Forgotten Honeymoon

By the way he posed the question, she knew he didn’t think very highly of that persuasion. Kristina was tempted to say that she was, just to annoy him. There was something about him that pushed all her buttons in a perverse way. Maybe it was his attitude toward her, as if she were a little girl, playing games. Or maybe it was just that he was so damn good-looking, the way David had been.

Actually, if she was to be impartial, Max was better-looking than David. But that wasn’t going to get in the way of anything. All it would do was solidify her resolve. If he thought he was going to use his looks to get her to change her mind, he was in for a surprise, she thought confidently. Her mind was made up.

Kristina’s eyes held his. “No, steak’ll be fine. Rare.” It was what she considered one of her few weaknesses.

It was his turn to be surprised. Her answer coaxed a smile to his lips. “Finally, we agree on something.”

It was a very sensual smile. Her own lips seemed to tingle where he had touched them.

Kristina tossed her head. It was an action depicting arrogance and defiance. Yet, just for a brief moment, Max thought it was tinged with an element of insecurity. Probably his imagination.

“We’ll agree about this,” she told him, gesturing about the front room as they walked through it. “Eventually.”

He smiled at her without saying another word. When pigs fly jet planes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw June watching them. Like a mother hen, he thought, concerned that the wolf was going to eat the chicks. Not this wolf. Not if he could help it. He nodded at June as they entered the dining room.

The spacious room, with its polished wooden floor and knickknack-lined shelves, was at the rear of the inn. It had a fantastic view of the ocean through large adjacent bay windows. Though the meals here were excellent, they were considered secondary to the scenery.

Kristina had made note of the view as she took her quick tour of the inn. Now, as a brooding storm hung over the distant sky, it struck her as magnificent.

Max saw the look on her face and interpreted it as a point in his favor.

“Like the view? Or would you like to improve on that, as well?” he couldn’t help adding.

Her jaw tightened. She had developed her present sharp-tongued way of dealing with people because she’d discovered that no one bothered to listen to her opinions or follow her suggestions if she voiced them politely. They thought of her as “Kate’s granddaughter,” or “Nathaniel’s little girl.” She was that, but she was so much more. She was her own person, and if it took a heavy hand to make her point, then a heavy hand was what she had to use.

“Only by making sure the windows were cleaner. They could stand a washing,” she attested casually.

Max wondered if killing her now would make the other guests lose their appetite, or if they would wind up applauding him.

Sydney approached their table. Sydney, like Antonio, doubled as a waiter during meals. Max nodded toward her. “Tell Sam we want two filets mignons. Rare.”

“Anything to drink?” Sydney asked, placing an order of bread in the middle of the table.

He could do with a Scotch, a double, right about now. But he knew he was going to need a clear head to take on this woman fate had seen fit to saddle him with. “Just water. Two.”

Kristina bristled at his presumption. “I can order for myself, Cooper.”

He raised his hands, as if pulling them away from a sacred artifact he shouldn’t have touched. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to tread on your territory. Go ahead.”

“Iced coffee, please,” Kristina told Sydney as she took her seat.

“How appropriate,” Max muttered under his breath. Their eyes met and held. He saw a flash within hers, and felt a measure of satisfaction. “Given the warmer turn of the weather,” he added.

For the moment, Kristina said nothing. Sydney turned toward Max. “Will there be anything else?”

“No, just see if Sam can hurry it up.” The chef had a tendency to let guests linger over their drinks. Now that he was sitting opposite Kristina, he wanted this over with as soon as possible.

Sydney gave Max a wide smile. “Sure thing, Max.” The smile turned frosty as she nodded politely at Kristina. “Ms. Fortune.”

Kristina spread her napkin across her lap. Not waiting for Max, she cut a slice from the loaf. The bread should have been warm, she noted. She glanced up at Max, then thought better of bringing the fact to his attention. Minor details like that would be lost on him.

Others, however, had to be made known. “You know, you really shouldn’t let her call you Max.”

He tore off an end of the loaf, a little abruptly, though his tone remained mild. “Funny, I was just thinking that you shouldn’t insist on being called Ms. Fortune.”

Kristina’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t take criticism well, especially if, in her opinion, it was unwarranted.

“Why?”

He would have thought that it was self-evident. But maybe not to someone like the ice princess. “Puts distance between you.”

She still didn’t see what he was driving at. Delicately she pushed aside the bread. Never a big eater, she wanted to leave room for the main course. “That’s exactly my point.”

Max took a deep breath. He was stuck with her. That meant he was going to have to try his best to educate her. She obviously had no experience in dealing with people who didn’t have silver spoons in their mouths.

“You want them doing their best for you, not just thinking that it’s a job.”

His reasoning was so flawed, it took her breath away. “But it is a job. And their incentive is their paycheck—and bonuses if they perform well.” After all, she wasn’t heartless—she knew it was difficult to make it in this world.

He dropped the bread, and with it, the last of his appetite. “That makes them sound like trained seals.” Leaning forward so that his face was inches from hers, he observed, “You have a very strange way of putting people off, Kristina. Is it a gift, like everything else you own?”

No, she wasn’t going to enjoy working with this idiot. Kristina squared her shoulders. “You don’t like me very much, Cooper. Fortunately for me, no pun intended, that doesn’t matter. We can work together without liking each other.”

He didn’t have to read between the lines to know what she was saying to him. “As long as I do things your way.”

“If my way makes sense…” Kristina let her voice trail off, leaving him to reach the conclusion that her way did make sense on his own. If the man had any brains at all.

His mouth quirked in a humorless smile. “As in ‘Dollars and—’ Correct?”

She didn’t care for the way he was talking down to her. If he didn’t like the idea of turning a profit, why was he hanging on to the inn? “Most people go into business to make money. This is a business.”

Sydney returned with their meals before he could respond. He waited until Sydney receded again. He didn’t miss the sympathetic look in her eyes as she left.

He nodded toward the plate in front of Kristina, taking advantage of the small diversion. “Eat your steak, Kris.”

She hated nicknames. “The name,” she told him, enunciating every syllable, “is Kristina.”

The name is Pain, he thought, resigning himself to a very arduous evening. “Eat your steak, ‘Kristina,’” he said deliberately.

Looking as if she had won a small victory, Kristina cut a piece of the thick steak on her plate. She had to admit that it did look appetizing. But the serving itself could be improved upon. Smaller portions, more artistically arranged. Honeymooners weren’t all that interested in food, anyway.

She looked up and saw that Max was watching her. “Just look around you. The inn has sixteen bedrooms. Only five of them are filled.” All five couples were in the dining room now. The room fairly echoed with her voice, reinforcing her point about the poor attendance.

The steak was done to perfection, but his appetite had completely waned. “And what you propose would fill them.”

“Yes.” Her eyes fairly glowed as she leaned forward, energy vibrating through her affirmation. “We’ll have bookings two months in advance.”

She knew nothing about the business. How could she be so certain of her ideas? “Sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

There was no hesitation in her voice. “Yes.”

He pinned her with a look. “Why?”

Hadn’t he been listening? “Because I’ve got a good sense of business.”

She was unbelievable. Had anyone bothered checking her for a pulse? “Is that all it is to you, just business?”

“Of course it is.” She looked at him incredulously. “What else could it be?”

Patiently, like a teacher talking to a backward child, Max began again. “I mentioned earlier that it was a home—”

Did he really think she was being taken in by his smoke screen? “Spare me the sentiment, Cooper. It’s just another excuse you’re using not to do anything. I’m sure you’re very comfortable this way. Well, you don’t have to worry. I will handle everything. I’m accustomed to that. You can go on just napping.” Disgust filled her eyes. “We’ll try not to make too much noise for you, especially not when I slip you your share of the profits.”

He’d tried it June’s way. He’d tried being polite. This woman wouldn’t understand anything but a show of force. “Tell me, because I’m new at this—does walking around with a wallet where your heart is supposed to be require any extra care on your part?”

Her head jerked up. How dare he! “I can’t talk to you if you’re going to be abusive.”

That was a laugh. “Talk to me? Lady, all you do is talk at me, not to me.” He raised his voice, for once unmindful of the people in the dining room. “I don’t think you know how to talk to a person so that he’d listen of his own free will.”

Kristina rose, throwing down her napkin. She didn’t have to listen to this, and she certainly wasn’t going to sit here trading insults with him while others listened.

“Tell the chef that the steak was delicious. The company, however, was not. It left a great deal to be desired.”

With that, she walked out of the dining room.

Like the others in the room, Sydney had been looking on. She came forward now to clear away Kristina’s plate. “Don’t let it get to you, Max. If I’d been in your place, I would have decked her.”

Max sighed. Sydney meant well, but that didn’t alter the fact that he was going to have to find some way to work with this infuriating woman.

“Thanks, but you’re not in my place, and decking her wouldn’t have helped, anyway.”

Max looked down at his plate. It was a damn good steak. He wanted to finish his meal, but he knew there was damage control to attend to. With a sigh, he rose, leaving his napkin on the chair.

“Tell Sam this is nothing personal. The steak is great.”

He went after Kristina, aware that the other guests were all looking at him. God, but he wished he was back at the construction site. Steel and concrete were things he knew how to handle. Stuck-up, gold-for-blood rich witches were in a league all their own.

A league Alexis had been quick to join, he recalled, jilting him and running off to marry that fancy executive of hers. When he thought of it, the man Alexis had described to him was a male counterpart to Kristina. No wonder he didn’t like her, he thought.

Max passed June at the front desk. Instead of saying anything, the older woman just pointed toward the door. He sighed and hurried out.

He was in time to see Kristina heading toward the beach.

Good. With any luck, she’d drown herself.

Not that he could let her.

Cursing roundly under his breath, he rushed after her.

Four

D amn stupid woman. With his luck, she’d probably walk straight into the water and get pulled under by a strong riptide. Then he’d be stuck explaining the situation to the local police.

“Hey!” Max called after Kristina as he hurried to catch up.

She made no effort to stop, and didn’t give any indication that she’d even heard him. If anything, she seemed to quicken her pace.

Max swore as he broke into a run. The wind stole his words away, scattering them over the water. As if he didn’t have enough trouble on his hands already with construction deadlines, now he had to deal with a rich, spoiled brat set on doing everything her way.

“Hey!”

Catching up to her, he grabbed Kristina by the arm and swung her around to face him. Even in the limited moonlight, he could see the storm clouds passing over not just the face of the moon, but her face, as well. It was a sensual face, a face he might have been attracted to. If it didn’t belong to Kristina.

But it did, and he had less than no use for someone like her.

“Don’t you know that it’s dangerous to run off in the dark when you’re not familiar with the area? The surf’s heavy this time of year. Some of those waves could wash you out to sea before you had sense enough to scream for help.”

As if that actually concerned him, she thought, annoyed at being manhandled.

“I can take care of myself,” she retorted. “And for your information, I’m not about to wander into the water like some dazed Ophelia. I always know exactly where I am.”

And so do I. In hell.

“What is it with you?” Max could only see one reason for her acting so unreasonably—that something had hurt her to the nth degree. He remembered the way he’d felt after Alexis. But that still didn’t give her an excuse for wielding her bad temper like a sword, slicing away at everyone within range. “Did somebody dump you or something?”

The assumption made her jerk her head up and glare at him. That hadn’t been the case, of course. It was she who had left David. But it was David who had never really wanted her in the first place, only her money. Only her position.

Kristina’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits that glinted with anger. “Why? Don’t you think a woman can be angry unless there’s a man involved?”

“Well…” He pretended to seriously consider her question. He saw that the thought annoyed her. Maybe someone had walked out on her. Not that he could blame him. A guy would have to be crazy to be involved with the likes of her. “No.”

She blew out a breath, dragging her hand through her hair. The pins that had held it so securely in place were scattered now, victims of her quick pace and the wind. The latter plucked away the last of them.

He was watching her, waiting. Looking at her as if he could see something beneath the lines of her face.

Making her uncomfortable again.

“In this case,” she conceded, “you’re right, but no one’s ‘dumped’ me, as you so eloquently put it. But there is a man involved. You.” She saw a hint of surprise enter his eyes. The egoist probably misunderstood. Well, she’d just squelch that misunderstanding. “I just wanted to get away from you.” She frowned at him, the same way she might have at a stain that refused to respond to treatment and remained embedded in the weave of a favorite dress. “I didn’t seem to succeed very well.”

He wasn’t going to let her draw him into another argument. He refused to allow that to happen—but it damn well wasn’t easy, not when he wanted to wring her neck.

Putting out his hand to her, he made the ultimate sacrifice. “How about a truce?”

She looked at his hand. It was a strong hand with calluses on it. A hand that belonged to a man who wasn’t afraid of working and getting dirty. So maybe he wasn’t all that lazy, she conceded. Just pigheaded.

Still, she ignored the offer, looking directly up into his eyes.

“How about talking reason for a change?” she countered. Kristina raised her voice to be heard above the sound of the pounding surf. She held up her index finger. “Fact—the inn isn’t making money.” Another finger joined the first. “Fact—you have a very valuable piece of property.” A third bounced up. He had the uncontrollable urge to shove her hand down to her side. Another urge, far less sensible than that, was beginning to surface, as well. He ascribed it to the fact that she had churned up his emotions. “Fact—I have the money that’s necessary to make this into something unique. And fact—”

She stopped abruptly as Max closed his hand tightly over hers and pushed it to her side. Undaunted, she said through gritted teeth, “I am half owner.”

“And fact—you are one hell of a pain in the neck.” Max let go of her hand, curtailing the desire to give it one extra, hard squeeze.

Very gingerly, she flexed her fingers. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of wincing. He wasn’t just pigheaded, he was a Neanderthal.

“With the money this place will make once I’m through with it, you can afford to buy yourself an electric massager—or a masseuse, if that’s too complicated for you to operate.”

He was standing toe-to-toe with her on one of the most beautiful spots in the state. It wasn’t a place meant for shouting, or for escalating tempers. Why couldn’t she just shut up and let the place work its magic on her? It already was on him, and he didn’t even want any part of it.

Or her.

He tried again. “Why don’t you try to enjoy this place for a little while before deciding to make any changes?”

He didn’t get it, did he? Progress was obviously a dirty word to him. Lucky for him she’d come along when she did.

“I don’t have to enjoy it,” she insisted, “to know that this place has potential that is not being utilized.” Frustrated, she gestured around at the beach, as if he’d never seen it before.

Max shoved his hands deep into his back pockets and began walking along the shoreline. She fell into step beside him. He felt a little like Lee on the eve of Appomattox, facing the inevitable and trying to come to grips with it. If nothing else, he wanted to make certain that his soldiers retained their swords.

“If there are changes, there’s one thing I want to make perfectly clear at the outset,” Max warned her. “I don’t want any of the staff ‘outplaced,’ or whatever the popular term for being fired is these days.”

His concern did soften the edges of the image he projected, but cold facts were cold facts. “If they’re not doing a good job—”

Max stopped walking, his eyes riveted to hers. “They’re doing a good job.”

The rugged face looked almost malevolent, she thought, startled by the intensity of the feeling she saw there. But not startled enough to back down. She intended to do everything she had planned to do on the plane. She couldn’t allow sentiment, or a stubborn, sentimental half owner, to get in the way.

“But if—”

“This isn’t negotiable, Kristina,” he informed her harshly. “I gave my word to my foster parents when I took over the inn that no one who worked for them would be released. They would all have a job for life, if they wanted it.”

This man did not belong in business. She was surprised that he hadn’t been eaten by the sharks yet. While the attitude he espoused sounded noble, in reality it was just another excuse for not taking control.

“Yes,” she allowed patiently, “but surely your foster parents wouldn’t want you to—”

He didn’t want to hear any more of her work philosophy. It wouldn’t make any difference.

“My word, Kristina,” he said, cutting in. “My word. Do you know what that means?” His eyes pinned her. “That means I made them a promise, and I always keep my promises.”

Max felt the last of his temper fraying as he looked down into her stubborn, unrelenting face. How could anyone so beautiful be so damn heartless?

And then he remembered Alexis and had his answer.

“Not ever,” he emphasized. “And certainly not for spoiled brats who come riding in on their brooms, ready to sweep everything and everyone out of their way.” He drew himself up, and he was a good foot taller than she was. “That might be the way you do it in Minneapolis, but that isn’t the way it’s done out here.”

Oh, puh-leeze. She rolled her eyes. “Oh, right—Californians are the last word in truth and fair play.”

He had sounded pretty high-and-mighty, Max thought, annoyed with himself for giving her something else to ridicule. He raised his voice, shouting above the growing howl of the wind.

“Maybe not, but I am.” He lowered his mouth to her ear, so that his words wouldn’t be swept away before she heard them. “Now, if you have any sense in your head, which I doubt, you’ll go back to the inn.” He clamped a hand on her shoulder and turned her roughly around to face the darkening sky. “There’s a storm coming. We wouldn’t want to take a chance on having lightning strike you, now, would we?”

His tone told her exactly how he would feel about it.

With that, Max turned and walked away with long, hurried strides, as if he couldn’t wait to get away from her.

Frustrated, angry, Kristina looked around for something, anything, to throw. There was a piece of driftwood sticking up a few feet away from her. Yanking it out of the sand, she hurled it at Max before she could stop to think what she was doing.

The small piece struck him squarely in the back. Surprised, Max swung around just as the driftwood landed beside his foot. He spared it one look, then strode back to where Kristina was standing.

The look in his eyes was dark and forbidding.

Surprised at the level of her outburst, uncertain of what to expect from him, Kristina still refused to back down. Instead, she lifted her chin, daring him to retaliate.

Max grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her one strong shake that very nearly rattled her teeth. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“You,” she shot back. She blew out a shaky breath, refusing to tell him to release her, even though he was hurting her. “You make me lose my temper faster than anyone I’ve ever met.”

He realized that he was holding her too hard. Letting her go, he saw the dark prints of his fingers on her upper arms. Damn it, he wasn’t a savage, even if she was a shrew.

Annoyed with himself, with her, he scowled. “Well, we’ve got that in common, too. Steak and tempers. A hell of a combination.” He shook his head. “This isn’t going to work out.”

Her bravado escalated to a fever pitch. “It’s not a marriage, it’s a business arrangement.”

“It’s more than that,” he replied. “It’s hell, right here on earth.” And he was smack-dab in the middle of it, thanks to her.

A string of curses ran through his mind as he looked down into her face. Without fully realizing he was doing it, he pulled her back into his arms.

Emotions churned within him like the sea caught in the grip of a typhoon. Max felt himself on the verge of giving in to the almost overwhelming magnetic pull he felt when he looked into her eyes. It didn’t make any sense to him, but then, pure sexual attraction probably never did. And that was what this was. Pure, raw sex.

In the moonlight, with the wind whipping her hair to and fro, making her look like some kind of siren, wrapping her scent around him, he felt a gut-level reaction that he hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

He wanted her.

Whether to make love with or to strangle was a toss-up. But he did want her.

Kristina’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t nearly as sure of herself now as she had been a moment ago. With Max’s steely fingers holding her in place and his brooding eyes on hers, she could feel her very insides quaking.

She had no idea what he was capable of. And no idea why the danger in his eyes fascinated her so. But she knew she didn’t like the power it had over her.

His head inclined, and now his mouth was only a breath away from hers. Kristina could feel her heart pounding against her rib cage, bruising it as surely as his fingers had bruised her arms.

Like a cornered animal, she dug deep for courage and attacked. “You kiss me,” she swore, “and I’ll make you pay for it.”

She would, too, he thought. And he didn’t know if the price would be worth it. Maybe it would.

He laughed at her threat, and made the situation all the more worse.