swirling, tweaking, flicking. She gasped. Heat swept down her body, pooling wet and sticky between her legs.

  She shifted her hips, smiling at the hard length of desire pressing against her. She wasn’t the only one feeling the love here.

  Her hair was swept aside.

  She clenched her thighs, all her girly bits trembling at the sensation. Who knew the back of the neck was an erogenous zone? Then again, who knew there was a direct line to her G-spot when Max touched her?

  “Mmm, I feel good,” she said in a sleepy murmur. She loved what he was doing, but needed more. She wanted to play, too. Sophia turned in his arms, giving Max a warm smile and practically purred. “I really like your plan for working off stress.”

  “Bottled-up stress is a health hazard,” Max assured her, his mouth tracing whisper soft kisses along he
r jaw and down the sensitive skin of her throat. “You need to release it before it causes problems.”

  “You definitely offered a lot of releases last night,” she said with a breathless laugh.

  “You up for another?” he asked. His smile said sex, but his sleep-rumpled cuteness made her want to hug him close and giggle. He was just…amazing.

  His mouth moved lower so his soft kisses were now focused on the tips of her breast. She heard the rustle of foil, then felt his fingers warm between her legs. Testing, teasing, readying her for the ride.

  Before she could do more than sigh with pleasure, he slid into her. Gentle and sweet, just like the kisses warming her throat. Sophia’s breath shuddered as they rocked together. Max shifted so his eyes could hold hers. She wanted to blink, to look away, but knew he’d stop the delicious dance if she did. While he’d happily do anything, absolutely anything, she wanted, Max insisted on real intimacy with their lovemaking. It added a scary layer of tenderness and honesty to the passion.

  He shifted higher. She wrapped her legs around his waist, resting her weight on her arms as he rose to his knees and stared down at her body. For a brief second, he dropped his eyes to watch their bodies slide together. Sophia followed his gaze. Four years of erotic exposure had taught her that she was a bit of a prude, so she expected to have to hide her ick reaction. Instead, though, the sight of their bodies joining made her gasp.

  Sexy, hot, intense. Her heart pounded. Passion intensified. Her eyes met Max’s again. His hands gripped the soft flesh of her butt, holding her in place as he pumped, in and out. The heat intensified, swirling tighter. Her body tensed. His eyes darkened.

  She panted, her entire being focused on reaching higher. Climbing. Grasping. Her eyes glazed, her brain shut off as her body took over. Max plunged. Sophia exploded.

  The climax was so strong, so wild, it shook her whole body. She shuddered, her thighs squeezing tight. Max tensed. She forced her eyes open, needing to see him fall over the edge. Deeper. Harder. Over and over. Then, his head thrown back, he came with a loud growl of delight. His climax sent Sophia over the edge once again.