Forgotten Honeymoon

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?”