Max accepted the call. “Hi, Nalini. What can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Jensen,” she said. “I understand you’re working this weekend, and I’ll make this quick. Your father felt this was urgent, and I wanted to give you enough time to make your decision about it.”
Okay, this woman was good. She had gotten his attention.
“Thanks. Go ahead.”
“You’re only down for one person at next Saturday’s fundraiser. No date.”
Max scowled. There was a period back in his teens when his father had kept him away from women—all of them. And now Deacon Jensen was complaining that he didn’t have a date? If his father thought Max’s involvement with the foundation meant he could steer Max’s life again...hell no.
“I’m not planning to take a date.”
“I understand, Mr. Jensen,” she said, and she sounded like she truly did. “I just want you to be aware that the partnership with the Martinelli Foundation has stirred up some talk about the connection between you and Francesca Martinelli. If you decide to go alone, the speculations will likely continue.”
Damn. Max ran a hand through his hair. The Australian media already kept tabs on him, but it’d be worse when he stepped back into the Jensen family fold, where attending high-profile events and being in the public eye would be much more frequent. More critical, too, if the focus was no longer the lifestyles-of-the-rich-and-famous slant but, instead, something as serious as the cancer center. Max had thought he had another week before this circus started. Apparently not.
“You can get back to me on this,” said Nalini. “Let me know how you want to handle it.”
“Thanks,” he said, and he meant it.
Max ran his hand through his hair once more, shaking his head. He hadn’t even considered taking a date from the start. The casual nature of his usual list of possibilities made them out of the question for an event honoring his mother.
The only woman he would want there with him was Natasha. He hadn’t considered asking her because of the public scrutiny that came with this kind of event. And he knew how much she hated it. Several months ago, when a photo of Cameron Blackmore coming out of a bar with Alya and Natasha on each arm had appeared on a gossip site, social media made it into something it wasn’t. It was a long time before Natasha attended anything with Alya after that, and Max respected her choice.
However, the alternative Nalini had just presented, Max being publicly paired with Francesca, might hurt Natasha even more than keeping her away.
Could he ask Natasha to go? That would certainly make his night a hell of a lot better. It wasn’t like she’d never attended a high-profile event, so she might consider it...if he could figure out how to keep the press away from her.
The irony of inviting Natasha didn’t escape him. Max had spent a good portion of his adult life avoiding his father’s path, determined not to make the same mistakes. But here he was, facing the similar crossroads: let go of the woman he wanted, risking the hurt she’d face alone, or pursue her, knowing that being with him came at a cost, too.
In his mother’s case, the sacrifice had been her career as a jazz singer. His mother’s refusals of his father’s first two proposals were well-known, since they, like everything else the Jensens did, played out in the public eye. Max had dismissed his father’s relentless pursuit of his mother as selfish, a motivation the opposite of love. But faced with a comparable situation, Max was beginning to understand that his father could have been driven by more than one emotion at the same time.
He looked up at the evening sky, streaked with wispy clouds. He could put this decision off for a little longer.
The door to the cabin opened, and Natasha walked out. Strings of little lights along the canopy of trees glimmered, giving her a hazy glow that stopped his breath. She wore sandals and a green dress that tied behind her neck, and her long, blond hair spilled over her bare shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips, red...which, of course, reminded him of where those lips had been just a few hours ago. Her black-rimmed glasses were the final touch. She had been wearing contact lenses for most of the day, but it was nice to see that part of her back in place.
“Alya will be right out,” she said. “Her boyfriend called.”
Max stood up, drinking her in as he walked over. The soft slope of her hips, the low cut of her dress, her full breasts. “You look lovely, Natasha.”
She gave him a wry smile. “This dress covers the hickey on my neck.”
She moved the strap of her dress down, exposing a red patch. The place where he’d bitten and sucked on her earlier. Damn.
Max rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about that.”
“You sure you’re sorry?” Her smile was warm, and she didn’t look upset at all.
Max relaxed a little. “Only if it hurt. But it’s a good look for you.”
She looked so different right now in the fading sun. There was something new in her gaze as they stood, facing each other, something softer. The island was working its magic—or maybe it was the orgasms he gave her earlier. Goddamn, he could stand here for hours, just looking at her.
His Blackmore Inc. brothers would love this. Derek would have some bullshit psychology explanation about his mother’s depression and his need to keep women happy. Cameron would call it payback for mocking both him and Simon as they fell hard for the women they couldn’t stay away from.
He shook himself out of that thought. This wasn’t at all like what Cameron and Simon had gone through. He wasn’t falling in love with Natasha after a day of sex. They were just having a hell of a lot of fun together.
“Are you on the clock tonight?” Natasha asked.
He shook his head. “Barring any unexpected action, like incoming boats or planes, I’m officially off duty.”
She smiled. It was a sexy little smile, and he was almost sure dirty thoughts were forming. He hoped like hell they were for him.
“You lookin’ for a good time tonight, ma’am?” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “We can sneak off into the bushes.”
Before she could answer, Alya walked out of their suite. Natasha took a step back and straightened up. Interesting. She definitely hadn’t told Alya about their little arrangement.
Max slipped his hands into his pockets. “You ladies ready for some dinner?”
Alya nodded, but she looked distracted. Max frowned. Was he missing something here? Was it about her ex?
“Anything wrong?” he asked gently.
She shook her head. “It’s my current boyfriend, not Nick. Though I might be turning Stewart into a crazy ex, too.”
Alya’s tone was wry, but Natasha’s attention snapped to her sister, as if she had heard the same warning bells in that statement as Max had.
Natasha took a couple of quick steps to her sister’s side. “You didn’t turn anyone crazy. Nick did that all on his own, sweetheart.”
Max nodded. “What happened?”
Alya sighed and leaned her head on Natasha’s shoulder. “Nothing scary. Stewart’s not the kidnapping type.”
Natasha snorted. “Is there a kidnapping type?”
“I hope not. Because I’m starting to question my taste in men.” Alya met Max’s gaze, and her eyes widened. “Sorry, Max. I won’t make kidnapping jokes. I’m not in any danger. Just the regular kind of relationship drama.”
Max nodded, softening his stance.
Natasha gave her sister one last squeeze and tugged her toward the boardwalk. “What happened?”
Max let out a long breath and locked the cabin door. The danger level on this job was very low, but he was still ready for anything. Max walked far enough behind the two sisters to give them a little privacy.
They walked along the boardwalk that wound through the lush forest and turned off toward the island’s only real restaurant. The eveni
ng sky glowed through the leaves of the tall palm trees, and birds called from deeper in the forest. They rounded a bend and the restaurant came into sight, lit with candles and little strings of lights.
The place was open, with just a roof over a patio, filled with square tables neatly set with glasses, linen napkins and white tablecloths. A swimming pool lay on one side of the patio, now glassy smooth, the deep blue water sparkling in the moonlight. On the far side, a generous buffet was set up along the wall of the building.
A good portion of the magazine staff was already at the restaurant, some perusing the buffet, others talking in small groups. As they entered into the glow of tiny lights, a man—definitely not a model—called Alya over to join his conversation.
Alya glanced at Natasha, then Max. “Will you two be fine on your own this evening? My agent told me I’m supposed to be networking.”
“Go mingle,” said Natasha, waving her sister off. “We’ll be fine.”
She squeezed her sister’s hand and Alya walked away.
A smile tugged at the corners of Max’s mouth. Oh, yeah, he was more than fine with alone time with Natasha. “So, about those bushes...”
“I’m hungry,” Natasha interrupted, giving him side-eyes. “And not that kind of hungry.”
But there was a flash of heat in her gaze, too. She definitely wasn’t against the idea of slipping away.
The warm breeze rustled the trees overhead, and Max rested his hand on the curve of Natasha’s back as they wove through the web of tables, over toward the buffet. The soft glow of the candles around them glittered in her hair and washed over her bare skin.
The closer they got to the buffet, the more crowded the place was. A little huddle of women fanned out as he passed, openly sizing him up appreciatively. He looked over at Natasha. Damn, she’d seen their looks. He got them pretty regularly from women, whether he encouraged them or not, but for the first time, it pissed him off. He was clearly walking with another woman.
Were they intentionally ignoring this detail, or had they assumed he wasn’t with her? He didn’t like either of those possibilities. Natasha’s step faltered for a beat, but she straightened up and turned for the buffet. Good for her. Max scanned the restaurant, looking for a secluded place to sit, away from stares like this, but there was nothing.
By the time they reached the banquet table, her smile had returned. The spread was beautiful, full of fruits, cheeses, salads, maki rolls, some fish...things and other foods he didn’t recognize. Max leaned over Natasha’s shoulder to grab a plate, closer than he needed to.
“You think we were swimming around with any of these entrees earlier?” he asked.
She wrinkled her nose. “I doubt it.”
“Let’s get some food and find a spot of our own, away from here,” he said gesturing out into the dark green tangle of trees.
“No bushes, Max,” she said dryly. “Let’s go to the beach.”
“That definitely sounds sexier than the bushes,” he whispered in her ear as she picked up a bunch of grapes. That earned him a chuckle.
They loaded up their plates. Max nicked some silverware and napkins from a nearby table, shoving them in his pocket, and stopped at the dessert display for a few of the little chocolate squares, all arranged in the form of a manta ray. Waiters wandered through the groups of guests, carrying trays of champagne, and he grabbed two glasses for them before heading for Natasha, who had already started for the boardwalk.
The murmur of voices faded as Max followed Natasha off the patio, back into the trees. They walked along the path, turning away from their cabin, heading for the far side of the island.
“You’d think I’d be fine in that world after all the events with my mother and sister, but it still has a way of making me feel second-rate,” she said quietly, not turning to face him. “Stupid, I know.”
“Sweetheart, you are first-rate in every way.” Max’s urge to reach for her was thwarted by the plate and glasses he was currently juggling.
Natasha looked over at him with a small smile. “Thanks. I know I should have gotten over this kind of thing long ago. Everyone is beautiful in their own way, blah, blah, blah. But there really are people who are just strikingly beautiful, more than others. And those people happen to include my mother and my sister. And not me. Most of the time, I don’t care.”
For once, Max had no idea what to say. Where did he start? With the fact that he found her far more attractive than anyone else on that patio they had abandoned? The reasons were a mystery to him, and telling her this would sound insincere, like a consolation. His worry must have showed because she waved him off with her free hand.
“I’m fine, Max. Really. It doesn’t bother me as much as it did growing up.” She brushed his cheek, as if she was the one consoling him. “And there are definitely disadvantages to startling beauty. It’s very hard for my sister to be taken seriously since everything is seen through the lens of her looks. You should hear her stories from her stint in nursing school. But sometimes it can be hard to walk in her world. Like tonight.”
He nodded. “I don’t think the high-profile life is easy for anyone. Each person’s reasons might be a little different, but being in this world has a tendency to rub us all raw.”
Natasha tilted her head to the side, as if she were thinking through that idea, figuring out what exactly it meant for him. She was quiet for a while.
“How did you get involved with Blackmore Inc.?”
“Cameron and I were roommates at Princeton,” he said. “He needed help when he took over as CEO of the Australian division. His father hadn’t left it in good shape. He brought me on for business strategy, but I wanted a piece of the on-the-ground action, too.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And, of course, Max Jensen gets what he wants.”
“Hell, no,” he snorted. “I had to work my ass off to train for it. I was in pretty good shape from rugby, but there was a lot I needed to learn.”
“You like working hard, don’t you?” she said. “Especially if it’s something money can’t buy.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I do.”
The boardwalk came to an end at the beach. It was low tide, and a long stretch of flat, hard sand spread out for them to walk on. The ocean was quiet, and parts of the reef peeked out from the glassy water. The sun had sunk behind mainland mountains in the distance, and tiny dots of light glowed along the shoreline.
Natasha slowed at the edge of the water and kicked off her sandals. She sat next to them in the wet sand, her legs stretched out in front of her and her plate balanced on her lap. Max moved in behind her. He settled his thigh beside hers, just touching, and she was close enough that she could lean back against him if she wanted. He handed her one of the champagne glasses.
“To paradise,” he said, and she tapped her glass against his and took a drink.
“This is what I love about the ocean,” she said, gesturing to the view. “Nothing back there in the restaurant matters out here. No matter how beautiful or wealthy we are, no matter how much influence we have on land, in the water we’re just mammals trying to swim and breathe, nothing more.”
Max nodded slowly. The sentence was a little window into her, a gift, one he sensed she didn’t give often. For all their differences, they weren’t so unalike. As strange as it sounded, this was the same reason he loved playing rugby, because he knew that no matter how much influence his family name had, the rugby teams wouldn’t have put him in the starting lineup unless he could play the game.
Natasha picked up a piece of a maki roll and popped it into her mouth. She was such a pleasure to watch, sandy feet, loose hair and red lips. That line of thought was going to give him a hard-on. Max scanned the empty beach. Could they get away with sex out here? He had slipped a condom in his pocket, just in case. Shit, he had a whole box of condoms back in his room and they hadn’t even used one yet
. And the trip would be over soon.
He frowned. They were just getting started, and this fling sure as hell didn’t feel like it’d be done anytime soon. But his life was changing, and any woman he was with would not only be plagued by the media but would inevitably become frustrated by the restraints on his time. If rumors of infidelity didn’t chip away at their relationship, unmet expectations and feeling second-best would. Wasn’t that the case with his parents, until they’d retreated to Western Australia in search of privacy? His mother had been so gun-shy of the tabloids by that point that she didn’t even return to Sydney for last-ditch cancer treatments. After watching his mother crumble under the weight of media pressure, he’d never put Natasha in that position. But that wouldn’t start until after next Saturday’s announcement. He just needed to broach the topic of the fundraiser with her.
“What comes next when we return to Sydney?” he asked.
Natasha shrugged. “I’m on holiday, but I’ll probably start setting out my research plans for my new grant.”
“And back to the dating scene?”
She sighed and took another sip of champagne. “I suppose. But I’m not really the casual sex type, and I don’t make a very good girlfriend in most men’s eyes.”
“I’m not sure about that,” said Max. He leaned forward and playfully nipped her shoulder. “I think a whole lot of men would disagree.”
She laughed. “You’re just thinking about sex.”
“Of course I am.” Yes, he was, but he was thinking about more, too. About the way she made him laugh. And about how magical it was to just sit here by the ocean with her, the moon reflecting off the water.
“But most of the day isn’t spent in bed. And at some point, I find that men want extra services.” She glanced over at him. “Not just the sexy kind. I mean the I’m-so-busy-can-you-just-help-run-my-life kind. And if that comes up, I can’t even think about the M word.”
“What M word?”
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