Baring It All
Rebecca Hunter
“Let me see you strip…” First their clothes—then their inhibitions.. Scientist Natasha Petrova knows there's nothing logical about the raw lust she feels for bodyguard Max Jensen. A sexperiment on a secluded, tropical island in the Great Barrier Reef might be the perfect place to explore the attraction crackling between them. It was supposed to be about indulging their desires. But for Natasha, exposing her heart just might be the most dangerous conclusion of all…
She’s single. On holiday. And about to embark on a wicked sexperiment!
Normally, scientist Natasha Petrova follows the rules of logic. But there’s nothing remotely logical about her sister’s gorgeous bodyguard, Max Jensen—or the zing of raw lust that hits whenever he’s near. So sexy. So tempting. Soooo not a good idea. Only, now Natasha is single again...and Max has made it clear that for their trip to the secluded, tropical beauty of Green Island, he’s all hers for the taking.
A sexperiment with the hottest man ever. No strings. It sounds so...simple.
But Max and Natasha’s plan isn’t without risks. Natasha has a history of falling for the wrong men. And Max’s family is practically Aussie royalty, which means that Max’s playboy naughtiness always ends up in the tabloids—the last place Natasha wants to be.
This tiny island in the Great Barrier Reef might be the safest place to indulge in the attraction crackling between them. Exposing their bodies to pleasure is one thing. But for Natasha, exposing her heart just might be the most dangerous conclusion of all...
Sexy. Passionate. Bold. Discover Harlequin DARE, a new line of fun, edgy and sexually explicit romances for the fearless female.
Award-winning author of sensual, emotional adventures of the heart, REBECCA HUNTER writes sexy stories about alpha men and spirited women set in Australia for Dare. She lives with her family in the San Francisco Bay Area.
Baring It All
Rebecca Hunter
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08700-1
BARING IT ALL
© 2019 Rebecca Hunter
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my parents, who took our family on a trip to
Green Island long ago.
And to Adam Summers (the Fish Guy) and
Mike O’Donnell, who both generously offered marine
biology insight. Among other helpful pointers, Adam
made sure Natasha wore a dive suit over her bikini,
saving her from harm by painful stingers, which I
might have otherwise subjected her to.
Of course, all mistakes are my own.
Contents
Cover (#udfea00df-90f8-5a78-b9f0-45672f6d0b98)
Back Cover Text (#uc4a4643b-475d-5082-8a63-e6d3fdff3db0)
About the Author (#ue3ced018-2301-5d32-b037-963fd074a747)
Title Page (#u8a4ad7a0-e886-5180-a02b-68ce87f16793)
Copyright (#uf5180673-757d-5c92-9f0a-fe32b8e38845)
Dedication (#u0f48f020-7e32-529b-895b-0960928ca53c)
CHAPTER ONE (#u2df12484-246b-5282-974a-80140572f22e)
CHAPTER TWO (#uf998ad2a-f59a-5a27-948f-853175f3fbaf)
CHAPTER THREE (#u791c64d7-47a2-5420-a215-851cc0bc6706)
CHAPTER FOUR (#uc2ce068f-04cc-55e1-a1c4-5f74669298e2)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ubfd3fd9d-c5fe-52e8-96d4-d33ba8d7747e)
CHAPTER SIX (#u7723f407-d1c1-5fd6-a410-3495e8c3bc2d)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u1f0a3608-3d97-5c6c-9631-9559c5e569e4)
IF THERE WAS anything Max Jensen hated more than thinking with his schlong, it was doing it in front of an audience. Natasha was late coming home, and instead of focusing on her sister, Alya, who happened to be Max’s assignment, all he could think about was Natasha and what kind of trouble she was getting herself into. Alya’s curvy younger sibling was a powerful distraction...but that wasn’t the only reason his mind kept wandering back to her. Max was in security, for fuck’s sake. Of course he was worried when she didn’t show up on time. He just also happened to want to get in her pants.
Max glanced at his watch, then back at his client. “Shouldn’t Natasha be home by now?”
Alya looked up from the papers she was reading and shrugged. “She probably walked.”
Alone? It was none of his business. His business was laid out on the table in front of him—going over the schedule for Alya’s weekend photoshoot on the Great Barrier Reef. He’d been the fashion model’s bodyguard for years now and had gotten to know both sisters in the process.
“It’s getting dark,” he said, keeping his voice businesslike, as if he was talking about any other client. “And you said she sounded upset.”
Alya leaned back in her chair and met his gaze. “If she doesn’t come home soon, I’ll call.”
She set down her pen, and it rolled across the sleek table, echoing in the silence of the enormous kitchen of her downtown Sydney apartment. She was eyeing Max carefully, like she had read into his question and was coming to her own conclusions, so he looked right back. He had mastered this easygoing I-have-nothing-to-hide expression back in high school after a few years of practice on his hard-edged father.
Preparing me for life, my ass. Sure, Max had learned to dodge trouble—he even got paid to use those skills with the elite private security firm Blackmore Inc. But nothing about Max’s life was what his father had intended.
He and Alya exchanged another silent moment, and then she gave a little nod.
“Natasha and Wayne were supposed to be celebrating her new research grant. All she said was that he wasn’t quite as positive about it as she had hoped.” Alya rolled her eyes and added, “Probably because she’ll have less time for helping with his articles.”
Natasha’s boyfriend was a real wanker. He was much older than she was and self-important as hell. Max had crossed paths with him once in this very kitchen, and the asshole had droned on like the future of the world depended on his research. Natasha couldn’t be serious about this guy, could she?
“She didn’t sound happy on the phone?” he asked.
Alya shook her head and returned to the documents, and Max’s shoulders came down a bit. Maybe they broke up. Goddamn, he hoped so. It was selfish, and under any other circumstances, hearing that Natasha was upset would be a punch in the gut. But his mind was moving in a totally different direction. Yeah, thinking with your schlong. He went right back to that night a few months ago when they had come so, so close to stepping over the line.
Since then Max had been looking for a chance to test the sexual buzz between them. Before it was too late. Because too late would be coming soon—specifically, at the end of next week, when his father would announce that he was stepping down as head of the Jensen Family Foundation and Max would become president. So, in addition to the photographers who followed him onto the beaches when he surfed or when he took a woman to dinner, Max’s life would also include planned public appearances and board meetings. It was a path he had worked to avoid. And the last thing he wanted to think about tonight.
Thinking about quirky, witty, oh-so-hot Natasha Petrova was a hell of a lot more fun. She was the only woman he knew who could use convoluted biology theories about the rules of attraction to shut him down. Of course, it only made him want her more, though he didn’t understand a damn word half the time. Maybe it was because he had just scraped by in biology class. More likely it was because he was concentrating on her lips. Luscious red lips. Which, all things considered, was better than staring at her breasts.
Over the years, he’d thrown dozens of propositions her way, each one wilder than the last, just to hear her response. Just to see her eyes light up as she laughed. Okay, also on the off chance that she’d forget about Max’s family’s name and his...reputation...and say yes to a little fun.
Max met Alya’s gaze again and raised his eyebrows, daring her to speak her suspicions aloud. He wouldn’t be surprised if Alya had caught on to his semi-obsession with her sister, but he still couldn’t get a read on what Alya thought about it.
His client gave nothing away. Instead, she gathered the papers on the table in front of her and took one more glance at their schedule. “With all these precautions, you’d think I was royalty. But it’s a relief.” She gave him a quick smile. “Stewart should be here soon.” Alya’s boyfriend was picking her up to go back to his place for the night, which meant Max should probably head out...
Keys rattled in the front hall of the apartment as the door creaked open and slammed shut.
“Natasha?” Alya called.
“Yep, it’s me.” Natasha’s voice echoed down the hall.
“Did Wayne properly celebrate your fabulousness at dinner?”
Max froze. He was a selfish enough bastard to hope the answer was no.
“Not even close,” she called.
Max blew out a breath. She didn’t sound upset. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on his part.
Natasha’s keys clanged on the front hall table, and her shoes thumped to the floor, one by one. “Instead, he suggested we see other people. I’m officially free to have a little fun. His words.”
Alya choked on her water, midsip. “What?”
Holy shit.
A better man would make himself known before Natasha spilled any more of the intimate details about her evening. But there was no way in hell Max was taking the high road here.
Natasha’s footsteps clunked down the hall.
“We’re taking a break. So I can have all the time I need for my career.” The last sentence was filled with sarcasm.
The bathroom door closed. Alya stared at the empty doorway to the hall, her attention completely focused on her sister. All the better if she forgot about Max. The toilet flushed, and Natasha’s footsteps came closer.
“This all started when I tried to wake him up with a blow—”
Natasha rounded the corner and froze, her eyes fixed on Max. Oh, fuck, she looked hot. But then again, she always did. The dress was white, classy, and it didn’t show cleavage, but there was no hiding those natural wonders. Her black-rimmed glasses gave her a sexy librarian vibe, a visual he’d come back to later that night.
Natasha watched him from the doorway. Max kept his expression neutral while searching her face for lingering hurt or sadness. He couldn’t find any traces. Just a hint of challenge. Good. If she’d come home in tears, Wayne might have needed a late-night talking-to. The thought was a mild surprise. As it turned out, even in this situation Max couldn’t stand the idea of her getting hurt.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me Max was here?” Natasha muttered to her sister, her eyes still fixed on him.
Alya wrinkled her brow. “Sorry. I was stuck on what you were saying.”
Natasha stared at Max for another beat. Then she let out a sigh. “I suppose I’ll care more about this tomorrow, but right now, I don’t give a shit. Everyone is welcome to hear about my fabulous evening.”
Natasha brushed long, blond wisps of hair off her face and plopped down into the chair next to Max. She gave him another quick glance, as if she was still registering his presence. Her eyes lingered on his biceps for an extra beat before she turned to her sister. He hid a smile behind his hand. A nice guy would stand up and excuse himself, leaving the two sisters alone for a private conversation. Too bad he wasn’t that guy. If Natasha wasn’t kicking him out, he was staying for the rest of the show.
Alya was still shaking her head. “You okay?”
“I can’t believe this happened again. I thought Wayne would understand, that with his own crazy schedule, he’d respect my work.” Natasha gave a huff of frustration. “Dinner a few times a week, sex, support for each other’s work and an occasional holiday—is that too much to ask? Why does dating always lead to other crap expectations?”
Alya snorted. “He didn’t ask you to pick up his dry cleaning again, did he?”
Natasha shook her head. “I think I made my answer clear the last time he asked. Now it’s his department’s barbeque. But, seriously, why is he asking me to make a plate for it?” She turned to Max and pointed her finger at him. “And Wayne already mansplained all the ways medical research is different from other biology research, why his job is so much more important.”
“You think I’d talk down your work?” he asked with an almost straight face. “Not a chance in hell.”
Her complete absorption with saving the marine world was an appeal, not a drawback. Instead, Max had been thinking about the last time he’d witnessed one of her breakups. She’d been devastated. So if she wanted to direct some of her manfrustration at him, that was fine. Anything that steered her away from hurt.
“Maybe I should lower my standards. Just sex. No relationship at all.” Natasha massaged her temples. “I think I’m getting a headache.”
Max’s rational brain stuttered to a stop at the words just sex, starting him down that thinking-with-his-dick road, which was paved with justifications.
She just wants sex. Hey—that’s what I want, too.
Yeah, that wasn’t a particularly nuanced or eloquent path.
Alya’s heels clicked on the tile as she crossed the kitchen floor to the white cupboards. She grabbed a glass and filled it with water, dropped in a Berocca tablet, then set it in front of Natasha. All three of them watched it fizz.
“You’re going to need this.” Alya tapped the glass. “I don’t get it. He actually took you to a beautiful restaurant with water views just to dump you?”
“Technically, I broke up with him, but that was after he suggested a more ‘open’ relationship. Oh, and he also backed out of the Hawaii trip. Wayne said the hospital was short-staffed so it was better for him not to take a holiday right now. And since I’ll be putting in long hours soon, he didn’t want to ‘hold me back.’ Nice of him, right?” Natasha blew more strands of hair out of her face and took a gulp from the glass. “This was before the waitress even stopped by. Of course, that helped me decide on my order. The caviar is pretty damn expensive, as Wayne now knows.”
Max smiled a little. Natasha definitely sounded more frustrated than sad about the situation, and she still had her sense of humor. All good signs.
“I still don’t get it. You and Wayne have always had tight schedules. What changed?” asked Alya.
Natasha glanced at Max, a flush creeping up her neck. She eyed him. “Promise not to bring this up after tonight?”
“I’ll do whatever makes you happy, sweetheart,” he said, slowing on whatever.
His words had the effect he was hoping for. Her eyes widened, and the flush racing to her cheeks deepened. She usually tried to hide it a little better. That forbidden surge of attraction. Except now it wasn’t forbidden. She was single.
But he really meant it, and not just sexually. He had tried to stay away, despite the tsunami of hot tension that hit every time he found himself alone with Natasha, because he came with something Natasha despised: media scrutiny. In his case, it mostly took the form of speculations about his sex life and judgments about his general morality. And when he took the position his father had groomed him for next week, the attention would step up. His father’s coverage had gotten personal at some point, at the expense of his mother. When Max took his place at the head of the Jensen Family Foundation, he had no doubt Natasha would steer as far away from him as she could.
Alya cleared her throat. “You were saying?”
Natasha was watching him, her lips parted a little, but she snapped her mouth shut at her sister’s voice. “Right. The reason for the time apart.” She drummed her fingers on the table and glanced over at Max. “Since you’re here, and you’re a guy—with a dick, I’m assuming—I want your opinion on something.”
Max wrinkled his brow. “My opinion on Wayne?”
“Sort of.”
Max frowned. He had met enough of the Waynes of the world to know they’d never take the time to make sure Natasha was happy. Still, she’d clearly had a rough evening, so maybe it was time to soften his assessment a little? Nah.
His opinion of Wayne could be summed up in two words: pretentious asshole. The handful of times they’d met in person, Wayne had found a way to mention his super-important medical degree and how he was irreplaceable. Max had resisted a sarcastic retort about his own days at Princeton for Natasha’s sake. And because the douche probably wouldn’t have recognized sarcasm if it bit him in the crotch.
Natasha took a deep breath. “Okay, here’s the question. What are some of the reasons you might not be interested in...sex with a girlfriend? And then you set her free for a bit.”
Whoa. Not what he was expecting. And the thing that came to mind immediately would hurt. It was exactly what she didn’t want to hear right now, so he searched for something that might make her feel better, instead.
“Um, maybe if you have surgery on your love stick, and it’s in recovery?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Or maybe you’re doing some experiment with getting your girlfriend super horny before talking her into a sexy scenario involving—”
“Stop,” said Natasha, putting her hand up to cut him off. “Wrong person to ask. Alya?”
Alya furrowed her brow. “You want me to say it?”
Natasha nodded.
“Okay. He wants to shag other women,” said Alya softly.
Natasha glanced at Max for confirmation, but he said nothing.
Her mouth tugged down at the corners. “You were thinking it, too, weren’t you?”
That had been his first guess, followed by the possibility that Wayne was gay. There was no way to give her an honest answer without hurting her.
“What reason did he give?” asked Max.
Natasha shrugged. “Too tired. Too busy. And he really is tired and busy.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “What kind of blow job can you be too tired for? I’m curious.”
Her face flushed a deep red. “You heard that?”
“I heard it, but I’m having trouble understanding it.”
Natasha smiled a little, but it faded quickly. She bit her lip. Had Wayne, the self-important wanker, made her feel like she had done something wrong? Hell no.
“And he suggested you take some time off to have sex with other guys?” asked Alya.
“He didn’t say those words exactly, but he implied it.”
“Did he want you to report back to him?” asked Max. “Is this a kink thing?”
Both Natasha and Alya burst into laughter.
“I’m pretty sure Wayne is kink-free,” Natasha said with a snort. “He doesn’t seem to be into sex much at all.”
What the hell kind of man wasn’t into sex? A list of all the things he’d be into with Natasha came to Max’s mind, but it definitely wasn’t for her sister’s ears.
Natasha’s expression grew serious. And a little sad. Damn. She took a couple of gulps of fizzy water and glanced at Max as she set down the glass. “I’m really going to regret telling you all this tomorrow, aren’t I?”
He gave her a soft smile. “I’ll be sure to use it against you.”
Natasha met his gaze and smiled back, just a little at first, but then her lips curved up into a full smile. Goddamn. After three years of watching these dickheads come in and out of her life, she deserved so much better than this. A crease had formed on Alya’s brow, and Max was almost sure she was searching for a way to brighten up her sister’s disastrous evening.
Then Alya sat up in her chair. “Hey, this means you can come to Green Island with me now.”
Natasha’s gaze flitted away from his, and a new flush rushed to her cheeks.
“What about Hawaii?” she asked her sister.
“Is going to Hawaii alone really better than a tropical island with your sister?” Alya flashed Natasha a photo spread–ready grin.
Max’s heart pumped faster as he watched this exchange. Natasha on Green Island with them this weekend? Hell, yeah.
“But I had some potential field sites to check out,” Natasha protested.
Alya waved her off. “Don’t angelfish also live on the Great Barrier Reef? I’ll pay for your plane ticket, and my room at the resort has a king-sized bed.”
“I don’t know,” mumbled Natasha, but she was smiling a little now.
“Come on, Nat,” said Alya. “Don’t go on vacation by yourself right after a breakup. Besides, you know I’d feel a lot better if you were there with me.”
Max raised his eyebrows at Alya, and she frowned at him and shook her head. Was Alya trying to guilt her sister into coming based on her own problems with men? If so, the tactic was effective. Natasha’s brow crinkled up, and she sighed.
“I’ve never been to Green Island,” she said slowly. “It’s epaulette shark territory.”
Alya jumped out of her chair. “That’s a yes?”
“I guess so...” Natasha twisted her hair around a finger.
Alya tapped the schedule for the Tropical Bliss magazine shoot before her sister could protest further. “We’re doing an early morning shoot and an evening shoot both days, when the tourists aren’t flooding the island. So when the rest of us are working, you’ll get the reef to yourself for a few hours. Other than that, I’ll have time off. The whole trip should be fun.”
Alya typed something into her phone.
“I’m going to get you booked right now, on my way to Stewart’s, before you can change your mind,” she said then smiled up at Natasha. “He’ll be here in a minute. It’s your last chance to back out.”
Natasha looked from Alya to Max. She bit her lip. “Okay, I’m in.”
Alya’s phone dinged, and she grabbed it and waved. “You won’t be sorry, Natasha. And can you see Max out?”
CHAPTER TWO (#u1f0a3608-3d97-5c6c-9631-9559c5e569e4)
THE FRONT DOOR slammed shut, leaving Natasha alone with Max. Damn, this evening was taking yet another crazy turn. Max, of course, exuded his usual easygoing charm, as if he regularly talked with women about failed blow job attempts and great sex. He probably did.
The man was so sexy, so tempting...and soooo not a good idea, though sometimes it was hard to remember why. Sure, he’d do dinner and sex without hints about picking up his dry cleaning. But everything she’d heard suggested that he specialized in one-and-done nights, and she really didn’t. Even if she made an exception to that rule, this was Max Jensen.
The Australian press loved nothing better than to speculate on the latest conquests of the reckless black sheep from an old-money ranching family, the country’s version of royalty. As the “ugly duckling” daughter of Illana Petrova, as one American newspaper had called her at the tender age of thirteen, Natasha knew better than to go near a walking scandal maker like Max. She’d had enough of those in her life, having a famous Russian supermodel turned actress for a mother. Natasha had plenty of hard-earned academic achievements to her name, but they weren’t the kind the media valued. The last thing she’d want was to put herself through another round of public comparisons, all superficial and all finding her lacking.
Max rested his forearms on the table, all tanned and corded with muscles, covered in dark blond hair. A bit of her resolve gave up and tiptoed out of the quiet kitchen.
She cleared her throat and looked up at Max. “You probably think I’m an idiot, not telling off Wayne.”
“Not even close.” Max shook his head.
“Then what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking this is my lucky day,” he said, his voice lower, a little husky.
Her eyes widened. “Not that kind of lucky.”
Max leaned back in his chair and gave a loud bark of laughter. He shook his head and took a deep breath. “I thought I was the one with the dirty mind,” he said. “I mean, our stars seem to be lining up tonight.”
“I’m sensing a pickup line coming on.” Natasha rolled her eyes, but heat crept up her neck. Max’s grin suggested he was enjoying every minute of this exchange, and his eyes sparked with mischief and heat. Another chunk of her resolve snuck out the door, leaving her alone with her neglected libido.
“Maybe I need to step up my game with you,” he continued, leaning forward, his arms resting on the table only inches from hers. “Maybe I should focus on your interest in animal mating. If that turns you on, we could watch some videos where the male comes up to the female from behind and bites her in the neck while—”
“Nope.” Natasha shoved his biceps to cut him off, trying to ignore his hard, thick muscles under her fingers. “Animal mating is not the thing that turns me on. I just study the reproductive behaviors of angelfish, so of course mating patterns are something I think about.”
Max stifled a laugh. “Sure.”
Natasha gave him a hard stare. “You’re belittling my career right now,” she said. “Would you say the same thing to a guy who studies fish mating?”
His smile broke through, and he winked at her. “Of course not. The discussion would be much raunchier.”
Natasha pressed her lips together. Did he really think she was turned on by this topic, or was he just messing with her? That was yet another problem: he was never serious. From that very first comment three years ago, when he’d given her a suggestive smile and spouted that cliché about getting over her latest dating disaster by getting under someone better, she couldn’t decide if he was coming on to her or teasing her. Or both. Truthfully, Max’s deep voice could make just about anything sound possible.
The very biggest problem with entertaining Max’s flirtation was that she hung on to every word of it. Despite the fact that she knew better. Despite the disaster this kind of smooth-talking charmer had wreaked on her mother’s life—and hers. She had been so very careful to avoid the trap of men who loved women, the more the better.
He was watching her, waiting for her comeback. His eyes were alive, as if he wanted nothing more than to hear the next thing that came out of her mouth. But one of them had to insert some common sense into this discussion, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Max.
Natasha sighed, gesturing between the two of them. “There are a lot of reasons we should stay away from this. Why...?” She searched for a way to finish her question. Why did he want to start something with her? But everything that came to mind sounded too self-deprecating.
He hesitated, and for once the easy amusement faded from his expression. And in that moment, Natasha had to wonder how many careful calculations went into his seemingly careless attitude. Then his smile grew, and he leaned closer.
“Because you’re sexy as fuck, and I’ve had a hard-on for you for years,” he whispered.
Her mouth dropped a little, and she closed it quickly. There was no calculation in his expression, just unfiltered sexual interest. Could that be the whole truth? Probably not. Still, maybe it could be that simple.
Just like it had seemed the one night he’d looked at her like that before. Natasha had tagged along at one of Alya’s events, and both of them had had more than their share to drink as the night went on. Later, after Max followed them back to the apartment, with Alya passed out in her bed, Natasha had led him to the door. She had felt his gaze on her in the car, and she’d felt it again in their hallway, hotter, more intense.
When Natasha had reached the door to let him out, she’d turned around, and Max’s half-lidded eyes had been so hungry. Like he’d wanted a taste, even though he shouldn’t. She had worn a red dress that showed plenty of cleavage and smiled as his eyes dipped for a close-up view. Oh, God, she had been tempted.
I’m all for indulging with you, sweetheart, but you’ve had waaaayyy too much to drink to go down that road tonight.
His words had been soft, maybe even regretful, but they’d been enough to yank her out of her lusty stupor. Yeah, he had turned her down for good reasons, but the next time she saw him, it was as if that almost kiss had never happened. Like he had lost interest and moved on. Apparently not.
Was she really entertaining a hookup with Max again? Come on, brain. Don’t give up on me now. His dates had a tendency to wind up on the pages of gossip rags...though there wasn’t much chance of that with one little hookup, right? Or two or three, if they were spending a couple days together on a tiny island in the Great Barrier Reef...
Time for a last-ditch attempt to approach this rationally. She tilted her head and tried for a skeptical tone. “It just doesn’t seem to fit into your rules for women.”
“Is that what you think?” He smiled. “Interesting. What are my rules?”
She quirked a brow at him. “Number one, the woman must show her wares on the market, preferably tall, with long hair and big breasts. Number two, she must love red carpet events.” With each number she ticked off on her fingers, his smile fell a little. “Number three, she must have zero expectations the next day because you don’t do repeat performances. You want me to keep going?”
He was silent for a moment, almost as if he were at a loss for words. No way. Not possible.
She gave him a mock-serious, wide-eyed look. “Did I manage to offend Max Jensen, the world’s most laid-back guy?”
His face broke into his signature smile. “I’m flattered that you’re paying so much attention to my sex life.”
Heat crept up her neck. Of course he’d see it from that angle. And clearly he was right. “It’s hard to ignore when it’s on the front page of a magazine,” she said, her voice a little short. Okay, maybe she had felt tiny twinges of jealousy seeing him with all those other women, but that wasn’t why she had brought up the topic. Natasha twisted a strand of her hair around her finger, searching for a way to explain her hesitancy.
“A few years ago, Alya bought me one of those ridiculous dating advice books as a gag gift, but I read it anyway. You know why?” she asked. Max shook his head. “Because the book promised to help me find The Three S’s. And two of the three are what I wanted the most—safety and stability.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “Is the third one sex?”
Humor tugged at her lips once again. It was impossible to stay serious around him. “Nope. Status.”
That answer earned a frown from him. “How did it work out for you?”
“I tried their methods and got bored.” She gave him a wry smile, adding, “And tired of ending up on dates in pubs, pretending to like rugby.”
Max didn’t smile back. He just watched her with an expression she couldn’t read. Then he sighed.
Leaning forward, he rested his arms on the table. He gave her his most serious gaze, and his voice did that sexy rumble when he spoke. “Rugby is a great sport, Natasha.”
She bit her lip, but she couldn’t resist smiling. Her eyes went to his arms, inches from hers, the muscles, the scars. Okay, maybe she liked one thing about rugby. The marks of Max’s own years in the sport definitely added to his appeal.
The point was that despite not needing to follow those rules of dating to a T, they’d solidified for her what she was after in a relationship—The Three S’s led to the exact opposite of the explosive, short-lived flings her mother had.
He reached for her, his fingertips brushing over her cheek. He was so close, and for a moment she was almost sure he was going to kiss her. But then his hand fell away, and he cleared his throat.
“Maybe it’s time to set those S’s aside for a bit...for a few days on Green Island...and let me help you focus on my favorite S, which is much more fun,” he said softly. “Maybe you’re into me because I don’t follow any of that dating advice rubbish.”
Her face heated, but she leveled her gaze at him. “Who says I’m into you?”
* * *
Max threw back his head and laughed. “I say you’re into me. But I’m very into you, too.”
He watched her closely for her reaction as he said those last words. Hell, yes, she was really considering his proposition. The longer the silence drew out, the more the charge between them built. His entire body ached for this woman; he’d wanted this for so long, but there was no way in hell he was going to push it. He had to get this right and she needed to be fully on board.
The heat in her eyes was unmistakable, but lines of uncertainty still creased her forehead. Finally, she sat up in her chair. “I’m not into animal mating videos.”
He put up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging. Everyone’s got their thing.”
She rolled her eyes, but the worry in her expression was melting.
“I have my things, too,” he added, his voice huskier.
Sitting so close, the urge to kiss her was building. Just a taste. Not to sway her, just to test this attraction crackling between them. Slowly, he lifted his hand to trace the line of her jaw, the slope of her neck. Soft, warm breath came faster from her parted lips. She didn’t move. Just stared at him with unguarded curiosity. And heat.
Max slid his chair up to hers, and when he got close enough, he opened his legs around hers. Natasha’s gaze moved slowly down his body, openly studying him, chest, biceps, stomach...her eyes flicked down between his legs, and he smiled. She was definitely considering her options.
But none of this would happen tonight. Nothing that could get mixed up in the vulnerability that her disastrous date could have left. Just a hint of what they could have on Green Island. Even if his dick was already ten steps ahead, the eager bastard.
He rested his hand around the back of her neck and leaned forward. His lips brushed against hers. Her breath hitched, and she stilled, so he waited, barely touching. Her mouth was soft and sweet, and goddamn, she smelled good. Like chocolate and strawberries and temptation.
Then she rested a hand on his thigh and shifted forward so their bodies were even closer. She licked her lips, her tongue tracing the seam of her mouth. His dick responded as if that was a handwritten invitation to the party. Still, Max waited. Slowly, she leaned in. Her wet, warm mouth pressed against his, parting a little, catching his top lip first, then his bottom. So he kissed her, tasting more this time, letting his mouth linger on the tangy, seductive flavor of dessert and desire on her lips. So much desire.
A sigh. A ragged breath. Her breasts brushed against his chest, and her hand tightened on his thigh. If she slid it a little higher—no. Not tonight.
Instead Max focused on the kiss. She tilted her head for a slow, sensual dance with her mouth. He answered, using each stroke of his tongue to show her all the things he could do to her, all the ways he could please her. Then her kisses turned greedy, full of pure, unleashed want, and he groaned and went for more. Plans, even thoughts, faded, and all that was left was Natasha. His hand was tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as he devoured the taste of her. Nothing else existed, just the hot strokes and nips of her kisses.
Her hand moved up his leg, and she took hold of his shirt. His cock was begging to get in on the action. He wanted her up on his lap, straddling him so he could slide his hands under that dress, up her thighs until—no.
Max pulled back, breaking off the kiss. He took a steadying breath. Whoa. That was...intense. She looked a little dazed, and he was feeling about the same.
“I want you, Natasha. Just a couple days in paradise, no strings attached,” he whispered. Okay, he wanted more than a couple of days, but that wasn’t in the cards for them. Her body had already told him hell, yes. Now he just had to convince her mind to listen for once.
Max pressed on. “What do you think? Maybe the rules don’t apply in Queensland?”
CHAPTER THREE (#u1f0a3608-3d97-5c6c-9631-9559c5e569e4)
OH. MY. GOD.
How had she gone all these years without knowing the way good kissing made her feel? She had always thought kissing was a bit mundane, but that one had been...different. The experience shouldn’t even be called kissing. It was so much more intimate. There had been a moment when the constant commentary in her mind had stopped. Time had stopped. It was...
Ugh, was she waxing poetic about the kisses of Australia’s favorite player? Natasha resisted an eye roll. Of course Max was amazing at it. The rumors about him had to be based on some kernel of truth. And if his kisses were that all-consuming, he was definitely a good bet for a few days of relaxation and naked fun.
Maybe he was right; the rules shouldn’t apply in the state of Queensland. A few days of no-strings sex with Max Jensen on a secluded tropical island, away from inquiring minds. Yep, she was really considering this fling.
Natasha bit her lip. “What am I agreeing to?”
“You want a preview?”
“You’re not going to flash me, are you?” she asked dryly.
Max chuckled. His laugh was infectious. She was trying to keep a straight face, but it was a losing battle. So she smiled, watching him. Damn, she was in so much trouble. But what a relief it would be to stop resisting all that charm, to stop thinking about all the ways it could go wrong and just enjoy Max for a few days. By the end of those few days, perennial playboy Max would be ready to move on, and she would be sexed up enough to get back to real life.
Max’s gaze had shifted from amused toward hot.
“I’ll be working during the travel portions of the trip, but on the island I’m just there to make sure Alya’s not walking around alone. The magazine has its own security measures in place, so I’m mostly just backup support for your sister,” he said. “A couple days on an isolated island, and we’ll have time alone while Alya is working,” said Max in his deep, obscenely sexy voice. Then he waggled his eyebrows. “Plenty of time to look for your favorite kinds of fish sex.”
Natasha groaned. “I really think you have the wrong impression about—”
“Sex?” He cut her off, making the word sound obscenely hot with his deep voice. “I doubt it.”
His smile faded and his lips parted, the way they had when he was about to kiss her. Damn, she wanted to kiss him again. The kitchen was silent again, the air thick and electric. She played with the half-empty glass on the table in front of her. She could totally do this. A couple days wasn’t enough to turn her into a needy, crazy mess, à la her mother, no matter how potent his charm was...right?
She glanced over at Max, who was covering an amused smile with his hand. Like he was already three steps ahead of her, thinking about much dirtier ideas. Like he was planning.
Natasha stood up, and Max’s eyes moved slowly up her body like a long, hot lick. The effect echoed in warm rushes of pleasure. And the man wasn’t even touching her yet. Somewhere her brain was making its last-ditch warning efforts, but she buried those thoughts. Just a few days. Nothing more.
Max stood up right in front of her, the heat radiating from his body. She had never just stared at him like this. His nose was a little crooked, no doubt from his rugby days, and his eyes had flecks of gray in all that blue. His dark blond hair was tousled and his smile was dark and hungry.
“Hmm... It’s worth considering...” she conceded with a little smile.
“No one has to know,” he whispered, his words rasping in her ears. “Just you and me and all the dirty things you’re dying to try. Is that what you want?”
She bit her lip. He wanted her in a way Wayne never had. And if she were completely honest with herself, which tended not to be a good idea when it came to the topic of men, she was hot for Max in a way she never had been about Wayne.
“There are definitely things I’d want to try with you,” she said, her voice coming out husky.
His lips brushed against her neck. “I can think of all kinds of things you might like.”
God, so could she. Natasha had actively resisted thoughts about naked Max, but once she let her guard down, the images were right there in X-rated detail. She flashed to the image of him over her, his eyes hungry, his biceps flexing, his thick, hard cock nudging her.
Natasha let out a soft moan and pressed herself flush against him.
“Damn, sweetheart,” he groaned, his teeth grazing over her skin. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”
She shook her head slowly. No way in hell was she going to describe that scene aloud. It was so...average, so typical. She needed to go for something a little more creative than that. Or maybe she needed a new approach to making out with Max.
Natasha smiled a little. “Actually, I’m ready to stop thinking.”
She took off her glasses and set them on the table. Then she reached around his neck and coaxed his mouth down to hers. A soft brush of her lips, then another. Oh, my, she was kissing him again, and he tasted good. She dragged her tongue over his bottom lip and bit down. Max froze, and she pulled back. Was that too much?
Then he swore under his breath, and they went from zero to overdrive in an instant. Their mouths collided, his tongue found hers, matching her need, her hunger, stroke by stroke. Natasha gasped in breaths, giving in to the surge of pleasure coursing through her. His mouth teased hers with hungry promises, tempting suggestions of what would come next, if she just let go. So she did it. She let go, losing herself in the warmth of his big, hard body, taking everything she wanted. He backed her up until she was pressed against the heavy kitchen table. She wove her hands into his hair, tugging him closer, searching for that same bliss of their kiss moments before. Oh, yes. She couldn’t get enough of him. His hands explored her waist, her hips, as his lips pressed against hers, so hungry.
But now she wanted more than a kiss. She squirmed closer, moving against his hard body, his erection growing and pulsing against her. His fingers flexed on her rear, and she ground her hips into his.
“Goddamn,” he muttered. One hand moved lower, slipping under the hem of her dress, a hot, rough caress. His mouth traveled down her jaw, onto the tender skin of her neck, the scrape of his stubble sending erotic jolts through her. His fingers teased higher, higher on the inside of her thigh until he brushed against the silk of her panties.
“Max.”
The sound of his name stopped everything in the quiet kitchen. He sucked in a breath and shifted back. Natasha furrowed her brow and looked up at him. Max’s eyes were half-closed, clouded with lust. She reached for him again, but he caught her hands and held her back. Another spike of desire burst through her, and her breath caught in the back of her throat. Max’s smile was dark and amused.
“Hold on, sweetheart,” he said, his breaths unsteady. “I’m way too close to fucking you right here on this table, hard and dirty.”
The words—just words—made her gasp. Natasha let out a shaky sigh. “I’m not against that idea.”
“No way are we starting tonight, when you’re coming off an evening with another guy.” He brought her hands behind her, so her back arched up toward him. She was heaving in breaths, and Max’s gaze drifted down to her chest. His eyes were hot, desperate, and he gave a low laugh. “I am really fucking tempted right now, Natasha. But no test runs. If we’re doing this, it can’t be anything you could call a mistake.”
“I wouldn’t regret it, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said quickly.
Max smiled and shook his head slowly. “I’m nothing like Wayne or any of those other jerkers. I’ll make sure you love it.”
Just not too much. Just enough to get a little break from the pressures of grant applications, publications and jockeying for coveted academic faculty positions. Natasha was very aware of how fortunate she was, with fewer financial pressures than most researchers since Alya paid for various extravagances that came with a fashion model’s life. Still, marine biology was her passion, and success in this male-dominated field was short-lived. But to step off that endless cycle of projects, just for a few days of luxurious indulgence on a tropical island with Max...
“Sounds like the holiday of a lifetime,” she whispered, pushing away all other thoughts, concentrating on the man in front of her.
Max’s breath hitched, and he brushed a soft kiss over her mouth. “I can’t wait.”
He let her go and straightened out her not-celebration-dinner dress. No way was she going to let Max single-handedly decide how their night ended. If he was going to leave her all hot and bothered, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. Though the enormous bulge in his pants suggested he wasn’t any more comfortable than she was. Natasha took a deep breath.
“You drove here, didn’t you?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She licked her lips and turned to get a glimpse of his expression. “Park outside my window and wait for me.”
His eyes widened, and his hands drifted down over her hips. Then he grinned, his lips brushing against hers one more time.
“Wow, when you indulge, you don’t just take a bite. You eat the whole goddamn cake.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#u1f0a3608-3d97-5c6c-9631-9559c5e569e4)
NATASHA LISTENED FOR the front door and headed to her bedroom. Slowly, she walked to the side window. The blinds were half-closed. She lifted one slat to peek at the view. Across from her building was a high-rise of offices, now dark, and most of the cars on the street below were gone. Alya had chosen the apartment building for its central Sydney location and the fact that it had a doorman. Natasha would never be able to afford this flat on the soft money funding for her research and a part-time university lecturer’s salary. Her sister, on the other hand, pulled in nice sums based solely on her good looks. But Natasha had long ago stopped expecting the world to be fair.
She lifted another row of the blinds and found Max immediately. The streetlight shone through the window of his black SUV, and from the second floor she could make out his face. He was smiling up at her.
Her phone beeped from across the room, and she grabbed it.
Max: This will be a lot more fun if I can see you.
Oh, right. He could only see bits of her through the tiny rows of blinds. And of course he’d tease her about it.
She took a step back, bumping into her desk. Her well-ordered desk, with only a pen and a blank notepad on top. Her eyes moved over the plain green bedspread of her neatly made bed and her bookshelves, contents organized by size. Not one thing was out of place.
What would it feel like to take a break from being this Natasha for a few days? Logical, orderly Natasha. Max was waiting for her to follow through, and she had two choices: back out or dive face-first into that cake. She smiled.
Natasha: I was just checking to see if you were naked. Didn’t want to be the only one.
She sent the message and waited, watching him through the blinds. Max’s head turned from his phone to her window, then back to his phone.
Max: I’m calling you out on that one. Don’t believe you’re naked for a second.
She chuckled.
Natasha: What happens if I really am?
Max’s shoulders shook a little. Was he laughing? When he looked up again, he was definitely smiling.
Max: Then I take off my pants and keep them off until I get home.
Natasha: Home = parking space? Or will you walk into your building naked?
Max: Stalling...
He was right. Natasha scanned the view from her window again. Only two lights were on in the office building across from her. No pedestrians in sight. Was she going to expose herself to this Sydney street, just to prove to both Max and herself that she could have a little fun? Yes, she was.
Nothing typical about this. Creative? Yes. Though she wasn’t sure if the real-life version of this little game of undress would be a turn-on or just nerve-racking. There was only one way to find out.
Natasha kicked off her flats and took a deep breath. She was even dressed for a strip show, with matching bra and panties. Coordinated for the possibility of post-celebration sex. Hmm...a possibility, not a sure thing? That was a little messed up.
How the hell had the evening gotten to this point so quickly? Only a few hours ago, she was sitting on the patio of La Capannina, contemplating getting a jump on her January schedule. Now she was single, on holiday and considering a few days of sexploration on a tropical island. Oh, and she would have had sex with Max right on the kitchen table minutes ago if he hadn’t stopped them. Definitely not where she thought tonight was going.
But it was certainly sexier than the night she had planned.
Even Alya, who knew every little detail of her relationship with Wayne, knew nothing about that night she’d almost kissed Max...while her sister slept in the other room. These last moments in the kitchen together were a reminder of why she had been tempted.
Natasha was stalling again. She grabbed the cord to the blinds.
Well, here goes nothing.
* * *
Hell, yes. She was actually doing this. She was really going to take off her clothes for him.
Max’s cock was already hard as a goalpost. Earlier, he’d been way too close to whipping out the magic wand. This little game she had started was going to push him over the edge soon. And despite having reservations earlier, if she was offering to strip for him on her terms, he wouldn’t say no to that.
Natasha turned around, her hands searching for the zipper of the dress. Slowly, she lowered it, down her back and over her beautiful ass. Her dress gaped open, exposing all that warm, soft skin he had wanted to touch back in her kitchen. Max was going to personally thank the architect who had chosen full-length windows in her building. Natasha let her sleeves fall off as she glanced over her shoulder. And smiled. Oh, that smile, just for him. She inched the dress down, shimmying it over her hips until it fell. Leaving her in a see-through bra and panties.
Then she turned around.
Max stared up at Natasha’s window as his cock pulsed hard in his pants. His invitation for a few days of fun had been a long shot, and her response had been straight out of his late-night, snake-spanking fantasies. He could still hear her uneven breaths, feel her teeth sink into his lip. His body was alive with the memory of the heat of her skin, the weight of her body against his. And when he’d kissed her back in the kitchen, she had finally let go, like she’d also waited for this moment for years.
Now, she was standing in front of her window in a barely there bra and panties, and those glasses of hers were the perfect addition. Innocent but naughty at the same time, which only made him harder.
Natasha certainly had two sides to her—though she tried hard to hide the second one. Most of the time she was a funny, quirky, confident scientist who chose her path based on logic and careful decision-making to make sure her life stayed in her control. Hell, Max loved this side of her. It was what had made him pay attention that first day she so thoroughly and insightfully turned him down. But it was this side that had kept her with that tosser Wayne. Because the fucker kept everything nice and orderly despite not actually caring for her.
Wayne was probably too self-centered to notice Natasha’s other side, the one she seemed to be wary of. One that was curious, tempted. She rarely let anyone see it, but Max was going to give her the chance to explore that part of herself on Green Island. Maybe if he showed her what it felt like to have a man worship her for a few days, she’d avoid assholes like Wayne. And the hurt that came with them.
This peep show was the perfect balance, teetering between both sides of her. Would she go any further? It was questions like this that made his cock ache.
Natasha: You still have your pants on.
Max chuckled.
Max: Bra and panties = naked? Or are you ready to go all the way?
Natasha: Stalling...
Max laughed and looked up at her window. She had her hands on her hips, and her smile was wide. So far, so good. As long as he kept her smiling, she’d play along. He’d have plenty of time to get to the dirtier stuff next week.
Max set his phone in the docking station on his dashboard. He tipped his seat back a bit and unfastened the button of his jeans. Carefully, he lowered the straining zipper. His cowboy leaped out, stretching the material of his boxers, ready for a ride. He slipped the jeans over his hips and pulled them off, along with his socks and shoes. Then he tugged his boxers down, giving him plenty of room for the rodeo.
He looked back up at the window as his hand moved down over his cock. He cupped his balls and moved his hand up again, slowly, over his length, his gaze fixed on Natasha. Her arms fell to her sides as she stared down at him, her mouth parting. How much could she see? Had she ever watched a man get off in front of her? Another idea to file under Things to Try on Green Island.
She raised her hands to her breasts. He closed his fist around his cock and gave himself a hard squeeze. Would she get off in front of him, too?
But no. She was holding up her phone, probably texting him. Max grinned as his phone pinged.
Natasha: I can’t see enough. Not a fair exchange.
Before he could think through the idea, he reached for his dashboard to type.
Max: You can come closer.
Silence. Was she considering it? She was still staring down at him.
His imagination kicked into overdrive. His hand was back on his cock as he pictured her walking out the front door of her apartment building and climbing into the seat next to him. She’d still be wearing just a bra and panties and those glasses, because, hey, this was his fantasy. Can I get a closer look? she’d say. Yeah, she certainly could. Max was bigger than Wayne in every way, and he’d put money on it that this included cock size. Natasha’s eyes would get all doe-eyed wide as she stared at his dick. He’d be ready to come, but he’d make himself wait.
She’d say something like, Can I touch you? and—
Max’s phone pinged, shaking him out of his fantasy world.
Natasha: Goodnight
He looked up at the window, and she smiled and waved. He smiled back.
Max: I’ll be thinking of you. In detail.
Natasha: Same
The shade on her window came down, and Max slumped back into his seat. His cock was begging for attention. How the hell was he going to drive home with a raging hard-on?
He glanced around at the deserted side street. He was a dozen strokes away from coming. Fuck it. He was going all the way. Max grabbed a rag from the glove compartment and smirked. He had thought of a few reasons to put the little towel in the car, but this hadn’t been one of them.
Leaning back in his seat, he fast-forwarded through his fantasy until he came to the part where she looked up at him and asked, Can I taste? Then she’d lick his tip, swirling her tongue around a few times before her lips closed around him. His balls tightened, and his hand moved hard and fast in a few last strokes. He grabbed the cloth and came hard into it, his hips thrusting. Max gulped in a few breaths of air. Goddamn, this woman wound him up for reasons he didn’t even understand.
He glanced at the heap of his jeans next to his seat. The trip to Green Island was going to be interesting, and a hell of a lot of fun.
CHAPTER FIVE (#u1f0a3608-3d97-5c6c-9631-9559c5e569e4)
WHEN MAX WALKED into the virtual conference room, the rest of the Blackmore Inc. team was already there. Derek Latu and Simon Rodriguez were sprawled in two of the seats behind the room’s half-circle table, and a very real-looking image of Cameron Blackmore, the Sydney team’s CEO, was on the large screen against the wall. Cameron’s virtual half of the table, projected on the enormous screen on the wall, was from New York. The Sydney office’s screen lined up with the New York office’s table perfectly to complete a round conference table.
The whole setup had been Jackson McAllister’s idea, from when she’d done PR work for the head office. She was the Sydney team’s image consultant for a stint before Cam fell for her and chased her back to New York, where he was now working temporarily.
“How’s the Big Apple?” asked Derek. “Jackson works, so I know you’re not in bed all day.”
The rest of the team chuckled.
“Cold as hell. Thank fuck we’re leaving soon,” said Cameron, smiling. “She’s given her notice. We’re going to take off for Paris soon. Not that it’s any warmer there.”
“You’re getting on a plane again?” asked Simon. “Does Jackson really know what sitting next to you means?”
Max watched his friend carefully, waiting for the answer. Cameron had managed to keep his fear of flying well hidden from the public, but Max, Derek and Simon knew the lengths he had gone to in order to avoid travel over the years.
“She knows,” said Cameron, his expression turning serious. “Let’s get this meeting started. Surveillance update, Simon?”
Simon went through the growing list of clients their virtual security department was currently monitoring.
“You sure you’re satisfied with more of a desk job going forward?” Cameron asked him. Simon had played a big role in developing this aspect of the team’s services in recent months and would continue to oversee it.
“I’m using my degree and getting home for dinner every night,” said Simon. “I’m satisfied.”
Max let out a laugh and clapped Simon on the back. “We know you are, mate. We know.”
Big grins came from Derek and Cameron, and Simon even cracked a smile.
“You’re welcome for pushing you to take that job with Marianna,” said Cameron.
“I’ve already thanked you a hundred times, asshole,” rumbled Simon, but there was no malice in his voice. He laced his fingers behind his head. “Sometimes I still can’t believe she’s here in Sydney with me.”
Ever since Simon reunited with his first love when she came from Miami seeking protection, Max had seen a different side of his formerly stoic friend. The woman who’d been off-limits to Simon growing up was now his fiancée, and he actually looked...content. Derek had been married for a while, but now, Cameron and Simon head-over-ass in love?
That brand of happiness baffled Max. Sure, he could understand the appeal of having someone in his bed every night, but there were so many pressures that could wreak havoc on two people caught in a sex-induced haze. Life had a way of steering relationships south—as in Antarctic south—at least for the Jensen family. When his mother was still alive, the media storms surrounding his parents had pushed them to retreat to Western Australia permanently, and his brother...well, TJ was a lot like their father, and he just seemed to shut that part of his life off.
“Moving on,” said Cameron. “Reconnaissance on the world summit in three weeks?”
Derek gave a run-down on his team’s schedule, adding, “We’ve booked the final security walk-throughs and client meeting after Max returns from Green Island.”
“I’ll be back on Monday,” said Max. “Henning is covering me and keeping an eye on Alya’s ex-boyfriend’s movements from the office.”
Cameron frowned a little. “You sure you want to go on this job?”
“Why the hell wouldn’t I want to?” he asked with a smirk. “Low-risk trip to a tropical paradise.”
Natasha would be there for some bedroom paradise, too. Or maybe she liked it outdoors? He couldn’t dream of more ideal workplace conditions if he tried.
The conference room was silent, and Max shook himself out of his wandering thoughts. He looked around the room slowly. All three men were watching him, and no one else was smiling. Derek rested his hand on Max’s shoulder. “The Jensen Family Foundation dinner won’t be easy next weekend. And you’ve got a lot of changes coming.”
Max scowled. Goddamn, this was the last thing he wanted to think about right now. He had spent every day since he was eighteen making sure his family bullshit didn’t run his life. There was no way he was going to start down that path now.
Which was why he’d continue to work for Blackmore Inc. for the foreseeable future. Of course, he’d need to dedicate a good chunk of his free time to fund-raising, charity events and other activities for the foundation. At some point, he might even need to cut back a little on the number of assignments he took. But Max would never quit. He’d always want to keep this part of his life, where he’d earned his position on skills alone.
“It’s not a problem,” he said roughly.
“Someone else could go with Alya,” said Derek.
Max frowned. “I dealt with my shit last year when my mother died, and I’ll deal with it again next week. A few days on the beach won’t change that.”
The last thing Max wanted was to move back into the Jensen family world, where his easygoing nature didn’t fit with his family’s rigidity and stoicism. Where his every move was measured against his father’s and grandfather’s legacy. But his very last promise to his mother was that he’d take this position if his father asked, if her death was too much for him.
Frankly, when Max agreed, he hadn’t actually expected that request to ever come, considering his father’s well-established will of steel and unwillingness to show a hint of vulnerability. Yeah, his father had loved his mother, though he was more the taker than the giver in that relationship. Ironic that it took his mother’s death to bend his father’s will—when it was too late for her to appreciate it.
There were other issues that would come up when he headed the family foundation. Stepping into the Jensen family spotlight had the potential to play out just like his admission to Princeton. After years of falling short of family expectations, Max’s father couldn’t trust him to find a university that would take him on his own merits, so he had sweetened the deal behind Max’s back. Price tag: a new graduate library with the Jensen name on it. That way, every single person who set foot on that campus knew Max didn’t earn his place in the freshman class. The fact that his admission had cost a whole fucking library spoke for itself.
His father’s vote of no confidence had made him doubt himself. Never, ever again. If Max had to take on everything that went with being president of the Jensen Family Foundation, he would do it on his own terms. His mother’s other hope—that Max and his father would finally reconcile—had been left unspoken. Even in her last weeks, his mother had known better than to ask for that.
But enough of that shit. For the next few days, he could concentrate on a job he had earned on merit and some downtime on an isolated island. Warm water, warm beaches, hot woman...
“Yeah, I can see why you don’t want to give up an assignment like that,” said Derek, stopping Max’s schlong thoughts before they got any further.
Cameron smirked. “I’m sure there will be plenty of attractions for you to enjoy.”
Max gave them all a smile, letting his reputation work to his advantage here. He certainly wasn’t going to tell them that there was only one attraction on Green Island he was interested in. And he was finally getting private admission.
CHAPTER SIX (#u1f0a3608-3d97-5c6c-9631-9559c5e569e4)
THE YACHT SLOWLY approached the Green Island dock, skimming through calm, cerulean waters. The ocean breeze blew through Natasha’s hair, but it barely helped. It was hot as hell up in North Queensland, even out on the water in the shade of the boat’s canopy. A bead of sweat trickled down her neck and disappeared into her tank top.
The engine cut, leaving only the sounds of water splashing against the sides of the boat and Natasha’s own breaths. How had she never made this trip before? She had been meaning to come to the Great Barrier Reef since she and Alya moved to Australia three years ago, but she had familiar research sites on the Hawaiian reefs, so it was much easier to start experiments there. And Green Island wasn’t cheap, so she couldn’t just pop up here for an extended weekend.
The captain tied up the boat as Natasha tore her eyes from the green-blue waters and gazed at the little island. White sand, palm trees, just big enough to explore, small enough to feel remote, like nothing from the mainland could touch her. Paradise, for sure. It was no wonder Tropical Bliss was shooting their new branding campaign here.
The white beach that stretched along the shore of the island was empty of people, but as they pulled in she spotted a colorful row of beached kayaks, a sign that a resort lay somewhere in the tangle of palms. Max had timed their arrival ahead of the first ferry from Cairns. They’d stayed in the ocean-side city after flying from Sydney last night. It was early to be up on a Saturday but it was worth it. The day tourists weren’t here, so the island was quiet, with only the resort staff and the other fashion shoot folks who had flown in. They had made it through the trip without even a hint of Alya’s ex, as expected. Natasha let out a deep breath and glanced at Alya. Her sister leaned over the deck rail next to her, bundled in gauzy swathes of wraps and scarves, topped with a wide-brimmed hat. The only signs of stress were in her hands, fidgeting with the strap of her handbag.
Natasha brushed her fingers over her sister’s. “It’s official. We can relax now.”
“I’m working on it,” Alya said, the corners of her mouth turning up. “Max was right about this place. I can’t see any way we could be caught unawares on this island.”
Natasha said gently, “I’m sorry you have to think about this stuff in such detail.”
Her sister sighed, her shoulders sinking a little. “It’s probably time I stopped worrying so much, but I can’t bring myself to just yet.”
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