The Marriage Mistake

Chapter Six

Max listened to the steady beat of rain against the window while he sipped his cognac. The liquid danced on his tongue and licked with a fiery sweetness. Instead of soothing his nerves, his fingers clutched the snifter with agitation.

She’d been right.

Again.

As if sensing his disturbance, Rocky emitted a low mutter, blew out his breath, and resettled with the bulk of his body on Max’s feet. The comforting warmth soothed him a bit, and he dropped his hand to pet his head—a hulk of sharp bones and ugly lines that made him one of the homeliest dogs he’d ever seen in his life.

The bond had been instant when he caught sight of the battered soul at the carnival. A small booth had been devoted to giving away free puppies, and he’d passed it with his date. She’d cooed and coddled the cute balls of fur, while Max remained patient and checked out the various games. He figured if he won her one of the stuffed animals, he’d be in the perfect position for her gratefulness later. Not that there was any doubt, from the obvious comments she made as the night wore on. He’d been planning his path of success when his gaze caught on the stout, muddy pit bull at the corner of the booth. A ragged rope was wrapped around his massive neck, too tight and literally choking his breath. The dog didn’t seem to care, just measured his breath so he wouldn’t pant too much, his eyes sharp with the knowledge that this was his lot and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

His mouth hung in a droop, and drool poured from one side of his lip. Bruises matted the sides of his body. One ear was literally half chopped off. But when the dog’s eyes finally met and held with Max’s, a bone-deep knowledge that Max had to own this dog pushed all other thoughts aside. He was a fighter—both in and out of the ring. And he deserved more than this bullshit.

The kids running the puppy booth charged him one hundred dollars to carry him away. Probably would be used as a bait dog since his fighting-dog days were done. Max untied the rope, bent down, and told the dog they were going home. With a dignity known to the breed and unknown to the masses, Rocky picked himself off the dirty floor and followed him out of the carnival. Max lost his date but gained his best friend.

And Laura hated him.

The moment she came into his apartment and saw Rocky, she let out a girly screech that irritated him. He spent a few minutes explaining the dog was harmless, but when she shuddered and insisted he be locked up, Max made his choice. For the second time, he chose Rocky, and Laura left without a glance back.

The sad part was that he didn’t care.

God, was he really like his father after all? Unable to dig deep enough to stick around and love someone the way they needed?

He remembered the day he learned the truth. Other kids had daddies, and Max always wondered why he didn’t, until the day he asked his mother. She told him the story with a quiet dignity and love that made him believe it was all going to be okay. She never lied, but afterward, he’d been angry at his mother for months. Because she did tell him the truth. He wished so hard she’d lied—told him his father was killed in the war, or left for the sacrifice of his family, or had a terrible accident, so that he could boast to his class friends.

Instead, his mother informed him his dad left after he was born. In a small traditional town, it had been the biggest gossip with more whispering than people had experienced in a long time. Going to church and sitting in the pew every Sunday was torture. Divorce was frowned upon, and his mother was the only one who broke the cardinal rule. Most of their friends and family protected them from the worst of the cruelty, and eventually, he learned to put up barriers so nothing hurt.

His mother tried to give him everything, but a longing to know why his father didn’t want him haunted him for years and left an empty hole in his gut. Didn’t most fathers fall madly in love with their newborn babies? What had he lacked that most men claimed? How could a new dad walk away from his family and never contact them again?

When he finally turned twenty-one, he decided to find out.

He used the Internet and his trust fund to find Samuel Maximus Gray living in London. He remembered the dingy town on the outskirts of the city. Dirty. Crowded. Low-class. His once wealthy, impeccably dressed father had eventually lost his fortune and his dignity. Max followed him to the local pub and watched as he stared at the television and drank pints. Finally, he approached him. Max remembered every detail as if the encounter rolled in slow motion.

“Do you know who I am?”

He stood before his father, heart pounding and sweat trickling down his armpits. The man looked so different from the young, smiling man in his mother’s photos. This one was bald, with a bloated face. His blue eyes had a foggy mist over them, as if too much hard play and alcohol had taken their toll. He looked up from his Guinness and squinted in the dim light of the bar. Studied him for a long time. Max smelled peanuts, smoke, beer, and failure.

“Crap, yes. I know who you are.” His slight English accent clipped out the words. “Don’t much look like me, though.” Max waited but his father just stared at him. No apology. No embarrassment. Nothing. “What are you doing here?”

Max shifted his feet. “I want to know why. Why did you leave?”

The man shook his head and took a large gulp of his beer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Didn’t you get the money?”

“Yeah, I got the Goddamn money.”

His father flinched. “Then what do you want from me? I gave you up but made sure you’d have enough to build your life.”

Nausea rolled in his gut but he hung on, knowing he had to finish the encounter. “Didn’t you ever want to stay? For my mother? For me?”

His blue eyes turned hard. “I loved your mother but I never promised her I’d stay. I didn’t want a family. I did the best thing for you. Gave you enough to build your life and left you alone.”

The truth cut through the air strong and true. His father had never wanted him. Never regretted leaving. Never even thought of them.

The gaping, raw wounds burned, but Max stood tall and knew they’d heal. Nothing would ever hurt as bad as this again.

“Thanks for clearing that up, Dad.”

He walked out of the pub, into the night, and never looked back.

Max contemplated the amber liquid. Why was he thinking such thoughts tonight? He rarely thought about his father and never questioned his decisions about women before. Carina knew nothing about his love life, yet she seemed to sense on a gut level what made him tick, like no other female other than his mother ever had. Max figured it was her innocence and young age that attracted him. He’d always wanted a sister to protect and cherish.

So why wasn’t he thinking of her as a sister anymore?

The image of her kissing Edward tormented his mental state. Surely, he’d warned the man with enough force to make sure nothing serious happened. Hadn’t he? Should he call Michael? Edward’s cell phone? No, they’d think he was pazzo. Should he drive by her apartment and confirm she was okay?

He tapped his finger against his chin and wrestled with the possibility.

Then he heard the doorbell.

Max eased his foot from Rocky’s head and walked down the hallway. Who the hell was here this late on a Saturday night? Did Laura come back in this storm? He peeked through the side window and studied the lone figure on his doorstep. What the—

He twisted the knob and pulled. “Carina?”

His mouth fell open. She trembled on the top step, her filmy dress soaked and plastered to her body. Her hair hung in ragged curls around her face and stuck to her cheeks. Shoeless, her red toenails curled in a huge puddle beneath the hem of the dress. He reached out to pull her inside, but one glance at her face paralyzed and shocked him to the core.

Fury.

Her eyes spit like an ancient goddess bent on revenge. Chin tilted, mouth tight, fingers curled into fists, she panted as if she’d gone ten rounds in the ring with Rocky Balboa himself.

“You son of a bitch.”

Ah, shit.

He paused and teetered with the sanity of letting her in. With a muttered curse, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her through the door.

She pushed his hands away and glared at him as she dripped in his foyer. “How dare you interfere with my love life?” she hissed. “You—of all people! You—who wouldn’t know a relationship if it bit him in the ass!”

“That is exactly my point, Carina.” Max drew his professional, calm demeanor around him like a robe. If he remained logical and pointed out his fears, she’d settle down and they’d have a nice chat by the fire. First, he needed to convince her exactly why he stepped in. “Edward doesn’t do relationships, and I didn’t want you to have regrets. Especially when you see him in the cold light of morning. You deserve more than that.”

If possible, his argument seemed to enrage her further. She shimmered with pulsing waves of energy, her skin gorgeously flush. The wet fabric molded to every curve, and her hard nipples pushed against its barrier in an effort for freedom. He smothered a curse as his body responded in all primitive madness. He hardened, and dimly noticed the evidence against the thin fabric of his sweat shorts.

“You don’t get to have a say in my life. No matter how far we go back!” She closed the distance between them. Fisting her hands in his T-shirt, she stood on tiptoes and snarled, “I deserve one night of great sex, Max. Would you deny me that? Would you deny what you give to yourself? I’m not a perfect china doll placed on a shelf to be played with in careful moments. I’m flesh and blood and I want messiness and passion and orgasms.”

Oh, yeah, he got it. His cock throbbed in time to her words. The scent of fresh rain, coconut and female swarmed his senses. Max fought the insanity of the moment but she battered him mercilessly.

“You scared the crap out of him, and he was afraid to touch me.”

“Then I was right. No man is worth your time if he can’t even stand up to someone who blocks what he wants.”

“Don’t you judge him, you arrogant ass. You’re his boss, and you made him believe I was some scared little virgin afraid of a little physical contact.”

She pushed at his chest. Temper wrapped around arousal and egged him on. “Isn’t that what you are? There’s nothing wrong with virginity. Do you want to give it away on the first man who tempts you?”

A low growl escaped her throat. “Yes! I’ve done plenty of things, Maximus Gray, things you wouldn’t believe. And I liked them, and I want more, and if I want to screw every cute man in the whole frikkin company you’re not going to stop me. You don’t have the right.”

The words hung thick and heavy in the air. A challenge. The alpha in him rose to the surface, where civility and politeness faded away. She vibrated with a fiery sexual tension that verged on explosive and damn her to hell and back, he was going to be the man to turn it.

He gave her one last chance as he clung to the edge of the cliff.

“Okay, so you’re a big girl who can make her own decisions. Fine. I’ll stay out of your life even if you are making a big mistake. Go home and grow up.”

He held his breath. Those dark eyes met his and some of his madness must have shown in his face. She eased back a precious inch and studied him.

Then smiled. “Go to hell, Max. I’m done with you.”

Satisfaction roared through him. He dropped from the edge and fell into the pit without a regret.

He grasped her around the waist and lifted her up high against his chest. Three steps and her back slammed against the door. His erection fit between the wet notch of her thighs and emitted a shocked gasp from those plump lips. Her pupils dilated.

“You asked for it, little girl. So you got it.”

He bent his head and took her mouth with his.

In some dim corner of his mind, he always imagined if he ever kissed Carina it would be more of a spiritual experience; an initiation into tenderness and the gentle slide of lip against lip. Instead, the reality ripped through him with a savageness he never believed possible. He was going to hell and it was worth every damn moment.

Her lips fit perfectly to his, supple and soft under the bruising heat of his mouth. He braced himself for a protest, and decided this was all about teaching her a lesson. But she gave a hungry little moan, sunk her fingers into his hair, and opened herself to him.

He surged. The taste of fruity pinot lingered on her tongue along with a honeyed sweetness that was part of her core. Max couldn’t be gentle if he tried. His head spun as he became drunk on her, diving in and out of that silky heat for more. This was no shy, uninitiated virgin he held. She blossomed beneath the hunger and demanded her own as she clung and opened her mouth wider, her tongue meeting each of his thrusts and challenging him to go deeper. He pressed her hard against the door and she gasped, wrapping her thighs tight around his hips and squeezing. He groaned in agony, desperate for more, and ripped down the spaghetti straps holding her soaked dress up. One breast popped out from the wet fabric, glistening wetly, her nipple stiff and the color of rubies.

His palm cupped the heavy weight and his thumb tweaked the tip.

She exploded.

Her nails dug into his scalp and her teeth bit down on his lower lip. The sheer rawness of her arousal thickened his blood and with a curse, he dipped his head and took her nipple deep into his mouth. He sucked, his tongue swirling and giving pleasure while she emitted tiny mewls, arching up for more. A wild creature burning up in his arms, he held her tight while he licked and teased, until a forceful tug at his head brought him back up.

He studied her face in the light. Swollen lips let out breathy little gasps, her dark eyes filled with a seething passion that reflected his own expression. “More.” Her voice ripped out husky and broken. “I want more.”

The tension had been building between them for days. Max didn’t give a crap about honor or politeness or lessons. He dipped his head and dived again, their tongues battling for dominance. He thrust his erection fully between her thighs, the thin fabric of their clothes only cranking the fire between them hotter. The other strap came loose and both her breasts were free for his fingers. He rolled her nipples and pinched them lightly. The smell of her musky arousal hit him like a wolf in heat.

One hand left her breast and grabbed the material of her skirt, bunching it up in his hands and hiking it high on her thigh. His fingers touched trembling, damp skin. Slid across a tiny scrap of lacy thong that barely covered her. Hooked under the elastic band. And dove in.

She cried out his name and a rush of liquid met his fingers. Tight and hot, her channel squeezed him and his head burst like fireworks, barely able to hold it together. She was all fire and light; pure passion throbbed from her center and drenched his hand. He swallowed her delicious gasps and knew in that moment he had to have her. Own. Possess. Claim.

For him.

The phone rang.

The insistent beep cut through the murky fog and penetrated his head. He ripped his lips from hers, breathing heavily in the sudden silence. Three rings. Four. Five.

The machine picked up. Michael’s voice boomed over the speakers. “It’s me. Just checking on how the party went—I know it’s late. Let me know how Carina did on her date. I’m sure yours hasn’t ended yet, my friend. Ciao.”

The click echoed.

Slowly, Max removed his fingers from underneath her panties. Smoothed down her dress. Without a word, he allowed her body to slide down the door until her bare feet hit the ground. She shivered but instead of taking her in his arms like he craved, he stepped back. Emotion clogged the back of his throat and took away any words of comfort or apology.

Dio, what had he done?

Carina stared up at the man she’d loved her whole life and tried to fight the deep trembling in her bones. Her wet dress hung heavily on her body and wracked another shiver. Of course, she hadn’t felt cold before. First anger, then the most passionate kiss she’d ever had burned her body alive like a witch on a stake. The room tilted. She forced a deep breath through her nose and out her mouth, desperate to get her act together before him.

From the look of horror on his face, it seemed Maximus Gray had underestimated her. A sliver of satisfaction ran down her spine. He’d felt it, too. Would probably ignore it. But for the rest of her natural life she finally knew the truth.

Kissing Max was better than any fantasy she’d ever spun.

She pressed her fingers to her bruised lips. There was more passion in that kiss than anything she’d experienced. He could have eaten her alive, and one more second of his fingers curving into her wet heat would’ve elicited an earth-shattering orgasm. If the phone hadn’t rung, she’d probably be convulsing on him right now.

Heat flooded her cheeks but Carina knew this was a turning point. A test. If she freaked out, ran away, there would never be another kiss. Somehow, a door had flung open within their relationship, and he didn’t know how to handle it. No way could he fake that type of attraction. Her gaze slid down to his erection. No way could he hide it, either.

She gambled and threw everything she had on the table. “Wow. Well, I guess that was overdue. At least we got it out of the way.”

His piercing blue eyes glinted with astonishment. He seemed to struggle for words. “What?”

Carina gave a little laugh and ducked her head in mock embarrassment. “Geez, Max, I mean, what did you expect? I was angry, pissed you off, and we’ve always had a connection. It was just natural to test it out once. Now we can move on. Right?”

Her heart beat in grief but her head knew she needed to follow the ruse to the bitter end. If he thought she believed the kiss meant something, he’d be out of her life faster than a magician pulled a rabbit from the hat. She couldn’t risk it. Not now.

Not when she realized she still wanted more.

His gaze shredded through her careful facade but she held firm. “This was my fault. I should have never pushed the issue. I’m sorry. I—I don’t know what happened.”

She waved a hand in the air though his words sliced like razors. “No need to apologize. We both needed to burn off some sexual tension. Let’s just forget it.”

“Is that what you want?” he asked softly.

Her smile glittered with brilliance. “Of course. Just let this be a lesson to stay out of my personal life from now on. No more threats or bullying my dates. Got it?” He flinched, but nodded. “Great, now I better get going.”

“No.” The word stopped her immediately. “I’m not letting you drive in this storm. You’ll stay here tonight.”

“I’ll be fine. The rain slowed and I’ll drive carefully.”

“No.” He repeated the command and shook his head as if throwing off the rest of the fog. “I have a ton of guest bedrooms. I’ll get you clothes. Go sit by the fire and I’ll be right back.”

“But—”

He disappeared down the hall. Carina shuddered and buried her face with her hands. No way could she stay here. All night? She’d break, tiptoe into his room, and seduce him. Especially now that she experienced a taste. His earthy, musky scent, the rough stubble scraping across the tender peak of her breast, the silky thrust of his tongue as he claimed her mouth, the flavorful sting of cognac.

She locked up the memory. She mustn’t make a mistake. Not until she was alone and able to assess the situation. Make a new plan. Right now, she needed him to feel as comfortable and unthreatened as possible.

Carina moved to the living room and sat on the thick cream carpet in front of the fire. Her flesh warmed from the heat of the flames, and she deliberately relaxed her muscles in an effort to slow down her heartbeat. Rocky slunk back into the living room and plopped down beside her. Murmuring soothing words of how beautiful he was, she stroked his damaged ear and sent him to doggy heaven when her fingers found his canine sweet spot.

Carina admitted she was quite jealous.

“Put these on.” Max thrust a large T-shirt, sweat socks, and a flannel robe at her. Rocky kicked out his legs and growled in protest. She laughed, scratched his belly one last time, and went to change.

Her gaze took in the elegant lines of his mansion. Like Michael, he’d earned a fortune building La Dolce Maggie, and his style proved both expensive and tasteful. The rooms screamed single male, from the spartan decor to the fully stocked bar and game room. The televisions were theater sized, and comfortable leather sofas and recliners, complete with beer cup holders, framed the action. One peek in his kitchen showed pristine ceramic tile, cherry cabinets, and sleek stainless steel appliances. Not a dish in the sink. Either he had a cook, a maid, or ate out every night.

She changed quickly and rejoined him in the living room, sitting in her previous spot. The wood crackled and she pulled her feet up, tucked the robe over her knees, and stared into the flames.

His gaze bore into her back but she remained silent, letting him speak first. Rocky padded over and with a doggy yawn, he rested his massive head in her lap.

“You were right.”

His words came out with a grudging respect. She tilted her head in question and faced him. “About what?”

Max sat in the leather chair with a snifter of cognac at his elbow. He studied her face as if probing for an answer. “About Laura. She hated Rocky.”

She hid a satisfied smirk. “Told you.”

“How did you know?”

“Saw her in the parking lot terrified of a stray dog. Her true personality emerged. She’s not used to children or dogs or a mess. She views only the surface so a dog like Rocky would’ve freaked her out.”

He let out a strangled laugh and took a sip of his cognac. “Yeah, you always did have a canny instinct with people. Remember Julietta’s friend in high school? You called her out immediately.”

The memory hit her and she smiled. “I’d forgotten about that. I knew she was only pretending to be Julietta’s friend to get close to Michael.”

“Michael was happy. She was hot.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You thought any female who walked on two legs was hot. Discretion wasn’t one of your assets.”

“I disagree. Damn, Julietta was pissed off, though. Refused to let Michael date her as just punishment so they both suffered.”

Carina sighed and dropped her chin on her knees. “Julietta wasn’t used to people using her. I became so skilled, I learned how to spot deceit a mile away.”

“Who would want to lie to you?”

“Stupid boys. Every time a boy in school liked me and asked me out, I discovered he only wanted to get to Venezia or Julietta.” She forced a laugh but the memory still stung, to know how she was always ranked third best. To realize her personality was a big bore compared to quirkiness, sexiness, or razor-sharp intelligence. To be reminded time after time she couldn’t trust the simple question of a man asking her out, because she always suspected of being used. But no longer. She’d worked hard to build up her confidence and become the woman she always wanted to be. Carina shrugged it off. “Comes with the territory. Part of having two gorgeous older sisters, I guess.”

“Seems to me you’re a long way from that little girl who didn’t believe in herself.”

His comment startled her. She snuggled deeper into the comfy plaid robe. “I know. That’s why coming to America has been so important. It’s not just about working for La Dolce Maggie—it’s about having the freedom to find out who I am.” The fire flickered and warmed her as well as the light in Max’s eyes. Like he understood. Like he’d been there. “If I tried to go in a new direction, my family was always there ready to yank me back from disaster. I wasn’t able to make my own mistakes. My dates were scrutinized, my studies were mandatory, and I think I lost my way. This is my opportunity to grow and experience the world on my terms. I wake up in my own apartment with no one to please but myself. I earn my own money, pay my own rent, and don’t apologize or have to make excuses.”

Max winced. “I’m sorry, Carina. Bergamo is our home, but I know what it feels like to be pigeonholed. Hard to try anything new without the whole town coming down in judgment.”

“Exactly.” A smile curved her lips. “I remember when my girlfriend and I snuck into one of those underground clubs. We wanted to get drunk and flirt with cute boys, have some fun. The moment we ordered our drinks, Father Richard spotted me and told the bartender I was underage.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, he was out of uniform, and I guess he’s a pretty good dancer. I never looked at him the same again, and Mama skinned my hide big-time when she found out.”

“Poor baby. No way to be bad.”

“And no one to be bad with.”

The tension twisted between them. Rocky moaned as if he caught the undercurrent and lifted his head. The kiss hung in the air like a hooker at the Queen’s table. Totally in your face and nowhere to subtly hide.

Suddenly, the emotions of the night crashed upon her. A draining weariness took hold of her body, and tears burned her lids. So stupid. She needed to get out of here before her entire plan crumbled and Max realized she was just a big baby.

She rose to her feet and tightened the robe around her. Her voice came out husky but she avoided his gaze. “I’m going to bed. I’m exhausted. Which bedroom should I use?”

“Top of the stairs. First one on the left.”

“Thank you.”

She moved past him, breath held, but he made no move to stop her. When her foot hit the first step his words drifted to her ears in a caress. “Those men were assholes, Carina. You were always gorgeous.”

She bit her lip. Clenched the railing. And refused to answer.

Carina studied the canvas in front of her and fought the need to hurl something at the nearest wall.

She was officially physically and creatively frustrated.

Her teeth chewed on her lower lip. It had taken her years to finally control her famous emotions. From tantrums to crying jags, she’d always felt things more deeply than the rest of her family. Now, she was proud of her restraint and ability to engage without the force field of drama around her. Unfortunately, some of the loss of emotion escaped from her painting, and she needed to find a way to get back in touch with her artistic diva.

Muttering under her breath, she opened up the windows to let some fresh air circulate and pumped up the volume of Usher. The grindy, sexy tempo urged her to explore something deeper in her art, but she wasn’t sure what. At least, not yet. Her usual portraits seemed blasé, and she had no interest in landscapes.

She let her thoughts float as she attacked the white space with some blinding color. It was funny how, even as frustrated as she was now, there was a sense of satisfaction never present when she was in the office. For so long, she’d worked toward one goal: dazzle her family with her business skills, make them take notice, ultimately securing her own place in the company. Her ease with accounting only made it easier to continue on the path, and though she enjoyed the people at La Dolce Maggie and the many aspects of the business world, most of it remained flat.

Her dream of a career in the art world caused her family and friends to pat her on the head and encourage her hobby. Gut instinct told her it could be more than that with a little work, but she never had the confidence to buck the system. It seemed so much easier to finish her master’s and settle.

Gloominess settled over her like Pooh’s rain cloud. If she didn’t toughen up, Michael would give up on her and she’d disappoint her family. She tried so hard to be firm, but when she heard the tender stories from people, her mushy heart betrayed her. She knew her assets well: figures and her motivation to work hard. Yet it seemed many of the qualities revered in being a good person rarely were appreciated in the business world.

Max ruled La Dolce Maggie as well as her brother. Their no-nonsense resolve brooked no argument from competitors, yet they were generous and friendly to the employees. She couldn’t even blame their success on being men, since Julietta was the female version of them and ruled La Dolce Famiglia with an iron fist and high heels.

The thought of spending years cooped up in a suit jacket behind a desk prickled her nerves with dread. Half of the fun came from her interactions, but most of them ended up with her covering or saving someone’s ass. She didn’t mind, but Max was getting suspicious. Soon it may come to light that her management skills kind of sucked.

Max.

The memory of their kiss jolted her like an amusement park ride. God, it had been so hot. That forceful tongue, the way he took control of the kiss, the way he pushed up her dress and challenged her with his stare to stop him. It was everything she’d dreamed of in a sexual encounter, and of course, it had to be with the man she was done with.

Fate had a terrible sense of humor.

She added fuchsia and kept the lines bold as she painted freestyle to relax. Not that he’d mentioned the kiss or even acknowledged the evening. One week had passed and he avoided being alone with her at all costs. Her lips curved at the thought. Big, bad Maximus Gray, scared to spend too much time with innocent me.

Damned if she hadn’t given him something to think about also. There was no way she imagined that type of explosive chemistry. His erection proved his interest, but he was probably terrified Michael would kill him for taking his sister for a test drive. Coward.

The idea exploded through her head. The brush paused midair.

A one-night stand.

The image of a naked Max thrusting her to orgasm made her clench her thighs together. Why not? She had no interest in him long term, and planned to find her own man. But perhaps one night of releasing their sexual tension could help both of them. She’d be free of that silly worship she held as a girl and be able to experience her fantasy. Michael never had to know, and she’d convince Max it was just for one night. No recriminations or future or questions.

She was also much more realistic. No, she’d ripped off the blinders and planned like the woman she now was. Just one perfect, orgasm-filled night with Max and she’d be able to walk away.

She threw her head back and laughed at the possibility.

Oh, yeah. This could be fun.

Carina went back to her work with a new focus and began to plan.