Natasha bit her lip. Still, as fantastic as Max was, she was still reasonably sure that there were two kinds of men: manageable and crazy-making. If common sense wasn’t enough to convince her to avoid the latter, she had her mother’s husbands, number two and number three, to drive home the point. Both had been Max-like—gorgeous, charming playboys. And they both took her mother straight to Crazyville. All that jealousy, staring at the tabloid photos of her husband with other women. Then late-night screaming matches when he came home. But when her mother finally broke away from husband number two, she climbed right back on that crazy bus for husband number three.
Natasha had already felt twinges of jealousy when Max had appeared in the tabloids, kissing his latest fling. Did he look at that woman with the same mix of heat and warmth? Did he make her laugh with the same sexy humor? If all these little stirrings of jealousy had prickled her before Green Island, it would be worse now, whatever their future was together.
Still, Natasha couldn’t let go of the possibility that a relationship with Max might be different. Or maybe this was just wishful thinking. At least, it had felt that way on Green Island. But that was so far away from the world Max Jensen, grandson of Deacon Jensen, Sr., moved through.
Alya’s footsteps echoed from the hall, and her sister appeared in the doorway.
“Late night?” Natasha asked.
Alya nodded, slumping into her usual chair. She took a sip of Natasha’s coffee, cringing as she swallowed.
“Sorry. Should have warned you I’ve been staring at that cup for a while,” said Natasha, taking back the mug. “What happened to you?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Stewart came by for his things after you went to bed,” she said. “I should have broken up with him a long time ago.”
Natasha shrugged. “I get it. You don’t like being on your own.”
Alya frowned. “That’s about the worst reason to stay with a guy I can think of. And I’m done with that.” Her sister took a deep breath. “For the last few years, I’ve built my whole life around a fear. That ends today.”
“Wow.” The corners of Natasha’s mouth tugged up for the first time that morning. “No wonder you couldn’t sleep.”
Alya smiled and grabbed Natasha’s coffee cup, heading for the counter. Pulling two new mugs from the shelves, she poured them each a fresh cup from the pot and returned to the table. Natasha took a sip and sighed. Yeah, coffee tasted much better hot.
She studied her sister. Beyond the puffiness resulting from her recent breakup, Alya’s eyes had a new glimmer of determination. Had she shifted from frightened to angry? Angry at Nick for what he’d put her through and angry at herself for spending three years worrying about it?
“So, what’s your plan?”
“Still deciding,” Alya said. “But for starters, no man in my life for a long time, until I’m no longer using a relationship as a defensive strategy.”
“If you want to live on your own at some point, let me know,” said Natasha.
Alya wrinkled her brow. “I love living with you, but I think I’d be okay living alone, too. I’m not going to stop using Blackmore Inc.’s services right away. I might occasionally need Max and their IT guy. Henning is very...thorough.”
Her voice faded out, and the creases between Alya’s eyes deepened. A look crossed her face that Natasha didn’t recognize. It wasn’t fear, not at all. Something else. But it disappeared almost immediately, before Natasha could make sense of it.
She raked her hands through the tangles in her hair and pushed it over her shoulder. Her sister looked over at her, as if she was going to say something, but her gaze snapped down to Natasha’s neck.
“That’s a hickey!” Alya’s eyes were wide.
“It’s, um...yeah.” Shit. She’d forgotten about that. She wasn’t going to lie to her sister, but right now, Max was the last topic she wanted to discuss.
“From who?” But Natasha could see the realization flicker in Alya’s eyes before the question had left her mouth. “You and Max? For real?”
Natasha rolled her eyes. “Is there a way for me to get a hickey that’s not ‘for real’?”
Alya’s eyes brightened as she shook her head slowly. “I could tell something was going on when you two snuck off at dinner that night on Green Island, but I can’t believe I missed that it really happened.”
“I wore halter tops to cover it, if that makes you feel better.”
Alya snorted out a laugh. “Not the hickey. I mean you and Max. You two have been hot for each other forever. I’ve been waiting for the moment of indulgence to come along.”
“Yeah, indulgence,” Natasha muttered.
“More than that. You two are great together.”
Natasha frowned. “We’re not together.”
“What? You have to be.” Alya wrinkled her forehead.
Natasha shook her head. “I’m pretty sure I’m right about this one.”
“Really? Because I was sure that once you two got it going—”
“Nope.” Natasha’s answer came quickly. She had gone over this too many times already.
Alya’s eyes widened. She paused, tilting her head, really looking. “Why not, Nat?”
Natasha bit her lip. This was her sister, after all, the only constant in her childhood whirlwind of international moves, foreign languages and her mother’s new boyfriends. It was the reason Alya had chosen modeling over college in the first place. The money meant that she and Natasha could live on their own, outside of their mother’s chaos. Alya had to understand why she couldn’t go there again.
“This is Max. He’s just so...” She waved her hand in the air, searching for the right word. “So much. So out there. It would be the ugly duckling thing all over again. It wouldn’t end well for me.”
“You are not an ugly duckling, Nat, and you never were.” The force of her sister’s voice startled her. “That photo was taken when you were coming out of the orthodontist’s office right after getting braces. Damn. You were thirteen, and those tabloids and gossip sites would say anything to get a reaction. You’re letting that stop you from even considering Max?”
“It’s not just that,” Natasha said quietly. “I’m already falling for him. After one weekend.”
Alya took her hand. “Natasha, he’s crazy about you. He has been for a lot longer than these last few days. He tries not to make it too obvious, but I see it when he’s not on the job.”
Alya was offering evidence. Reassurance. Did Natasha want to know more, to fan the fires of this attraction to Max higher? She couldn’t resist.
“All right, Alya. I’ll bite,” she said. “How do you know he’s crazy about me?”
“Just the way he pays attention to every detail about you.” Alya squeezed her hand. “Remember that last night when you were out with Wayne? When I mentioned you sounded upset on the phone, he was ready to go out and look for you.”
The tingle of hope inside was spreading too fast to squash it. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because I was worried, too,” Alya said with a snort. “The man does have a reputation.”
Natasha sighed. “Yes, he certainly does.”
“But, Nat, we were on an island with a group of women and men hired specifically for their good looks and allure, and he had no interest in anyone but you. One of the women—Maxine, with the curly blond hair—even asked me if I was with him. I said no and then watched to see how it would play out. She tried more than once to flirt with him when he walked me to the shoot site, and he gave her no encouragement. None at all.”
Natasha had no trouble remembering the looks the women had given Max.
Her sister’s eyes were serious. “He’s different with you.”
Natasha frowned. “But even if that’s true, think of what I’m putting myself out there for. Public scrutiny.”
“You’re right. And there will always be speculation about Max’s life, no matter how he lives it.”
Alya said this in such a matter-of-fact voice that Natasha blew out a hiss of frustration. How could her sister pretend that it didn’t matter when she knew how badly it could go?
“And what happens when it ends?”
“What happens if it doesn’t?”
Natasha buried her face in her hands. Why was her sister being so dense about this? “I can’t fall for Max. I don’t trust myself. You saw how women can’t stay away from him. I’m going to be just like our mother, drowning in my own jealousy and suspicions. I’ve been so careful, and...”
Alya jumped in before she could finish her sentence. “And you ended up with Wayne, who can’t put his big ego aside for one night to celebrate your grant.”
Alya was right. Was Wayne really the better option? The kitchen was silent, and Alya’s gaze was still fixed on her.
Finally, her sister sighed. “Max wants you exactly as you are. I think we both know that. What could be more important than that?”
Natasha swallowed. “In our larger-than-life family I’m just the ordinary daughter with a minor obsession with fish.”
“Nat—”
Her sister tried to interrupt, probably to refute that statement, but Natasha held up her hand.
“The novelty will wear off at some point. I don’t want to be just another woman he blows through.”
It was hard to speak those words aloud. Was this her real fear—that she’d give all of herself to him, and he’d decide that she was nothing special? That she wasn’t enough?
“You don’t know what will happen. Isn’t that the risk of every relationship?” Alya reached across the table and squeezed Natasha’s hand. “You just have to decide if Max is worth the risk.”
* * *
Max leaned back in the leather office chair and scrubbed his hands over his eyes. Goddamn, this was a mess, and in the three days since they’d returned from Green Island he still hadn’t figured out how to fix it.
Now that they were back in Sydney, the fling with Natasha was supposed to be over. Natasha was supposed to be enjoying her holiday, and Max was supposed to return to work and whatever the fuck he wanted to do.
Except what he wanted to do was to talk to Natasha, be with her, naked or clothed. Yeah, naked was preferable, and Max was almost sure that she’d be more than happy with that choice, too. That wasn’t the problem. Once they were alone, all the problems faded, and all that mattered were the good things. Very, very good things.
And, once again, he was thinking with his dick. Not in front of anyone this time, but doing it in his office when he had a shit-ton of work to do wasn’t much better.
No matter what he did or what Natasha wanted, everything had changed the moment they left Green Island. Because as they’d walked along the jetty for the last time, it was clear that Max could no longer work with Alya, and it had nothing to do with his new role as president of the Jensen Family Foundation. It had been a challenge to keep his attention off Natasha in the past, but now it was impossible. Thank fuck the risks level had been low—he’d gotten the Petrova sisters through the trip without incident.
But if he no longer worked with Alya, his path wouldn’t cross with Natasha unless she wanted them to. Now it all came down to Saturday.
Max propped his feet on his desk, on top of the reports he was supposed to finish this morning. But all he had thought about since he woke up was Natasha. He was so caught up over this woman. All his accomplishments were earned through his ability to block out every distraction and methodically go after exactly what he wanted. He had chosen each of his goals because they were objective measures, unable to be bought with the money and privilege he was born into.
Except it was becoming clear that all his experience of pursuing goals was no help when it came to figuring out what to do about Natasha. Years of going after other women for a little fun gave no insight into what to do now, either, when he truly cared about the outcome. In the past, he had given every woman an objective risk assessment and pulled out if the risk was too high. But with Natasha, the risks were exponentially higher, and he still couldn’t let her go.
At the very top of his list of risks was convincing her that a relationship with him wouldn’t hurt her. Because it was a promise he knew he couldn’t keep.
“Max?”
Derek’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. Max looked up and gave him a grunt of acknowledgment.
“You look like shit, mate,” said Derek casually, settling into one of the armchairs in front of Max’s desk.
Max shrugged. “I met with Alya, told her it was best if I handed her security needs over to someone else at Blackmore Inc. She’s determined to be less dependent on security, so the timing is good.”
“Who are you thinking of as a replacement?”
“Henning’s the obvious choice.”
Derek frowned. “Really? He knows every detail of her situation, and his undercover work with the Australian Federal Police speaks for itself. But I thought he refused to do any on-the-ground work now after what happened in that last bust. That’s why he’s in IT.”
“Yeah, that’s what he says,” said Max. “But I have a feeling he wouldn’t turn down an assignment with Alya.”
“Okay.” Derek gave a slow nod. “Did you talk to Natasha?”
Max gave a humorless snort of laughter. “She left the apartment because she found out I was coming over. I don’t know what the fuck kind of planet that’s a good sign on, but I’m certainly not living there.”
“So ask her out,” said Derek. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you, Max. If she were any other woman, you’d just come straight with her.”
Max huffed out a breath. “It’s complicated.”
Derek nodded. “That’s all the more reason to ask her out. Because you’re never complicated when it comes to women.”
“She’s my date on Saturday,” he added quietly.
“Saturday?” Derek narrowed his eyes. “You mean this Saturday, the anniversary of your mother’s death, which you’ll be spending in the same room as your father and brother?”
“Yeah, that one,” Max muttered.
“Ah, good choice. You really know how to sweep a woman off her feet.”
“Fuck you,” growled Max. “It was the best option I had. She’ll know what my life is like now. Because it’s only going to get worse.”
Derek clapped him on the back. “Okay, bro. Not sure what the hell you’re thinking here.”
“Fucked if I know.”
His friend was quiet, and his expression softened, the way it did when he talked about his wife, Laurie. “Is it time for us to have a sappy follow-your-heart talk?”
Derek was probably Max’s closest friend—one of the only people he could actually have this conversation with. When Max’s mother’s prognosis had gone from bad to worse, it had been Derek who convinced him to take a few months off and be with her. That asking for such a long stretch of leave wasn’t abusing his privilege and didn’t come from a sense of entitlement. That his love for his mother was worth the same as anyone else’s, that he was doing it for his mother as much as he was for himself.
If anyone understood why this was making him crazy, it was Derek.
“Christ, Derek,” he grumbled. “It’s not my heart that I’m thinking about. I don’t want to break her heart, and I’m not sure I can be the person she wants to fall in love with.”
“Why don’t you let her make her own decision about whether or not you’ll make her happy?”
“I think she already did,” he said flatly. “She ran in the other direction. Literally.”
“But she’s going to your mother’s event.”
“As far as I know,” Max said, frowning. “I just can’t bring
myself to tell her that the pressure is only going to get worse. The fact that I didn’t tell her shows how low I’ll stoop just to see her again.”
Derek chuckled. “Sounds like you could be falling in love, my friend. Welcome to the club.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“IT CAN’T BE TRUE,” said Alya, staring down at Friday morning’s newspaper over Natasha’s shoulder. “It’s all speculation.”
Natasha’s glasses were fogging from the steam that rose from her sister’s coffee cup, which dangled precariously over Natasha’s pajama-clad arm.
She swallowed, rereading the headline for the hundredth time that morning: Powerhouse Couple Seals the Deal. Underneath the headline, Max’s easy grin beamed at her, his arm slung over the shoulder of Francesca Martinelli. The embrace in the photo looked more like that of friends, but that hadn’t stopped the reporter from including rumors about their personal history. Because of course Max probably had an intimate history with this beautiful woman. The effect of the article hadn’t worn off. Every single time she looked at it, the nausea hit her hard. But no matter how many times the bile crept up her throat, Natasha couldn’t stop looking at it. The two of them were so perfectly beautiful together.
Alya yanked the newspaper out of her hand. “Don’t keep looking at this crap, Natasha. All we know is that the foundation she heads gave money to the breast cancer clinic that the Jensen Family Foundation is setting up.”
“We also know that they were probably a couple a few years ago,” said Natasha, her eyes still on the newspaper, crumpled in Alya’s hand. “Why is he in the photo and not his father?”
“Natasha?”
It took a moment to realize that Alya was waiting for her attention. Slowly, Natasha lifted her gaze. Her sister’s eyes were full of sympathy. Natasha sighed. “What is it?”
“You don’t really believe that Max would so carelessly brush you aside like that, do you?”
“We’ve made no commitments to each other. He’s not tied to me in any way.” She winced at her own words. Even she didn’t buy this argument.
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