The Marriage Mistake(9)
Her evasive answer pissed him off. Had she been on a bike with some guy looking to take advantage? And why did he care? She was a grown woman, for God’s sake, and no longer his concern. She could date whomever she wanted. The image of her clutching some guy around the waist hit him full force. Thighs tight around the hum of the engine. Dark hair flying in the wind. The dip and speed as she hung on tight with the promise of a very different ride afterward.
Maybe it was time Carina Conte realized he wasn’t a man who took well to teasing.
He lowered his head. Her eyes widened in surprise as he dipped his mouth close to hers; close enough to see the gorgeous peach sheen to her skin, the ruby red of her lips, and the tiny gasp of breath she emitted in a warm rush. “Want me to prove I’m not gay?”
She paused just a moment, then rallied. “I never knew my opinion really mattered.”
The words hit with deliberate precision. Her sharp intellect hidden under a veneer of sweetness always fascinated him. Rarely did she have the courage to spar, and he found himself enjoying this new woman before him. “Maybe things have changed.”
“Maybe I don’t care.”
A smile touched his lips. “Maybe it’s time I give you a message for my mother. A type of proof.”
The pulse beat madly at the base of her neck. Still, her tone was cool and under control when she spoke. “Maybe I don’t like to be used.” She took a step back and dismissed him. “Maybe I’ve moved on, Maximus Gray. I’m no longer your sweet little pup begging for a bone. Get over it.”
She walked away with her head held high and joined her brother. Max watched and wondered what the hell he’d started. Was he nuts? Any type of sensual challenge was off-limits—but she’d pushed him. The undercurrents of their conversation cut deep. Had he treated her like that? Guilt assuaged him at the thought of being condescending to someone he loved. And he did love her. Like a sister.
Max shook his head and went to get some air. He needed to get a grip. No more sparring. No more teasing. They needed to cultivate a business relationship while he taught her the rules of the game and hoped she didn’t surpass him in the skills needed to take over his job. The situation was sticky enough without another complication—especially a sexual attraction.
He breathed in the clean, crisp air and settled himself. This was just a temporary setback brought on by curiosity.
It wouldn’t be repeated.
Chapter Three
Stupid. She’d been so stupid.
Carina watched him from under her lashes as he snapped orders over the phone to one of their suppliers. Last night had been a big mistake. Challenging him on any sexual level was off-limits, but she hadn’t been able to help herself. For the first time, she met him on equal footing, and the heady feeling was too much to contain.
Until he leaned forward, his mouth inches from her own. The sexy plumpness of his lower lip, the rough stubble hugging his chin and jaw, the drugging heat of those baby blues. Even dressed in jeans, a button-down white shirt, and casual charcoal sports jacket, he reminded her of James Bond on vacation. Not just any Bond. No, he was all Pierce Brosnan, with his smooth good looks, rakish black hair, and hard-muscled body. She bet he’d jump buildings and kill the bad guys without breaking a sweat. His slight accent curled each syllable just a hint to elicit an almost mesmerizing reaction from any female in the room.
She’d almost swooned like a Victorian heroine. Instead, she fought the sensual haze with a survivor’s instinct and managed to come out on top. Too bad the victory was short-lived. The ache between her thighs and the tightness of her nipples told her she’d never be fully over Max. Her body sang and wept in his presence. But she’d had years of practice, and it was something she’d have to live with.
Their odd conversation held too many hidden levels that she didn’t want to face. At least they both focused on business this morning. They’d been polite, composed, and ready to work—exactly what she needed.
He clicked off the phone and unfurled more than six feet of coiled muscle. “Walk with me. We have a meeting with sales.”
She grabbed her briefcase and took off after him, using two steps for every one of his. The headquarters for La Dolce Maggie were now separate from La Dolce Famiglia, which her sister Julietta ran in Italy. When Michael decided to expand the bakery business throughout New York, he’d taken on an ambitious plan to reveal a new opening every quarter. Each location was chosen based on a number of statistics, and Carina agreed with their decisions after reading the reports. Of course, dealing with various chefs, suppliers, and contractors was overwhelming, and Max seemed to be involved in every level.