Unfinished Business

Max shut off her torrent of words with a hard look. “Come into my office. We need to talk.”

At his command, Rachel froze like an inexperienced driver facing her first spinout.

“Just give me a second,” she protested, her eyes shifting away from him as if looking for an escape.

“Now.” Max strode into his office and waited until she entered before he shut the door, blocking them from prying eyes. “Who was that on the phone?”

“No one.”

“It sure sounds as if you owe no one a great deal of money.” Her evasion irritated him.

He didn’t want to care if she was in trouble, but couldn’t ignore the alarm bells that sounded while he listened to her side of the phone call. With ruthless determination, he shoved worry aside and focused on his annoyance. The fact that she was in a bad spot wasn’t his concern. Her ongoing distraction from her job was.

“You had no right to eavesdrop on my private conversation,” she returned, belligerent where a moment earlier, she’d been desperate and scared.

He anchored one hand on the wood door to keep from launching across the room and shaking her until her teeth rattled. “You seem to forget whose name is on the door.”

Her stubborn little chin rose, but she wouldn’t make eye contact.

“It’s none of your concern.”

That was the wrong thing for her to say. “When they’re calling here it becomes my concern.”

Her defiance and his determination stood toe to toe, neither giving ground.

She broke first. Her gaze fell to his wingtips. “It won’t happen again.”

“Can you guarantee that?”

With her hands clenched to white-knuckle tightness at her side, she pressed her lips into a thin rosy line. Her nonanswer said more than words.

Frustration locked his vocal cords, making speech impossible. He sucked in a calming breath, keenly aware he was venturing into something that was none of his business. If he had an ounce of sense, he’d back off and let her deal with whatever mess she’d stepped in. Unfortunately for him, below his irritation buzzed a hornet of disquiet. He ducked the pesky emotion the way he’d dodge the stinging insect, but it darted around with relentless persistence.

“Do you need help?” He wrenched the offer free of his better judgment. The ramifications of involving himself in her troubles were bound to bite him in the …

“No.” Her clipped response matched his offer in civility and warmth.

They glared at each other. Two mules with their heels dug in.

He should be glad she’d turned him down. Instead, her refusal made him all the more determined to interfere.

“Stop being so stubborn. Let me help you. How much do you owe?”

Her eyes never wavered from his, but she blinked twice in rapid succession. “I don’t need your help.”

“But I need things to run smoothly. I can’t afford for you to be distracted by money problems. I assume that’s what you’ve been dealing with on your extended lunch breaks.”

“I’ve got everything under control.”

“That’s not the way it sounded just now.” Max shoved away from the door and stalked in her direction. He had no idea what he planned to do when he reached her. Something idiotic, no doubt, like take her in his arms and kiss her senseless.

The scent of her filled his nostrils. Some sort of nonfloral fragrance that made him think of clean sheets bleached by the sun. He was assailed by the image of her remaking the bed in their beach bungalow after their frantic lovemaking had ripped the sheets from the mattress.

His irritation faded. “You sounded upset.”

Her eyes widened at whatever note of concern she heard in his voice. “I’m not going to let you help me.”

Damned stubborn fool.

He caught her arm and pulled her across the gap between them. She came without resistance, her lips softening and parting as a rush of air escaped her. He wanted to sample those lips. Were they as pliant and intoxicating as ever?

“How are you going to stop me?” he demanded, cupping the back of her head to hold her still.

He dropped his head and claimed her mouth, swallowing her tart answer. He expected resistance. They’d been dancing around this moment for almost a week. The shoving match of his will against hers had inflamed his appetite for a similar battle between the sheets.

She moaned.

Her immediate surrender caught him off guard. It took him a second to change tactics, to stop taking and coax her instead to open to his questing kiss. She tasted like fruit punch, but went to his head like a Caribbean rum cocktail.

Long fingers darted into his hair. Her muscles softened. The flow of her lean lines against his frame was like waves on a beach, soothing, endlessly fascinating. With his eyes closed, the surf roaring in his ears, he remembered how it felt to hold her in his arms.

In a flash, all the memories of her that he’d locked away came back. Every instant of their time together played through his mind. His heart soared as he remembered not just the incredible sex, but the soul-baring connection they’d shared.

Then came her leaving. The ache that consumed him. His destructive anger.

Max broke off the kiss. Chest heaving, he surveyed the passion-dazed look in her azure eyes. Her high color. The flare of her nostrils as she scooped air into her lungs. He felt similarly depleted of oxygen. Surely that was the reason for his lightheadedness.

“That was a mistake,” he said, unable to let her go.

Rachel took matters into her own hands. She shifted her spine straight and pushed on his chest. His fingers ached as she slipped free.

“That’s supposed to be my line,” she said, tugging her jacket back into order.

He inclined his head. “Be my guest.”

Max retreated to the couch. Resettling his tie into a precise line down the front of his shirt, he laid his arm over the back of the couch and watched Rachel battle back from desire. She recovered faster than he’d hoped.

“That was a mistake.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leveled a narrow look his way. “One that won’t be repeated.”

“You misunderstand me,” he said. “The mistake I referred to was letting the kiss happen here.”

“What do you mean here? There’s no place else it’s going to happen.”

He hit her with an are-you-kidding expression. “You’re crazy if you think this thing between us is going to die out on its own.”

“It will if you stop fanning the flames.”

He had to fight from smiling at her exasperated tone. “Impossible. You set me on fire every time I get within twenty feet of you.”