“I used to be young. And if amenable is a euphemism for walkover, then I’m pleased to have changed. Now, if you really don’t want me to freeze, I suggest you shut the door and turn on the heat.”
Okay. She had a point. And while he chuckled quietly at her bossy tone, he followed instructions and soon the heater had cast a thick blanket of warmth over the vehicle’s interior. The wipers were also doing their job, slapping a wet rhythm through the slushy snow. “Tell me you don’t miss L.A. on days like this,” he muttered, steering into the street.
“I don’t.”
“Not even the valet parking?”
“Give me Phillips Avenue over Rodeo Drive any day of the year!”
Max cut her a sideways look. “You’re serious?”
She met his gaze with a steady directness. “The winter weather can get much worse than today but I don’t mind. I’m not just saying that to be argumentative and it’s not only because I’m happy here in Sioux Falls. It’s true. I’m a winter person at heart. My best photographic work, the shots that people stop and really study in the gallery, are the ones in the winter collection. I’ve even come to enjoy the cold and—” She pointed left. “Turn here. That’s me, right there.”
She pointed out an SUV, a tradesmanlike model, not sporty, not luxury. “This one?”
She nodded. “My winter wheels.”
He pulled in behind but left the engine—and heater—running. “And in summer you drive a…?”
“A bike.”
“You drive a motorbike?”
Laughing softly, she shook her head. “Good grief, no. A bicycle. You probably haven’t noticed but we have a blacktop bike path that follows the river all the way through town. I’m looking forward to riding to work when the weather warms up.”
“I guess you didn’t do much bike riding on Rodeo Drive.”
“Sadly, no. They won’t valet park bikes.”
Despite the levity of her answer, her smile held a tinge of sadness that smacked Max hard. For the life of him he couldn’t return the smile or find a single witty response. He recalled the night of Case’s wedding, when he’d first learned of her unhappy marriage. She’d rerouted the conversation and he’d kidded himself that he didn’t want to know about her marriage.
But that shadow of hurt in her eyes sat all kinds of wrong in Max’s gut. So did her comment about not wanting to be a walkover. Although she’d unfastened her seat belt and picked up her bag, he stalled her with a hand on her arm.
He felt her stillness, her gathering tension, even before he asked, “If you were so unhappy, why did you stay?”
“I couldn’t leave. It was…complicated.”
“Complicated how? Financially?”
She nodded. Then drew an audible breath before turning to meet his gaze. “Look, I love my life here,” she said, and her steady sincerity chased the shadows from her eyes. “I love my job and my house and this easygoing, unpretentious place that lets me be myself. It took a while for me to get to this point, but now I’m as happy as when…”
She stopped for a split second, and Max took a stab at what she’d stopped herself saying. “As happy as when we were together?”
“We weren’t ‘together’,” she said.
Max frowned. “I seem to remember together. I can name you a dozen places we were together in my apartment alone. And what about the time we didn’t make it back inside, when we—”
“That was sex,” she interrupted.
But it wasn’t the frankness of her comment or the flush of color climbing her throat that stopped him mid-sentence. It was the hand she placed over his to stop him detailing that night in the darkened shadows of the stairwell. It was the unexpected touch of her fingers and the resulting flare of heat in his blood.
“We had an awful lot of sex,” she continued, “in an awful lot of places. You’re right. But that didn’t make us a couple. I’m sorry that I didn’t understand the distinction back then. My only excuse is I was young and, as you pointed out so accurately, amenable.”
“Are you implying I took advantage?”
“No. I’m trying to explain how I misinterpreted, that’s all. There was no advantage taken. That chemistry we had was a powerful thing.”
Between the impact of her touch and the softened warmth of her rueful expression, it took Max several seconds to digest her actual words. To realize that she’d just handed him the opening he’d been probing for, easier than he could have hoped for. Much sooner than he’d expected.
“This chemistry…” Without dropping her gaze, he turned his hand and laced their fingers in an intimate bond. “It’s still there, isn’t it?”
Gently he traced the junction of her wrist with his thumb. He felt the jump of her pulse, saw the fireflash of awareness in her eyes. And the wariness.
“Yes,” she admitted finally. “But I’m not interested in doing anything about it.”
“Why not? We’re both single. Unattached. We both know how good we were together. We both remember that.”
“I told you. I’m happy with my life. The last thing I want is a short-term affair or a one-night stand for old time’s sake or whatever it is you have in mind. So you can forget about you and me, together, right now!”
“I’m not sure I can do that.”
She stared back at him as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d heard. Then slowly, disbelievingly, she shook her head. “I’m not the girl I was ten years ago, Max. Nothing you say or do will change my mind. Really, I am just not interested.”
Five
Surprisingly, Max didn’t debate the issue or push her for any further explanation. He let her go with nothing but a parting suggestion to “find those gloves” and “stay warm,” but Diana knew he would take her not-interested, can’t-change-my-mind declaration as a challenge.
At first she’d kicked herself soundly for not realizing the pleasure a goal-oriented man like Max would take in overcoming such a clearly stated obstacle. But then she discovered a perverse satisfaction in having the suspicions she’d harbored ever since his turnabout at Case’s wedding confirmed. Now she wouldn’t have to second-think his every comment, every action, every touch.
Their mutual attraction was acknowledged. His desire to get her into bed was established. And she chose to treat it as a test, a chance to prove her strength of character.
He couldn’t make her change her mind. Diana was confident—and energized—by her own goal to resist whatever temptation he placed in her path.
“I’m ready, Max Fortune.” Dressed for work the next morning in winter-white cashmere that flattered her coloring, she fixed herself with a steady glare in the dresser mirror. “Bring on your worst.”
The overnight snowfall wasn’t as heavy as anticipated and Jeffrey arrived back in town half an hour after Diana opened the doors at Click. They caught up on business news and he looked over her proofs of the horse she’d christened Maggie. They debated some of her choices of composition, and his suggestion to crop one full-body shot back to head and superbly arched neck sparked excitement in her creative soul.
She set off to print Max’s order with that bonus extra, all thoughts of seduction forgotten.
When she strode back into the gallery an hour later, her satisfied smile reflected a job well done. Jeffrey’s comments had evoked several subtle changes and the enlarged prints looked even better than she’d envisioned. She couldn’t wait to show them off.
Following the low murmur of Jeffrey’s voice, she turned the corner in the L-shaped gallery and stopped short. Jeffrey and Max were studying her exhibit. The smile froze on her face, even as her heart lurched to life.
She hadn’t expected to see him until late in the afternoon, when she’d suggested his prints would be ready to collect.
“Ah, there you are!”
It was Jeffrey who spoke, but her eyes were on Max as he turned. There was something in his expression, some slow burn of appreciation that caused her heart to beat faster, and she c
ouldn’t look away.
Then Jeffrey cleared his throat, loudly, and she realized how long the silence had stretched.
“You’re early,” she said hurriedly. “I’ve only just finished printing and there is still some—”
“I’m not here for my photos,” he assured her. “I’m here to look at yours.”
Oh.
“Max was particularly keen to see your winter compilation,” Jeffrey said. “He has good taste.”
And a good sense of which particular flattery might turn her head, Diana thought, recovering from her initial response to his presence. She’d invited him to do his worst and this, most likely, was it.
Knowing that he aimed to butter her up, that it was all a seduction ruse, would help her keep any complimentary observations he made in perspective.
With measured steps she approached the two men, her chary gaze sliding from Jeffrey’s face to Max’s and then on to the series of pictures she called her Gothics. The Fortune family’s big estate house with its dark stone facade, its stark black-roofed angles and wrought iron gables, the imposing array of chimneys and lighthouse cupolas that jutted into the sky…all set against the stark white of a heavy Christmas snowfall.
Looking at the pictures always gave her a deep-seated chill, of satisfaction and because of the subject matter.
“Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”
“The truth?”
Diana hazarded a sideways glance and found him studying her, not the pictures. She ignored the little flutter in her pulse. “Of course I want to hear what you really think. Go ahead. Be brutal.”
One eyebrow crooked, as though asking if she was sure, and she made a go-ahead gesture with her hand. He turned back to the pictures. “They’re cold,” he said without preamble. “No life, no color, no movement.” His gaze flicked back to hers. “I gather that’s the point?”
Jeffrey chuckled. “Exactly. You should feel the extremes of these in your bones. That is the point. Now, if you contrast those with the horse set—”
The phone began to ring, distracting Jeffrey’s attention. “I’ll get it,” Diana said, already pivoting on the heels of her favorite cherry-red boots.
“No, no. You can clarify your motivations better than I. You stay.”
For several seconds nothing broke the silence except the echo of Jeffrey’s retreating footsteps. Diana pretended to study the pictures she knew by heart, waiting until he was out of earshot before ending this vignette and sending Max on his way.
“Cold getting to you?”
Frowning, she looked down and realized she was rubbing her hands together. Not that she was prepared to admit to nerves. She smiled wryly. “Proof positive that the pictures are effective.”
His eyes remained on her hands a moment longer, reminding her of the previous day. The work-roughened texture of his big hands closing over hers, the intimate slide as their fingers laced together, the hot spark of awareness when he persuaded her to admit that she still felt this attraction.
“Did you find your gloves?”
“Not yet.” Forcing those images from her mind, from her blood, she shrugged. “But I’m sure they will turn up somewhere.”
He returned his attention to the exhibit, moving on to the collection featuring Sky’s playful colts, giving her the moment’s reprieve she needed. He pointed out a shot of two colts at full stretch gallop, racing each other across the field, neck to neck. It was a vibrant, lively, colorful contrast to the winter shots.
“I want this one.”
Diana blinked, unsure if she’d heard him right. “You want to buy it?”
“That’s right.”
A warm pool of pleasure settled low in her tummy, even as she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but these are for exhibit only.”
“They’re not for sale? Why not?”
“They belong to Sky, actually. The whole family did me a big favor giving me free rein to shoot all over the estate. It wouldn’t feel right to sell them. I don’t have that right.” Uncomfortable beneath the assessing intensity of his gaze, she hurried on. “Look, Max, there’s no need to pretend interest or to buy my favors. It won’t impress me or sway me.”
“You think that’s what I’m doing?”
“Isn’t it?”
“You’ve turned into a cynic,” he accused, although he looked almost amused by the discovery.
Diana didn’t disagree. After yesterday’s revelation, a combination of cynicism and suspicion seemed like the ideal attitude. “I have work to do. Is there anything else?”
“I’m having lunch with Nash and Patricia at the Fortune Hotel.” One corner of his mouth kicked up into an appealing grin. “Why don’t you join us?”
“I’d love to, but I have this work to finish. Important client. Prints promised for this afternoon. Sorry,” she finished cheerfully, enjoying the perfect excuse a little more than necessary. It helped balance out the tingle in her blood caused by that grin and the disappointment in her stomach because her suspicions about his visit had been confirmed. It was a ruse, another attempt to woo her, when she craved genuine interest in her work. “I really do need to get back to work, so I’ll leave you to your browsing.”
“Before you go, I want to make one thing clear.”
Diana had taken a dozen brisk steps but now she stopped. Eyebrows elevated in question, she turned back.
“I didn’t book you for the photography job to get you into bed.”
There was a directness in his gaze that gave her a moment’s pause—perhaps he was sincere—but only a moment’s. “I’ve done an excellent job on the photos,” she told him. “I know you and your parents will be very happy with the results. Does it matter why you chose me?”
He closed down the space between them without breaking eye contact. Diana stood her ground despite the misgivings dancing all over her nerves.
“Yes, it matters,” he said, stopping in front of her.
“Come to lunch. Let me explain why. I’m sure this important client of yours will understand if his prints are late.”
“I’m sorry, Max, but you’ll have to do better than that.”
Coolly, she turned and started to walk away. She felt his gaze tracking her every step but she maintained her composure. Even when he drawled his worrying rejoinder.
“Honey, I haven’t even started yet.”
Max strode into the foyer of the Fortune’s Seven with his plan to do better already taking shape in his mind. He didn’t have a lot of time and the days he’d wasted this week—days spent chasing the ownership of their second-choice stallion and all to no avail—added pressure to a situation that required patience and finesse. Enticing Diana to drop her guard would not be easy, but in that closing comment she’d issued a second challenge he couldn’t refuse.
He would do better.
And he would prove to her that they’d had a lot more going for their relationship—in their togetherness— than just an awful lot of sex…even if it took an awful lot of sex to prove it!
Today was supposed to be a first step along that path. He’d hoped to cajole her into lunch with Nash and Patricia to prove he enjoyed and valued her company in places other than the bedroom—or darkened stairwell, for that matter. He figured she knew the Fortunes well enough to be at ease, that they’d all enjoy a nice, easy, family kind of togetherness.
He’d only met Nash and Patricia himself a couple of months back, when they’d visited Australia to meet their long-lost Fortune relatives. They’d spent time with the whole family at Crown Peak, then they’d traveled to his station to experience the true outback and it was like welcoming old family into his home. Perhaps because they had so much in common with his parents, the same strong bond of friendship that cemented their marriage, the kind he’d set his mind on finding for himself because nothing less would cut it.
Max thought he’d found his partner in Diana…but only after she’d shaken him up by questioning their relationship and her reason for staying. Only a
fter she’d turned his world on its ear by leaving so abruptly. Only after he’d missed her so intensely that he knew he’d found his life-mate when he’d least expected it.
“Max.”
Nash’s greeting halted his stride and his deep reflection. He turned to find the man he’d come to think of as an uncle—and a favorite one, at that—had followed him into the hotel. He was alone.
“Patricia couldn’t make it,” Nash explained, reading the question in Max’s expression. His handshake was as strong as always but a frown creased his forehead and clouded his usually sharp blue eyes.
“Is everything all right?”
“I wish I could answer that.” Nash raked a hand through his thick dark hair. Although marginally into his sixties, he could pass for ten years younger…except for now when worry etched hard lines into his still-handsome face. “In all honesty, I don’t know. Lately she’s been…not herself.”
“Health issues?” Max asked.
“She says there’s nothing wrong, that I’m imagining things.” He made a rueful sound. “Maybe she’s right, but I do know she works too hard and spends all her energy looking after everyone else but herself. I can’t help but worry that the next strong wind will blow her all the way to Alaska. Hell, she needed this lunch a darn sight more than either of us!”
“She might still be recovering from your trip,” Max suggested, looking for some form of reassurance. “Those long flights to and from Australia can knock a person around, especially when she’s not used to air travel.”
“You might have a point. Whatever the reason, Patricia’s not here and—” he looked around “—I don’t see your guest, either…”
“Diana couldn’t get away from work.”
Max had mentioned bringing someone to lunch, but identifying that guest as Eliza’s friend cleared some of the distraction from Nash’s gaze. “Ah, Diana. I hadn’t realized you two were old friends.”
Friends? Max was pretty sure Diana wouldn’t approve that term, but he let it slide. “I hadn’t realized you knew about our relationship.”
“I overheard Eliza and Patricia talking at breakfast. I didn’t pay a lot of attention, but I did hear that you and Diana met in Australia.”
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