by Jaci Burton
Nonplussed, Kaitlyn grinned. "Not really. Thought I'd just hang out here and see you and Max off to dinner."
Shannon rolled her eyes at her sister. They fought like this all the time. For as long as she could remember, she and Kaitlyn had tiffs. Sometimes shouting matches. Many times lots of weather was exchanged. Spring and fall storms...very volatile. Until their mother stepped in the middle and put an end to it.
But as quick as the storm rolled in, it blew itself out. She and Kaitlyn adored each other. Sparring was second nature to them. Shannon knew that Kaitlyn was just a little too in love with the idea of her brothers and sisters falling in love. She wished her sister would focus her attentions on finding a man for herself instead of playing matchmaker for everyone else.
"Oh look, here he comes," Kaitlyn announced, giggling like a schoolgirl.
Shannon rolled her eyes. As if Max were the King of England or something. He grinned as he approached. "How lucky can a guy get? Here are two of the most beautiful women in New Orleans."
Kaitlyn smiled. Shannon snorted and said, "Shall we go?"
"In a hurry?" he asked.
"Yes. My favorite television program is on tonight. Can't miss it."
"Ignore her, Max," Kaitlyn chimed in. "You two have a great time. Shannon knows all the best places to eat."
"Kaitlyn, would you like to come with us?" he asked.
Shannon glanced at her sister, sending her mental signals to say yes. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with Max tonight. She was already kicking herself for agreeing to have dinner with him without inviting one of the other family members along. Where was her brain?
"No, thank you. I already have plans. In fact, I'm late. Gotta run!" She waved and scurried to the elevators.
Traitor. Shannon knew Kaitlyn had no plans tonight. Matchmaking little sneak.
Resigned, she turned to Max. "What would you like to have tonight?"
He arched a brow and didn't say a word, but his lips curled in a smile that could only be described as sexually lethal.
"How about I just let you be in charge of...what I'm having tonight?" he suggested, the grin never leaving his face.
Ignoring the way he looked at her, she asked, "You're letting me decide? Wow, that's a first already. Sure you trust my judgment?"
"As it relates to food, yes."
"Fine. Let's go." She turned, wanting to hurry them along and hopefully keep her distance from Max, but he stayed in step beside her, resting his hand on her lower back as they moved to the doors. She nearly tripped over her shoes at the possessive feel of his hand on her, her skin on fire from his touch even though several layers of clothing separated his hand from her body.
Mentally cursing her traitorous body, she suffered him touching her as they headed outside and down the street. Solicitous to the point of great annoyance, he continued to touch her, directing her one way or the other with the slightest pressure of his hand against her back.
Really, it wasn't as if he knew where he was going. And she couldn't even move ahead of him because he kept pace with her no matter if she walked quickly or slowly. Damn, was this guy possessive or what?
Fortunately, the restaurant was only a couple blocks from the hotel. The day's heat still lingered and perspiration settled between her breasts, making her wish she'd changed into something cooler than her suit and blouse. As it was, the silk clung to her and she prayed desperately for the cool air conditioning of the restaurant. Otherwise, she might just have to strip.
And she'd just bet that Max would like that, too. Well, not a chance. She'd just perspire to death instead.
They walked inside the dimly lit restaurant. Why she chose Arnaud's was unfathomable. Most likely because it was close and she was hot. It had nothing to do with the ambience of romance that permeated every corner of the room. No, she sure as hell wouldn't have brought Max in here if she'd thought about it twice. The last thing she wanted to do was give him the wrong impression. Bad enough he had latched onto her hand earlier today and forced her rather windy reaction.
"Nice place," he said. And there went that hand again, gravitating to the small of her back as the maitre d' approached.
"Bon soir, Francois," she said as the gray-mustached waiter hurried over.
"Mademoiselle Storm!" She'd known Francois her entire life. He had to be in his late sixties by now, and yet still filled with as much abundant energy as he'd been when she was a child. He was merely a little rounder and a lot grayer now than he was back then.
"We are so happy to see you here tonight!" He nodded and smiled at Max. "Bon soir, Monsieur. Would you care to be seated in the main restaurant, or a more private dining area?"
"Out here is fine, Francois." The last thing she wanted was to eat in a private dining room with Max. Definitely keep things public with him. Public, business-like and totally hands off.
They were seated at a corner table overlooking the street. She'd always loved sitting by the windows. The leaded glass caught and held the sun during the daylight hours, filtering the rays until a kaleidoscope of color cascaded through the windows and onto the floors. The atmosphere made her feel transported backward in time, when opulence and beauty was the norm of the day. She studied the mosaic floors, remembering coming here with her parents, counting each colorful tile while her parents had their own conversations.
When she looked up, Max was watching her. Neither smiling nor frowning, he looked as if he were studying her, measuring her, making some kind of decision about her.
Suddenly uncomfortable, she cleared her throat and signaled for their waiter. "Would you like a glass of wine?" she asked.
"How about a bottle?"
Shannon had been drinking wine since she was old enough to hold a glass. It was a matter of culture here. And she was damn near expert in the different types of wine, including what had a fancy label and expensive price tag, but no flavor, and how to spot a wine amateur in a matter of seconds. She sat back and offered a smug smile. "Sure. You go ahead and order."
He arched a brow and took the wine list from the waiter, scanned it quickly, and ordered a bottle of her favorite Chardonnay.
Well, hell. No amateur there. Or maybe it was just a lucky guess.
"I take it you don't object to my choice?" he asked, smirking.
Why did she have this sudden urge to slap that smile off his face? "No. It's fine."
They sipped their drinks and ordered dinner. Shannon stared out the window, but Max looked only at her. Damned disconcerting, too. Did she have a zit on her nose or something? She'd never met someone so incredibly intense, or so blatantly interested in just looking at her.
Despite the air conditioning in the restaurant, her body heated, all too aware of his wandering looks
"So, what kind of PR campaign ideas do you have?" she asked, hoping if she could get him talking about business, he'd quit looking at her as if she was his intended meal.
"I don't want to talk business tonight. We can do that tomorrow."
"What do you want to talk about, then?" And if he hadn't wanted to discuss public relations for the hotel, why the hell had he invited her to dinner? Maybe she didn't really want to know the answer to that question, after all.
"I want to talk about you."
"I don't."
His green eyes turned more golden. "You don't strike me as the shy type."
"I'm not. But my personal life isn't any of your business."
"Oh, but you're wrong. It's every bit my business," he answered, then took a long swallow of the wine. She watched, his Adam's apple undulating with the movement of his throat. When he finished, he licked his lips. She tried not to be enticed by the flicking tip of his tongue around that sensual mouth of his. "I have to know about you, about your family, their history and how it all relates to The Rising Storm."
"My family's personal life has nothing to do with The Rising Storm."
"A good public relations campaign," he started, accentuating the good part as if what
she'd done so far had been crap, "starts from the ground and moves up. That means your family's background and how they became hoteliers is the basis with which we start our plan."
Did she look like an idiot? "No, the PR is strictly for the hotel/casino venture. The people of Louisiana have heard about the Storm family before. We've run that public relations gamut many times."
He poured more wine for them. "That's fine for Louisiana. Do you only want the people of Louisiana visiting your hotel, or do you want this campaign to reach out nationally, even internationally?"
She gripped the stem of her glass and tried not to grit her teeth. "We're way too small an organization to branch out internationally."
His grin made her heart race. What would that smile look like if it had been turned on her in wicked passion? An involuntary shudder passed through her. Why the hell was she thinking these kind of thoughts about him? Really, this was all too much. She mentally summoned a cooling breeze, hopefully subtle enough that Max would assume it was simply the restaurant's air conditioning.
"You'll never be successful if you don't think big, Shannon. International travelers are always looking for unique vacation spots. New Orleans has a charm and old-world ambience that is unique to Louisiana. Coupled with the magic present here, you've got a huge potential market you haven't begun to tap into yet."
Magic? She almost laughed. He really had no idea what kind of magic whirled around him. It irked her that she had never thought beyond a statewide campaign. Max was a big dreamer, obviously. Head in the clouds. She was more grounded in reality.
"Yes, of course I've thought of taking public relations through a national sweep. But if you'd bother to read my outline--"
"I've read it. Your plan is only to launch statewide at first."
"Yes, I know what it says. I wrote it, remember?" She knew she sounded like a shrew, but frankly didn't care. She'd warned Logan that bringing an outsider in would only screw things up. "The long-range planning includes a nationwide program, but not until we gauge the success of the statewide campaign."
"Too slow. Need to step it up and launch nationwide immediately."
"I don't agree. It's best to begin conservatively, then see how the numbers pan out after the first six months."
He picked up a breadstick and took a bite, then pointed it at her. "Bullshit. If you wait, you waste momentum. You'll get the biggest hits in a grand opening launch. Take your pre-opening and grand opening and do it nationwide. Do some charity events, get the Storm name out there as philanthropists. Get your parents or Logan to sit on a board of some national and international corporations. Then set a quick timeline and take it worldwide. We could even do an international launch that coincides with the nationwide. In fact, because of the time involved in all the language translations, we should start on that right away."
She tapped her foot on the tile floor, grateful for the wine to calm her down. As it was, her blood was boiling, frustration giving her an overwhelming desire to whack Max upside the head with the empty wine bottle. He clearly wasn't listening. She was in charge here!
Their dinner arrived, but Shannon could only pick at the delectable trout meuniere, her appetite shattered with questions, insecurities and general irritation at having to deal with Max Devlin. He, however, had no such issues, and wolfed down his bloody rare filet mignon like a man starving. He didn't even seem uncomfortable with her cold silence.
Were all men so completely clueless as to a woman's emotional state, or was it just Max's head that was so thick?
"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, apparently noticing for the first time that she hadn't eaten.
"Not really."
He waved his fork toward her. "You're too skinny. You need some meat to fatten you up a bit."
She snorted. That was the first time she'd heard any man complain. And what was wrong with her body, anyway? She wasn't the least bit thin, in fact thought herself average in build. Not heavy, not thin, just average for her height. She played tennis, she ran, and stayed in shape. Mainly to keep her energy level high, but she admittedly loved to run. Fast, hard and at great distances. Running gave her time to unwind, to think, to release the stress she always carried inside her.
"My body is fine."
He leaned back in the chair and slung one arm casually over the arm. "Yes, it's more than fine. At least what I can see of it."
"Your comments are inappropriate."
"You liked it, though, didn't you?"
What an egotistical asshole! How dare he assume that because he complimented her body that she'd find him the least bit appealing! "I think this conversation is over, Mr. Devlin." Enough was enough and she had her limits.. Maybe her body liked what he said, but the professional inside her didn't. She waved the waiter over and asked for the check.
"I'll take care of that," he said, opening his wallet and pulling out his credit card.
"No, it'll go on The Rising Storm's expense account. This was a business dinner, where we had a business discussion." And that's all she'd remember about tonight.
He shrugged and put his card away. "Suit yourself, but I'd like to take you out on my own dime sometime."
Not if he were the last man on earth and she was desperate to the point of begging. "I don't think that's a good idea. Let's just keep things between us strictly business." Which meant quit looking at her like he was still hungry.
"Oh, I think we've already progressed way beyond strictly business."
Who the hell had he had dinner with tonight? They hadn't touched on personal issues at all, other than the fact he'd personally insulted her business acumen.
She signed the check and stood, waving to Francois and heading out the door. Max, of course, was right behind her. As soon as the front door shut she turned to him, whispering so the few people walking around couldn't hear. "Look, Max. I don't know what you think is going on between us, but let's get it straight right now. We have a business relationship, and that's all we'll ever have. I don't mix business with pleasure. Ever."
His gaze lingered on her mouth when she spoke. Dammit, why did her nipples have to harden? She really needed to get laid soon, because for some reason her idiotic hormones had suddenly decided to target Max Devlin as if he really was the last man on earth.
"Don't you feel what's between us, Shannon?" he said, reaching for her arm and trailing his hand up and down her wrist. When he slipped his fingers inside the cuff of her jacket and rested them on her racing pulse, she wished she had argued harder with Logan about inviting Max here.
She shook off the feelings of confusion. "I don't feel a damn thing for you but irritation, Max. Let go of me."
"I don't think you really want me to let go of you."
"I don't think you really know what can happen to you if you mess with me."
He arched a brow but held on to her wrist, rubbing the skin back and forth until she broke out in a sweat.
"You want me to mess with you. In every way imaginable."
Really, the man was insufferable. What an incredible ego to think that all he had to do was flash his sexy grin at her and she'd spread her legs. Her body might respond to him, but her mind fought him every step of the way. "I don't want a damn thing from you, Max. In fact, I can end your contract with The Rising Storm in a heartbeat. One conversation with Logan and Aidan and not only will you be out of a job, you're very likely to get your ass kicked."
His lips wavered as if he were fighting a smile. "I don't think you'll do that."
She wanted to scream. Instead, she lowered her voice and spoke slowly, hoping it would penetrate his thick, Neanderthal skull. "Try me. Now, let go."
He continued to hold her arm. The strangest thing was, he wasn't holding onto her tight enough that she couldn't break free. He wanted her to pull away. But damned if she'd do what he expected. He'd thrown down the gauntlet, dammit, and she was going to stand firm until he backed off.
He inhaled deeply, then met her gaze. She rocked back on her heels at the
intensity of his eyes. More golden than green now, narrowed slits that were filled with a palpable passion that shot between her legs. She moistened, desire seeping from her slit and wetting her panties. Her pussy throbbed deep inside, her breasts swelled, and her lips parted as she struggled to find her next breath.
"You don't wear perfume," he whispered, lazily running his thumb over her palm, then entwining his fingers with hers. "I can smell your sweet scent. You're aroused."
He could do no such thing! It wasn't possible. She didn't want these thoughts in her head, didn't want her body to react the way it was. "No!" she cried. Giving up on her earlier mental challenge, she pulled her arm away and turned from him, desperate to return to the hotel so she could slide into the safety of her car and go home.
Home, where he wouldn't follow, where she could get her head on straight, and get her body in line with the here and now. What the hell was happening to her?
Not bothering to turn to see if he was following, she hurried toward the hotel. As soon as she crossed the main entrance, she signaled for the valet to bring her car. She released the breath that she'd been holding, then finally turned around.
Max was nowhere to be found. He hadn't followed her, nor was he still standing on the corner where they'd spoken.
Where was he? She looked around, but couldn't see him. It was late, and the French Quarter was never empty. Still, he stood out enough that she should be able to easily spot him among the tourists.
She had no idea where he'd gone. Frankly, she didn't care. The only thing she felt was relief that she'd managed to extricate herself from whatever weird spell he'd cast on her.
The valet brought her car and she slipped inside, locked the doors, and sped away, opening the sunroof for some air. She hoped the drive to the condo she shared with Kaitlyn would help clear her head. Her sister would know immediately that something had happened, unless she emptied her mind and her emotions of everything having to do with Max Devlin.
She drove out of the city and into the secluded part of town where she and Kaitlyn lived. She loved the cooler feel to the heavily wooded area, and even though she lived in a complex with hundreds of other people, she still enjoyed the dense trees and secluded forest.
Pulling quickly into her parking spot, she stepped out, then froze as she heard a rustling in the trees behind her. With a quick turn, she scanned the area. The parking lot was well lit, but the forested area beyond was pitch black.