The Wolfe Proxy

THE WOLFE PROXY …Max’s blue eyes flashed fire. “You so much as look at my sister again, Wolfe, and I swear you’ll be o...

Author: McKinney T D | Wylis Terry

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THE WOLFE PROXY

…Max’s blue eyes flashed fire. “You so much as look at my sister again, Wolfe, and I swear you’ll be on the wrong end of a welder’s rig.” That muscle in Max’s jaw jumped again. “You want her out of your office, fine. I’ll make sure she stays out. Just get the hell away from us.” Neanderthal. Did he think physical threats would frighten Quint? Well, pretty Max was very wrong. They didn’t. Not the least bit. It only sent a new jolt of rage through Quint. So Max Bowman thought he could possibly come up to Quint’s speed? Hardly! Quint would show the insufferable caveman exactly how to play the game of fear, intimidation, and extortion. “Oh, I’ll stay away. For a price.” “What price?” Max’s eyes narrowed and that solid body tensed. “I told you I’d keep her out of your way. That’s plenty.” The industrial door rattled open again. “So we have a deal and you can get your over-toned ass the hell off my property.” “I don’t think so.” Hardball just went granite, boy. In a blink Quint had Max Bowman up against the wall next to the door, a hand to each side of the sculptor’s head. It took all Quint had not to kiss that acerbic mouth, but this was business. “You see, Mr. Bowman, I have no choice in the matter of guiding dear Jennifer through the finer points of corporate navigation. I have yet to learn what stipulations dear Greataunt Elaine made if your sister fails to take an active part in

WolfeCorp. So you see, I can’t accept your offer. But I do have a counterproposal. It’s not negotiable. Either you agree to it or I will use every ploy at my disposal to protect my company, even if it means luring dear, sweet Jennifer into my bed and under my thumb.” Quint let out his own smirk, recalling Max at the picnic and the very loud vibe he’d gotten. His counteroffer left his knees weak at the prospect. Too bad Bowman wouldn’t go for it in a million years…

ALSO BY T. D. MCKINNEY & T ERRY WYLIS Portrait Of A Kiss

Other Books By T. D. McKinney Dancing In The Dark A Matter Of Necessity With Aimee Maison My Secret Yankee With Trixie Stilletto Eight Is Never Enough

THE WOLFE PROXY BY T. D. MCKINNEY & TERRY WYLIS

AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com

THE WOLFE PROXY AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2009 by T. D. McKinney & Terry Wylis ISBN 978-1-60272-464-8 Cover Art © 2009 Trace Edward Zaber

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PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

For John Barrowman, a great talent who makes being out look so easy and natural.

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CHAPTER 1 “Well…if you cross Brad Pitt’s looks with Gomer Pyle’s voice, you’re getting pretty close. He was perfect as long as he kept his mouth shut. Or at least wasn’t using it for talking.” Man, nothing but grief with his recent pick-ups. Max Bowman slammed the door to his sister’s Pyris as he looked about. Somewhere in the park a pavilion had supposedly been set up for WolfeCorp’s annual picnic. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d let Jenn drag him to something with such a high boredom potential. Sully Randall twitched just once before settling broad hands into worn denim pockets and grinning. “Thought you Sooner boys liked a good cornfield twang. You going urban 1

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on me, Max? You cannot scare me on two fronts. Your social life is bad enough.” “I’m as Sooner as I ever was, but he actually used the word ‘golly.’ I mean, really! I have some standards in my one-night stands. Not many, but a few.” Max grinned at his long-time friend. “Don’t you have any for all those girls you date? Wait, I forgot. The girls ignore you.” The grin grew. “It’s got to suck to be you.” He laughed at Sully’s eye-roll. “Of course, you can comfort yourself with the thought that any girl who did possibly let you pick her up wouldn’t sound like Gomer Pyle.” “Will you two behave?” Jennifer Bowman’s laughter rolled across the park. “I’m the new major shareholder at WolfeCorp and I don’t want to get run out of town before Quint warms up to the idea of sharing office space.” “Quint?” Max shifted focus from teasing Sully about Max’s varied and rather gymnastic sex life to his sister. “Who’s Quint and should I care?” His sister’s brown eyes surveyed him for a long moment before she huffed. “Quinton M. Wolfe, CEO and owner of WolfeCorp. The man whose company we now have a serious share of, thanks to Aunt Elaine.” Jenn gazed over the expanse of grass, searching for the right spot. “I don’t think he’s used to someone taking such an interest. When I asked about an office space he seemed a little flustered.” Max snorted. “I’ll bet. So he doesn’t like my snot-nosed brat of a sister hanging around? Can’t blame him.” He searched his memory for all he knew of Quinton Wolfe. “Isn’t he in the papers a lot? Local most eligible bachelor and all 2

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that? He’s a major playboy.” “Well, I’d think he’d be eligible. He’s a doll, and he works so hard he can’t possibly have time for a social life with any real meaning.” Jenn spared him a glare. “And twenty-seven’s not snot-nosed.” Uh-oh. Max knew that look in Jenn’s brown eyes. She had a new pet project. Thank God it wasn’t Big Brother. He’d been on the end of that look too many times to count. His sister sighed and straightened her sun hat. “Quint just isn’t used to having someone around to help. It’ll be okay. Come on, I see the right pavilion.” Max followed with a wry look at Sully. “Well, according to the papers your Mr. Wolfe has plenty of social life. Way more than I do.” “And that’s saying something.” Sully offered Jenn his arm. “Of course, his consists of white-tie dinners at the Anatole and concerts at Bass Hall, and yours is hot wings from Wing Stop and trips to Oak Lawn to party hearty.” “I think I’m going to love living in Dallas.” Jenn hugged Sully’s arm. “There’s so much to do and so many people. Home seems so quiet compared to it.” She smiled at Max. “Now I understand why you moved. And I love the space you made for me in the factory building.” “I like having you there.” Max ignored the swift change of subject. His lifestyle still confused Jenn a bit. And she worried too much. “I suppose I could make money if I turned the whole thing into lofts, but then I’d have a ton of people around me and I sort of like it when it’s quiet.” The old factory with 3

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its fancy 1940s brick and stone facade suited the artist in him better than a high-rise condo. “And no one complains if I decide to bang on iron at two in the morning.” “Or fire up the soldering torch and raise a stink.” Sully chuckled at Jenn’s gasp and patted her arm. “I’m just kidding. He’s got it vented well. And I only bring the big rig over if he’s got a job beyond him.” “Beyond me? In your dreams, boy. So when will I be getting a call because old lady Harriman has you working on a new orchid sculpture and you need my help?” Max raised a brow at the pavilion. “I thought this was a picnic, not a circus. You could fit Ringling Brothers under there.” “WolfeCorp employs nearly five hundred people in Dallas alone. They had to have something big.” Jenn suddenly went up on her toes. “Oh, there’s Quint! I should let him know I’m here. Grab a plate and find a table. I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.” She hurried off, dark ponytail swinging against her red T-shirt and white capris, straight toward a tall blond in starched khakis and a polo shirt. Preppy didn’t come close to describing that amount of upper-class aura. The short nose tilted just a bit at the tip and the firm jaw showed a little too much stubbornness. Yeah, way too much Great Gatsby good looks going on there. Max frowned. Okay, Mr. Corporate dressed too well and was far too handsome to be near Max’s little sister without a chaperone. And likely too freaking straight to be near me without one. “Yeah, like we’re gonna let her go off to talk to Quint 4

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without checking him out?” Max looked at Sully. “Why do sisters always think we’re as dumb as we look? Come on.” *

*

*

Quinton Wolfe suppressed a groan as he put on his brightest smile for Miss Bowman. Bad enough the new shareholder wanted a front-row seat for the day-to-day operations of the company. Another day of ultra-wholesome Sunflower Sue and he’d go crazy. “Oh, Quint, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t think you were on your own here.” Jennifer Bowman was pretty enough, curvy in all the right places, but no one could be that sunny and cheerful and downright nice all the time. Like that little blush over her cheeks when he kissed her hand. So either she had an agenda or simply the brains of a houseplant. He hadn’t decided which yet. “Thank you. If you have a minute, I’d like to introduce you to my brother and his friend. I’m staying with Max, and you have some of Sully’s art hanging in the reception area.” “Sully? Are you sure? I don’t recall the name.” And Quint knew exactly who’d created every carefully-selected piece of art in both his apartment and the office complex. He might not keep up with his secretary’s birthday, but he knew which artists’ work he preferred. He kept the smile in place. “Of course I’ll be thrilled to meet your brother and his friend.” God spare him. Quint could only hope the brother wasn’t as corn-fed perky as Miss Bowman. “I told them to get some food and… Oh! Here they are 5

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now.” How that sunny smile could get brighter escaped logic. Jennifer positively radiated with it. “Quinton Wolfe, my brother Max Bowman, and Sully Randall.” Randall. Now that made sense. “Of course, Saul Randall, I presume. I greatly admire your enamels. Amazingly lifelike.” He held out his hand to the artist. At least Miss Corn-Belt had one interesting acquaintance. “I own several.” “Yes, sir, I know. And thank you.” Sully’s firm handshake made as good an impression as the man’s wall sculptures. He fit well with Quint’s idea of someone who worked in metal and heated enamels. The broad shoulders bespoke a man who worked for a living as much as the callused hands. Quint liked the straightforward hazel-green gaze. “Your company artwork kept me in orders and supplies for six months. And netted me several regular clients as well.” Sully’s smile had just the right amount of diffidence. “You deserve them. I don’t buy what I don’t like.” Quint turned to the man beside the artist and barely managed to control a blink. The sister was pretty enough, but wow. Handsome hardly seemed an appropriate word. Dark hair with just enough wave to appeal framed a face of stunning masculine beauty. Straight brows shaded eyes of an astonishing blue, the lashes long and thick. The finely chiseled nose led to a mouth whose generous lines set all sorts of lascivious thoughts flowing through Quint’s mind. The cleft in that strong and manly chin made Quint’s tongue long to explore it. Dear God, the brother had dimples. Quint’s mouth went dry. “And you must be Miss Bowman’s brother.” Quint 6

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held out a hand that managed not to shake. “That’s me.” Bowman’s gorgeous smile didn’t hide the wary gaze. The protective older brother, no doubt. Still the handshake sent a shock over Quint’s skin that no doubt would embarrass all three of them if they could feel as Quint did. “I’m the one who doesn’t need the desk.” “Max.” Jennifer’s voice held an amusing combination of love and chiding. “Don’t tease so. I just want to learn about the business Aunt Elaine left me her shares in. I’d have split them with you. You said you didn’t want them.” Her hand came to rest on Quint’s arm. “Max told me he’d just as soon spend his free time in the studio. Said he had all the moving and shaking he needed just keeping up with orders. He’s a marvelous sculptor.” Quint ignored the part about shares in his company, shares that dear Aunt Elaine should have left to Quint instead of bequeathing to a niece with no connection to the Wolfe side of the family, shares that now left his company at risk for a takeover if this girl didn’t handle them well. He pasted on a smile to hide his ire and focused on the appealing brother. “Ah, another artist then.” Sculptor. Visions of the exquisite Max working without his shirt teased Quint. “What’s your medium?” “Metal. Copper, steel, some ironwork. I do more statuary than wall art.” A fully wicked grin revealed more even white teeth. “Some stuff for clients who like subject matter that makes Sully cringe. Especially when they want a special enameling job and I ask him to pitch in. I take it you’re a 7

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collector or something?” Wonderful. An attitude to go with the beauty. “I appreciate good art and am lucky enough to be able to afford most of the pieces I admire. I don’t think I’ve ever seen any of your work.” Pretty didn’t mean Quint had to put up with rudeness. “I have an online gallery. Cheaper than renting space.” Max raised a brow at his sister, no doubt in reply to the glare Quint felt burning the hair on his arms, and those blue eyes rolled ever so slightly. “Sorry if I offended.” “None taken.” Quint infused his smile with enough charm to assure Miss Mary Sunshine he wasn’t the ill-tempered baboon her brother apparently was. Only a few minutes’ acquaintance and already Quint wished to set that pretty young man properly in his place. “You’ll have to give me your web address.” “Sure.” A shiny business card slipped from a shirt pocket. “Never hurts to have another customer.” Sully Randall shifted a little, possibly to keep Jennifer from strangling her brother should the urge become too much. “Max has a piece in the plaza at the city library main complex. The copper one with all the birds that move in the breeze.” Sully shot Max a grin. “If you can call those things birds.” “I’m a bit more abstract than Sully.” Those very white teeth flashed as Max passed the card to Quint. “Not all of us see the world as absolutes.” “I’ve seen the piece. It’s unusual but I find I do like it.” Actually Quint considered the piece the finest on the plaza, but he wasn’t about to stroke that blatantly generous ego. Or think 8

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about stroking anything else Mr. Max Bowman had. “Oh, I want to see it!” Jennifer’s slim hands clutched Quint’s bicep again. “Dallas has so much art and culture and I want to see it all. Do you know many places like that, Quint? There are so many beautiful sculptures in your office and around the building. I especially like the ones by…is it Remington? All the Western ones, the horses and Indians?” Her cheeks colored as he looked down at her. “Our uncle has a ranch back in Oklahoma and I used to love to go out there.” “Then you must let me take you to the Amon-Carter. Amazing museum. All natural light. Fort Worth has as active an art community as Dallas. The Metroplex offers a great deal for all tastes.” Quint dusted off the tourist board speech without the least hesitation and patted her hand. “Perhaps tomorrow evening? There’s a new gallery opening and I have an invitation. I’d love to share it with you.” And if he awed the uncultured creature perhaps she’d accept his recommendations on her proxy votes. “That would be wonderful!” She accepted the eye-roll from her brother with a smile. “If you have the time to spare. I don’t have any plans for tomorrow night other than more unpacking.” “Perfect. We’ll plan dinner afterwards. I’ll pick you up at eight?” Quint had no doubt he could charm the pretty Jennifer as easily as he had so many women before her. And her lovely proxy votes. He would remain chairman of his family’s company come hell or another tornado. “Eight sounds perfect.” She smiled again and stepped 9

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away from him. “I know you have a lot of things planned for everyone today so I’ll get out of your way. But please, if you need some help I’d be happy to pitch in.” “God, Jenn, let the man breathe.” Max’s attitude this time had far less prickle to it and the grin softened, the exasperated but loving gaze at Jennifer setting a jolt in Quint’s stomach. “Let’s go eat and get out of his hair.” “Nonsense. I love Jennifer’s company. But I do have to make my rounds and show the employees I’m here.” Quint pulled her hand to his lips. “Would I be too rude if I asked you to come with me? I’m sure Mr. Bowman and Mr. Randall can find the barbecue serving line and a table for themselves.” Sully’s head lifted suddenly and he inhaled deeply. A groan of pure bliss rippled over the artist’s vocal cords. “Oh, God. You had Euless Main cater, didn’t you? I am in heaven. Come on, Max, before it’s gone. They’ll catch up.” Max shook his head. “You have a fixation with their ribs, you know that?” Still the pretty sculptor let his friend lead him away. Quint tucked Jenn’s hand into the crook of his arm. “Let’s go meet everyone.” And show them that the naïve miss couldn’t possibly have a part in running a powerhouse like WolfeCorp. *

*

*

“You’re not really going out with that playboy are you?” Max watched Jenn fight Friday afternoon traffic on I-635 and tried not to wince. “He’s so blatant it isn’t even funny.” 10

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“He’s taking me to a gallery and dinner.” Her voice tightened nearly as much as her hands on the wheel. “We’re business associates. He was generous enough to offer to show me around town. How do you stand this every day? How many people live in Dallas, anyway?” “About six million. And they all have a car because our mass transit sucks. Want me to drive? I’m used to it.” Max checked the interchange with I-35 ahead. “You know what they say, Friday rush hour in DFW starts Thursday at three.” Sully grinned from the back seat. “Sorry, Jenn. Dallas-Forth Worth. Just DFW around here.” Max snorted and tossed his amen-brother look back at his friend. “Yeah, welcome to the joys of one of the top ten largest metropolitan areas in the country. Just relax and go with. But back to important stuff—Mr. Quinton Wolfe. He may be a business associate but he’s also the biggest philanderer in town. He’s in Texas Monthly all the time. With a new girl on his arm each time. He’s notorious.” “He’s lonely.” Jenn sighed at the traffic jam in front of them and took the first off-ramp she came to. “You’d be lonely, too, if the only time you had time to ask a girl out was for some society gathering. And I know what philanderer means, big brother. I’m not stupid.” “You are if you think Wolfe’s lonely. The man’s got money and looks. He’s far from lonely. Slimy but not lonely.” Max jumped out as soon as she stopped at the red light and raced to the driver’s side as she slid across into the passenger seat. Behind the wheel, he considered the relative merits of the 11

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freeway versus side streets. He opted for the side streets. With luck the two miles to the loft would only take twenty minutes. “He’s just looking for another notch on his bedpost. Believe me, I know the type. He just wants fun in the sack.” “He just met me two days ago!” Jenn turned and surveyed the carefully orchestrated coughing fit Sully had suddenly come down with. “Are you all right? Here.” She pulled a cherry Lifesaver from her purse and handed it back to him. Max caught the priceless expression on Sully’s face and had to chuckle, which earned him Jenn’s glare all over again. “And I can’t believe you’d think I’d do that!” “Look, I don’t think you would, but you don’t know the kind of persuasive power guys like that have. They can talk anyone into their bed. Oh, cut it out.” Max glared at Sully’s renewed coughing fit. “I know what I’m talking about. That’s why Sully’s having the world’s worst allergy attack. I’m just like Wolfe. I can chat a guy out of his jeans before he knows what’s hit him. And Wolfe-boy is the straight version of me. So you’d be better off as far from him as possible.” “I work with him, Max. I’m going to see him every day.” Jenn folded her arms over her chest and shifted so she faced Max, her slim jaw tight. “And I’m perfectly capable of handling myself against a man who might try to ‘chat me out of my jeans.’ I did go to college, you know. Isn’t that supposed to be the ultimate proving grounds?” “Not against someone like Wolfe or me. We aren’t frat boys. We’re the real deal. I’m just saying you need to be on your guard and avoid him when you can. If you’re so all-fired 12

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determined to experience culture in the Big D, hang out with Sully. He gets invited everywhere.” Max turned and followed the railroad, his big factory looming ahead. “God knows he could use a date.” “Hey! I don’t need you setting me up with your sister.” Sully’s protest rang loud. “No offense, Jenn. You’re seriously cute but it’s the principle of the thing.” “And what makes you think Sully wouldn’t try to seduce me?” Jenn smiled toward the back seat. “Same apology.” “Because he’s a decent guy. And he knows I can take him in a fair fight. Not that I’d fight fair.” Max turned into the dusty parking lot and maneuvered up the loading dock into his makeshift garage. “He understands that I’d take a tire tool to him for hurting you.” “Well, I’m telling you that underneath whatever public mask exists, I believe Quinton Wolfe to be a decent man as well.” Jenn’s eyes flashed as she got out of the car. “I’m going to the gallery and dinner tomorrow night. And then I will be home. So I guess you’d better polish up your shotgun and be waiting on the front porch to make a complete fool of yourself. I’m going to bed.” She grabbed her purse and strode off toward her living space. Sully shook his head. “You have now seriously pissed her off, bro. There’s no way she’s going to listen to you. For a charming man, you sure didn’t use it tonight.” Max stared after her, thinking hard. “Sully, do me a favor. Don’t make any plans for tomorrow night.” Sully sighed. “I hate that look in your eye. You know 13

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being devious always gets you in trouble. What are you up to?” “I have an invitation to the same gallery opening. Look, if it doesn’t work out I’ll spot you fifty for your trouble. Just don’t make any plans, okay?” Max drummed his fingers against his thigh. No way is Big Bad Wolfe getting his hands on my sweet naïve sister. I just need to take the right trail to Grandma’s house and head him off.

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CHAPTER 2 “I’m sorry we didn’t have a window office available. But it does have several of those Remington bronze reproductions you admired.” Quint let his fingers drift over Jennifer’s arm a little. She’d be eating out of his hand five minutes after he picked her up tonight. Getting her up to his penthouse would be a cakewalk…and he’d take all his fantasies of her brother out on her. “The large painting on the west wall is also a Remington. It’s an original.” He paused a moment to admire the clear blue of the water and rich red of the Indian canoe. It soothed and excited all at one time. “It’s quite a favorite of mine.” Just as he’d be a favorite of hers before the night was over. All in the name of 15

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good business and keeping that business and all the people who depended on him safe. She represented the greatest danger they’d faced yet. So he’d do whatever proved necessary. He had to. For the sake of the people who counted on him to feed and clothe their families. So until his people were safe, he’d live by a very old axiom: Keep your enemies close and your naïve major shareholders closer. “Oh, it’s beautiful!” Dear God, the woman actually clapped her hands in delight. “And I can’t believe you came in on a Saturday just to make sure I found a space. This is more than I dreamed.” Jenn glanced up at him, her eyes bright. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I know this is your company. But it’s fascinating and Aunt Elaine said right in her will I was supposed to take an active interest in the company in order to hold on to the shares. That’s why I took some business classes as soon as I found out about them.” Sweet Lord Above. Had he known what Elaine had planned, Quint would have strangled her himself. The unfeeling, disloyal… Anger threatened to overwhelm and he had to fight it down and keep his face neutral. He couldn’t let Jenn know how close she stood to wrecking his life. “That’s extremely dedicated of you. The company’s lucky to have you as our major shareholder.” God help him. He fixed the smile in place and managed not to grind his teeth. “You’re not sure about me, are you?” Jennifer Bowman read far too much, probably from having to dig past her brother’s smart mouth. She laid a hand on his arm, squeezing 16

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gently. “I don’t suppose it gives the best impression to show up on my first day armed with oatmeal-raisin cookies. I just didn’t want people to think I was barging in on your space. I know I have a lot to learn. That’s why I’m glad you’re willing to help me out.” “Anything I can help you with. Admittedly the cookies were probably not the most corporate action I’ve ever seen, but it did have a certain freshness.” Like a cornfield in May. “You ate three.” She laughed at the look he gave her. “That was nice of you. I doubt home cooking compares to the nice places here in the city.” Her hand fluttered over his arm. “I’m sorry, it’s just very exciting and I’m looking forward to tonight and when I get excited my mouth runs over like Max says and…” Her really very pretty cheeks colored and she looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry about Max yesterday. He seems to think you’re some sort of gadabout and I shouldn’t spend time with you.” So the annoying brother had warned her about Quint after all. He’d wondered if Max would do so. “He’s just being a good, if overly protective, brother.” Quint settled his hand over hers where it rested on his arm. “I can’t fault him for that. I’d hope to do the same if I had so beautiful a sister.” Oh, Jennifer Bowman had an agenda for sure. Her eyes glowed up at him again, copper and brown and too damn adoring for an innocent. “You say the dearest things, Quinton. I hope we’ll be more than just business associates. I could use a friend here in this big city. Maybe you could, too?” “I can always use another friend, Jenn. And perhaps I can 17

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return the favor by helping you learn the business?” His way. As mentor she’d be guided and led by him. And guiding her in other more intimate things might be more fun than just saving his family business. “Oh, yes, that would be so nice!” She stretched up and gave him a very enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. “I need to get back to the loft and reassure Max you haven’t spirited me off somewhere, but I’ll see you at eight. Am I right to guess this is a…a little black dress sort of a date? I don’t want to look like I don’t know what I’m doing.” “A little black dress would be perfect. I can hardly wait.” He resisted the urge to give her the kiss she so obviously wanted. He’d play the perfect gentleman until he had her far more enamored of his charm. “Do give my regards to your brother.” “I will. And I’ll tell him again you’re not a thing like…whatever Texas Monthly is… says you are.” Jenn squeezed his arm one more time before she took off toward the elevator, a spring in her step that might almost qualify as a skip. Quint stared after her. Just unreal. Still, if he could survive an evening of that unbelievable perkiness, he’d be that much closer to retaining the chairmanship. And nothing Sunflower Sue could do would keep him from that. *

*

*

“Why’d you make her drive clear over to Highland Park Village? There’s five malls between here and there.” Sully 18

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wrestled a large piece of aluminum alloy onto a work bench. “The girls down at the shop giggle over them all the time on their lunch breaks. I just can’t picture any of them all dolled up for a club.” “Because there’s every high end, chi-chi store imaginable in Highland Park. And Manny has his salon there. He’s agreed to look out for her and point her in the right directions. He knows everyone. If there’s a sale to be had on a five-hundreddollar dress, he’ll know.” “And you trust Manny to make her happy with a dress that doesn’t make Quinton Wolfe drool too much.” Sully shook his head. “You are one devious man. So how’d you convince your tree-hugging client that aluminum-3003 is really recycled cans? This stuff is pricey, especially for a piece this big. Enamel won’t stick to normal aluminum. Even the powder is special order.” “I’m cute, I’m charming, and I’m persuasive. Do I need anything more?” Max grinned at his friend. “And yes, Manny will see she’s elegant and covered. And you’re going to be at this soiree to keep an eye on her.” “What? Aw, come on, Max, you’re the one with a piece in the show. I don’t get into a tux unless somebody’s getting married or dead, or I’m selling something.” Sully’s groan would have been more believable if he’d still been holding the metal sheet. “Fifty bucks is not enough to make me go hobnob with all the art patrons of the greater Dallas-Fort Worth area without plugging my own stuff.” “So pass out a few business cards and chat up the grand 19

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old dames. I didn’t say you couldn’t advertise. Just keep Wolfe’s hands away from Jenn.” Max fired up the torch. “Your way of doing it will be gentler than mine. I might take this to him.” “It’s a damn good thing I like you, Max. And you spring for pizza when I get back. I can’t very well follow them into the restaurant.” Sully stepped back and leaned against a high stool, arms folded over his chest. A wry grin raised one brow and tipped that tousled head a bit. “So what are you cutting out of this that I have to enamel, or do I want to know?” “Just think of it as abstract shapes right now. Once I put it all together, you’ll hate me for it. Or faint.” Max settled his mask in place. “Or throw up.” “Abstract shapes. Got it. Give me your list of colors so I can check it against my stock. I don’t keep much of that lowtemp stuff.” The jangle of the phone interrupted Sully’s next comment. “You want me to get that?” “Yeah.” Max set his torch to the smooth metal, losing himself in the glow of it. Already his concentration, his being focused on changing the aluminum from cold, flat silver into the warm curves of a resting male torso. He could almost see it. Almost. At the end of the first cut a tap on his helmet brought Max out of reflection. Sully nodded toward the phone. “That was Mr. Wolfe. Said he needed to leave a message for Jenn that he’d be a little late picking her up tonight. Something about a problem in the Tokyo office he had to conference call.” Max turned the torch down. “Late, huh? That’s no way to 20

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start a first date. Not that there should be a first date or any date or… Oh, I have the best karma!” He turned off the torch and set it aside. “Sully, how do you feel about a decent dinner on me? I’ll even spring for Blue Mesa Grill.” “Blue Mesa? Wow.” Sully’s green eyes narrowed beneath dark brows. “What’s the catch? I’m already babysitting.” “You’re taking my sister to dinner. And to the gallery opening. Because the Big Bad Wolfe had a business emergency and won’t be able to make it.” Max grinned out at the half-finished sculpture of two men embracing on the other side of the studio. “And I need to talk to said predator alone.” “She’s going to kill you when she finds out. I’m sure of that, and I’ve known her only a week and a half.” Sully sighed and pulled a cap out of his back pocket, settling it on his head. “I’m just warning you, Max. If she asks, I am not saving your ass. I get enough grief from my own sisters. You got that list? I can make a run to the store on the way home to get cleaned up and I’ll drop them off when I pick her up so we’ll have them tomorrow.” “On the counter.” Max turned back to his sculpture, feeling renewed energy. “Thanks.” “No problem. Or no more than you usually cause me.” Sully grinned and slapped Max on the shoulder on his way toward the studio door. “The antacid companies should pay you for keeping them in business. I’ll see you— Wow.” Max turned at the abbreviated statement and nearly dropped his mask. Sweet Jesus! The siren in an elegant upsweep and sensuous but subtle gown was his sister. “Holy 21

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crap. You look great.” “You really like it?” She twirled for him and Max saw a full-grown woman where pigtails and cutoffs ought to be. The dress fell to her knees and covered her shoulders, but the slim skirt and cinched waist with its tiny rhinestone-buckled belt transformed her into a sophisticated angel. The square neck framed Jenn’s face perfectly, ivory pearls at her throat and ears sensualizing her as much as the three-inch heels on her sandals. “I can’t believe the deal I got on it. I feel like a princess. I hope Quint likes it, too.” Manny, if I hadn’t worked it out so Sully’s taking her instead I would break every last one of your fastidiously manicured nails. “Oh yeah, Quint. He called. Sully took it. Quint can’t make it; something about a call to Shanghai.” “Tokyo.” Sully’s correction wiped the mulish expression from Jenn’s face. “Oh. I know we have an office there.” Her fingers ghosted over the pearls at her throat. “I guess I should go change then.” “Um, I could take you to the gallery if you want. Maybe dinner before? I mean, I’m no Quinton Wolfe but I know the art scene around here pretty well and the Blue Mesa Grill’s got killer guacamole.” Sully flashed her a smile. “Seems a shame to waste such a pretty dress.” No wonder Sully hadn’t gotten laid in weeks. If that was the best the other artist could come up with Max didn’t need to worry about Jenn seeing parts of Sully’s anatomy Max wouldn’t approve of. He rolled his eyes. 22

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“Sully, are you sure? I’d love to go, but I don’t want to take up your time if you have other plans.” Jenn’s eyes pleaded a lot more than her mouth. “Sure. Max has a piece in the exhibit but he never goes to premieres. Says he wants to build the mystery. Just give me a chance to clean up and we’ll go have some fun.” Sully’s face flushed at the way her face lit up. “Oh, that would be wonderful!” Jenn reached a hand toward him, a big smile making her red lips stand out even more. “I’ll go indulge in painting my nails while you get ready. I found a new color that will look so nice with these shoes.” Her cheeks colored as she ducked her head. “I never had a good reason to paint my toenails before. I’ll see you in about an hour or so?” “Yeah. Or so.” Sully’s eyes trailed her as she headed to her bedroom, his breath catching. “She’s gonna paint her toenails for me, Max.” “No, she’s painting her toenails for her shoes.” Max began to think he should just roll his eyes every five minutes. The schedule would be easier to keep up with. “Stop being a dork and go get dressed. You’re making me nauseous.” “Yeah, I’m going. I may not even make you pay for dinner.” Sully peeked out around the doorway in the direction she’d gone. “I never thought she’d look like that. Wow.” Max grinned and turned back to the sculpture. The evening looked to be an interesting one on all fronts. “Two words, my friend. Tire iron. Just keep it in mind. Now get the hell out of my studio before you’re late.” 23

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*

*

*

Thank God Jennifer’s brother had the sense to light the entry. Quint had no desire to drive around the old factory a dozen times trying to find the right door. Bad enough he’d just spent the last half hour arguing with an office manager— through a Japanese translator—over which office should be listed first on the company’s overseas letterhead. Right now Miss Sunflower USA sounded like a wonderful reprieve. But the sweet miss and her perky smile didn’t greet him when the huge industrial door slid open a generous and rather vigorous five feet. The far-too-pretty but amazingly annoying brother grinned at him, Texas-sky eyes even with Quint’s own. Lovely. Just the perfect addition to a day Quint would rather not repeat. “Good evening, Mr. Bowman. I believe Jennifer is expecting me.” Clichéd but free of most triggers for hostility. Max’s generous mouth curved into a smirk. “Uh, no. Actually she’s not. But I am. Come on in.” Now what the hell is that supposed to mean? Quint glanced at his watch. “I’m not that late. Surely she wouldn’t have given up on her first taste of Dallas’s nightlife over a mere thirty minutes.” Bowman’s smirk grew to something closer to a grin again. “Actually, she left an hour ago. See, you had to cancel your little date tonight. Business.” Oh, that was definitely a smirk big enough to qualify for Texas citizenship. “Or so I told her.” Okay, big brother got points for sheer ruthlessness, if not sense. “And you have no problem lying to her because you 24

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expect she won’t believe me when I tell her the truth Monday morning. You have a warped sense of risk, Mr. Bowman.” And that quality shouldn’t be so damn attractive at the same time it annoyed the hell out of Quint. “Oh, she’ll believe you. And she’ll rant at me for a good two hours before she winds down. But by then you and I will have had a chance for a little talk. See, you’re going to leave my sister alone.” Max slid the big door closed behind Quint. “I can, if I need to, pull out every nasty article and every titillating society column written about you for her to read.” It took an effort to hold the urge to laugh out loud down to a snort. “And you think I give a damn about that? I’ve had more bad press than Vista and it doesn’t keep me from a plethora of female company.” Bowman wanted to play hardball, did he? Fine. Quint didn’t necessarily enjoy hardball, but he made sure he could play it better than anyone else. Best lay all the—okay, the least important cards on the table right now. “Jennifer’s not a piece of arm candy. I can do better than her without breaking the seal on my Rolodex. What she is, Maxwell, is an unknown entity in my very stable financial house of cards. I need to know if she’s glue or a wind machine, and if trotting her around to the local hot-spots will get me that information, I’ll use it.” Ah, pretty Max was even prettier with that splash of color across his cheeks. “I figured that’s what you were doing. I won’t let you hurt her just so you can make another twentyfive cents on your dividend check.” Anger really suited Max, 25

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Quint had to admit. It made his eyes glitter and a muscle in that solid jaw twitch. Quint wanted to lick that spot. “And if I have to, I’ll see she uses her shares in ways you won’t like. She’ll still give me half if I ask. And you can imagine what I’d do with them.” Quint could imagine far too well. Max would use any proxy he had to see Quint never sat on the board of directors, even though it would be best for WolfeCorp. And when that bit of petty revenge had been accomplished, the bastard would sell the shares, pocket the money, and go his no doubt substance-enhanced way, not caring that he’d destroyed a business to which Quinton’s father and grandfather had devoted their lives. He wouldn’t care if Quint’s employees suffered or not. Quint took a step closer to his newest nemesis. “Oh, I can imagine. And you imagine what I’ll do with your sister.” Those blue eyes flashed fire. “You so much as look at my sister again, Wolfe, and I swear you’ll be on the wrong end of a welder’s rig.” That muscle in Max’s jaw jumped again. “You want her out of your office, fine. I’ll make sure she stays out. Just get the hell away from us.” Neanderthal. Did he think physical threats would frighten Quint? Well, pretty Max was very wrong. They didn’t. Not the least bit. It only sent a new jolt of rage through Quint. So Max Bowman thought he could possibly come up to Quint’s speed? Hardly! Quint would show the insufferable caveman exactly how to play the game of fear, intimidation, and extortion. “Oh, I’ll stay away. For a price.” 26

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“What price?” Max’s eyes narrowed and that solid body tensed. “I told you I’d keep her out of your way. That’s plenty.” The industrial door rattled open again. “So we have a deal and you can get your over-toned ass the hell off my property.” “I don’t think so.” Hardball just went granite, boy. In a blink Quint had Max Bowman up against the wall next to the door, a hand to each side of the sculptor’s head. It took all Quint had not to kiss that acerbic mouth, but this was business. “You see, Mr. Bowman, I have no choice in the matter of guiding dear Jennifer through the finer points of corporate navigation. I have yet to learn what stipulations dear Greataunt Elaine made if your sister fails to take an active part in WolfeCorp.” By God he’d know by Monday, though. A call to his lawyer on the way home would take care of that. “So you see, I can’t accept your offer. But I do have a counterproposal. It’s not negotiable. Either you agree to it or I will use every ploy at my disposal to protect my company, even if it means luring dear, sweet Jennifer into my bed and under my thumb.” Quint let out his own smirk, recalling the two artists at the picnic and the very loud vibe he’d gotten. His counteroffer left his knees weak at the prospect. Too bad Bowman wouldn’t go for it in a million years.

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CHAPTER 3 Bastard. Max really hated corners, especially when he’d been backed into one. No keeping Jenn out of the office. And he shouldn’t feel this warm in the face of that icy persona. The annoyance at that fueled Max’s growl. “So what’s your damn counteroffer?” The darkest, most decadent gray eyes Max had ever seen bored into him, Wolfe’s full lips barely an inch from his own. Rich baritone sent a tremor rushing over Max’s skin. “Here is the deal, Mr. Bowman. You want me to desist pursuing your sister outside a business relationship, I shall. But I want something in return.” Max’s fists knotted, an action far beyond his control. He 28

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couldn’t be sure if they balled because he wanted to punch Wolfe right in those luscious lips, or to keep him from knotting his fingers in the gold silk of Wolfe’s hair and planting a kiss on those same lips of the sort to leave the other man reeling. “I’m listening.” “Quite simple, really. A mere token.” A sudden breath of air caressed Max’s jaw, moving up to cradle the curve of his ear. Warm, male breath. Wolfe’s voice dropped to a whisper somehow richer than the deep tenor of a moment ago. “You see, Mr. Bowman, I find I have a taste for both sexes. And a rather voracious appetite for very pretty, smartass men. What I want in return for your sister’s innocence…is you. In my bed. Or yours. At my whim. Starting tonight.” Fingers knotted tighter, digging into Max’s palm. Oh, the bastard, the utter and complete bastard. Max really did want to feel his knuckles collide with that smug little smile. And he’d indulge that whim. Later. After he made Mr. Quinton Wolfe pay up. “Okay.” The CEO was a damn good poker player, no doubt, but not quite good enough. The tiniest gasp escaped before Wolfe pulled back to stare at Max again, those gorgeous eyes only a millimeter wider than they’d been. Then a slow smile revealed even white teeth. One manicured nail slid over Max’s cheek and down to the top button of his shirt. “Then let us begin our negotiations, shall we? I’m sure your…good buddy…will keep pretty Jennifer amused for some time.” “Oh, I can promise you that.” Max held up a finger, indicating Wolfe stay just where he was as Max plucked the 29

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kerchief from the other man’s breast pocket. He looped it around the handle of the door he’d opened in preparation for tossing Wolfe out on his completely grabbable ass and then slid it closed with a rattling bang. “Old signal from when we roomed together. A cloth around the doorknob means I’m entertaining a lover.” He grinned at the blond. “So, lover, what were you saying about negotiations?” The smile he got in return sent another shiver over his skin. “Actually, that wonderful little ‘okay’ of yours was agreement to my whims. Negotiation was a diplomatic but rather inaccurate term.” Wolfe blew another soft caress of air over Max’s throat as the exec undid that first button. “And right now my whim is to see just what sort of a marvelous prize I’ve acquired. And to watch your face as I do so.” So that’s how Wolfe wanted to play it. Fine. It wouldn’t be the first time Max had taken a dice-roll at this particular game. But no need to let the corporate eagle think he’d won already. “Works for me. But I should warn you, I make a really lousy bottom.” Max flashed a smile, deploying the dimples to their full effect. “Just a natural leader, I guess.” “Indeed?” Wolfe’s hands stopped their removal of Max’s shirt and he considered him for a moment. Then a solid form pressed him against the wall and those full lips claimed his, Wolfe’s hands diving below Max’s waistband to squeeze his ass. “Really, I’d say you have a remarkably fine bottom.” Max reached around and grabbed a double handful. “And I’d say it’s mutual.” He returned the kiss with fervor, exploring, dueling his tongue with Wolfe’s. “Mmm, you taste 30

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good. You like chocolate mints.” “And you favor cinnamon. Somehow I’m not surprised.” Wolfe pulled him away from the wall and shoved Max toward the living space without letting go. Impassioned kisses scraped at Max’s throat and chest, buttons nearly freeing themselves under a mobile tongue. “God, you smell like those damn cookies she brought into the office. I should eat you alive for that alone.” Max laughed. “I don’t have any objection to that.” He pressed his hips to the other man, letting Wolfe feel the evidence of hard desire. “I have a good-sized snack for you if you’re serious about it.” His chest collided with the other man’s. All rock-solid muscle under that silk suit. Damn, the corporate jockey was hot. Way more than pretty Gomer Pitt. “You do surprise me in some areas, Maxwell.” Not that surprise showed up in that heated gaze or rich, rich voice. “Quite honestly I never suspected you were anything but straight.” Wolfe’s palms slid over Max’s bare chest, teasing circles over his nipples. Eyes dark as a summer storm over Tulsa warmed Max further, sultry and full of hunger. “I must say I’m pleased beyond words that my proposition didn’t send you screaming in the other direction.” “You should pay better attention. I’ve never been in the closet, hot shot. And I’ve never pretended to be straight.” Max let his grin spread wide, well aware of the devastating effect it could have. “I thought you corporate barracudas were the observant sort.” Oh, he did like the way the other man’s touch skimmed over sensitive skin. The good-looking suit had 31

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talent! “Must be the influence of your very handsome, very straight buddy.” A soft slide of a thumb tip across Max’s bottom lip. “Watching the two of you together at the company picnic. He seemed too uptight to be comfortable around you unless you were straight as well.” Wolfe’s other hand trailed a path down to the waistband of Max’s jeans, teasing just inside. That intense gaze never left his face though. “You have a beautiful mouth, Max.” Desire rippled through Max, heated and demanding. His hand tightened on Quinton’s waist. “Thanks. I get that a lot.” The force of the other man’s unrelenting attention caused another ripple to race through Max’s body. “Why don’t you kiss me again and show me what you meant by being at your whim?” “Indeed.” Quinton’s smile had a real good devastation quotient going, too. “I have something very special in mind for you tonight. But I find I crave a kiss as much as you seem to.” Full sensual lips brushed over Max’s before Quinton claimed him completely. The taste of chocolate mint paled against the sheer power of Quinton Wolfe. A questing tongue slipped between Max’s willing lips, bent on conquest, sure of its power to dominate. Hard fingers knotted in Max’s hair, holding him tight against Quinton’s mouth, assuring the man could have as much of Max as he wanted. Or as much as Max would allow. The sculptor let a moan slip past his lips as he ground his hips against Quinton. The sensual feel of a firm-muscled body 32

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against his own urged him to play Quinton’s game, to take whatever he could and enjoy it to the fullest. Let the other man think he was in charge if he wished; Max would still be the one having all the fun. “Are you always such a brat, Maxwell?” God, that whisper of breath across Max’s lips! Quinton’s gaze resumed its pouring into Max’s soul as one hand stayed fisted in his hair and the other took its sweet, sweet time on his button-fly. “Or are you more like me than I anticipated and simply find no shame in touting your considerable charms when it suits the moment?” “My mama always said, ‘If you’ve got it flaunt it.’” Max grinned against strong, full lips. “So, you want to stop fooling around and see what I’ve got?” He pressed against the hand busy with his buttons. “I promise you won’t be disappointed.” “So very impatient, pretty thing. I like to savor the journey a bit.” But Quinton’s fingers slipped past Max’s briefs to cup his sex. “There now, is that better?” “Oh yeah.” Max sighed in luxury as Quinton squeezed just the right way. “That’s nice. I love a talented man.” He brushed his lips over Quinton’s, wanting another of those kisses. But that bounty slipped away from him, replaced by the slow glide of silk around his chest and arm until Quinton pressed against his back. “Have you ever played on silk sheets, Maxwell? The feel of it over your skin as arousing as your lover’s touch?” Max’s jeans sank around his knees and the feel of Quinton’s silk trousers on bare skin made him gasp. The sultry voice in his ear felt as incredible. “I’m going to 33

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tease you with just that. I’m going to stay dressed for now. While I touch you. Would you prefer here on the sofa, on the stairs to your loft, or in your bed?” “Bastard.” Still Max grinned as he said it. It sounded like more fun than he’d had in a year. “Bed is always easier around here. I tend to leave bits and pieces of metal everywhere else.” He tilted his head back as the edges of Quinton’s coat brushed his hips, feather-soft sensuality. “Wouldn’t want you to bruise yourself.” “How very considerate of you.” Quinton chuckled against the hollow of Max’s shoulder just before a sudden press of teeth into his skin made Max jump. “I hope you don’t mind if I leave just a tiny, tiny bruise here and there. You taste spectacular. I won’t get too carried away, I promise.” Oh, please do. Max kept the thought to himself. “Whatever floats your yacht.” He pointed to the stairs. “Bed’s that way.” “Is it safe to walk through here barefoot, or would you like a chance to pull your jeans back up?” Quinton stroked a steady hand over Max’s arousal again. “Though I must say I like the view just the way it is.” “I’m used to avoiding the mine field.” Max toed off his boots and stepped out of his jeans, unconcerned about a little thing like nakedness. “Like I said, the bed’s that way.” “I think we can hurry a little.” Not enough to escape that delicious friction of silk over Max’s skin, though. Quinton stayed oh-so-close, that mobile tongue exploring Max’s spine all the way down to his briefs. A decadent laugh rippled over Max’s skin. “I must find some thongs to send you. So glorious 34

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an ass deserves a better showcase than even these lovely highcut briefs. And they say so much more than roses.” The briefs slid off and got left on the stairs. “Can’t say I don’t agree, but they’re not really practical for a working guy.” Max turned enough to grin over his shoulder. “Though I do like the reasoning.” And the tongue work. Yeah, the playboy might just live up to his reputation. “So, you going to obsess over my underwear or do something more constructive?” Quinton pushed Max up the last step and pinned him to the steel railing for a moment, reaching over the smooth pipe to stroke him again. “You know, I just realized why that delightful mouth of yours is in overdrive.” A sharp swat landed on Max’s left butt cheek. “Is that what you were hoping for?” “Maybe. Why don’t you strip down and let me return the favor. We’ll see if it gets you off, too.” Max looked back over his shoulder. “Best two out of three.” He considered the hungry storm-cloud eyes raking over him. “Make that three out of five.” “Maybe later. I still want to thoroughly enjoy every inch of my wonderful prize.” Quinton’s hands eased down over Max’s hips and thighs, the silk cuffs of the suit coat teasing sensitive hairs until cold brass buttons sent a shiver over Max’s skin and a fiery epithet over his lips. A definite smile nuzzled behind Max’s ear. “Too much?” “Too freaking cold! You won’t get much fun if you freeze me, hon.” Max grinned back at the man who thought to own 35

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him. “But hey, you said you wanted to be the one in control.” “Somehow I doubt anyone could freeze you, Maxwell. The point is well taken, though. I suppose I could shed one layer.” Quinton stepped back enough to let Max turn around and watch that silk jacket slide off broad shoulders. The silk Tshirt underneath clung just enough to make Max’s fingers itch with the need to touch it. And then remove it. Quinton flexed a shoulder as he draped the coat over the rail and Max felt lightheaded. Oh nice! Yeah, way better than Gomer Pitt. Taller, better chest, and a voice that didn’t make Max want to stab Q-Tips into his eardrums. And when that silk-covered chest pressed him against the rail again and Quinton’s lips claimed his, light-headed took on a whole new universe. Strong broad hands cupped Max’s ass and lifted him up on his toes, the sensation of the silk over his bare skin like a summer breeze. Quinton’s deep voice caressed a groan. “I do like a man who isn’t too macho to enjoy being pampered a little by a lover. Is it really such torture that I stay dressed for a bit?” “Do you see me ripping your clothes off? I’m good.” Max pressed back into that firm hold. “I’m not sure how good that suit’s going to be though. We’re about to ruin it completely. I hope.” “Ah, but that’s the beauty of discreet and highly efficient cleaning services.” God, that deep teal T-shirt brought out some undertone in Quinton’s eyes that reminded Max of billowing thunderclouds about to drop a tornado. The subtle shift of the exec’s hips in a long stroke as erotic as any hand 36

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job left him gasping. “You are most exotic, my lovely sculptor. Much more intoxicating than sweet but inexperienced Jennifer.” Slender fingers guided Max’s to a muscled chest. “I do want your touch, Max. All I ask is you savor the silk a little longer.” No argument there. Max wanted to touch, so much so his fingers cramped with the need. The subtle knit, warm with body heat, eased the pain. His palms skimmed hard planes. “Like this, babe?” He rotated his hand over one silk-covered nipple, the other spread wide below Quinton’s navel. “This what you’re needing?” A whispered epithet sucked in on a breath so sharp Max missed the actual words. Quinton’s touch sank hard into Max’s biceps and pulled them over to the bed, staying as close as possible without literally crawling inside Max’s skin. The rush of silk at the movement set every cell on fire. Quinton’s rich voice turned harsh and thick. “Need. Terribly overrated concept. Now, what I want…that covers it very well.” Max grinned at him, the level of desire roiling from the other man more than he’d tasted in… Well, he couldn’t remember when he’d felt this much passion from a lover. “So stop playing corporate-speak and tell me what you want.” His hand drifted down to tease firm desire hidden behind Quinton’s fly. “Maybe this?” “Dear Lord!” Quinton’s knees buckled and they tumbled back onto the bed. Max saw lightning flash in the storm and that exquisite face softened into beauty. “Forget enjoying a prize. Leave the silk on or get rid of it, but God! Don’t stop.” 37

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“What’s the matter, CEO? Never run across a guy like me?” Max grinned when his touch made Quinton groan aloud. “I told you I make a really sucky bottom. So how about I play top for awhile?” He tugged Quinton’s belt open. “I’m really good at that.” The T-shirt slid free of Quint’s waistband and Max could finally get his hands on the bare skin he’d been wanting. “Just wait till I get my mouth on you.” “Get your mouth up here first.” Quint pulled him down for another kiss, holding Max’s body tight and pressing up against it. “God, you feel incredible.” “You haven’t felt anything yet. But then, you’ve never been to bed with me before.” Max laughed and pushed the Tshirt up so he could kiss the tender skin between navel and fly, the fly he took his time unbuttoning. The zipper eased open, deep blue silk bulging up as it slid down. He grinned down at Quint. “I love that shade of cobalt.” Quint’s blond head popped up off the pillow. “That shade of what?” Max laughed. “Cobalt. Bright blue. Don’t they teach you anything in business school?” He settled his lips on the sensitive spot just above said bright blue briefs. Warm skin sprinkled with silken hairs tickled his lips. “Nice.” He ran the tip of his tongue along the edge of the elastic. “I like the way you taste.” “I like the way you taste, too.” Quint grinned and lay back on the pillow. “Especially when you taste me.” Max chuckled against heated skin. “Just wait.” He eased the silk trousers down lean hips. He dearly loved a man who 38

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kept himself up. He spread his hands wide, using his wrists to push the pants down so he could explore long thighs. Oh, it really was nice when Quint’s eyes rolled back at the feel of Max’s thumbs trailing down smooth inner thighs. So Mr. IWant-You-At-My-Whim really only wanted some big strong guy to take control. Not a problem. Max really did much prefer being the top. “God, this is so not fair.” Quint’s gasps made those sixpack abs ripple in just a perfect way. “I was going to seduce you.” “Seduce? I thought you bought me with threats and extortion.” And Max intended to have his revenge. Quinton Wolfe was about to get a sex session he’d never forget. And he’d never think of Jenn again after Max was done. “Now just hush and enjoy your possession.” He dropped the trousers on the floor and ran his thumbnail up the crotch of those pretty briefs. “You bought me; now you’re stuck with me.” If a witty retort started on Quint’s lips, it never surfaced in the wake of a deep groan. Max savored the sweet victory of that surrender until suddenly Quint sat up and fisted Max’s hair again for a scorching kiss. “My greatest acquisition by far.” Barely a whisper before hungry lips claimed Max again. Lord, the man could kiss. Max savored the feel of Quint’s tongue dueling his, a new play for dominance. A final one if Max had his way. He grabbed a handful of the hardening desire between Quint’s long legs and gave a gentle squeeze. “Oh, the best you’ll ever have.” He pulled away from the kiss just far enough to speak against Quint’s lips and then let his 39

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lover claim his mouth again. The mouth might be vying for top but Quint’s body melted against Max’s touch, pressing toward his grasp with eager abandon. Equally ardent hands stroked Max’s back and ass, kneading and exploring, but no longer so set on winning. At least not the same way as before. Max pushed the T-shirt high so he could explore, searching for all the spots that would make Quint moan and surge up against him. Defined muscles, skin as silken as the suit, warmed Max’s palms and heated his blood. “God, let’s just get rid of the damn thing.” Quint pulled back gasping and hauled the shirt off over his head, sending that heavy fall of blond hair over one eye into a rich disarray. Max found himself flipped onto his back, Quint’s lean form pressing him into the mattress. “You can still lead. I just need to feel you on me, all of me, just for a minute.” Full sensual lips descended on Max again. He let the other man have his way for the moment. “Don’t worry, baby. I can top from the bottom just fine.” The planes of Quint’s back felt every bit as good under Max’s hands as that fine chest did. “Never before.” The soft scrape of Quint’s five o’clock shadow eased over Max’s throat, followed by kisses and nibbles and fervent heat. “I’ll admit I’ve not had many, but it’s never been like this. Never like you, Max.” Taut muscles rubbed over Max’s chest and hips, a delicious friction. Max let Quint savor all the CEO’s talented mouth could reach. The stormy eyes glowed with soft light. “I know. Don’t 40

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worry, baby. I’ll make you feel like no one ever has.” Max let any concerns ease away as to whether that glow meant Quint cared, or just knew how to really play with his partner’s feelings. A smile quirked one corner of Quint’s mouth. “So how, pray tell, does one ‘top from the bottom’? I’ll admit I’ve never heard that particular phrase before.” Max laughed. “So you like boys but you don’t live the life. Let me show you.” He twined his fingers into blond hair and pulled Quint tight. Time to let Corporate Guy find out how a guy who worked for a living really felt. He claimed Quint’s mouth this time. His hand grasped one firm buttock and squeezed. The deep gasp though Quint’s nose was reward enough. The man’s little shift of hips against him left Max chuckling inside. So much to learn, CEO. Still, a lot to savor as well. Quint’s tight body felt better than anything in a long time. Time to show the pretty blond you didn’t have to hold someone down to control the situation. Max plundered Quint’s sweet mouth and sweeter body, warm and so subtle under his free hand. But he wanted to feel everything. Silk still kept him from the real prize. He pulled the neon blue down lean thighs. “Now that’s what I’ve been after.” Smoothness covered hard muscle and Max grabbed a double handful, kneading that gloriously tight ass. “Oh, dear sweet merciful…” Quint’s eyes rolled back again, only for a moment before that gray storm met his, teal undertones glowing like sun behind the clouds. “That feels 41

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exquisite. Remind me to fire my masseur.” “I’m not your secretary.” Max trailed his finger between tight buttocks. “I’m your lover.” The tiniest of flinches escaped what Max suspected was iron control in any situation and Quint’s eyes widened just a millimeter. But the voice stayed even, if a bit breathless. “Yes. You’re my lover.” Well now, that was just interesting. Max had been playing a wide and varied field since he turned sixteen. And he knew the reactions of a man who wasn’t experienced. Well, well. Had Mr. Wolfe never let another man take control? Never met a man capable of taking him on and showing him the glory of being the one taken? Max grinned. Oh, he could remedy that. And do it in ways to make Quint remember the experience forever. “That’s right, babe. I am.” Quint’s kiss held as much fervor as before, but that subtle tremor through the man’s tongue spoke far more of hesitation than passion. Still that solid form pressed to Max’s with obvious desire. The gray gaze just didn’t stay focused on him as much when Quint pulled back again, moving instead to the curve of his collarbone. “You are, and you are beautiful. I like the way your skin feels on mine. The way it looks in the lamplight here.” Poor darling. Nothing felt sweeter than that sort of innocence. Max let his caress turn soft. “I like the way you look, too.” He stroked Quint’s cheek. “Gorgeous.” This time the nasal gasp likely seared Quint’s passages and sent the exec’s eyes wide. “God, Max, your touch is like a 42

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damn live wire. What are you doing to me?” A hard dip of Quint’s Adam’s apple betrayed more than Max knew the man wanted to reveal. “Making love.” Max eased his hand over muscles that trembled just the slightest bit under his touch. “That’s all, sweetheart, just making love to you.” No gasp this time. Rather a cynical snort and a tilt of that straight nose. “We’re having sex, Maxwell. Love doesn’t enter the picture.” “If you say so, Quint.” He didn’t change the gentle cadence of his touch though. Quint’s eyes showed a definite rethinking of the wisdom in starting this little encounter. But the hunger didn’t go away. It got wary, cornered by a man’s damnable pride, but it didn’t vanish. If anything, it grew into a hailstorm. Max could almost see the funnel cloud dropping out of those rich depths. Time to ride the storm. Max rolled them till they lay side by so he could slip his hand between them. He cupped Quint’s granite desire, fisting the firm length, loving the way Quint’s eyes rolled back. “Max…yes…” Quint’s hands fluttered over Max’s skin but couldn’t seem to settle anywhere, the man’s brain too caught up in sensation to send proper signals. “Please…” Oh, that was purest music. Now to exhibit some talent. He murmured sweet lust on Quinton’s skin, his movements easy and sure. Each surge of Quint’s body into his touch sent new heat through Max. He teased long legs open, seeking a more intimate touch. 43

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“Max…” The yes and please stayed predictably absent this time, but Quint still moved into each stroke. Another hard swallow shook the exec’s throat before full lips clamped shut. Max suspected his lover wanted very much to confide inexperience, but pride and their stupid arrangement would have no part of it. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take good care of you.” Max debated revealing how much he knew, but didn’t really want Quint bolting from the bed in embarrassment. “It’s going to be great. I promise.” He ran a sure finger over a spot guaranteed to send electricity through Quint. The less-than-faint expletive exploding from those lips confirmed the sensation. The new underlying tremor betrayed more hesitancy. But the storm raged unabated in Quint’s eyes, locked with Max’s now as if to grab a lifeline without admitting drowning. “M…mmm…” Pleas went under in a wavelike groan. Max took his time, pulling every sensation he could from his partner, setting that tornado free in Quint’s eyes. Each stroke brought a new moan, a new surge into Max’s hand. Quint’s body shifted, settling so Max could reach him with more ease. A soft whisper crossed Quint’s lips, trembling a bit. “Oh, dear Lord, please…” Words actually meant for the Almighty this time. Max could almost hear the rest: Oh, dear Lord, please don’t let me screw up and tell him I’m a freaking virgin when it comes to this because then he’ll have a control over me I can’t give up to anyone and this feels so good I think I’m 44

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going to die from it and if I tell him he’ll stop and I really don’t want him to stop just because I’m too chicken to try. Or something to that effect. It showed in the glowing teal tones of that gray gaze. Max kissed those trembling lips. “Just believe I can make you feel so good, sweetheart.” He spread soothing slickness onto and into his lover before sheathing his own need in a condom. “Just focus on how good it feels.” Quint wouldn’t be the first virgin Max had taught the joys of this sort of sex, but he might be the oldest. God was quite likely the only one who knew all the little insecurities Quint had stored up, so Max decided on the slow scenic route, making sure Quint reached the point of nearly crawling out of his own skin from sheer need before he eased into rich heat. “Max, perhaps I misjud—oh!” The protest got lost in the deep moan and sudden tightening of Quint’s muscles, body screaming every insecurity to the detriment of the experience. Gray eyes snapped shut and lines creased the corners of those high cheekbones. “Max…” “Shh.” He stilled, giving Quint’s body and mind time to accustom itself to something so new and potentially frightening. “We’re going to take this slow and so easy you’ll feel nothing but the love, babe.” Max stroked Quint’s cheek again. “No pressure. Just trust me.” “Trust.” A soft chuckle flowed over Quint’s lips, and with it the slightest relaxation of his body. “God, you don’t ask much, do you? I make it a point to trust no one. That’s wh…” A catch of the deep voice and Quint’s eyes opened again. 45

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“Slow and easy?” “Yeah. Slow and easy. Just like floating down a wide and lazy river.” Max eased back, then sank into Quint again, just as he’d promised. “Like that. Smooth and gentle, baby. The crazy kinks can wait for another day.” First times should be good, not rushed and screwed up. “I promise.” A nod and Quint’s body slowly relaxed, storm clouds drifting under gold lashes, the harsh lines gone. The only tremor stayed in Quint’s voice. “I don’t accept promises lightly or often, Maxwell. But I’ll accept yours tonight. For this. Dear God, that does feel good.” “And it only gets better.” Max set out to prove it, finding just the right angle to make Quint gasp and go wide-eyed. Done right, nothing felt as good as what Max intended for his lover. The next slow thrust made Quint’s eyes roll back, lashes fluttering. Okay, no man who’d just blackmailed Max into bed should look that good and bring a tender spark to Max’s heart. Had anyone ever seen the corporate mogul like this? Naked, yes. Passionate, no doubt, in some heartlessly sterile way. But this relaxed, trusting another person with this deep intimacy? And who the hell was Max to be Quint’s emotional lifeline? Not like I do a lot of second dates. Max should just ride the man until he’d gotten all the fun he could and not worry about whether Quinton Wolfe had a great first time or not. Max shouldn’t even care. “Dear God, Max!” Quint’s breathy whisper, eyes now refocused on Max’s 46

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own, sent a sweet rush of caring through Max’s heart. “I never welsh on a promise, sweetheart. You like that, huh? How about we try for another one with a little extra sensation thrown in.” Another slow thrust, sending Max’s own nerve endings into overdrive, combined with the marvelous feel of Quint’s sex in Max’s hand. Silk on silk on velvet. Max groaned with the sheer pleasure of it all. The higher-pitched whimper from Quint’s throat blended perfectly. Straight freaking harmony. Long slim fingers played over Max’s thighs, fluttering still but needing to touch. God, it had never felt so complete, so damn right. Max should be annoyed. Maybe later. “I told you, babe. I can make you feel so good.” A smooth stroke brushing over that knot of nerve endings deep inside made the CEO gasp, his back arching. Max stroked the rippled abdomen. “See? I’ll take good care of you, sweetheart.” Poor little virgin baby, learning it all for the first time. Max pressed deep again, adoring the tight heat almost as much as the bliss mingled with disbelief on Quint’s face. “Max…God…can’t—oh!” Warmth flooded Max’s hand as Quint arched again, taut muscles clamping hard before melting against the sheets. Golden lashes fluttered closed. “Dear sweet heaven, that felt incredible.” “Yep.” Max grinned just before he stroked past those sensitive nerves again and Quint choked. “Welcome to the wonderful world of real homosexuality, honey.” Max wouldn’t be able to keep up the banter for long—his own completion loomed close—but he wanted to watch Quint 47

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come unglued just a little. “It’s not quite over yet.” “Oh, Max, I’m sorry, I wish I could, but that’s…I’ve never…God, never so hard in my life.” Quint pulled in a deep breath and chuckled it out. “It’s a good thing we have a bargain for more than just tonight. I fear I’ve spent my limit. And that’s a first, I’ll admit at the risk of stroking your ego.” “I don’t need ego-stroking, babe. I just need to stroke you.” Max increased the pace, making sure he hit Quint’s sweet spot with each thrust. Quint’s breath got sucked in through clenched teeth this time. “Oh, God! You…you’re still…” Hands fisted in the sheets and the exec’s head pressed back into the pillow. Each cry got a little louder and a lot more ragged. Max’s name became a mantra on Quint’s lips. God, that was just too good. The sound rocketed through Max, burning away his control. He could feel every tremor in Quint’s body, every flutter of his lover’s muscles. “Yes.” Quint tensed again, rock-hard abs rippling and hands seeking to touch. “Max!” Lean hips thrust back at Max with equal need. Max held tight as Quint’s body shook and tensed through sensation, the new sort of orgasm stealing Quint’s ability to say more than Max’s name. The litany sent Max past the wall separating him from the purest freedom he knew. The kiss he got as soon as Quint could reach him held none of the dominance from before. Instead, warm fervent caresses trailed his face and shoulders, making him shiver in the exec’s embrace. Quint’s tongue teased hyper-sensitive skin 48

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in hungry circles, suckling Max to his own secondary orgasm, sweet and hot instead of explosive. Strong silken hands played at his waist, pulling him close so Quint could whisper over Max’s ear. “God, that was exquisite. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced.” Max let Quint hold him tight, breathless from the sexual high. “It was damned good.” He nuzzled in blond silk damp from their exertions. “You felt great, babe.” Quint’s soft laugh sent a ripple through Max’s skin. “I want to just lie here with you and wonder over it. That’s a first as well.” Slim fingers traced Max’s cheek. “You are just one surprise after another, Maxwell Bowman.” A gentle kiss pressed into Max’s hair. “You’ve no idea, sweetheart.” Max shifted so he could reclaim Quint’s mouth, grinning even as he accepted soft, languid kisses from pillow-soft lips. The hard-nosed businessman liked to cuddle. Now how fun was that? “That was just your first time and I went easy on you.” Oh, the things Max could do to Cute-And-Corporate. “Wait till next time.” A rather long silence stretched out. Then Quint’s voice stayed low and his storm-gray eyes went a bit wary. “Was it that obvious?” “I’ve had lots of experience, so maybe I could tell easier than most. But it was sweet, babe. Really good.” He pushed the heavy fall of hair away from Quint’s eyes. The tornado in them had vanished, leaving the warmth of a rare summer rain. “At the risk of adding to your egotism, you were great.” Max 49

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trailed his lips over Quint’s jawline. “I fear I didn’t do much after we got to the bed.” A smile, a soft genuine one, played about Quint’s lips. “I’m glad you decided to…” The smile vanished and that lean form tensed suddenly. “I should go. I…I should go.” Quint sat up and looked around on the floor for his clothes, finally grabbing the T-shirt and hauling it over his head. Max noted the faintest tremor in Quinton’s hand as he scrambled about for the rest of his clothes. The nervousness was cute. Poor virgin. “You don’t have to go. You could sleep a while.” Odd, the other man wouldn’t even look at Max. Now what set…wait. Glad Max decided to what? The sculptor went through a list of possibilities until a particularly nasty one popped into perfect place. “Or you could maybe apologize for being a complete dick about my sister. By the way, touch her and I’ll cap your knees with a tire iron.” “We have a deal, Max. I don’t go back on a contract, especially one of my own making.” Quint’s voice held a certain weariness under the cold corporate-speak. “I will only apologize for the particular method in Jennifer’s case. I won’t for the motive behind it.” “Yeah.” Talk about killing the afterglow. Max settled his hands behind his head. “Maybe you better go after all.” Gray eyes snapped and a different kind of lightning froze them solid. “Indeed. I’m sure you can’t wait to savor your little victory. Just keep in mind, Mr. Bowman. Revenge is never an easy pill to deal out. There are far too many unexpected side effects. You took control of our encounter. 50

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Not of me. You might want to keep that in mind.” The silk jacket sailed over the loft railing as Quint grabbed it on his way down the stairs. The industrial door screamed its protest at being wrenched open and then slammed shut. “Right.” Max stared up at the ceiling. “I didn’t take control of you at all. Just keep telling yourself that, babe.” Funny, though. Revenge didn’t really taste all that sweet.

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CHAPTER 4 “Max, you look terrible.” Jenn’s dark eyes met him at the bottom of the stairs. “Are you sick?” “I ate something that didn’t agree with me.” Actually, he’d eaten nothing and slept not at all. “Oh dear.” She slipped her arm around his waist and guided him over to the kitchen table. “Here, let me get you some tea. I brought a tin of Mom’s homegrown chamomile. A little ginger root in it will help your stomach.” “No, thank you. You know that stuff makes me want to hurl. Just let me be, Jenn.” Damn it, did she have to be so much like their mother sometimes, right down to the eagle eyes? “Look, I partied a little too hard. I do that sometimes. 52

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I’ll be fine.” Half-truth. And he’d feel better if his bed didn’t smell like Quinton Wolfe’s cologne. Maybe tomorrow he’d get up the energy to change the sheets. Jenn sighed and moved to pour a cup of coffee instead. “Sully and I had a wonderful time last night, by the way. And he was nice enough to offer me a bed on his sofa when he saw the kerchief on the door. He said something to the effect of not wanting me to have to…” Her brows furrowed for a moment. “To listen to the bacchanalia? I’m not sure what that means, but we talked half the night about just everything. I think he’s shy most of the time because he thinks he’s going to bore someone. But I loved it.” She set the mug down in front of him. “I know it’s Sunday, but Sully asked if I’d like to go over to the library plaza this morning and see the sculptures there. Are you sure you’re okay?” “Yeah, I am. Just a little too much Saturday night. Go, have fun. Don’t expect nightingales.” “Okay. We’ll be back after lunch.” She bent and kissed his cheek. “You should just find someone to take up all your Saturday nights, big brother. I love you.” She bounced out through the door connecting his apartment to her living spaces. He watched her trip away and wondered if tequila at 10:00 A.M. would really be a bad thing. Probably. Tequila that early led to tequila all day. Yeah. Not a good idea. He really wanted to go back to bed, but that idea ran into the granite wall of sheets that smelled like Quint. Okay, maybe tequila wasn’t such a bad idea. 53

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He ran a hand through his hair and settled for coffee. Maybe he’d just crash on the sofa. Or go out to the studio and take his frustrations out on a piece of scrap copper. Or dismantle the whole damn apartment, because everywhere he looked he could see Quint’s face or hands or those damn tornado eyes. His nerves twitched at the memory of being undressed by those hands. Caressed. Seduced. Crap! The man was a colossal user and Max shouldn’t give a damn about him. He’d had a good night in the sack. A great one, in fact. That should be enough. Great sex, that’s what you look for—right, Max? You don’t go out looking for Mr. Right. And even if you did, Mr. Right doesn’t sign his name Quinton Wolfe. Max swore and downed half his coffee, trying not to think of how soft those storm-cell eyes had turned when they’d made love. “You’re doing it for Jenn. If he touches you he’s not touching her.” Manipulative bastard. Anything for the precious family business. Max drained the rest of his breakfast and clunked the mug down on the table. “He’s got no more emotion invested in it that he would a damn merger. It’s a contract, a business deal. Sex for his leaving her be. That’s it. So get your ass upstairs and get dressed. You’ve got a sculpture to work on.” He climbed the stairs, trying not to see Quinton in the gleam of silk or feel the smooth texture on his skin. The bed waited, sheets rumpled, pillows in disarray, taunting Max with memories of Quint gasping beneath him, passion and want overcoming fear. 54

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His breath caught, then sped. “It’s just a contract.” He had to say it again as he backed up a few steps. The loft rail caught him in the small of his back and the memory of being pressed against that smooth steel and stroked to near madness, the flat of Quint’s broad palm on Max’s ass, almost overwhelmed him. For a moment Max fell into the memory and let his body respond to those phantom caresses, swearing he could hear that glorious velvet rumble over his ear. Heavy need settled in his groin and Max pushed away from the memory. The remembered feel of broad hands on his body sent tremors through him. The bed smelled of sex and Quint’s cologne, the scent wafting up to surround him as soon as he sank down on it. “Just a contract…” Yes. But a need to savor the results without the damn details captured his gut and Max curled up in those still faintly warm sheets, his arms wrapped around a pillow and drinking in the scent of his lover. He’d start hating Quint again…tomorrow. *

*

*

Max said yes. Quint still couldn’t quite comprehend it. Maxwell Bowman—beautiful, smart-mouthed, grating, utterly masculine Maxwell Bowman said yes to Quint’s impossible, anger-driven proposition. Max, who should have run screaming or tried to punch him square in the face just grinned and said okay. Quint’s breath backed up just remembering it. The sparkle in the sculptor’s eyes, the flash of dimples accompanying that 55

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grin, turned Quint’s knees liquid and his brain to mush then. And did so now just from memory. Max wasn’t supposed to be gay! He was supposed to be straight and homophobic and never take me up on such an insane deal. I never meant it to be serious! And never had the least notion it would be accepted. But Max had. And destroyed every brain cell Quint had by doing so. Quint stared at his bathroom mirror. How could he look the same after everything that happened? He’d driven home in a daze, tumbled into bed barely able to function, exhausted and mentally numb. Even now his head swam whenever he thought of his hours with Max. He headed for his Bowflex; exercise always helped clear his head. Maybe he could figure out how a pretty body and a dimpled smile vanquished his common sense. Quint pressed the lateral ropes out and back, his shoulders protesting after a solid fifteen minutes of it, confusion just as strong as before he started. The command to switch exercises before he tore a muscle just wasn’t getting from his brain to the rest of his body. His body was too busy remembering things Quint really shouldn’t want to remember. He’d made love to a man. Not just sex. Far more than that. More emotion, more depth of feeling than he’d let any woman, or even the occasional just-for-play male, pull from his soul. He’d made love to Max Bowman. And Quint couldn’t quite decide what concerned him most…that he’d let the other man see past carefully maintained walls or that the first person who breached that barrier was male. 56

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It didn’t help that the first person to ever break through his emotional fortress did so only because of the single stupidest deal Quint had ever made. What the hell possessed me to drive that sort of an ultimatum down his throat? Smart mouthed, button-pushing, ignorant of all Quint had worked for, and sexy as hell while Max did it, that’s what possessed Quint. All that attitude and big-brother pit bull routine wrapped up in the softest, most beautiful mouth and eyes Quint had ever seen on man or woman. And, damn it all, if Quint didn’t want to possess Max again. His shoulders’ protest finally broke through deep concentration and he groaned. The sound reminded him of the cries that escaped his throat when Max held him. Quint got up for a minute to adjust the ropes, then let his abused arms rest as he lifted his legs, straining slightly against the tension rods. The movement added a little friction to a spot he’d assumed would be sore this morning. Instead, each leg lift just created a memory of slow, gentle thrusts and exquisite sensation like nothing Quint had ever experienced. A drop of sweat trickling down his chest felt like Max’s mobile tongue savoring his skin. Quint slowed the exercise to a long slow rise of his legs and let his eyes roll back in his head as the memories flowed back like silk. Incredible. Even now, the feel of Max inside Quint, the memory of smooth planes of hard muscle under his palms, the rush of pure desire and tenderness in understanding blue eyes, left him breathless. His legs lifted in time to the remembered movements of Max’s exquisite body. 57

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Not real. No more real than his part of the cursed bargain should have been. Quint could recognize a fellow player a mile off. Max Bowman didn’t go looking for love, any more than Jennifer Bowman came looking to help Quint with WolfeCorp. Agendas. Everybody had one. And right now Quint should quit screwing the Bowflex as a substitute and get back to his own agenda, which was to protect his family’s legacy. Ten minutes later his body cried out in remembered bliss and the damn Bowflex asked for a cigarette. *

*

*

“Quint!” Oh, shit. Three days he’d managed to avoid Jennifer Bowman, basically by telling his secretary to give the girl whatever she needed and barricading himself in his office. Quarterly reports came due in two weeks and Quint decided to call every single worldwide office personally to remind them. His vice presidents over the various industries WolfeCorp covered hadn’t quite known what to do with that announcement, but all ten knew well enough not to raise a stink over it. They just scheduled an extra golf day. “Jenn. Good afternoon.” He wondered if he could create a quick conference call. No, she’d probably want to sit in on it. “What can I do for you today?” Make it something brief so he could hide in his office some more. And force himself to not think of her brother. “I haven’t seen you for a few days, that’s all.” Her smile lit 58

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the whole damn hallway and reminded him rather forcefully what an utter heel he’d been. Or at least planned to be. The searching glance she gave him felt like a sunburn. “Are you feeling all right? You look really tired.” “I’m fine. I’ve just been busy.” She looked far too similar to her brother when that sort of caring entered her eyes. Dear God. He was either going to cry or come and he wasn’t sure which at the moment. “Quarterly review time.” “Oh.” Jenn looked down for a moment, shifting one foot in the plush carpet. “I wish I could help. Maybe someday, huh? When I’ve learned a lot more.” Something about her stance made him wonder if she had something else on her mind. Could she know? Was she just letting him relax enough that it would hurt ten times worse when she stomped him for extorting sex out of her brother? Quint tried to swallow past a suddenly dry mouth. God, what the hell’s the matter with me? I can stare down a hostile takeover attempt and pull us out of the fire without so much as a blink. But the idea that she knows about Max and me has me shaking in my shoes? He attempted an answer and managed to not strangle on it. “It would be beneficial for you to look them over carefully when the reports come in. It will give you a better understanding of our diversity.” A slow smile peeked out with the gleam under her lashes. “You mean like the fact you don’t draw a salary for being CEO?” What? How did she know that? And why bring it up? “I 59

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don’t need it. I do well on my stock dividends. If the company succeeds, I do very well.” She favored him with another of those direct, soft looks. “Do you have a few minutes to talk? I’ve been busy this week, too, and I just wanted to tell you about it.” The fear edged up. Had she managed to wear Max down and find out about their bargain? “Of course. My office?” He opened the door for her. “Sure. I won’t keep you long, I promise.” She settled on the leather sofa in the informal conversation area instead of at his desk, smiling up at him. “You don’t have to look so tense. It’s nothing bad.” “Of course it isn’t.” He couldn’t believe he’d been that transparent. He sat down in a chair across from her. Never let it be said he reneged on an agreement. “What have you discovered?” “Only that you’re a far nicer and more generous man than you let on.” She laughed at the look he gave her. “Your secretary suggested that the best way to get to know WolfeCorp was to read through the archives. Quarterly and annual reports, a few letters you sent out to the various offices, things like that. I’ve been reading for eight hours a day since Monday morning.” Now Jenn’s eyes went soft again and Quint fought off the renewed image of her brother’s gaze. “I have a lot to learn from you.” He swallowed the constriction in his throat and managed a smile. After all, he’d wanted just this reaction. “I’m glad you think so.” And he’d gained her admiration through dusty 60

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reports rather than a devil’s deal with her brother. Quint wanted, for the first time since he was nine and broke his mother’s favorite china cream pitcher, to crawl under the chair and hide. “Can I ask you something? How do you go about finding new things to invest in or create? Are all the ideas yours, or do you consider proposals from other people?” She seemed genuine about the question. Usually someone with an agenda would have given it away by now in their body language and nuance of tone. All Quint got was that same frank if perky openness. And found that he’d started to trust it. He doubted anyone could be that consistent in an act. “Some are my ideas, some are proposals. Some are sparked by articles I read, or smaller companies here or overseas that have implemented something new.” Maybe business could distract him from how much she resembled her brother. Her cheeks flushed a little and she glanced away for a moment, drawing a breath before looking at him again. “How polished do you like a proposal to be before you’d consider it?” Now that body language he understood. “Not very. What’s your idea?” “I’m still chewing on it.” Her musical laugh enchanted him for reasons that had nothing to do with his earlier plans for her. “My dad always uses that phrase for when he’s sorting something out in his head. I want to think this through first, be ready to answer any questions you or anyone else might have. 61

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I just wanted to know if I should spend more time on the notes or the Power Point presentation. I overheard one of your vice presidents say you prefer them done that way.” “I’d rather have well-informed ideas than a slick presentation.” Quint smiled across at her. “I’m a resultsoriented sort of person.” “Mm-kay. I suspected that, from everything I’ve read and all the questions I’ve asked your secretary.” She grinned at the brow he raised. “You were busy. And I want to know the man behind the corporate image. That’s where the real answers are.” And far too much lurked inside him she didn’t need to know. “I think you’ll find the company far more interesting than I am.” “But you are WolfeCorp, Quint. Ever since you took the reins from your father. Please don’t think I don’t understand that.” Jenn stood and reached her hand toward him. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go home a little early today. I thought I’d surprise Max by picking up his favorite pizza on the way home. He’s been looking as tired as you do.” A knot tightened in Quint’s middle as he rose to shake her hand, forcing his fingers to not spasm. Max. The man he coerced into sex. “Really? Working too hard on his sculptures?” “I don’t think so. I know he’s been picking up some extra hours at the machine shop where Sully works. He helps them out when his funds are low or they’re swamped. And he’s been in his studio when I get home, but I don’t hear the torch. 62

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It roars like a twister.” She sighed. “He hasn’t been eating much. I don’t know what’s wrong. I hope there isn’t a bug of some kind going around. Neither of you look very good.” The back of her hand drifted over Quint’s forehead. Lord, the woman had a way of mothering a guy that he just couldn’t feel annoyed over. “You’re not feverish, but maybe you should go home early and rest, too. I’d invite you for dinner but I don’t think Max would be very good company tonight.” Dinner. Max. Sitting across a table without being able to touch the sculptor, knowing what he’d done. It would be torture. “I’m booked this week in any case. But thank you.” Jenn smiled and patted his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Good night.” Quint closed the door behind her. Aimless, he drifted to the window to stare out at the Dallas skyline. So he’d gained what he wanted—sweet Jennifer trusted and admired him. And he hadn’t needed to seduce or coerce her into doing so. And Max would never believe for an instant Quint wanted more than a devil’s deal. He swore, soft and vehement. Years of searching for someone he couldn’t disregard the second he crawled out of their bed, only to find that one unforgettable man wanted nothing more than to erase Quint from the broad Texas plains. The sparkling glass-and-steel jewel of the WolfeCorp complex spread at his feet, still his for the keeping thanks to Jenn’s trust. For once, that prospect felt empty. *

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“Max, you’ve got to eat something. You’re listless, you look more wilted than Mom’s sunflowers at the end of the harvest, and I’m worried about you.” Jenn set a plate in front of him and pushed the box of pizza across the table. “Do you want a beer or the iced tea I just made?” “Tea. And a whiskey.” Beer wasn’t doing it lately. “I’m just tired, sis. Lots of work lately.” Which helped. If he worked he didn’t think. Much. She got up to get the whiskey and a second glass, still shooting concerned glances at him. The mothering was bad enough, but every time her soft gaze hit him Max saw dark gray where brown should be. Dark gray eyes roiling with passion, lightning sparks and teal highlights that glowed at his touch. Three freaking days of this. He’d be lucky to make it to the weekend sane. “I’ve been busy, too.” Jenn apparently decided she’d relieve the one-sentence conversation by filling the space herself. “I’ve been digging through WolfeCorp’s history. I can’t tell you how impressed I am that a man like Quint still exists today.” “What? You mean the old-time railroad baron willing to burn down towns and orphan children just to make a few pesos?” Okay, that came out way too bitter. Maybe Jenn would attribute it to Max’s exhaustion coupled with his known dislike of Quinton Wolfe. “What sort of horror did you find?” “Maxwell Charles Bowman, what a perfectly awful thing to say!” Jenn’s brows did the little dance that translated loosely to huh? “I don’t understand what your problem is with 64

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him, but Quint’s put his own money back into a struggling property more than once just to keep people’s jobs open. Sometimes for a long time. Not company assets, big brother. His personal funds. Both when his father ran the company and since he became CEO. And his father did the same before him.” Max snorted in derision. “Or so he says. You shouldn’t believe anything he tells you, Jenn. The man’s a snake-oil salesman. He could get the Saudis to buy sand.” Her palm hit the table with a resounding crack. “For your information, Quint didn’t tell me anything. He doesn’t even know I know about that. Or that the penthouse apartment where he lives is owned by the company and half of it is used for overseas guests. He didn’t even know I’d found out he doesn’t draw a salary, until about two hours ago when I got a chance to talk to him for the first time since Friday.” Her brown eyes flashed almost black. “He’s stayed in his office for the past three days. I hadn’t seen him until this afternoon for about ten minutes. You told me to stay away from him. Are you happy now?” No. Miserable. More so by the second. “So he’s a closet philanthropist.” And in the closet about a lot of things, including his willingness to use extortion to get sex. “Right.” Jenn blew out a breath. “Honestly, Max, aren’t you the one who told me not to believe everything the television and magazines say? Now I tell you things I got from the very archives of that company and from people who’ve worked for him for years, and I’m not supposed to believe that? Make up 65

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your mind.” The rather annoying sound of the door buzzer stopped her tirade, but not her glare. “And he looks almost as bad as you do right now. I’ll get that, it’s probably Sully.” Looks as bad as…Quinton looked like the run-down winoin-the-making that stared back from Max’s mirror? What the hell? “What do you mean he looks as bad as I do? What’s wrong with him?” Jenn stopped and looked back at him, then raised her voice toward the door. “Give me just a minute, Sully.” She stalked back to the table and caught Max’s chin in her hand, tracing a finger over his face. “Lines, deep ones, here, here, here.” Eyes, mouth, forehead. “His eyes are dull, his color pale and every sentence sounds like it’s his last breath. Just like you. But since you haven’t been near him, I can only assume that whatever’s wrong started at a place you both visited recently. Any ideas?” She let him go and went to answer the door. Shit. Yeah. A place called bliss. It lasted about an hour before it burned down, torched by suspicion and the lack of trust Quinton’s actions engendered. “Maybe we got a bad tomato or jalapeño. Isn’t that what’s been going around?” He glared at Jenn. “When’d you become some sort of FBI profiler?” “God, Max, you look like shit.” Sully winced as soon as the word left his mouth. “Sorry, Jenn. But it fits. I thought it was just the backlog at the shop that had you worn down.” The artist flipped a chair around at the table and straddled it. “What gives?” Great. Just what Max didn’t need. “I’m tired. I work at the 66

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shop and I come back and work here. It’s hot and I’m tired. Cut out the third degree.” He took a long drink of the whiskey, washing the sting away with sweet iced tea. “And now Jenn’s decided the Big Bad Wolfe is some sort of male Mother Teresa.” “I never said he was a saint. I said he’s a good businessman who cares about far more than how much profit goes in his own pocket.” She grabbed a plate and glass for Sully before she sat down. “I’m not stupid, Max. I know how to go about learning things without needing some big strong man to point the way. Quint’s been working on quarterly reports, so I asked his secretary the best way to get a feel for the company and the man who runs it. And then I read. And asked. And found out for myself.” “Okay, okay. I get it. You played detective. And found out you admire Wolfe. Well, I don’t.” Desire him, yes. Admire him, no. Crap. “He’s still a womanizer who plays fast and loose with people’s hearts.” And Max wasn’t thinking of how much he wanted Quint in his bed again. He just wasn’t. Sully opened his mouth, probably to voice a reminder that Max himself didn’t pay too much attention to hearts either, but thought better of it. Instead he grabbed a slice of pizza and poured some iced tea. “So how come I haven’t gotten my inevitable case of the willies by your rehashing your latest party pet? You had company Saturday night, I know. I figured Jenn might want to get some actual sleep so I let her crash at my place. Neighbors have to call the cops again?” “I should have strangled you years ago.” Max barely 67

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resisted the urge to do so now. And tried to come up with a believable lie. “Maybe I get that it freaks Jenn out and maybe I don’t want to discuss sex with my kid sister in the room.” Sully’s face went scarlet and he glanced at Jenn, who just laughed and patted Sully’s hand. Max raised a brow. What was that about? Then Sully shrugged. “I wasn’t asking for the gory details, man. But you were all talk over Gomer Pitt last week—in front of Jenn, no less—and that was a lousy date. What, this week even worse?” “Yeah. A lot worse.” Gomer had just been sex. So had Quint. But Max hadn’t cared about that with Gomer. “Maybe the worst ever.” “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you just say so?” Jenn’s mood softened back into concern. “Look, let’s eat and then go find something fun to do. Take your mind off it and give us all a break from work. Then we can come back here and curl up with some ridiculous movie, gorge ourselves silly on popcorn and just laugh for awhile.” “You two go ahead. I’m not really in the mood. I have a deadline on the latest commission for the AIDS fund-raiser at the museum anyway. I need to deliver it today.” Her sigh probably should have made him feel guilty, but Max couldn’t seem to work up that much emotion. He did notice, though, the way Sully opened the door for Jenn and took her hand on their way out. Hmm. Okay, so maybe the tire iron didn’t immediately spring to mind. Just an agonizing fantasy of Quint’s long slender fingers wrapped around his own. 68

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*

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The silence in his apartment got too damn loud. Quint pushed the frozen dinner away and drained his Glenlivet. Even the pricier private club stuff tasted like sand these days, and going out to eat just wasted money. Exhaustion tinted the evening view out his floor-to-ceiling windows, rendering it muddy and foggy around the edges. He let one hand rest on the cool marble of a sculpture, one of his personal collection rather than the stuff the world saw at WolfeCorp or the part of the penthouse used for business guests. Quint could count on one hand the number of people he allowed into his private space who weren’t family. And that group seemed to get smaller every year. The curse of being an only child. I miss you, Dad. Work always satisfied, but not the way it had when he worked side by side with Richard Q. Wolfe, the man whose vision Quint had learned and tried to emulate. His father had known how to take time off as well, taking Quint out to Possum Kingdom Lake every three months, no matter what else was going on, for a long weekend of fishing and just being together. In the two years since his father died of a stroke, Quint had taken exactly three personal days, all three because he’d simply been too sick to get out of bed. Bed…the place he couldn’t rest any more. He’d tried, but all he did was twist the sheets in knots trying to find comfort. His hand caressed the smooth curves of the statue, the cool form soothing under his palms. He turned his head to see if it might soothe his thoughts as well and snatched his hand away. He knew the piece well, a naked muscular male torso in 69

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recline done in the classical fashion. A beautiful rendition of a half-aroused man. One that looked far too much like Max Bowman. Quint surged to his feet with a curse. He had to get out before the demons in his head drove him insane. Before he thought of another reason to stay here and dwell on what he couldn’t have. His keys jangled when he grabbed them up as he shoved his wallet in his pocket. Yes, he’d go out. Somewhere. It didn’t matter. At least there’d be some sound besides his own breathing. He barely noticed the easy purr of the sleek Jaguar he loved driving, his only real personal luxury not associated with WolfeCorp. Navigating traffic took place on autopilot. Only when Quint realized he’d driven straight to the Art District did he choose a destination. It had been weeks since he checked in at the Dallas Museum of Art where he was a major supporter of an annual fund-raising exhibit. The huge complex would allow him a measure of anonymity, especially dressed as he was in jeans and a polo. Easy enough to lose himself in rooms full of beauty. He wandered aimless, his status as a premier patron of the museum and his member badge allowing him access without any hassles. It helped that a good many of the staff knew him. “Mr. Wolfe, sir.” Leo Blake, the organizer of the annual AIDS fund-raiser exhibit, greeted him softly from the door of his office. “It’s good to see you. We’ve got some wonderful pieces this year that should auction higher than anything to 70

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date. A very talented group of artists donating to the cause. Would you like a preview?” “Sure, why not? Perhaps I’ll find something to interest me.” And looking at the pieces might distract him. “I’m glad to hear it’s doing so well. We never thought it would last this many years and grow with each one.” “Come on back. We’ve got an artist unloading a piece right now, but there are a lot of other ones already set up in temporary space until the exhibit opens.” Leo always seemed to make Quint feel better simply because the man treated him like everyone else, no fawning over the CEO status or public image. To Leo he was just another art lover. “I wish I could talk you into letting us have just one of your sketches. The one I saw last year is really great.” “I’m a collector, not an artist.” And much as the thought sometimes appealed, Quint didn’t want attention because of the celebrity he already had. “You have plenty of items without something of mine.” “Just asking.” Leo grinned and led Quint toward the temporary display. “Man’s got to have some things all for himself. I get it. We have a sculptor this year who’s finally decided to come off the anonymous donors list. He’s got three pieces here already and he’s unloading a fourth right now. Convinced him it’s really okay to do a little schmoozing while helping the cause.” Leo glanced over his shoulder at the sound of a clunk and a grunt. “Oops, looks like he could use a hand for a minute. Go ahead and look around. I’ll be right back.” Quint followed Leo’s progress, straight to where Max 71

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Bowman struggled with a large bundle of bubble wrap. Quint’s knees weakened and he clutched the crate nearest him. Max. A shirtless, sweating Max. Two emotions hit him like a freight train. An overwhelming desire to rush over and kiss those beautiful bratty lips, and an equally debilitating need to find the nearest restroom and empty his guts into a toilet. God, what had he done? Nothing, nothing would ever make up for the way he’d treated Max. And even if he had the guts to apologize, Quint knew Max would never believe him. Or want him in return. The sheer emotional chasm separating them made his stomach heave again. Light glinted on rippling muscles and Quint felt tears burn behind his eyelids. His stomach knotted and twisted. No way could he face Max and say what he wanted to say. It would be useless. He should turn and leave, find the nearest bathroom and throw up. But then he’d be walking away from the sight of what he wanted most. He just couldn’t pull away from what chance had offered him. “Max, this is beautiful. I think it’s your best yet.” Leo had pulled the other end of the bubble wrap off the sculpture, but the two men held it so it still curtained the piece from his view. Quint didn’t much care at the moment. Nothing could be more exquisite than the sight of pale bronze skin kissed with the setting sunlight. Max almost glowed, even the light sprinkling of dark hair over a well-muscled chest glistening with exertion. If ever a view of heaven could be seen on earth, surely it must look like this. 72

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Quint’s fingers ached to smooth that patch of dark hair, to feel the rough silk of it. He could almost taste the salt of that golden skin. His stomach clenched, wanting to feel that hard abdomen pressed tight to his. “Hope so, Leo. I’d like to think I’m doing something right.” Max’s voice sounded strained, tired like Jennifer had said. Quint didn’t dare look at the sculptor’s face long enough to see if the same deep lines he saw in his own mirror were etched in those fine features. He’d put them there. And Max didn’t deserve them. “It’s wonderful. It will bring an impressive price. And the fame you deserve.” The hunch of Max’s shoulders didn’t indicate he found the prospect of fame all that interesting. He should be excited, enjoying being on the edge of success. Instead it meant little if anything at all. And that’s my fault, too. Quint had ruined Max’s enjoyment of the career he’d worked at so long. Even the beauty before him became too much and Quint turned before they moved the sculpture any closer. He had to get out of here and find a way to end the torture, for Max at least. A piece caught his eye as he hurried toward the exit and an idea popped into his head. A cowardly, completely out-ofcharacter idea, but one that would end things as painlessly as Quint could make them. He noted the item number and slipped into Leo’s office without being seen from the loading area. A quick note requesting delivery to his apartment, the price he would pay and his credit card information, and Quint escaped 73

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back into the main area of the museum, finding a spot as far away from Leo’s office as he could. He sank onto a bench in the middle of an exhibit and tried to catch his breath. He knew his heart would never recover, so he’d take what he could get.

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CHAPTER 5 “Come on, Max, I need to get this enameled and I can’t do that until you finish shaping it for me.” Sully’s frown reached his eyebrows. “What’s the matter with you lately? And don’t tell me you’re just tired. This is too much after-party even for you.” “Maybe I’m coming down with something.” Max moved his torch over the reddened metal, a blow from his mallet shaping it. “I’m doing the best I can, Sully.” Anger lurked just below the surface. “Max.” The other artist’s voice softened. “This is me you’re talking to. And your player lifestyle may make me twitch, but I’ve never turned you away when you needed to 75

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talk. Jenn’s out of earshot. So what’s going on? It’s got something to do with the Date from Hell, doesn’t it?” Max laid the mallet aside and turned off his torch. He wasn’t doing the sculpture any good in this state any way. Maybe if he talked it out with no names mentioned he could at least work again. “It wasn’t the Date from Hell. It was the Date from Heaven and I can’t get him out of my head, even though I know he was in it just for the sex.” “Wow. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard something like that come out of your mouth.” Sully stuffed his cap in his back pocket and leaned against a workbench, folding his arms over his chest. “Are you sure he isn’t interested in anything more? Maybe you read him wrong? Sometimes it takes people a couple days to wrap their brains around the idea of a relationship.” “Yeah, I’m reading him wrong. His telling me he was just in it for sex didn’t mean a thing. Please!” Max tossed his mask onto the worktable. “I guess you read Jenn wrong, too, that first night you went out. That’s why she ended up at your place all night long.” He sighed and leaned his hip against the warmth of the table. “Look, I’m not some teenager. I know when I’m being played, and he was playing me. And I let him because he was so damned cute and sweet. I should have made it rough and meaningless, but I didn’t. I let him get to me and now I’m miserable. Happy?” “Whoa, hang on there, friend.” Sully’s hands shot up in surrender. “I don’t want you miserable, I just wanted to help if I could. And for the record, I never touched your sister. Hell, I 76

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didn’t even kiss her that first night. I offered her a spot on the sofa and we talked. That’s it. Last night is the first time I even tried to kiss her.” A smile quirked. “And if it’s not going to cost me various parts of my anatomy from your tire iron, I’d kind of like to do it again sometime soon.” Max waved it away. “She likes you. As long as you’re not just after her body, I’m good with it. More than good if you’re thinking of something long-term. I just don’t want her to feel like I do.” “She’s got a lot more to offer than just her body, pretty as it is.” Sully’s grin got wider and a flush crept into his cheeks. “She’s about the only lady I’ve ever been out with who doesn’t leave me tripping over my tongue. And she’s classy and smart and funny. Far as I can see, the only liability she’s got is you.” “Smartass.” Max felt a grin of his own curve his lips and the anvil on his chest lifted just a little. “I suppose I could put up with you as family if I really had to.” “Max?” Jenn’s call interrupted any reply Sully might have made. “There’s a delivery here for you. The guy wants to know where to put it. I guess it’s really heavy.” “I didn’t order anything.” Max made sure the piece he’d been working on was stable before he stepped to the studio door. “Let’s go see who screwed up this time.” Familiarity with the deliveryman only brought new confusion. “Jamie. What’s up, man? Somebody complain about how lifelike the latest piece is and make the museum send it back?” He only half-joked. Some people had real 77

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issues with even tasteful representations of gay affection. “Nope. Special delivery. Guy told me to make sure you were here in person when I delivered it and I was to put this in your hands my own self.” Jamie handed Max a plain white envelope. “Maybe you won a contest or something.” The young man indicated the large box on the hand truck. “You want me to lay it down and open it up for you?” “Yeah sure. Sully and I can help you after we know what it is.” Max took the envelope, slitting it with a finger before he pulled out the single sheet of paper. A note? Someone sent him a note and an oversized crate? There was no signature. Only four sentences in a bold, elegant hand. I release you from our contract. I know you won’t believe me, but I have to say it anyway. I’m so very sorry, Max. I do hope you’ll at least believe that I’ll always remember you like this, only far warmer. Max’s heart skittered, then thundered. “Oh, my word! Max, this is gorgeous!” He looked up to see Sully helping Jamie right a bronze statue. Jenn was right; it was beautiful. A male torso and half the face, head tilted back in ecstasy, a lover’s unseen arms wrapping from behind, hands perfectly rendered in metal resting on the waist and chest. Tender lips teased the statue’s ear, the rest of the face left to the viewer’s imagination. Sully’s bright green gaze caught Max by the throat. “Maybe your Lothario wasn’t as unmoved by your encounter as you’d thought?” 78

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Max would answer as soon as he could breathe. Right now, that felt like it might be next month. His fingers convulsed around the note. “I… Put it wherever you want to. Send it back. I don’t care.” He rocketed for the stairs and the shaky sanctuary of his bedroom before he did something crazy, like cry in front of his sister. It didn’t matter that he’d changed the sheets four days ago. The memory of Quint’s cologne and the heady musk of their lovemaking teased his nostrils with as much alacrity as those first hours alone. I release you from our contract. He should feel ecstatic. Instead all he wanted to do was curl up and sob his guts out. Max dropped onto the bed and cradled his head in his hands. Damn it all to hell! He should find Quinton Wolfe and kick that tight ass for putting him through this much pain. The problem with that idea was he’d be far more likely to succumb to the need to kiss Quint until neither of them could think. “You emotionally decent?” Sully’s voice from the stairs kept Max from sinking deeper into agony. “I talked Jenn out of rushing up here after you. Figure last thing any man wants is for a woman to see him bawl. Not that you necessarily want me to see it either, but it’s less embarrassing. She’s showing Jamie the way to the paint room. I didn’t figure you really wanted to send back something that special.” Max swallowed and drew a long breath. “I don’t know what I want. You might as well come in and stop hovering out there. And I’m not bawling.” Not yet anyway. The shock and pain ran too deep for tears. 79

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“Okay.” Dark curls appeared at the top of the stairs followed by the rest of Max’s best friend. Sully glanced at the bed and then opted for sitting on the floor next to Max, leaning back against the blanket. “Look, I got the basics of your date from heaven, but maybe you better explain why you’re sitting up here looking shell-shocked over the fact that Lover Boy seems to want you after all. Because I’m beyond confused.” “Because it’s not an ‘I want you’ present. It’s an ‘I’m sorry, goodbye’ present. His way of saying it’s completely over.” Max’s chest clenched tight. Over. No contract. No more chances to watch tornado cloud eyes go misty with want. “I guess I knew it. I just thought it would be…” Less traumatic? Less obvious? Less something. “So he sends me an expensive gift like I’m some bimbo girl!” “Well, you’re certainly not a girl.” The hand Sully held up said the artist knew the joke flopped. “Can I maybe take a look at that note? Sometimes a little detachment can help.” Sully would figure it out the minute he read it, but what the hell did it matter? Max passed it over and watched Sully’s hands tense as he read. “Contract? Wait a minute. Are you telling me… Max, your little conversation with Quinton Wolfe ended up…” Sully’s eyes went very wide. “Jenn’s gonna skin you alive when she finds out. You…or you let him… Holy shit.” “I didn’t let him anything. He may have started it, but I ended up firmly in control.” Max stared across at the mirror, not seeing his reflection, just Quint looking up at him, fearful but trusting. “Dear God, he was sweet. Like homemade candy. 80

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I can still taste his kiss.” He swallowed the tears building up in his throat. “I want to taste it again. I don’t want it…to be over.” “You had a deal of some sort with him, didn’t you? You’d…bed him if he’d leave Jenn alone?” A shudder ran over Sully’s shoulders but he didn’t actually flinch, just read the note again. “Max? A letter’s an awfully hard way to tell someone what you feel. What if he’s not brushing you off? What if he’s really trying to say he’s sorry it started as a contract and he didn’t want you to feel…used, I guess. He already knows you aren’t—or weren’t, maybe—that fond of him. Or the image he shows the world.” Those green eyes accepted Max’s glare calmly. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve been listening to Jenn, sue me later. You know, it seems to me it would take an awful lot for a man that proud to apologize like he did here. Maybe he’s trying to say he’s sorry he treated you like a sex toy and he doesn’t remember it that way. And I can’t believe I just said that out loud.” “But he didn’t treat me like a sex toy. That’s sort of the whole point. I took his virginity and he’s the one apologizing. How jacked up is that?” Max couldn’t think, couldn’t do much of anything but remember how good it felt to hold Quint’s trust. “Yeah, I made a deal, but it didn’t end up like he thought it would. I don’t play the sub, Sully. Not for anyone. And he found that out as clear as I could make it.” “Okay, little too much info there.” Sully’s half-smile held a world of sympathy all the same. “It sounds to me like you’re both blaming yourselves for something the other doesn’t see. 81

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Maybe you should just go beard the lion in his den, so to speak. Talk to him. At least then you’d know what the hell is going on.” “Yeah. Walk into that fancy penthouse of his. I can so see that.” Max fell back onto the bed. “I’ll think about it. You do pretty well for a guy who’s never managed a third date in his life.” “I have three sisters and four aunts who read Cosmo religiously. The logistics are similar enough.” Sully stood up and moved to the stairs. “And who says you have to go to the penthouse? You have a sister with an office right down the hall from him. Just tell her you noticed an oil leak in her car and you’ll pick her up tomorrow night while it’s being fixed. I can take her to work in the morning.” A shrug lifted broad shoulders. “You won’t be lying, by the way. I saw a small puddle of oil on the garage area floor where her car is parked. Best get it fixed before it gets worse. You want me to get her out of your hair for tonight?” Max nodded. He might still want to have that crying jag. “I’d appreciate it. Let her sleep on your couch. Or at least let me think it’s your couch, okay?” “Only been dating the woman a week, Max. I don’t want to screw this up. Far as I’m concerned, past the couch is her call, not mine.” Sully started down the stairs. “Paint shop’ll be deserted, too. Just in case you’re curious about your present after all. ’Night.” “’Night. Tell her about the oil leak, will you?” Max stared up at his ceiling, not enjoying the reflection there either. “I’ll 82

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talk to you tomorrow. And Sully? Thanks.” Lights clicked off in succession downstairs before the lock on the apartment door clanked shut and the door adjoining Jenn’s space clicked and locked far more quietly. A full moon poured in through the tall windows covering two walls of Max’s bedroom, sending images of Quint’s fair skin and golden hair silvered by that light throbbing through his imagination. God, how he’d love to see that! They hadn’t bothered turning the lights off… Okay, lying here would make him crazy. Max pushed to his feet. Time for a drink or four. He headed for the kitchen, the moon bright enough he didn’t need electricity. At the foot of the stairs, he turned away from the bottle waiting in the cabinet and moved toward his studio instead. The bust sat on the newest of the workbenches in the paint shop, the one least covered in enamel splatters and torch burns. The one right by the window, so the moon gleamed on the smooth surface and gentled it to almost-life. Jenn couldn’t have picked a more perfect spot for it tonight. Max swallowed the knot in his throat and moved toward it. I’ll always remember you like this, only far warmer. He really couldn’t decide which would feel better, kicking Quint’s ass all the way to the Oklahoma border or holding the other man tight and making love to him for about a week. The bronze chilled his palm when he caressed the firm jawline of the embracing figure. Quint had been warm, pulse fluttering there as Max showed him what real lovemaking could be. “Damn it! What are you trying to say, Wolfe? You were 83

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blunt enough the night you were here, but your note’s pretty damn cryptic.” The statue warmed the tiniest bit under his hand. “And why a note? Why not pick up the freaking phone? You don’t strike me as a coward, CEO. So what are you up to?” Unless… God, it would kill him to replay everything again, but he had to put the puzzle together or he’d go stark out of his mind. Max pulled a stool over and sat down at the bench, letting his fingers drift over the cool marble base of the statue. Things started off simple enough. Max pulled a fast one to confront Quint about Jenn, and it turned into a power play. Couple of threats, couple of brush-offs and counter-threats. And an offer Quint never expected Max to go for. Or not without some shock reaction at first. Quint thought Max was straight, like Sully. It hadn’t stopped the want swirling in Quint’s gray eyes, even when they were ready to kill each other. And that want overcame everything else. Max stared at the moon-silvered lovers. The statue radiated love as much as it did sex. Max understood the workings of an artist’s mind and could read what the creator of the piece wanted to say. And he knew what someone looking at it felt as well. I’ll always remember you like this, only far warmer. Warmer. Lots of meanings to that word. Max let his hand cover the bronze one resting so gentle and loving on the torso’s chest. “So, you miss me. And seeing something like this makes you think of me. Doesn’t sound much like a one84

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night stand, Quint. Most of the time I can’t even remember the names and faces of the guys I’ve slept with. And you’re supposed to be a bigger player than I am.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “So I got you all balled up. Enough that you’re shelling out thousands to send me angsty notes.” The smile grew. “Now that’s just…interesting.” The weight in his stomach, the one that kept Max from eating or sleeping, lifted a bit. He patted the jawline he’d caressed. “Keep on missing me, babe. I want you to miss me really bad. Because after this little gift, I think I’m not done with you after all.” *

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“It’s so nice of you to come pick me up, Max.” Okay, Jenn looked really weird with her hair pulled up and a pencil stuck behind her ear over her reading glasses. She looked…like a businesswoman. Max couldn’t work his brain around that yet. “I just need about ten minutes to finish reading this report. Is that okay?” “Sure. No hurry. I gave myself plenty of time. You never can tell how long a drive around here will take.” He pushed away from the door frame. “I’ll just wait out here so I’m not hovering over you, okay? I’ll admire the view or something.” A glance out into the hallway made him smirk. “It always this quiet around here? Let me guess—you employ mimes, right?” She wrinkled her nose at him over a grin. “It’s Friday. Most everyone took off at four. I think Quint and I are the only people left here. He’s still plowing through quarterlies.” 85

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One dark brow rose. “You’re looking better. Get some sleep last night?” “Yeah, actually, I did. And yeah, I feel pretty good.” And would hopefully feel even better in about five minutes. “You finish your report and yell for me when you’re ready to go.” “Mm-kay.” She picked up the report again and sighed. “I wish Quint looked better. I think he needs a real vacation. He hasn’t taken one in almost two years.” The comment seemed more a spoken thought than further conversation, so Max left her to her work and stepped out into the hallway. The tall door behind the fancy desk should be for someone important—and important around here meant Quint Wolfe. Yep, the nameplate beside the door matched with the name of the man he wanted to see. He set a grin firmly on his face and turned the doorknob. Wow. Okay, fancy office and gorgeous artwork, but Max’s gaze shot straight to the man hunched over the fine walnut desk. Jenn wasn’t kidding. The sight of gold hair tousled from too many frustrated rakings, the slump of broad shoulders… Max saw deep lines etched in the corners of Quint’s eyes. Even the movement of the pen over whatever report the exec pretended to read looked sluggish. A wave of warmth squeezed Max’s soul and he walked over to grasp the back of a plushly padded client chair. Any closer and Jenn would get the eyeful of a lifetime when she came looking for him. “Something you need, Miss Bowman?” Quint’s voice sounded as exhausted as Max had felt all week. Defeat shouldn’t rest on Quint so heavy, leaving once proud 86

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shoulders bowed. Max kept his voice low, but the smile wouldn’t be quelled. “I just wondered if maybe you had a whim or two left. Consider it a freebie?” Quint’s head snapped up so hard the silky blond hair danced about his forehead. “Max.” Breathy, disbelieving, barely audible. Max watched Quint’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Max.” A little stronger this time but not much. Max lifted a hand. “Don’t get up. Jenn’ll come looking for me in about five minutes and if you move any closer she’ll find us laid out on your desk.” He watched those dark eyes drop an F5 tornado of desire coupled with a hailstorm of pain. “Apology accepted. Though a dozen roses would have been cheaper.” The tip of Quint’s tongue swept pillowed lips. “I…a dozen roses aren’t worthy of you. And yes, they would have been cheaper, in ways I don’t want you to think I considered cheap.” “That’s why you let me out of our deal, isn’t it? Because it was never cheap.” Max didn’t need a nod for an answer he already knew. “Look, Sully’s already taking Jenn out to dinner. If you’d agree to come over, I’d make sure he keeps her busy all night. Maybe all weekend.” His smile widened. “Not that I think they’ll need much persuading. But I need to make love with you again and then we should really get everything out in the open. Does that sound like something you’d enjoy?” The F5 swept across gray irises, turning them violent teal. 87

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“I…yes. I’d…tonight? You want me to come over and spend the night with you?” Max dared a step to the other side of the chair and leaned over Quint’s desk, pinning the man’s hands in place and brushing a soft kiss over those full lips. He managed to keep his control in place long enough to pull back. “Yeah. They’ll be gone by seven. And I bought a silk thong today. Just for you.” The soft sound of his sister’s call from the hallway made him straighten and move to the door, grinning at the shocked look on Quint’s face. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

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CHAPTER 6 Max considered the extremely lived-in ambiance of his apartment. It had been worse; Jenn had a habit of picking up and putting away. But it still had a rather haphazard atmosphere to it. Max wondered what Quint would see when he looked at it, and immediately filed that under “I don’t care.” Quint needed to want Max for Max, not for how tidy or not the place might be. Still, if Max decided he did want to make love somewhere besides the bed, it might be a good idea to assure the couch and any other horizontal surface he might fancy didn’t harbor unexpected sharp metal pieces. Blood play wasn’t at all Max’s thing and he somehow doubted it appealed to Quint either. 89

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He fished a few pieces of copper from the big recliner and a few more in aluminum from the couch. The bronze on the kitchen island got shuffled back to the work room, too, just in case. Good enough for the time being. “What’s next, the ShopVac?” Sully’s grin from the open doorway could have run the arc welder for a week. “Only one thing has a man going all Donna Reed. You got a da-ate.” Max rolled his eyes. “Nobody sing-songs that anymore. Grow up.” Still, the glow of anticipation in his stomach couldn’t keep from curving his lips. “Jenn’s spending the weekend with you, by the way. She’s tossing some things in a bag right now.” “Mm-hm.” Jenn bounced into the room from her living space, all smiles, and ran a touch over Sully’s shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind. Max said you’d asked his permission to date me and he’d given his blessing. I think that’s so sweet.” She stretched up and laid a kiss on Sully that backed him against the door frame, then whispered something in his ear that made Sully go sheet white and beet red in rapid succession. Max didn’t even bother holding in the laughter. “Go easy, Jenn. You’re Sully’s first real dating success. Be gentle with him.” He grinned at the pair. “Have fun and don’t tell me any details that involve touching.” “I’ll be right back.” Jenn kissed Sully again and practically skipped over to Max, kissing his cheek as well. “And you have fun, too. You look so much happier than you have all week. I love you, big brother.” She didn’t wait for an answer. Sully waited until she’d closed the door behind her to try 90

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out his voice. “She said I asked your permission?” Max spread his hands. “What can I say, she’s an oldfashioned sort of girl. She doesn’t take after me at all.” “But…” Sully glanced over his shoulder and then over to the door separating Jenn’s living spaces from the rest of the apartment. The artist’s voice dropped to a panicked whisper. “That kiss…she’s thinking, I mean maybe she is… Max, what if… I mean is she a v—” Sully sucked in a gasp and held up his hands. “I didn’t just ask you that, I swear…but if we…I’ve never, you know, with a…how do…what the hell do I do?” Max rolled his eyes. “Not my territory, Sul. And I really don’t want to know since this is my sister. If you….” His voice trailed off as a tall, golden figure appeared in the open doorway beside Sully. Desert sands set up residence in Max’s mouth. “Allow me to help. I do have some experience.” Quint tapped Sully’s shoulder and leaned close to whisper into the painter’s ear for several moments. Then Quint patted Sully’s arm. “It would probably be best if you called for her at her front door.” Sully’s cheeks suffused with bright rose, but his nod was brisk before he cut a quick look to Max and scurried away. Max managed to chuckle and raised a brow at Quint. “What exactly did you say to him?” Broad shoulders lifted and Quint paused to fish a handkerchief from his back pocket and tie it around the door handle before sliding the door closed. “A couple of general pointers about female physiology in that happenstance. And a 91

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little advice: keep it slow and easy, like floating down a wide, lazy river.” A faint smile quirked one corner of that full mouth. “Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?” “Yeah, that’s exactly how it’s supposed to work. Want to see if it still feels as good as you remember?” Max couldn’t quite get his feet to move so he waited, gaze fixed on Quint, drinking in how good the other man looked in jeans and a polo. Velvety gray eyes narrowed a bit, suspicion warring with the renewed storm of want. “Why do you want this? You hate me. That’s been clear since day one. I hardly think mere sex would overcome that.” The teal highlights in Quint’s eyes pleaded to be wrong about the want at least. “Sex wouldn’t. Being vulnerable and trusting might. And being so miserable even my sister noticed…well, that got my attention.” Max managed to unglue his sneakers from the floor and draw close enough to tease his fingertips over the back of Quint’s hand. “And you are the best lay I’ve had in a really long time. So, wanna get the sex out of the way so we can talk without wanting to rip each other’s clothes off?” Quint’s eyes screwed shut and those broad hands clenched into fists for a long moment. A nasal gasp echoed in the silent room. Then that fall of gold hair dipped lower over one eye as Quint nodded slowly. “Yes.” “You are all balled up, aren’t you, babe?” Max slipped his arm around Quint’s waist. “It’s okay. I got the message you sent. The one you couldn’t say. That statue…it isn’t something you give a man you never want to see again, and it isn’t 92

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something you give to a really good one-night stand. That’s the sort of thing you send someone when you really want more from them, even if it scares the hell out of you.” He brushed his lips across Quint’s jaw, just like he’d wanted to do for a week. “I’m right, aren’t I?” “I…” Quint swallowed hard, voice tight. “I regret that I essentially extorted sexual favors from you. I don’t…it’s not something I’m proud of.” Clenched fists swung forward as if to touch Max’s hips, but clunked back against the wall instead. “Especially since I discovered Jennifer is far more intelligent and discerning than I gave her credit for. Our…arrangement…wasn’t necessary.” “You couldn’t just say yep, could you?” Max let his body brush against Quint’s. “And I get that you never expected me to agree to your little deal. Yes, it was extortion and yes, it was beyond smarmy. And would have worked on a straight guy.” That gray gaze so full of guilt tugged at his heart. Max let his fingers wander through that gold silk hair, cupping Quint’s cheek and smoothing his thumb over it. “But I’m not. And so you ended up with a whole lot more than you expected from your bargain. Just proves that karma can be really quick.” Max pressed his lips to the tender spot just below Quint’s earlobe. “I wonder what I did that was good enough to bring you to me?” If the exec winced that hard one more time Max would have to replace the drywall. Quint’s breathing rasped over his nasal passages again. “I never intended to hurt you the way I did. I swear that to you.” 93

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Poor baby. Still all wound up in that. Good. Quint would be less likely to repeat the mistake. “I know, babe.” Max nipped at that very succulent earlobe. “Why don’t you come upstairs and apologize properly? You’ll like groveling a whole lot more when we’re both naked.” “All right.” Quint’s body seemed a lot more excited about the prospect than his mouth. A very definite tremor worked its way over that taut form and the denim had stretched as much as it could around Quint’s button-fly. Max didn’t bother to suppress his grin the least bit. “It’ll be okay, baby. You know I’ll take care of you.” He twined his fingers with Quint’s. “Seriously, let’s go to bed. I’ve been thinking of making love to you for week.” He tugged the CEO toward the stairs. Quint had to open his eyes to navigate the steps, but Max noticed the exec wouldn’t look at him and stopped dead when Quint saw what nestled in the far corner of Max’s bedroom. It had taken some delicate maneuvering to wrestle the statue upstairs all by himself, but Max managed it with the help of a makeshift ramp and an old canvas tarp he kept in the shop as a cover when he was sanding. A blanket had cushioned the details from damage. Now it sat on a solid oak base and gleamed in the accent lights he’d set up. “You were right. It reminds me of us, too.” Max slipped his arms around Quint’s narrow waist. “It’s a great piece, full of emotion. I like it.” Another mute nod and Quint’s fingers toyed at the buttons of the polo, gaze fixed somewhere over Max’s shoulder. 94

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“What did you have in mind for an apology?” The man’s other hand flexed toward Max’s chest but backed off again. Max captured that reluctant hand and pressed it to his chest. “I thought we might make love. We seemed to have a knack for it that first time around.” Max let his own touch roam over soft cotton. Too soft. Maybe the polo was that new bamboo material everyone talked about. “Nice. But then if you didn’t feel so damn good I wouldn’t have gone half crazy needing you.” Slender strength caught his wrist and Quint’s eyes flared to storm cells again, angry and ravenous at the same time. “What do you want, Max? You said grovel. Fine. I’m here, I’ll grovel. I deserve it. But quit the romantic bullshit and just tell me what the hell you want me to do.” “Took you long enough. I want that storm in your eyes. I want you to look at me and stop cowering. And I want the romantic bullshit because you’re the first man who’s made me feel like this.” Max grinned into that turquoise tornado. “Is that too much for you to handle?” “It’s too much for me to believe.” Well, at least they were getting around to a little hard truth now. “Your sister’s the sickeningly nice and decent one. I didn’t get that impression from you.” Quint pulled back and leaned over the loft rail, hands clenched on the steel, knuckles white. “I told you I don’t trust anyone, Max. Why the hell should I believe this is anything more than a slow surgical torture as a result of opening my vulnerability to you just once? You hate me. If we’re going to have sex again, you could at least be up-front 95

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with me about your motives. I already know I deserve whatever you come up with, which is why I came over in the first place.” “Fine, have it your way.” Max fought to keep from laughing. You’ve got it even worse than Sully thought. A man didn’t get that wound up about someone when he didn’t give a damn about them. So Quint really was as hung up on Max as Max was on him. “Turn around and look at me. I’m not going to let you hide from this.” “I’m not hiding. I just want to see it for what it is.” Quint’s hands clenched once more on the rail and the exec pulled in a breath before letting go and swinging to face Max. “Idiot.” Max grasped the sides of that handsome face, fingers sliding into golden silk, and welded his mouth to Quint’s. That deep gasp let Max slip his tongue into warmth. Mmm, just as he remembered. Chocolate mint, a touch of Scotch, a rare sweetness Max had never tasted on anyone else. He plundered that unique vintage with impunity. Let Quint work up the backbone to deny him or kiss him back; either would be better than that lifeless submission. Quint’s hands spasmed just once on Max’s back before sliding down to cup his ass hard, pulling him close against solid muscle. A mobile tongue warred with his own, need and anger vying for dominance. A glorious little moan shook from the back of Quint’s throat. Perfect. Every bit as good as Max remembered. He pulled back enough to slide the tip of his tongue over Quint’s lips. “Let’s stop messing around and go to bed, babe. I need you 96

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bad.” “That’s the first thing you’ve said since I got here that I believe and agree with completely.” Quint wasted little time in hauling Max’s T-shirt off over his head and ravishing Max’s throat, licking and massaging a trail down to sensitive nipples and sucking hard while unbuttoning Max’s jeans and shoving them down over his thighs. “Let’s see just how much groveling I can get in before you scream.” The silk thong barely received notice before it joined the jeans. Max laughed, pushing Quint toward the bed. “Why did I bother getting dressed up for you? Don’t worry about the groveling. Concentrate on the screaming.” He tangled his fingers in the soft gold of Quint’s hair. “I promise to return the favor.” “Just shut up, okay?” Quint caught Max by the hips and shoved him down onto the mattress near the nightstand. “Which drawer? Then shut up.” The sudden hot slide of the exec’s mouth over Max’s erection made further conversation moot. Max grinned as soon as he could think again. “Top one. Where else?” He fisted Quint’s hair. “But you don’t need to stop what you’re doing just yet.” Not when that wet heat engulfed him so completely, sending strong shocks through his frame. The less-than-subtle scrape of teeth up his length killed his brain cells one by one. “I said shut up.” Quint only rummaged a moment before slamming the drawer closed and sucking Max down again. Hard, wet strokes with one purpose in mind: 97

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sheer mind-deadening orgasm. When a lube-slicked finger probed intimate heat and began a perfectly synchronized thrust, Max groaned and thought he might just let Quint get away with it. “Babe, you do that and you won’t have any fun for a couple of hours.” Quint’s grip on him just tightened, tongue massaging on each upstroke before plunging deep again. The other thrust found a spot to make Max’s back arch and stayed relentlessly accurate. Another couple of those and Max would be done. He couldn’t let that happen. He had plans. “Stop it, Quint. I mean it.” He tugged at Quint’s hair. “Stop it!” Both touches ceased immediately and Quint’s glare didn’t quite meet his. “Something wrong? You didn’t seem to be in distress.” Max pushed up onto his elbows and slid out from beneath Quint. “Yeah, something’s wrong. You’re not a hooker I paid to suck me off. You’re someone I want to take the time to make love to. I can get laid pretty much any night I want. But I want a little more than that from you.” Idiot man. “Come here and lie down.” Gray eyes stared at him for a long time, wide and too wary for the storm brewing in them. Full lips parted more than once and snapped shut again. Quint moved to lean back against the nightstand, knees drawn up to his chest and fingers wound up in gold silk while he rested his elbows on his knees. “I can’t.” “Quinton? What’s going on with you, babe?” Max shifted so he could touch long limbs and golden hair. “You want me. I 98

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can feel it when we kiss. What’s the deal with all this?” “Want. Yes. That’s what I was doing. Wanting you. Having sex with you.” A shiver at Max’s caress kept from being a flinch by sheer force of will alone. Max didn’t need to understand Quint’s thought process to get that; the rigid tension in the man’s body all but screamed it. “But if I get in that bed with you…” The rest of the sentence choked off in a hard swallow. Max eased down onto the floor with him, abdomen against Quint’s legs. “If you’re in the bed with me, then it’s not just sex.” He pressed a kiss to first one of Quint’s knees and then the other. Max’s hands rubbed solid satiny biceps. “Let it go, babe. Just let me make you feel like I did before. That’s all I want. I just want that storm in your eyes and the sweet way you feel when you come for me.” “Don’t you get it?” The gaze that snapped up to Max held a world of fear and anger. “If I let you make me feel that way again I can’t crawl back inside my walls and shut off the world. There’s a hole now. One big enough for a dagger into my soul. How do I know you won’t take it and use it?” “You don’t. It’s called trust. It’s the thing couples have that hook-ups don’t.” Max pressed a kiss to Quint’s forehead. “And it’s a two-way deal. I spent most of the week not able to eat or sleep because I was thinking about you. I know you’re a user and you’ll do anything to get what you want. I have proof in the form of that bargain you offered me. And I have no way of knowing you’re not going to use me up and walk out on me.” Max pressed a lingering kiss to those full lips, taking just 99

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the tiniest bit of what his gut cried out for. “But I want you so bad I have to try. Because Jenn thinks there’s more to you than that. And I think a man who would send me that statue with an apology just might be more than that. So I’m willing to risk the crash-and-burn on the off chance you really are a decent, caring person underneath the corporate sleaze. You up to proving me right?” Quint glared up at him, eyes wary but the faintest curve kissing one corner of that talented mouth. “How is it that you just insulted me and I feel like I should kiss you for it?” “I’m good, babe. What can I say?” Max pressed a kiss to Quint’s knee again. “Go with that feeling. Take the chance and come to bed with me. Note the ‘with’ part. It’s important.” Another very long gaze. Then those gray eyes drifted closed and that gold wave dipped again in a slow nod. “All right. But I can’t promise the storm. I think I burned it out for the moment.” Quint reached up and stroked Max’s jaw, running the pad of his thumb over Max’s bottom lip. “Would you settle for just me for awhile?” Max kissed the thumb pressed to his lip. “Just you sounds just great to me.” *

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Quint stirred and opened his eyes to moonlight, the weight of a warm arm draped over his waist unfamiliar but comforting. Max’s slow, even breathing tickled Quint’s chest and soft lips drifted along Quint’s skin in an unconscious caress. 100

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He’d never awakened beside someone, wakened to someone holding him, left himself open to the vulnerability of sleeping in another’s arms. Yet Max made it far too easy. How had this arrogant, brash sculptor worked his way past the titanium armor Quint maintained with such care? Quint’s fingers drifted over Max’s cheek, admiring the beauty and soft openness there. Warmth flowed through Quint, gentle and soothing. Why do I find myself drawn to you? It wasn’t just the sex. In fact, after Quint agreed to actually lie down on the bed, Max hadn’t even tried to resume their lovemaking, simply held Quint close and talked, little details about sculptures he’d gotten commissions for, the strangeness at seeing Jennifer all “officed up.” Just everyday talk as if they’d been a couple for years. Not another word about trust and their relationship, nothing more about Quint’s horrific actions. Simply talk, punctuated occasionally by soft kisses. And it felt…like home. As the twilight deepened, peace had settled into Quint’s soul, letting his body relax and his racing mind quiet. Exhaustion claimed him before the north star appeared in the bank of windows opposite the bed. Blessed rest came in Max’s arms. Surely it couldn’t all be an act. At least some of Max’s care and affection had to be real. Quint just couldn’t be sure how much truly existed. Well, since he’s taking a chance that any of mine is real, I seem to be on the better end of the scale. The thought irritated his cocoon of serenity and Quint found he needed to move, just for a few minutes. Pressing a kiss into Max’s dark hair, he 101

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slid out from under that warm embrace and walked over to the loft railing, gazing down into the main living space bathed in cool shadows. So very different from his penthouse. He smiled at the sight of a cereal bowl sitting on the kitchen island, the spoon handle protruding from one side. His housekeeper would never tolerate such untidiness. Quint’s home wasn’t allowed such evidence of occupancy. He found little difference between being home and being in one of the numerous hotels he visited each year on business trips. In fact, the hotel rooms looked more lived-in. Max’s little corner of the DFW would never pass for a hotel, not even a run-down former Motel 6. Books, CDs, and DVDs lay on tabletops, ready to reveal Max’s tastes to any casual observer. The occasional tool lay with them. A throw blanket draped one arm of the couch and Quint could imagine Max stretched out, napping over a movie, just as he could imagine the other man barefoot while digging in the refrigerator for a snack in nothing but jeans. And the artwork. An eclectic mix of media, painting and sculpture, a collage or two Quint recognized from past museum fund-raisers. Quint had never really found abstracts appealing, but they seemed to fit Max’s personality and made up the bulk of the collection. All, actually, except one piece. The one he’d given Max. Quint turned and let his hands take his weight on the rail, the cool steel against his bare back and buttocks refreshing without being too cold. The bust sat in its soft spotlight, 102

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brighter than the moonlight through the windows but that same silver halo. The gentle pose, the emotion glowing from the two figures, captured his attention in a way it hadn’t at the gallery. True lovers, needing only touch without the urge to be intimate. Quint found himself longing to discover that feeling and savor it to its fullest. His lips curved. Perhaps he had. If he could just believe in it enough to reach out and claim it. The beauty on the bed stirred, eyes opening and a faint smile appearing. “Now that’s something I like waking up to see. Gorgeous.” Max propped his head up on one hand, elbow sinking into the mattress. “But I like you better where I can touch you. Come back to bed.” Quint couldn’t have refused if he’d wanted to. Not when those blue eyes went cloud-soft and glowed silver in the night. Max’s gaze followed him as he moved back to the bed, sending a warm flush over Quint’s skin. “I’m sorry I woke you. I guess I’m still adjusting to someone sleeping beside me.” “Yeah, me, too. I think I could get used to it if the someone feels as good as you do.” Quint slid into Max’s embrace as if he’d done so forever. Strong arms welcomed him. “God, I’ve never felt like this with anyone, Max.” Quint traced the firm line of the sculptor’s jaw with kisses. “And I never dreamed I’d find it…” He trailed off, not wanting to mar their peace with a delicate truth. “Find it?” Max waited for him to finish. “What? Good? Bad? Scary?” The smile appeared again. “There’s all sorts of 103

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answers there, babe. You can’t leave a sentence like that hanging unfinished.” Quint drew in a breath before he answered. “I never dreamed I’d find it with a man.” He held himself very still, praying he hadn’t just ruined everything between them…again. Second chances came rarely; third ones were almost nonexistent. “Yeah. Discovering your gayness can be shocking for some people. Me, I’ve always known. But I’ve had some friends who had a real hard time with it. You’re handling it pretty well.” Max grinned and pressed a kiss to Quint’s fingers. “You still look tired though.” “Just thinking. Happened a lot before I met you, too. I’ll drift off again eventually.” An amused snort jarred Quint’s nasal passages. “And I don’t know that I ever considered myself straight, gay, or anything definable in between. I simply never thought about it. It was all just sex. I never seemed to have a problem with much of anything until partners of either gender got out the rubber suits and the shackles. Then it just got weird and I went home.” Max threw his head back and laughed. “I’ll remember to put my rubber suit and shackles on eBay. But I’m not parting with the leather pants; you haven’t seen me in them yet.” Firm lips pressed to Quint’s. “You know I’ll never take it farther than you’re ready to deal with, sweetheart.” Sweetheart. Quint’s walls melted a little more. “Come here.” He pulled Max against his chest and rolled so those blue eyes looked down at him, their bodies so perfect together. 104

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Quint smiled up at that raised brow. “I’m not planning anything, I just want to touch you.” Satin skin warmed his hands as he stroked over the broad planes of Max’s shoulders and arms, the slow glide into midnight darkened hair and the tender curve of the sculptor’s ears. “Better?” Max’s grin carried nothing but amused affection. “Personally, I like it this way.” “Shh. You’re being pampered.” Quint let his hands slide down the curve of Max’s spine, tracing light circles across the smooth expanse of back. He pressed his lips into dark hair, along one cheekbone, feathering across that warm sensual mouth. All Quint wanted in this moment was to show the other man just how much emotion he’d pulled from Quint’s soul and repay it a thousandfold. The right way. Max’s sigh eased over Quint’s skin, as tactile as a touch. “Pamper away.” His eyes drifted closed. “I should take advantage of the opportunity, but I’m just too damned comfortable.” Max’s head eased onto Quint’s chest. “And I’ve had way too little sleep the last few days.” A deep breath moved Max’s chest. “God, I missed the way you smell.” “Then savor all you like…” Quint’s heart jolted at the need to return the endearment. “My sweetheart. I’ll still be here when you wake.” A new contract. For tonight at the very least. One he’d keep to himself and honor completely. Tomorrow would take care of itself. Quint’s fingers still caressed that satin skin as he drifted back into sleep, the weight of his lover welcome. 105

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*

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The bright blue of summer burned through Max’s windows, demanding he wake and view the day. He groaned and snuggled closer to the warm flesh cradling him. The faint scent of Drakkar Noir drifted over him. Quint. A smile tugged the corners of Max’s mouth wide and he opened his eyes to feast on his lover’s sleeping face. The society pages and local paparazzi hadn’t done that face justice. Then again, Max suspected this vision of Quinton Wolfe hadn’t been seen by anyone else in a lot of years. If ever. High cheekbones softened by smooth skin, that gentle blur of morning stubble rendering a solid jaw into a masterpiece. God, what Max would give to capture that face in some medium. He could work hard metal into the planes of muscle and bone, capturing that beauty forever. But right now he’d rather feel the warmth of flesh under his palms. Max pressed his lips to Quint’s jaw, savoring the sheer maleness of the stubble there. Quint stirred but didn’t wake, lines of exhaustion still visible around that sensual mouth. Max should let him sleep. Last night’s early tension hadn’t helped either. Max would just enjoy the view and the feel of Quint in his arms. The apartment had warmed enough that Max eased the light covers off and drank in the sight of his lover’s form. Beautiful lovers weren’t new or unique in Max’s world. A handsome man himself, he’d never had trouble skimming off the cream of the gay bar scene. But none of the pretty men he’d taken to bed, or a back seat, gave him the rush and bone106

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melting joy this one did. Just looking at Quint made Max think in stupid clichés of happily ever after and long-term commitments. The exhilaration should probably frighten him. Max didn’t do relationships. He barely managed dusk-to-dawn hookups. And now he wanted weekends that might just stretch into years with this man. Crazy. He’d lost his mind. But insanity sure felt good. He ghosted his hand over Quint’s hip, the skin there silken and warm. Damned good. Quint’s soft moan at the touch brought a rush of tenderness through Max before the even softer glow of desire appeared. The persistent issue of trust in their conversations told Max better than any direct confession that Quinton Wolfe truly was as lonely as Jenn speculated. If you trusted no one, personal connections got pretty screwed up. But Quint had taken a chance on Max. A grin tugged at the corners of Max’s mouth. Quint’s bet left Max the winner of the vision stretched beside him this morning. So far Max could only glory in the perfection of it. Well, perfect except that Quint’s nature led to acts of pure sleaze to get what he wanted. The object of Max’s greatest desire could and would do anything if it advanced the causes of Quinton M. Wolfe. Stupidity and gullibility not being part Max’s genetic makeup, he knew just as perfectly that he’d fallen for a guy he couldn’t trust. Okay, not the brightest move in the world. But Max already knew the heart made its own choices and logic be damned. Which is why he’d never let his heart get involved 107

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before. Quint just sort of reached out and grabbed it in the middle of the most fulfilling lovemaking Max had ever known. And the exec hadn’t intended it any more than Max did. Max grinned again. Karma sure could be a bitch sometimes. But he couldn’t fault the packaging she used. He pressed his lips to the gentle rise and fall of Quint’s ribcage, fleeting butterfly things that sent little jolts of electricity squeezing through Max’s chest. No, the outer package tempted. And something about what it covered did, too. The man just made Max want to hold tight and ease all Quint’s anxieties. There were worse ways to feel. The soft skin above Quint’s navel tasted faintly of salt and a rich maleness that pulled a faint moan from Max. Long slender fingers drifted over Max’s back, though Quint still didn’t wake. Max grinned against pale wheat hairs sprinkled generously over chest and abdomen. Maybe his sweet CEO dreamed of their lovemaking, no matter that Quint still insisted on calling it sex. Sex got you through a night. This could get Max through a lifetime. “Love you, babe.” Max whispered words on the tender spot low on that sculpted abdomen, guaranteed to send Quint into catatonic shock if he heard them. “I really think I do. How’s that for a kick in the ass?” Still, Max’s grin didn’t fade. As long as he faced reality, he should be fine. “Max…” Barely a whisper over Quint’s lips, smooth lids still closed but definite movement behind them. Dreaming. The fingertips on Max’s shoulder moved in the same light 108

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circles as last night. God, how incredible it felt to be touched like that, just caressed into sleep. The memory sent a shiver down Max’s spine. A new smile curved his lips. Maybe soft caresses could do more than induce slumber. “Yeah, keep dreaming of me, babe. Just let all the things you’ve been thinking about flow through that overactive mind of yours.” Max let his kisses drift lower. If he intended to give Quint the best wet dream of all time, he might as well start now. A soft moan of pure contentment drifted from Quint’s throat, lean hips moving toward Max’s kiss. Glorious arousal woke like an offering, rising from pale curls to meet Max’s lips. “Gotta love it when I can get you hot even in your dreams.” Max’s whisper teased the tip of Quint’s burgeoning desire. Kneeling beside his sleeping lover, it was just too easy for Max to run the tip of his tongue over that delicate skin. A drop of pure want glistened and Max tasted tangy salt. “Dear…feels good…” Quint’s hips pressed up, seeking more, broken whispers giving Max a window into heated dreams. That one semi-awake hand slipped down the curve of Max’s ass to explore the back of his thigh and knee, sending more nerve endings alight. “Please…” God! Max loved that little plea. His grin spread wide before he took Quint into his mouth, a slow steady movement insuring Quint felt it, but not enough to jar his lover awake. Lean strength pressed fingers into Max’s thigh, massaging deeply as Quint responded, a slow roll of hips matching Max’s 109

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stroke and demanding more. Deeply intimate murmurs of desire and passion colored each breath. Quint’s other hand slid into Max’s hair, fisting lightly. “Oh, yes…” Velvet softness covering steel flowed under Max’s tongue as he moved up and down sweet want. His own desire grew with each dreamy exhalation of Quint’s need. His hands soothed as his mouth excited, wanting to hold Quint in his dream state as long as possible, letting him wake to find the line between fantasy and reality nonexistent. “Please…need you…want…” Gentle but urgent fingers eased up Max’s cheek, trying to push his mouth away. “Max…” Quint’s other hand slid to caress Max’s inner thigh. “Don’t tease…take…” Max’s mouth slid away from Quint’s arousal, though his hand kept a smooth stroke. “Take what, sweetheart? Take you? The way I did the one time we were together?” He kissed trembling lips as Quint moaned and moved against the covers, restless with growing desperation. “So you dream of feeling that again.” Max let his touch slip between Quint’s legs. “You dream of having all of me in the most intimate way possible. God, I love it.” That exquisite body melted this time, no fear, no hesitation. Waiting, trusting in sleep as Max suspected Quint would trust no one else in wakened reality. Or would he? Suddenly the thought of Quinton dreaming through all of their lovemaking lost a little of its appeal. Max wanted to see that storm of desire again, hold that trust even for a few passionate moments. 110

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“Babe.” Max took pillowed lips in an impassioned kiss. “Sweetheart, I want you so bad.” He continued to stroke Quint’s most sensitive spots. “Wake up, babe. I want to make love to you.” Not sex. Quint could call it that if he wanted, but it wouldn’t make it true. Quint’s arms moved to embrace Max tightly and a soft sigh eased into a low moan. A still-drowsy mouth found Max’s ear and kissed the deep curves, Quint’s tongue wrapping around the sensitive lobe and suckling it tenderly. Quint’s hips still pressed up to him, rigid desire teasing along the edge of Max’s own arousal. “Want you, too…” “Yeah, then wake up and love me.” Max shifted so his body touched more of Quint’s, the long form warm and so welcoming beneath him. “Let me love you the way you like best.” “Max?” Soft and low, but the gray eyes held surprise along with that fabulous teal-black tornado swirling in them. Quint ran his hands down over Max’s back, a smile curving full lips. “I wasn’t dreaming?” “Nope. Want to switch to reality?” Max kissed that smile. “It’ll be just as good as what you were dreaming.” “But you just said I wasn’t dreaming. Don’t confuse me.” God, Quint looked at him with so much affection Max decided to keep the man half-asleep all the time. “You…you stopped. I didn’t want you to stop.” “I wanted to be sure you knew what I was doing. I didn’t want to take advantage of you, regardless of how tempting you are when you’re mostly asleep.” Max moved against Quint, 111

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heated excitement blossoming wherever skin met skin. “Want me to pick up where I left off?” “Mm-hm.” Quint traced a line of kisses down to the hollow of Max’s throat, feathering a little circle in a spot that made Max’s eyes roll back in bliss. Broad hands cupped Max’s ass and squeezed. “Please, Max. I know I can trust you here. It’s not much, you deserve better, but I do know that.” An exquisite, fiery shiver ran through Max. “Say it again. Even if it’s just in bed, say you trust me.” Desire tripled. A pause as Quint awoke fully, staring up at Max, velvet eyes considering what had just been said without conscious thought. Those eyes widened and wondering fingers stroked over Max’s cheek. Quint’s voice roughened a little. “I do trust you here. And…I find I might even love you a little here. It scares the hell out of me, but I can’t deny it.” Max’s mind blanked for a good three second before he could move and then he could only grind his mouth against Quint’s. It took long minutes before he could pull away and speak. “It scares the crap out of me, too. But I want it.” “Then I think perhaps you should finish what you started.” Quint’s smile lit the room brighter than the summer sunshine. It left Max warm in places he hadn’t even realized were cold. A broad hand closed over his and guided Max back to intimate depths. “And maybe someday you’ll teach me how to return the favor. Even if you don’t particularly care for the bottom.” A wonderful, free laugh bubbled up. “Oh, there are ways to be top even when you’re on the bottom, sweetheart.” Max took his time, making sure Quint felt every move of Max’s 112

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fingers. “I want to do this with you forever.” The total relaxing of Quint’s muscles under his touch this time felt even sweeter. That gray storm melted into driving rain on parched ground. “I can’t wrap my brain around forever yet. I’ll take right now.” Gold lashes fluttered closed as Quint pulled Max close and claimed a kiss. Max savored the kiss, all the sweeter when Quint was fully awake and aware. “I’ll take right now. Right now is really good.” A moment to assure Quint’s protection and Max eased into perfect heat. “And better every second.” That long, soft hum of contentment from Quint’s lips sounded more beautiful than any gasp. Any thought Max had of riding the rapids vanished at the glow in his lover’s gaze. They could love slow and easy like this most of the morning if Max did it just right, and he could think of no more perfect pastime. He paused, allowing his body to breathe and not climax too fast. They had all weekend.

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CHAPTER 7 “I don’t see why I couldn’t have brought my cell phone. I do have a company to look out for.” Quint’s full mouth pulled into a restrained but very definite pout. “I can conduct business and admire your ass at the same time.” “According to my darling sister, you haven’t taken any vacation time in two years. I think WolfeCorp can live without you for one Saturday.” Max twined his fingers with his sweet CEO’s, loving the way Quint’s almost spasmed in their speed to return his grasp. “Besides, I want you to do more than admire my admittedly cute ass. I want your attention, babe. I want to talk to you.” “About what?” Quint quirked a grin in response. “Besides 114

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the fact that you’ve commandeered my bamboo polo shirt and left me with your ‘What Would Willie Do’ T-shirt. I hardly consider that a fair trade.” “Hey, you could be wearing the ‘Seeking Naked Cowboys’ one. Besides, Willie Nelson is an acknowledged Texas institution. And you’re a Texan. You’re just showing your roots.” Max ran his free hand over the polo. “And this smells like you, so you aren’t getting it back until it needs a refresher.” He tugged Quint toward Sun Dance Square. “Come on, Saturday in Fort Worth and an art fair, what more could you want?” “Let’s see…an air-conditioned apartment and both of us wearing considerably less?” Quint squeezed Max’s fingers and the storm whirled up in those gray eyes again. Then that same gaze grew wary as it looked out over the busy street. “Crowds are an excuse for some society column hound to worm their way into what they think is my life.” Max considered his lover. Sun glinted off pale gold hair, setting Quint immediately apart. “Hmm, hang on.” Max transferred his blue Dos XX Amber ball cap, covering that glorious hair. “There, now you look like everybody else. I doubt even Jenn would recognize you. Stop stressing and let’s go look at the art. I probably know half the vendors here. I can probably even score you a free turkey leg.” Quint stared at him, the blank expression funnier than any glare or shock could have been. Max barely managed to keep his grin from becoming a laugh. Then Quint chuckled and squeezed Max’s fingers again. “By all means, Lord Bowman. 115

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Take me on a tour of your kingdom.” “No, no, babe. Save that for when I take you out to Scarborough Faire and dress you up like a knight. Serious fantasy going on there.” Max pulled Quint toward the canvas booths. “Right now, I’m going to steer you away from the silk flower and burned wood ‘welcome to our humble home’ crap to where the real stuff hides. Come on. I have a friend who does incredible huge mobiles. She brings the little stuff out here.” Familiar faces smiled and called out to Max as they wound their way through the booths. Max couldn’t help notice the way Quint’s eyes widened each time, one gold brow rising in soft amusement and something like a touch of envy. “You know everyone out here? And they’re not surprised to see you with a…guest?” “They’re shocked as hell. I don’t have steady boyfriends I take out to meet my friends.” Max waved at a vendor selling blown glass hummingbirds. “He does some great life-size pieces, including a peacock that about brought me to tears. But the trinkets pay the bills.” He moved on. “I’ll get cornered as soon as I’m alone. Don’t worry. I won’t give up your name. You’re not out. They’ll understand.” A lot of long stares aimed at Max today. Quint didn’t seem to be able to process a little generosity when it was aimed at him. Given what Jenn had told Max about the lesser-known Quinton Wolfe, that seemed a strange mix. But the shy smile softening Quint’s face sure made the effort worth it. His lover’s hand tightened again. “Thank you.” 116

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“For what? Being decent? I do that once in a while.” Max softened the rebuke by pressing a quick kiss to Quint’s tempting lips. “Hey, come look at Manny’s stuff. He hides out in that salon of his, but his drawings are great.” Manny’s dark chocolate eyes widened as they entered the small canvas booth. “Max, darling. How’d your sister’s date work out? That dress was absolutely luscious on her.” The unspoken continuation hung in the air. And who is your equally luscious friend? “The date went well, just different than she thought it would.” Max winked at Quint, sharing his amusement at Manny’s instant flirtation. Undeniably handsome, Manny’s rather stereotypical ultra-feminine tone and gestures made Quint’s eyes go wide. “She ended up going with Sully. They’ve hit it off, scary as that thought is.” Max tugged Quint a little closer and slipped an arm around his waist. “But that’s boring. Today’s not about Jenn. It’s about sharing the day with someone I care about. So pull out the good stuff. I’m trying to show my baby that I do have a few friends with talent.” Quint’s eyebrows practically knocking the ball cap off just made the endearment all the more fun. Max would have to use it now and again simply for the reaction. “It’s all good stuff, Maxie, you know that.” Manny grinned and turned a less-than-discreet smile up at Quint. “What appeals?” Oh, please, please say me. Max could practically hear the hairdresser’s thought. Quint glanced around the makeshift gallery, taking in the 117

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gorgeous male nudes Manny worked in charcoal and chalk, interspersed with the occasional landscape or still life. All the pieces had a distinctly sensual air to them. Some were just less discreet about it than others. “I like this one.” He pointed to a small drawing on the table, nestled on an easel. A nude, but showing only the torso of the seated model, elbows resting on a bent knee with the hands draped gracefully, as if the model were gesturing as he spoke. Max had to admit it was a beautiful rendition. Interesting that Quint’s taste really leaned to the subtle, considering the reputation Max knew. Or thought he knew. “Oh, that’s a favorite of mine.” Manny lifted it from its resting place and handed it to Quint. “The model for this just has the most beautiful hands. And knows how to use them.” Max didn’t bother to roll his eyes when Manny’s laugh bordered on a giggle. “Talented boy.” The hairdresser patted Quint’s hand as he shoved the matted but unframed drawing into Quint’s grasp. “Now, you hang that some place nice. And don’t worry. No one can tell you’re gay from it. Very classical rendition.” Quint’s lips worked silently for a moment and a light flush covered those fair cheeks. He flipped the drawing over and considered the price, reaching for his wallet. “You oughta raise your prices. This is worth a lot more than twenty dollars. It’s beautiful.” Max grinned at the suddenly pronounced Texas drawl no one would equate with the chief executive of WolfeCorp. “What it’s worth and what someone will pay me are two 118

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very different things.” Manny’s grin glowed. “And it’s a gift. It’s about time someone caught Maxie’s attention for more than three hours.” Quint’s flush deepened a few shades and a slow smile blossomed. “Thank you. He sort of caught me by surprise as well.” Teal swirled in those gray depths again, warming Max more than the close heat of the booth. Manny’s obscenely long, dark lashes fluttered at Quint. “Well, he doesn’t behave, you come see me. I’ll make you forget all about him.” The polite but distant smile and nod of thanks as Quint stepped out of the booth to admire his gift left Max floating about three inches off the ground. Manny heaved one of his famous dramatic sighs. “There goes a man of exquisite beauty and absolutely no taste in lovers. Why’d you have to see him first, you lucky sex god, you?” “Like you said, Manny. Luck. Purest luck.” *

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Quint let Max tug him down the brick street, past white canvas booths Max apparently deemed unworthy of Quint’s attention. The sculptor radiated energy and sheer joie de vivre that amazed Quint even as tendrils of that vigor glowed through Quint’s veins. Max’s smile lanced through Quint, all fire and affection. Quint’s soul reveled in the thought that he’d been the one to stoke that fire to life, creating the love in that bright smile. The simple fact of the matter was it hadn’t been a 119

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conscious decision, the polite brush-off to Manny. Quint could look at the man and see a very pretty, no doubt talented-in-bed individual, but he wasn’t interested in anything more. Not just because of the…yes, definitely a relationship of some sort with Max, but Quint found neither Manny nor any of the other myriad men in the busy art district held anything more than an observational appeal at this point. Nor did any of the admittedly beautiful women. Only one person held Quint’s attention—Max Bowman. For sex, conversation, affection…anything. Terror should nibble at Quint’s midsection at something so alien. The vulnerability alone should send him screaming out into the prairie and likely would. Monday. Not today. Not this weekend. For these two precious days Quint wouldn’t think of how open he’d left himself. Right now, he’d bask in the glow radiating from Max. “Mm, come here, babe.” Max pulled him out of the crowd just enough to slip warm hands into Quint’s back pockets and press a long, slow kiss to Quint’s lips. Pure liquid affection nearly melted Quint’s knees right into the pavement. Long minutes passed before Quint’s brain restarted and he could do anything but hold tight to Max. Quint cleared his throat. “What was that for?” He didn’t even try to control the smile firmly affixed to his lips. “I think I might want to do it again if it gets me that sort of reaction.” Max’s summer-sky eyes grew soft with a kind of wonder. “You don’t even realize it, do you? I’m going to kiss you again just for that.” One hand left Quint’s pocket and slipped 120

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along his cheek as Max pulled him close again. The previous kiss seared Quint’s nerve synapses; this one rocketed straight to his heart. Warmth greater than the Texas sun flowed from Max’s kiss through every cell in Quint, filling him with a tenderness he’d never imagined he would experience. He leaned against Max, letting the other man’s strength support him. Max took the slow lane coming up for air, and by that time Quint could have cared less about sightseeing. The only sight he wanted to see was that glowing smile. “Max, let’s go home.” “Works for me.” Fingers tightened where they rested in Quint’s hip pocket. “You really make me think of things that shouldn’t be done in public.” Blue eyes gleamed in what Quint had come to recognize as mischief. “Right after we hit Sun Lily’s mobile booth. Trust me, babe, it’s worth the side trip and it’s on the way back to the car anyway.” “God, you’re a tease.” Quint grinned and pressed another kiss to Max’s lips. “It’s a good thing I trust you today.” “Today. And tomorrow. You’re mine at least until Monday.” Max accepted the kiss and took another. “And I’m working on Monday.” Quint groaned and pulled away, just not far enough that Max’s hand would leave his pocket. “I fear it’ll have to be Monday night. I have a board meeting I couldn’t get out of if the building fell down, God forbid.” He pulled Max’s fingers to his lips. “But I’m yours until midnight Sunday. So show me this wizardress of wind chimes and let’s go home.” 121

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“As you command.” A dark eyebrow arched. “I like it when your ideas match mine.” Max’s hand slid out of Quint’s pocket, slow and reluctant. “Uh-uh. You can still manage that.” Quint draped his arm around Max and found the sculptor’s own back pocket, slipping his hand against tight warmth. “See?” “Yeah. I could get used to this.” Max put his arm around Quint’s waist. “The mobiles I wanted you to see are just a couple of booths down.” Max steered in the direction he’d indicated. Quint found himself frowning at the geometric acrylic shapes spinning in the breeze on the edge of the booth. This is the big deal? Surely by now he’s figured out art deco just isn’t my thing. Or maybe Max hoped something small would be the starting point into a genre far more like his own. Quint needed to find a moment soon to vocally admire his lover’s work, even if he didn’t really get it. “Hey, Mary. How’s it doing?” Max grinned at a bohemian woman in too-bright colors and excessive jewelry. “What’s your favorite piece this week?” “Yellow aspen. I’m sick of this summer heat.” The woman shrugged back an armful of painted wooden bracelets and smiled at Quint. “You’re out with a friend, Max? Should I check to make sure the sky hasn’t fallen?” She held out her hand and her smile turned wicked. “Mary Canard. And you’ve got to be trouble if you’re hanging around Max Bowman in broad daylight.” “I…” Quint had no idea how to respond aside from taking 122

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her hand. “I’m enjoying the day out with Max. It’s been educational.” “I bet.” Mary patted his hand. “Don’t worry. It’s just we never see Max with anyone outside a club. You’re probably on everyone’s lips right now, wondering who’s captured his heart.” She gestured behind her. “You look like a man who prefers something besides blue and purple squares spinning in the breeze. I brought some of my silkwork this trip. Take a look.” Max grinned. “I knew you’d have the candy with you.” Quint welcomed the few seconds to catch his breath. Captured Max’s heart. The thought sent new heat coupled with sheer terror through him. “Mary, what about those florals? Do you have one or two with you?” Max waited until she nodded and turned to pull a box from under the table. Strong fingers wrapped around Quint’s and Max’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t let it scare you, babe. I might have put a dent or two in yours as well, huh? We’re still in first gear. They’re just surprised is all.” “Completely shocked, for all I’ve seen. So, you really never take anyone out like this?” Max’s shoulders lifted and that white grin flashed. “Nobody but Sully. And he’d faint dead away if I touched him past a slap on the shoulder, so yeah, you’re a bit of a shock to them.” The sculptor glanced back at Mary. “Oh, that’s the one I hoped you’d brought, sugar. That’s your crowning glory for sure.” 123

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“So you say. Sully likes the Japanese maple.” She lifted a blossoming branch from a long box. “I like this one though.” Placing a clear Lucite stand on the table, she carefully set the branch on it, letting the piece sway and settle on its balance point. Quint’s heart squeezed tight in his chest. A flowering dogwood, snowy white blossoms exquisitely rendered in wirestretched silk on a branch cast in bronze. The mobile caught the light breeze, swaying slightly and wrenching him back in time to his mother’s garden at the family home in Highland Park. Frail of health but strong in spirit and vitality, his mother cared for her dogwoods with the same tenderness she poured out on her son. Quint remembered sitting in the arbor with his father the day she died, tears coursing down his twelve-yearold cheeks, looking up to see the same wet streaks on Richard Wolfe’s face and beard. When his father died Quint sat in that same garden, just as heartbroken, unable to bear the silence in the house. He’d moved into the company-owned penthouse the very next week, leasing the house and shutting his soul off to everything except the company he inherited. The only piece of them he had left. “Babe?” Max’s hand tightened on his. “You okay? Sweetheart?” How could he have forgotten? How could he have walked away and left their memory encased in nothing but a steeland-glass conglomerate and two marble headstones he visited once a year? Quint reached his free hand out and barely 124

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touched the delicate branch, making it sway a little more. His throat had to work around the words. “How…how much do you want for this?” Mary’s dark eyes held a confused sympathy. “I don’t make a lot of them. It’s a long process. Six hundred fifty dollars. I have a larger hanging version of it that sells for two thousand.” “I’ll take them both.” A bargain for a missing piece of his soul. The branch moved in a phantom breeze. “I assume I can take the small one with me and have the large one delivered.” Her eyes widened. “Of course. I’ll wrap it up very carefully for you. I just need an address.” Quint reached for his wallet, prepared to pull out his credit card, when a gentle hand covered his. “Babe, we’ve got a carload of stuff. Even boxed up, do you really want to take a chance on it being broken? Why don’t you get her card and you can email her later with all the details.” Max’s voice held a subtle tension Quint wondered at for only a moment. “You’re darling when you’re protective, you know that?” Quint briefly grasped the hand resting on his before he faced the woman artist. “Max is concerned because I’m not…out. No one here knows who I am and no one who knows who I am knows I’m with Max.” He waited for her reaction. Mary’s smile brightened her eyes. “Sugar, I don’t read the gossip columns and I don’t much care who or what you are so long as you make him smile like that. And this piece means something to you, I can see that. I won’t say a word to anyone.” 125

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Quint nodded and passed her his credit card. “I’m always happy to find people of integrity.” *

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“Ah yes, the spot famed in song and story.” Max grinned at the look Quint gave him as they walked into the lobby of the high-rise condo complex. “Should I have brought my camera? I bet the Enquirer would pay a bundle.” Quint’s sigh made the teasing worthwhile. “The penthouse was featured in D Magazine a year ago. I’m afraid you missed your window of opportunity.” Quint pressed the elevator button and pulled his key ring from the pocket of his jeans. “I was kidding.” Max slipped him arm around Quint as the mirrored doors closed. “Are you okay? You looked like you saw a ghost at Mary’s, and you didn’t say much on the drive here.” Max could have sworn Quint’s hand tightened around the white box he held. “The mobile reminded me of…something.” Broad shoulders squared and that straight nose tipped up a bit. “I’m sorry I’m no longer a scintillating companion.” A punch to the jaw would have hurt less. Max held onto his temper and opted for a second try before he decided to stop the elevator at the next floor. “Babe, I wasn’t trying to pry and I wasn’t complaining. I just don’t like to see you sad.” He dared a touch to Quint’s cheek. “Even though you’re still beautiful. Your eyes remind me of a rainstorm, all dark and misty. It was an offer to listen, nothing more.” Quint’s shoulders relaxed and his grip on the box 126

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containing the mobile eased. “I’m sorry. I’m new at this…relationship thing. It’s not something I understand yet.” Quint turned the key, opening the elevator doors at the top floor. “I’ve always been a private man, Max. Sharing may take me a while. I’m all right, truly. It’s just the mobile hit a nerve I thought was dead.” He motioned Max out ahead of him. “Welcome.” “Wow.” The view alone made the place gorgeous. The Dallas skyline dominated floor-to-ceiling windows on one whole wall. In the afternoon sun the burgundy walls, trimmed in dark oak, glowed like fine wine. Quint didn’t comment on the reaction, just continued through the huge living room. “You can come with me if you want to.” “Sure.” Max followed, taking his time just a little. The place looked like a gallery or a museum. Everything pin-neat, not so much as a magazine in sight to spoil the view. How the hell did you live in a place like this? He frowned as he followed Quint toward a tall oak door. Max glimpsed an impossibly large dining room off to his left, the table easily big enough to seat over a dozen. The frown grew. Not the sort of place you sat down to enjoy a burger or a carton of moo goo gai pan. The artwork, though…beautiful classical sculptures in marble and bronze, the expected Remington reproductions interspersed with pieces so subtly sensual Max felt a shiver run across his shoulders just looking at them. Not the collection of a mere patron, an investor. Some of the artists 127

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Max knew from fund-raisers and tiny galleries around the DFW. These pieces weren’t acquired at Sotheby’s for their monetary value. Quint chose them for personal, deeply emotional reasons. Just like the mobile. It didn’t mesh with what Max knew, or thought he knew, of the man. Quint paused, his fingers touching the door handle. “I…ahm…this is my part of the penthouse.” He pushed the door open and motioned for Max to precede him. Max wondered at the hesitation in that velvet tone. He glanced up and saw new fear in Quint’s dark eyes. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Quint fiddled with the scroll of the door handle. “I sleep around. You know that. But I don’t bring people I sleep with here. Ever.” Ever? Max felt his heart slam into overdrive, pounding against his ribs. He was the first lover Quint had ever brought into this personal space. The trust needed to take that step… Max had to swallow to find his voice. “Thank you” sounded hopelessly lame, but Max couldn’t think of anything else to say to such a leap of faith…in him. He took Quint’s free hand. “Love you, babe.” Nothing else came close to revealing what he felt that wouldn’t send Quint straight behind whatever walls his darling, repressed exec used to keep people out. Quint looked up at him and Max felt the shy affection practically on his skin. “I’m getting there…sweetheart. It’s just no one’s ever seen this space and I’m not sure what you’ll think of it and…I’m babbling. I don’t babble. God, I’m a 128

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wreck.” A grin spread across Quint’s lips. “Please, enter at your own risk.” “You’re cute when you babble.” Max determined to keep it light. And here Max had believed his own nerves frayed from the stress of their developing relationship. He answered Quint’s grin with one of his own, full of support and understanding, he hoped. “And I’ll take the risk. I’m just that kind of guy.” Whatever he’d imagined Quint’s living quarters to be this was…pretty damned close. James Bond high tech elegance. Everything fine and expensive. And cold. That did surprise. The small study-living area just lacked warmth. How did Quint relax here? Max feared disturbing the pristine nap on the pale cream carpet if he walked across the floor. “Wow.” “It’s company owned. Me, I’d have left the floor oak.” Quint shrugged at the look Max gave him. “It’s a very short story that involves my last purchase of the day and someday I’ll tell you, okay? I’m going to grab a few things from the bedroom. You’re welcome to come with me or explore on your own. I’ll only be a minute.” “I’ll look around. I’ll probably join you in a second.” Max planted a quick kiss on Quint’s full lips before letting the other man leave the room. “I don’t think I can stand being separated for more than that.” Max watched his lover disappear through a door. Now what made a man like Quint live in a place that wasn’t even his own, where he had no control over something as basic as the flooring in his den? A quick scan of the room 129

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showed little difference from the frigid elegance of the living room. Same modern, sleek decor. Same showroom neatness and lack of personal expression. Or…maybe not. Max’s gaze settled on a bronze statue of a nude male. Very classical, very elegant, very sexually excited and anatomically correct. Max raised an eyebrow and studied the other artwork as a grin spread. All of it beautifully rendered, all of it chosen with an eye to taste and emotional depth, all of it male. “You poser!” Max’s soft laugh drifted over the bronze nude. “The girls you dated were just a river in Egypt! You’re so gay.” “I’m sorry?” Quint poked his head out from the bedroom. “I love your taste in art.” Max’s grin only grew. “Just the sort of thing to appeal to me.” A gentle snort accompanied Quint’s raised brow. “I thought you liked the stuff that has to be stared at for a week to figure out what it is.” “You haven’t seen all my work. I do some that’re pretty…photo-realistic.” Max moved toward that rich voice, eyeing a very good copy of Rodin’s The Kiss as he passed it. “The only girl in the room.” The marble felt cool under his hand as he patted the embracing couple before raising his voice again. “You should see all of it, not just one piece.” The bedroom felt at least lived in, though only because most of Quint’s personal things resided here. A definite taste for New Age and jazz in the CDs. A suspense buff in the DVDs with a lot of classics, Bogart and Grant and Hitchcock. More sculptures, still predominantly of male figures, warrior 130

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images mixed with sensuality bordering on erotica. Mysteries and thrillers housed next to literary classics. A very few family photos. Quint was an only child; that explained the privacy issues almost as much as the status did. A framed pencil sketch on the nightstand caught Max’s attention. “Can I take a look at this?” Now why did so simple a question spread bright rose over Quint’s face even as he nodded? Max sank onto the bed and picked up the frame, noting Quint had become very interested with something deep in the walk-in closet. Wow. Two faces, both male. One slightly older. Solid jaw, stubbled chin, an expression of familiarity with life, yet a tenderness in the eyes Max had seen captured by very few artists. The younger man’s face was smooth, clean-shaven, an air of innocence and trust, eyes closed in bliss. Only the faces, but the scene told Max a great deal. Lovers. One touching, one being touched, both fully enjoying their roles. Trusting. Loving. “This is absolutely gorgeous.” Max saw no signature on the piece. “Who did it?” Quint turned with such suddenness the ball cap caught on a bit of clothing and fell off. He bent to retrieve it. “Could you get my kit from the dressing room? It’s on the shelf beside the sink. I keep all my travel stuff in one place.” “Sure.” Okay, definitely something off. Could the artist be a former lover? Max didn’t think so. Quint’s reaction to bringing Max into this space just didn’t ring false gut-wise. And Max generally could pick out a lie. So what made Quint 131

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squirm at a simple inquiry over who drew that incredible piece? He set the drawing back on the night stand and headed off to the “dressing room.” What sort of self-respecting guy had a dressing room? Or if he had one, admitted it? Max really needed to discuss a macho self-image with his lover. Quint could at least call it a closet. Damn. Max’s eyebrows climbed. Okay, so you couldn’t call something the size of most bedrooms a closet. And how was he supposed to find a shaving kit in a place this big? Best to start with the obvious, that leather carry-on bag no doubt kept for last-minute business trips. Max knelt and unzipped a pocket. Too narrow for a shaving kit, but the digital reader sure was cool. Max had seen them online but couldn’t bring himself to pay for one. Another few good commissions might convince him, if the things were as good as advertised. Max pulled it out to take a better look at it and accidentally pulled the notepad from behind. Papers spilled out as his fingers slipped. Crap! Max scrambled to gather up the scattered sheets with no clue how they’d been arranged. Just f’ing great! Screw up Quint’s notes for the next multinational meeting on nuclear armament or billion dollar French fry concessions. Max flipped open the pad to return the pages, and what he found sent heat raging through him. A beautiful, half-rendered drawing of a nude male, the face fully formed, full of the arrogance and terror of being twenty-something topped a halfformed body. The page before held another glorious pencil 132

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sketch, this one a more peaceful youth, the drawing complete and executed with the same tenderness as the framed sketch by the bed. “Well, I’ll be damned.” His cool, calculating CEO hid a talent Max could envy. “Max? Did you find it? It’s right by the sink.” Quint’s voice carried from the other room. The sink? Max slid the pad and the rather untidy stack of papers back into the carry-on and rocketed to the sink. Kit…there. “Yeah. I found it.” He hefted the shaving kit, hand-tooled leather—of course—but without the gold-plated monogram he’d have expected. Interesting. More so by the minute. “Just drop it on the bed. I seem to have misplaced a pair of very comfortable sneakers. I hope Janice didn’t throw them out. I keep telling her I can manage this one space on my own, but sometimes she doesn’t listen.” Quint sounded immensely weary over the intrusion. “Women never listen. Especially about stuff you want to keep and they think you don’t need. I had to threaten Jenn about my stuff when she moved in.” Max carried the shaving kit out, mind half on Quint’s conversation and half on the glory of the drawings he’d found. “She might have put it in the box I keep in the front entry closet for Goodwill. I’ll go check.” Max had to smile at the image of Quint with his hat knocked sideways and gold hair peeking out from a half dozen directions. “I’ll be right back.” Max grinned at the idea of Goodwill unpacking Armani 133

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suits and wondering what the hairy heck to do with them. He glanced at the drawing beside the bed. There had to be more. The small pad in the carry-on hadn’t been used to produce this larger sketch. So where was the bigger pad and did he dare snoop? It wouldn’t be hidden too deep. If Quint carried a pad in his luggage, he used drawing as a mind-clearing device. So…nightstand drawer, bookcase or the little desk area tucked into one space of the wall unit. A quick scan of the shelves revealed nothing, nor did a brief glance into the nightstand. That left the desk and no way could Max get through those four drawers by the time Quint got back. “Damn.” Max shifted a foot in frustration and heard a soft rustle of paper. There, tucked between the nightstand and the bed. A sketch pad. He pulled it out, fingers tingling with the need to see and the speed necessary to do so before Quint reappeared. Max held it up, already open to a work in progress, and nearly dropped it, the tingle in his fingers turning nearly unbearable. The sound of blood rushing as his heart pounded nearly deafened him. “Oh, love.” Max’s own face smiled back from the creamy paper, an expression of such tenderness and joy rendered in measured grays that tears sprang up, burning his eyes. “I’d thought that was all I’d have of you.” Quint’s soft words came from the doorway. “I didn’t deserve even a chance with you after the stunt I pulled, but I couldn’t bear to 134

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forget you.” “It’s…beautiful. And somehow that doesn’t even come close to the right description.” Max couldn’t force his gaze away from the drawing, not even to look at Quint. “This is how you see me?” “I…people watch. You travel the equivalent of two months out of every year, you spend a lot of time in airports, you see a lot of strangers.” Quint sat down next to him. “I notice eyes and mouths. Great windows to the heart. That’s what sticks in my head, so I guess that’s what ends up on the paper.” A perfect non-answer, but Max wouldn’t push. Not when he held something so glorious, not to mention flattering, in his hands. “You’re brilliant. You have true talent. Your technique has a lot of freedom and it’s pretty unique. I’m guessing you’re mostly self-taught. What’d you have, a class or two in high school?” “College, actually. I had plans to go to Yale, but Dad offered me a chance to work with him while I got my degree, so I went to SMU instead.” Quint’s mouth curved. “Looking back, I’m glad. I couldn’t have taken four years of clam chowder and cayenne-free barbecue.” “Not to mention a severe lack of decent Mexican food and good chili.” Max trailed a finger over Quint’s jaw. “You have what it takes, babe.” Gold brows danced a bit. “What it takes to do what?” “Oh babe, that’s a loaded question.” Max set the pad aside and reached for his lover. “You have what it takes to make me feel like doing this.” The press of their lips sent a wave of 135

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tenderness through Max. Desire bubbled up strong but accompanied by this new rush of love. Quint chuckled against Max’s lips. “That was the whole reason for the escape from shopping, wasn’t it?” But slender fingers caressed Max’s chest. “I take it you like how I see you.” “Oh yeah. Love it. Love you.” Even though Max knew the chance of heartache went with that love. He pulled the ball cap away so he could thread his fingers into Quint’s hair. “Want you.” “Max.” Broad hands covered Max’s and pulled them back, clasping them tight while Quint’s lips trailed over Max’s skin. “Not here. I can’t. I…” Quint drew in a deep breath. “Max, if we make love here and things don’t work out, I have no place left for an escape, some small measure of peace. Can you understand that? I need one untouched space.” Ice trickled over Max. “Yeah.” But it was fine to use Max’s personal space. It didn’t matter that Max wouldn’t have some untouched place to hide when their relationship headed for Mexico on a fast train. He pulled in a long slow breath, desire quashed. “So let’s blow this over-priced pop stand. You packed?” “I didn’t mean…” Quint read him far too easily for Max’s comfort right now. Soft, gentle words moved over Max’s ears along with a stroke over his back. “You have Jenn. You have Sully. You have friends and associates in the art community, people who love you and would give you all the support you could ever need. All I have is this space and that sketch pad. 136

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You’re the only person I’ve brought this far into my life since my parents died, the only person besides them. Forgive me for being afraid to share it completely right now.” “I said I understood. So let’s leave it and go somewhere else.” Max wasn’t ready to let go of the hurt yet, but he could still play nice. Quint looked at him for a long moment, then sighed and set the mobile box on the desk unopened. He picked up the smaller leather case he’d packed, then reached for the sketch pad and slipped it inside. “All right. Let’s go.”

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CHAPTER 8 Quinton watched the tight set of Max’s jaw and wished he could say or do something to make it better. Explaining his feelings to Max at the penthouse had been a mistake. Honest, but a mistake. It just made the unfairness of their relationship that much more clear. And he’d hurt Max deeply. Max might subconsciously expect it at some point, but Quint hadn’t intended it and saw no good way to undo the damage. “You going to keep staring at me like I shot your pet cat?” Max kept his eyes on the freeway. “Sorry.” Quint turned his gaze out the passenger window and tried not to swallow too hard past the knot in his throat. Max sighed. “Look, it’s all well and good to talk about 138

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how I have family and friends and all that, but they aren’t going to be there in the middle of the night when all I can think of is you. If you break my heart, I’m gonna be seeing you every time I go to bed. Been there already. I know exactly how miserable that bed of mine is without you in it. I just…I won’t feel it less than you will.” “I never said you would, Max.” Dear God, why had he ever thought he could do this? “I just…I was trying to be as open with you as I could and I got scared about being with you there and I don’t want you to think I just brush off your personal space…” Quint’s fists clenched in his lap suddenly and he decided that maybe the truth wasn’t such a bad idea after all, once the whole of it hit him in the skull. “Your place feels like home and mine feels like a damn hotel, okay? I didn’t want it to feel like a hotel. I didn’t want it—us—to feel…cheap.” A quick glance from those prairie-sky eyes before they refocused on the road. “Then you should have said so, babe. That’s a whole different thing than not wanting to remember me.” The faintest smile teased the corners of Max’s beautifully shaped mouth. “A turn-the-herd-back different sort of thing.” “You’re the first person to make me look at my own heart in a long time. I’m still navigating unfamiliar territory.” Quint frowned, considering the urge making his heart race. Trust. He pulled in a breath. “My mother’s garden. She loved dogwoods.” “What?” Max shot a quick glance to the side. “Wait. The 139

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mobile? It’s about your mom?” “It’s about not letting myself feel for two years.” Quint shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable way around this. That potential dagger to his soul was about to become a full-sized wrecking ball. But he needed—no. He desperately wanted Max’s trust, and to trust in return. Quint swallowed and forced himself past the fear. “My mom died when I was twelve. For twenty years it was just my dad and me, the company, and Mom’s garden. Dad tended both with equal love. When he died, too…I couldn’t take it. Couldn’t do what he’d done. I put the house up for lease and moved into the penthouse, taking only what you saw in that one room, save for the artwork. That came later. I guess I figured images of love and warmth couldn’t go away.” “And the mobile brought it all back. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Max’s hand crept across to grasp Quint’s, warm and strong. “I’m not.” Quint smiled at that sharp glance. “It reminded me that by shutting myself off from everything…real, I’d shut out their love as well. I didn’t want to take the chance of loving another human being on that deep a level because I knew they’d leave one day. I put all my energy into holding on to the one thing I could—WolfeCorp. The only piece of my family I had left, one that wouldn’t go away if I tended it right.” Max nodded. “Look, this is all pretty new and different for us both. I think we just have to do the best we can and hope it works out. I don’t know crap about long-term relationships 140

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except seeing my folks together. They don’t tiptoe around each other. They just say it and let whatever happens be.” Strong, callused fingers tightened around Quint’s. “Well, all that you went through explains the ruthless streak anyway.” “You know, people used to call my father ruthless, too.” Time to just say something else. “Mostly because when he made a decision he never backed away from it, no matter the consequences. But I saw the process before the decision. I watched Dad shed tears for families he knew would be out of work because of a decision he’d have to make to keep the company solvent. He tried, Max. He never made a decision without weighing everything he possibly could. By keeping WolfeCorp alive and running he made sure he could help where it was possible. He never took an inflated profit from anyone and he never gave a damn what the media thought about him. You and a lot of others call it ruthless and uncaring. I call it quiet integrity.” Max drove in silence for a moment. “Okay. I’ll admit I only know the guy the papers covered and the same with you. That’s why today was important to me. I saw a different you. But you have to give me time, babe. This love thing hit me hard and too fast. And we don’t know much of anything about each other. It’s not going to be easy or smooth. And there’s no guarantee it’ll last.” He turned into the complex housing his loft. “We can only try.” “And trust.” Quint reached for his lover’s hand again as soon as it was free. “But do you understand now why I was so concerned over this farm-fresh girl who came bouncing into 141

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my office and told me she was my new major shareholder? My method of dealing with her left much to be desired, I know. It’s not been an easy two years and I’ve been played by every unmarried socialite in this city and half the state. And more than a few married ones. I know the games and this one scared the hell out of me. Even if I later found out it wasn’t a game.” “And so you played the same game on me. Of course, I didn’t play by your rules.” The truck eased up the loading dock ramp. “You got me instead of the big old ‘no way’ you were expecting.” Max killed the engine. “I know. And both of us have been messed up since. Let’s let it go for right now. We get too deep in this too fast and one of us will end up saying something stupid. Like I said, we need time.” He climbed from the big pickup, only waiting for Quint to join him before heading for his living space. The loft welcomed Quint, all summer sun and casual clutter. “I just realized how much your place reminds me of my dad’s den at the house. Mom had a lady come in to help her clean—she just got worn out so easily—but Dad never let them touch his space. He said a man needed a place to sift out his thoughts and let them fall where they may.” “In my case, it’s more than my thoughts I let fall. I sort of let my art fall where it will, too.” Quint chuckled at Max’s grin. “So I noticed.” He glanced at the wall sculpture over the entertainment center. “I assume this is your work, though it looks like Sully’s painting style. It’s beautiful, even if I can’t begin to decipher what it is. It 142

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gives off a definite sensuality.” “That’s all it’s supposed to do. Sometimes I just want to evoke a certain emotion. And that is Sully’s enamelwork. We work together a lot.” The imp smile that appeared on Max’s face sent tendrils of pure lust through Quint. “I love it when I come up with something to scare the living daylights out of him.” An equally playful thought made Quint grin. “And I’m sure you give him nightmares about what his nature sculptures look like other than flowers. I attended a charity event at Mabel Harriman’s home and saw the lady’s slipper orchid he did for her. I can just imagine what delightfully X-rated thoughts you had for the shape of the petals forming the slipper.” “Oh yeah. That one was particularly fun.” Max moved to the side of the room where a huge curtain of unbleached muslin hung, dividing the room in half. He pulled a drape aside. “I moved half my sculptures back here and put this up to keep Jenn from being exposed to my baser side. I usually have them scattered around; they make Sully twitch.” Quint felt the blood leave his brain and head south, stopping first at his art lover’s heart and then congregating low and heavy in his Y chromosomes. “I can understand why. God, Max, these are incredible.” Ranks of glorious sculptures, wonderfully male, in various stages of arousal and lovemaking gathered behind the curtain. Some wore the bare patina of their metals while others glowed in lifelike enamels. He expected to see a pair of faceless men 143

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locked in passion’s embrace writhe against each other. Or see the pulse flutter in the throat of a young man, head thrown back in ecstasy. “I like these better than the abstracts.” Max’s voice held an almost reverent quality Quint hadn’t heard until now. Not hard to see the real heart put into these pieces. Something about each one gave Quint a window into his lover’s soul. Max’s shrug felt good against his chest. “I sell some stuff like this, but not many people dare put something so raw and passionate out for the world to see. So the abstracts pay the bills.” Quint smiled and wrapped his arms around Max from behind, resting his chin on his lover’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to a warm neck. “They’re beautiful. Like you.” One bronze in particular drew Quint’s attention, the emotion in it palpable even from a distance, and he murmured softly against Max’s skin. “Who modeled for you on that one? Someone special?” Max laughed and pulled the piece out onto a small table, flipping on an accent light. “Like that, do you? It has a story, but you’ve got to swear to me you won’t tell a soul.” A close-rendered piece but life-sized in proportion, smiling male lips just brushing the tip of a lover’s full arousal, a single drop of crystal want offered in love. Exquisite detail, delicate veins and a soft nest of hairs so intricate Quint just knew they’d yield under his touch if he stroked them. This must be some story for Max to have spent so much care. “I promise.” “Sully and I did a gym membership for about three months. You know, one of those free trial things. We’d go 144

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together, after he decided I wasn’t going to jump him just for taking off his shirt in front of me.” Max leaned back into Quint’s embrace. “There was this chick at the club who had the uber-hots for him and would sneak into the locker room after he got done with his workout. He told me about it later. I guess she gave him more than a few extra perks for his patronage. Anyway, we’d been out photographing some plants at the Botanical Gardens for a couple commissions he’d gotten and decided to stop on the way back here and get our workout in. When I got done in the pool I went to the locker room to change and found her with him.” Quint gasped. “You mean that’s— How on earth did you get him to—” “He doesn’t know. He’s seen the piece, but he has no idea he was the model. And I’d never traumatize him by telling him.” Max rubbed his cheek against Quint’s. “He was lying on a bench, eyes closed, just sort of blissed out while she stroked him. It didn’t so much catch me by the hormones as it just looked…gorgeous. I put a finger to my lips to ask her to stay quiet and went to get the camera. I’m sure she thought it was the beginning of a fraternity prank or something, but she stayed cool. Moved up to kiss him and made just enough noise that he wouldn’t hear the shutter. Six shots took about two minutes and then I left them to their fun. The lover’s face here is merely an abstract, no one in particular. Sully’d die if he knew. But my fishing buddy and best friend in the world is one beautiful example of the male form and the artist in me just couldn’t resist.” 145

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“It’s an incredible piece. I expect it to move on its own.” Quint longed to touch the gently patinaed bronze but somehow didn’t dare. Something kept his hand at his side. Perhaps the depth of affection in the construction made it just too personal to be handled lightly. “You have an amazing talent, Max.” The collector in him spoke, not the lover. “Why haven’t I seen any of your work? Don’t you ever exhibit these instead of the abstracts?” “Not that piece. I couldn’t do that to Sully even if he doesn’t have a clue it’s him.” Max sighed and snuggled closer. “Most galleries won’t take stuff like this even if they think it’s great. Sure as they do, some grand dame from the local conservative church will come in looking for a frog on a swing or something and throw a colossal fit of the vapors over common decency. There’s a couple of places over in Oak Lawn that’ll take a piece or two. But they’re kept back in the private showing rooms for the same reason. I exhibit and sell online.” A soft chuckle rippled through Max’s torso. “And having seen your collection, I doubt you’ve gone looking for anything quite this un-subtle.” Quint reveled in the feel of Max so close against him. “True. I guess I never thought anything this explicit could be this beautiful. The few I’ve seen in New York or L.A. have been more on the disgusting side. I suspect they were created to shock and not to please. They damned sure didn’t make me feel the way these do.” Max turned in his arms and smiled. “How about we go upstairs and do something else pleasing instead of shocking? 146

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Though I’d love to do you in bronze someday. Or maybe copper.” A gentle hand cupped Quint’s jaw. “Beautiful.” “I suspect you’d love to do me in or on just about anything. And I suspect some of it might be pretty shocking.” Pure enjoyment at holding and being held by Max bubbled up in Quint. “You didn’t shave this morning. I just noticed.” Max stroked the backs of his fingers over Quint’s chin and lips. “You look like the guy in your drawing. Same tender storm in your eyes.” Blue eyes warmed and went soft at the same time. “You know, I think if ever I could be comfortable with someone else topping, it would be you.” “I don’t care if I’m top or not. I just want to be with you.” Quint let his lips linger on Max’s fingers. “And I’ve discovered it isn’t so terrifying to surrender control of my body to you. It feels right.” “Mm.” Max tipped his head back a little and closed his eyes, looking so much like the younger man in the drawing Quint’s breath caught. “Guess I should be more direct in my requests. I’m saying I’d like you to lead for awhile.” Quint’s heart jumped, pounding renewed desire straight to his sex. Max, willing…no, wanting to place himself at Quint’s whim. Just like the bargain, only freely given. Quint’s groin pulsed with a stronger need than he’d ever felt, dropping his voice low and urgent. “I want you slow and easy in that bed upstairs. I want to take my time and memorize every inch of you.” “Sounds perfect. Let’s set this to rights and get to it.” Max 147

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moved just enough to set the sculpture back in its place and draw the drape again. Smooth skin nuzzled against Quint’s jaw, lighting every unshaved hair on fire. “God, I want your touch so bad.” “It’s mutual, I promise.” Quint captured that callused, workman’s hand. “Let’s go upstairs. Now. While I can still walk.” He laughed, the feel of it easing a tightness in his middle he hadn’t even known was there. The afternoon sun had warmed the loft considerably, but still it felt comfortable. Warmer kisses and caresses relaxed Quint even more as they undressed each other, lingering on just-bared skin. Quint let his fingers drift over the sensitive area between Max’s navel and arousal, delighting in the way the man melted against the wall and tilted his head back again. Quint stroked his stubbled jaw over Max’s chin and lips, sending shivers through that lean form. “Me being so obviously a guy turns you on so much.” Quint ghosted his fingers over skin that rippled under his touch. “You love it that I’m a manly sort.” “Never much cared for Manny’s effeminate type.” Max’s breath came in short bursts. “Might be why my best buddy’s a rugged boy, straight or not. Oh dear God, Quinton, that feels good. Great. Incredible. Better than anything, any time, anyfreaking-where.” “Mmhm. You don’t need all those boys you pick up in bars anymore. You have me.” Quint ran a gentle fingernail over the top of Max’s arousal. “Only me.” Quint leaned close, beard-roughened cheek against Max’s throat. “I don’t want to 148

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share you.” Max groaned and pressed toward Quint’s touch. “No. No sharing. Promise, babe. Just you. Yours. And…and you’re mine, right? Just me?” “Just you. Any girl on my arm for an event is just there for looks. The limo can take her home while I come here. To you.” Quint sucked on Max’s earlobe, the faintest hint of salt there from their hours in the sun. “Maybe someday you won’t need the girl.” Breathless. Quint smiled at that hopeful voice. He never expected to see his smartass sculptor breathless and trembling under his touch. Max’s voice, soft and serene, shivered over a moan as Quint caressed along lean hips. Quint eased his hands up to settle against his lover’s, teasing sensation over nerve-laden fingertips. Max gasped and tried to twine his fingers with Quint’s. “No, love. Don’t hold. Just feel.” Quint savored the tremors his touch elicited. “Oh, God, please…” Max’s lips stayed parted, pleading silently for a kiss. The momentary temptation to prolong that beautiful begging warred with the need to taste luscious lips. The need to sample his lover won and Quint plundered Max’s mouth, asserting himself, tongue probing and exploring. A glorious whimper trickled from the back of Max’s throat and that beautiful body sank into Quint’s caress. Trusting. Lord, the utter trust in Max’s posture made Quint feel like a god. Tenderness filled his soul for his sweet lover, the only 149

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man who would ever know Quint’s heart. Quint steered their still-embracing forms to the bed, desire making his wish to take things slow and easy harder to maintain. Every cell vibrated with the need to be closer to Max, to be part of him. The scent of arousal and maleness overcame the few remaining governors on raging passion. “Quint, please…” Max trembled beneath him. “Touch or taste or take, just please don’t leave me needing you this much.” His eyelashes fluttered but stayed closed, and Quint realized Max was doing it to demonstrate just how much trust he had in Quint. “Please, babe…” Quint fished about in the bedside table and grinned. “Sweetheart, I need you just as much.” The endearment still felt alien on his tongue but his heart welcomed it. He pressed a slick finger into Max. “Better?” “Oh, yeah.” Max melted against him, hips rolling into Quint’s touch. Exploration soon revealed that sweet spot in his lover that made Max arch up off the bed, eyes wide. “Quint!” “Right here, darling.” Quint dipped his head to taste crystal desire, swirling his tongue around the tip of his lover’s sex. “You’re like fine wine, Maxwell. Made to be sipped and savored.” Max’s breath caught. “You do that again and there won’t be a lot left to savor.” “But as you so beautifully taught me, I can savor you and still make you crawl out of your skin.” Quint took his lover in a long, slow slide of his mouth, firm enough to elicit that lovely whimper again without inducing climax just yet. His 150

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own senses decided to linger a few minutes before allowing him to speak again. “Most definitely a fine dark merlot. Are you still breathing, my darling?” “Barely! God, Quint!” Max writhed in Quint’s hold, teetering on the edge of glorious oblivion. Strong fingers locked in Quint’s hair, not demanding this time, just needing to touch. “I think this will be a day of several firsts.” Quint reached up to stroke Max’s cheek, feeling soft lips turn and claim his fingertips. “I find you’re too precious to waste.” He took Max deep again, teasing his lover’s sweet spot, reveling in the unfamiliar wash of salt-sweet down his throat, drinking his fill. Max’s deep-throated cry excited as much as the feel of lean hips surging up, as the taste of Max’s passion on Quint’s tongue. Quint’s body tightened in delicious longing, pulsed with it, rocketing to a new level of wanting. “You…you’ve really never…before…” Max slipped climax-weakened fingers over Quint’s jaw. “Dear God, you’re a quick study.” A chuckle vibrated Quint’s lips against still-trembling skin. “Pleasured, yes. Quenched, no. You are my first and only, sweetheart.” He slipped his finger from tight heat and pushed up to kneel between his lover’s long legs, brushing his own desire in slow circles around Max’s exhausted arousal. “In this as well.” The anticipation fired Quint’s nerve endings as much as the tender strokes toward what he wanted more than anything. 151

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Max’s smile sent electricity arching up Quint’s spine. “I’m all yours.” Panted breaths broke up the sentence. “Condoms are in the drawer. I love you too much to let you risk your life. No bare-backing.” The phrase crossed Quint’s lips without sound only once before he figured it out. “Oh. Oh, yes. I’m sorry, Max. I didn’t think.” He pressed kisses up Max’s chest as he reached for the drawer and the protection they needed, pausing to flick his tongue over one sensitive nipple. “It’s okay. Lord, you feel so good, babe.” Max grinned, watching Quint slide the condom on. “I know a lot of guys hate those, but I think it’s sexy to watch you do that.” Blue eyes sparkled. “I’m a visual kind of guy.” “I think I’d be sorely disappointed if you weren’t.” Mischief felt so easy with Max. “Especially since I’ll admit to a certain degree of vanity. And you like a manly man.” Quint resumed his teasing strokes between Max’s legs, though his own passion would overpower him soon. “How’s this for a view?” “Damned good. One day I’ll do you in brass. All golden and glowing.” Max met Quint’s fevered gaze. “Love me, babe. Just like you want to.” Slow, easy. Quint gasped and sighed at the close glowing heat surrounding him, embracing him. “Oh, Max, this…God, this feels like nothing I’ve ever…” He stilled as his lover’s body accepted him fully. Max’s head tipped back, the strong column of his neck begging for Quint’s touch. “So good.” He gasped. “Don’t stop. 152

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It’s too good.” His body tightened around Quint. “So good, just because it’s you.” Quint had to squeeze his eyes shut and clamp his jaw hard to keep from coming just from those loving words. “Give me a minute, love, or we won’t have a chance to enjoy it.” That low breathless chuckle from Max’s lips didn’t help. “Any pointers on mastering sensory overload, O Experienced One?” “Hey, I’ve had my fun and then some. I’m okay with watching you come unglued.” Gentle fingertips stroked Quint’s hands where they held Max’s legs. “You’re gorgeous like this. You have my heart so wrapped up I’d be terrified if I wasn’t so damned happy.” “The sentiment is completely returned.” Quint found a little conversation had done the trick and he could breathe enough to ease back and thrust again. Max’s head snapped back and a perfect little cry crossed full lips. Nothing could be more beautiful, no work of art more perfect than this vision. Quint would find some few moments before the night passed to capture this memory in his sketchbook. “I love you, Max.” Max’s strangled curse, body surging through a second climax thrilled Quint. His name fell from those so-kissable lips in a melody he’d never heard from anyone else. Perfection, everything about their lovemaking rang with crystal perfection. That glory sustained him through two more intoxicating thrusts before his own body surged and gave up its passion to his lover, his precious Max. Quint threw his head back and let Max’s name fly from his lips, not caring if the whole world 153

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heard. He rode the wings of climax until he simply melted into Max’s arms, spent and breathless. Gentle, callused hands stroked his hair. “Love you, babe.”

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CHAPTER 9 Max stirred to wakefulness in slow, easy stages. He floated in that boneless way only really good sex produced. Really good—more like freaking Number 1, best-ever sex. No, sex was too common a word. Lovemaking. The best, most satisfying, left him feeling like he could climb Reunion Tower unaided, sort of lovemaking. He opened his eyes, searching for the source of such bliss. Wow. Would you look at that. Quint, leaned back against the headboard, gilt hair haloed in the reading lamp, barechested and the sheet draped low over lean hips, one knee bent and used as an easel as he sketched. Quint’s lips quirked and those gold brows danced in concentration, the soft scrape of 155

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graphite over the paper in quick, sure strokes. Max knew he could watch Quint like this all day and never tire of it. Beautiful. Too beautiful an image to lose. Max laid one hand softly on Quint’s thigh, not wanting to startle. Those storm-cloud eyes smiled down at him. “Did I wake you?” “Only to the most gorgeous vision I could imagine. But no, you didn’t actually wake me.” Max pressed a kiss to that solid muscle. “Do me a favor. Don’t move, and don’t argue when I get back, okay?” A golden eyebrow climbed but Quint nodded. “Okay. You won’t be gone long?” A hint of insecurity crept into the question. “No, I’ll be right back.” He sealed the promise with another kiss on that gorgeous thigh. The digital camera waited for him in a case by the door, one of the few items Max always left in the same place. Only one incident of missing a shot because of digging for the damn thing had cured him. He hurried back upstairs, hoping Quint had taken him at his word. Yes! Engrossed in his sketch again, Quint hadn’t shifted position. Max would find out in a few minutes what subject matter could bring that light to his lover’s face. Another sculpture Max would keep only for himself and the people he loved best. He clicked pictures as he moved about the bed, grateful he caught that luminosity on the first two before Quint leveled an upraised eyebrow at him again. “What are you up to, Max?” 156

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Max grinned and glanced at the sketch pad balanced on Quint’s knee. What he saw set his heart aglow, but he’d savor it in a minute. “Same thing you are. Different medium. At least you get to keep your eyes open and know I’m doing it. Can I get you to just shift the sheet off your knee without moving it enough to weird Sully out? The fabric folds are great but I’d rather see you.” A warm chuckle accompanied Quint’s acquiesce to Max’s request, sliding the sheet up his thigh so it still covered areas that Sully wouldn’t want to see but left the long leg bare. “Better?” “Oh yeah.” A different sort of warmth trickled through Max. “I want to do a full nude of you one day but something less…contemplative.” Quint went back to his drawing, a wicked smirk transforming his face into a masterpiece. “You might want to move the sheet a little more and check out the results of my contemplative state before you decide that for sure.” The trickle of warmth turned into a flood of pure sexual energy. “Babe, when you say things like that you make it nearly impossible for me to think of the photos I’ll need to do a sculpture of you.” He grinned. “Give me two more minutes and that sheet is gone.” “I should be done with this draft in that same time. I can refine the details later.” Max’s shutter clicked and Quint’s pencil worked silently for a few minutes, the utterly normal feeling of it winding its way around Max’s heart. The thought of years filled with days like this, together, felt like heaven. 157

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Terrifying, but heaven. “I think I have everything I need. I can load these into my computer and get a great 3D image of you.” Max put the camera on the bedside table, silently vowing to take it down to its accustomed spot when he next left the room. Quint’s allure trumped any urge for organization. Max eased down onto the bed. “You done, babe?” His hand settled on Quint’s knee, aching to slide up under the sheet. “Almost. I just want to make sure I have everything down.” Quint looked over and smiled, running his thumb over Max’s lips and pressing a kiss there before adding one more elegant stroke to the sketched figure’s mouth. “Perfect. For the first draft.” Max took the pad with trembling fingers. Quint sees me like this? His heart pounded, the rush of it deafening, turning him light-headed. The drawing radiated emotions—sensual desire, passion, all things Max had seen in such works before, things he put into his own pieces. What set his heart racing was the love saturating every stroke, the depth of it going far beyond simple passion and desire. “I never realized how much easier it comes when I let the emotion inside me release.” Quint rested his chin on Max’s shoulder, soft beard nuzzling Max’s skin. “It just needs a little more definition and I’ll have something of you with me on long boring business trips. If you want a copy, maybe your scanner will work on it, too. I never wanted to share one with someone before.” “You should. Your talent is too good to keep hidden. You 158

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could sell every one you come up with. I know the markets; I could see you get in touch with the right people.” Max let his hand drift to the satin of Quint’s inner thigh. “You’d be a hit.” Soft affection glowed in the look Quint gave him. “I own a Fortune 500 company, Max. The whole world watches my every move. This is the one thing I have that isn’t in the damn fishbowl.” A warm hand settled over Max’s. “This, and you for now. Let me get past this board meeting, make sure they understand that Jenn’s not planning a coup, and I promise you I’ll work on that as well. I’m not ashamed of you or who I am with you. Just one fire at a time. Is that okay?” Max nodded. “Yeah. And I get that the drawing is something you keep for you. I’ve known some other artists who kept some stuff just for them. I have the one of Sully.” Max laid the pad aside. “And I’ll deal with the secret romance crap for a while. But I’ve never been one for the down-low, babe. It’s not healthy for anyone involved.” Quint’s laugh had a rueful air about it. “Wait’ll Texas Monthly comes breathing down your neck. You may change your mind.” He slipped his arms around Max and eased them down onto the pillows. “So let’s see…one more whole night and tomorrow all by ourselves. Whatever shall we do?” Max joined the laughter. “Distracting me with sex will work every time. Just not all the time. Even you wear out.” Still, Max’s hand slipped under the sheet, searching for evidence of want. “Occasionally.” Quint welcomed Max’s touch and responded with a slow stroke down over Max’s stomach. 159

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“Let’s just keep it in low gear this time. Just surface touch. Maybe like…” Smooth fingers traced a spiral around Max’s wakening desire. “That?” Max groaned. “Low gear is good. Can’t promise it will stay there. You have a way of sending me to Indy race car speed.” Quint produced new levels of desire with every touch. Max welcomed the depth of passion, but soon he’d have to find out more about this man who’d captured his heart. The storm swirled in Quint’s gray eyes but didn’t drop the tornado this time, just a soothing steady rain. “Mm. How about I downshift even farther then.” That comforting touch slid up to Max’s hands, a slow light massage designed to tease nerve endings in a whole different way. Quint eased up on one elbow and propped his face in his hand. “So let’s see…I’d guess…Mexican or pizza. No. Ribs.” “What?” Max could only blink. “Mexican or pizza what?” “Favorite restaurant style. If you’re cooking at home, whatever happens to be in the fridge. Or some unique standby involving peanut butter and who knows what.” Quint’s smile grew as Max stared at him, still caressing Max’s hands. “You said we don’t know each other very well. We’re not frying brain cells in rapid succession right now. So I thought I’d start to find out.” “Mexican. There’s a place called Eduardo’s a couple of blocks away. Mom and Pop sort of place.” Max swallowed down the need to beg his lover to forget food for a while. Quint was right and had nearly read Max’s mind on finding out if there was more to this than just mind-altering desire. “I 160

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doubt anyone would recognize you there. If you’re willing to go back out in public with me.” “I’d love to. I might chicken out and ask you to ease up on the displays of affection at first, but I don’t want to hide away completely.” Quint turned Max’s hand over and traced each finger lovingly. “I love your hands. So how’d I do on the peanut butter guess?” “Everybody likes peanut butter. It’s sort of the universal food.” Max watched the play of Quint’s fingers over his own. “Hard to miss on that one unless I had some sort of freaky allergy.” Quint laughed. “Guilty as charged. Deathly allergic to peanuts. It’s a good thing I can afford the cashew butter at the health food store. Works just as good in the cookies.” “What?” Max’s heart contracted. “Do you know how much stuff I have with peanuts in it? Cookies! Crap! Did you tell Jenn? She makes peanut butter cookies all the time. God, Quint!” Terror sent ice rushing through Max. Tender lips pressed to his own and stopped his words if not the gut-searing adrenaline. “Max, love. I’ve lived with it all my life, I know how to read a label or ask a question, and I carry a dose of epinephrine at all times. It’s all right. It’s only annoying when I’m dying for Indian food. Can’t even trust a good curry these days.” Max forced his breathing to something resembling normal. “’Kay.” The newness of such a terror frightened him every bit as much as the reason for the terror. He’d never felt this for someone not family. 161

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“Hey.” Quint lay back down and slipped his arms around Max, snuggling close and trailing his lips across Max’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, Max. I love you and I’m not going anywhere.” “You better not.” Max tried to keep it light, but his embrace settled tight around Quint. “So, I guess I’ll invest in cashew butter, huh?” “Better yet, just the cashews. It’s best when you grind it yourself. Keeps longer, too.” Quint’s gentle caress moved to the length of Max’s spine. “My mother used to bake cookies and sandwich them with jelly. Greatest comfort food in the world. And she always seemed to know when I needed them. They’d be coming out of the oven when I got home. My dad tried, but he just didn’t cook. So I learned to make them myself.” “Get outta here. You don’t cook. You sure don’t bake.” The image of his CEO in a suit and frilly apron settled firmly in Max’s head. “Not since Dad died. Maybe I’ll try it again now that I can actually feel something besides numb.” Quint wiggled his hips tight against Max’s, grinning. “See what you’ve done to me? So what’s your ultimate in comfort food?” “My mom’s mashed potatoes.” Max settled closer. “No one else’s are the same. Not even Jenn’s and she swears she uses the same recipe.” “Mm. It’s got to be something about that bond. Nothing ever tastes like Mom’s.” Quint pressed kisses over Max’s cheeks, eyelids, soft chaste kisses combined with incredible 162

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soothing strokes. Max decided he could stay like this forever. “What else would you like to know about me?” “Everything. I want to know everything.” Max let the caresses ease the earlier fear away. Quint’s touch brought peace. “But it doesn’t have to be all at once. We can take a few years.” “Mm.” The soft scrape of Quint’s beard settled against Max’s chest. “I feel like I could sleep for a week right here in your arms, but if you’re hungry…” “You were the one who brought up food.” Max wrapped his arms around his lover’s shoulders. “So which is it, babe? Me or the best cheap Mexican food in town?” “Decisions, decisions…” Quint chuckled at the sudden rumble of Max’s stomach. A warm hand settled there. “Let’s go eat. Then we’ll come back here for dessert.” “I like the way your mind works.” Max grinned. “And I bet you taste great with strawberry jam.” *

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Quint baking cookies didn’t exactly match Max’s visual. For one thing, he didn’t wear a suit or a frilly apron, though Max might just have to buy one. It would look good over the jeans Quint did wear. Max admired the ease with which Quint slid a baking sheet into the oven. The view from this particular angle really was nice. “You know, you don’t have to prove you’re a great cook to get my attention.” “You’re the one who insisted on stopping for cashew butter last night. I figured you were still hungry.” Quint aimed 163

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a grin over one bare shoulder. “Though I think we used up all the jam last night.” “Oh yeah.” Max grinned and sipped his coffee. “And I was right. You taste great with strawberry.” He shook his head at the sight before him. “You’re entirely too freaking domestic for your own good. It’s scaring me.” Quint’s dark eyes sparked with those teal highlights. “You’re just saying that because I shaved.” The oven mitt hit the kitchen island and his lover’s hands caught Max’s face before he even had a chance to swallow. A heated gaze burned straight through to Max’s soul. “I don’t need the scruff to get all manly on you.” Max’s breath backed up. “Yeah, so I see.” He waited for the tornado to form, wondering if Quint had the will to hold back so the cookies didn’t burn. “But I do like the scruff.” “I know what other things you like.” Quint caught Max’s hands, pulling them behind Max’s back, holding them captive there. Possessive lips and a mobile tongue found the spot just below Max’s left ear that induced instant bone-melt and Max complied gladly. “Yeah, you do.” Both in bed and out. The talk in Eduardo’s had been good. Art came up a lot, but so had football and books and the undeniable attractions of Home Depot. Somehow the conversation just made Max want to rip Quint’s clothes off. Just like now. Only now the smell of cookies and the assertiveness of his lover had Max hoping Quint might be the one doing the ripping. The muffled electronic chirp of a cell phone brought a 164

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groan to Quint’s lips. “Damn it. Couldn’t have made it the whole weekend. Hold that thought.” Reluctant lips pulled away as Quint grabbed his phone from the island. “Hello? Bill, what’s so important it couldn’t—what?” Max watched his lover’s face go from soft animation to a granite jaw clenched beneath closed-off eyes. “Was anyone hurt?” Quint’s voice went as tight as his jaw. Max frantically ran through the little he knew of his lover. No close friends or family. So, who could be hurt that would cause the sort of…nothingness…showing on Quint’s face? “Thank God for small favors” Quint’s eyes closed for a moment, slim fingers pressing to the bridge of his nose. “What about—Bill, I know. It’s been losing money steadily for three years now. I’ve tried to figure something—” Quint gritted his teeth and slapped a hand on the island. “Yes. Yes! The wise thing to do is cut our losses and just shut it down.” Cold, so cold. Max had never heard Quint’s voice go so emotionless. It’s five hundred jobs, but what the hell—” Five hundred! What the… No, surely Quint couldn’t be talking about putting five hundred people out of work just like that. Not after the talk about how his father weighed everything and wept over the decision. No. Quint turned to ice and made the decision in less than three seconds. He couldn’t be that heartless. Cut our losses. Max’s heart pounded against the constriction in his chest. Yeah. Good advice and some Max should listen to before he became next on Quint’s loss table. “Bill, for Pete’s sake, calm down. We’ll handle it. I can put 165

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the right spin for the shareholders on it. I can put the right spin on anything.” Quint glanced up just then and must have seen the outrage on Max’s face. Gold brows drew together and those damn sensual lips had the nerve to mouth “What?” with that scowl in place. This couldn’t be happening. Max’s stomach dropped to the floor. He wasn’t hearing Quint order the loss of five hundred jobs with a sarcastic sneer. It just couldn’t be true. He swallowed rising terror. “Is cutting your losses like that a good idea?” Max managed to get the words out, wanting to see something of the man he thought he was getting to know. Please say it isn’t. Please say you’ll think about it. Please say you care. Cold gray eyes met his as Quint shouldered the phone receiver for a moment. “Oh, of course.” So the CEO triumphed over the human being. Great. Just f’ing great. Max shook his head, disappointment and hurt squeezing his middle, nausea digging hot fingers into his gut. He’d given his heart to a man who’d ruin five hundred lives without a thought. His throat locked tight. If he tried to speak, he’d throw up. Wrong, he’d been wrong to think he could separate out Quint—his lover—from Quinton Wolfe, CEO. Max couldn’t ignore the things the one did just because the other made him feel so loved and wanted. Instead, he felt like the wife of a hit man. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Rage at his own idiotic blindness boiled up, adding to his nausea. He did the only thing he could and bolted for the studio, wrenching the apartment door open with an earsplitting screech, trying not to 166

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feel the tear in his soul. *

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Quint stared after Max for a long moment. What the hell was that all about? “What was that noise?” Bill Gallagher, Quint’s regional vice president over the America Southwest area, sounded like he needed an angina pill. “Where are you, anyway?” “Never mind, Bill.” Damn it all, one weekend to himself. Just one. Out of the two years he’d worked himself numb. Was one weekend really so much to ask? “So you agree that—” “No, I don’t.” Quint forced his mind back to the crisis at hand, annoyance at this old argument firing his temper more than usual. “Look, cutting our losses may be the wise thing to do, but I’m not comfortable with throwing five hundred people out of work and you know it. Not until we’ve exhausted every other possibility. Tell the manager we’ll cover everyone’s payroll for the week while we figure out what to do.” He cut Bill’s sputter off. “Call everyone on the board and get them into the office at eight tomorrow. Time to fire up the war room.” “What about your new Sunshine Shadow?” The less-thansubtle derision in Bill’s voice set an irritated patch thrumming along Quint’s hairline. “I’ll call her. I want her in on this.” He didn’t give the stunned silence on the other end of the line time to regroup. “Not another word, Bill. Just call the meeting. I’ll see you 167

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tomorrow.” Quint tossed the phone back onto the island, flipped off the oven on his way by and walked out the still-open door, following the sounds of cursing coming from the studio. And a few crashes as well. He eased the slightly ajar door open. “Max? What the hell are you—” His lover hurled a piece of metal at the brick wall of the old factory. “Get out. God! I knew this could happen and I deluded myself into thinking it wouldn’t matter.” Confusion tempered his ire at his vice president, for the moment at least, and he tried to make sense of Max’s growl. “What are you talking about, Max? I don’t understand…” Quint winced as a half-finished sculpture shattered on the concrete floor. “Why are you so angry?” “I heard what you said. Cut your losses. Well, those losses are five hundred people. People with families. Dear God, I’m an idiot! You’re just as bad as I heard you were, as I was afraid you were. I just didn’t want to believe it.” Another rod of metal slammed into the wall. “I don’t know why I thought a couple days in bed with me could turn Ebenezer Scrooge into a decent human being.” Max’s head tilted back as he stared at the ceiling. “It’s my own fault. I knew what you are. You proved that the first time I saw you.” Quint reeled back from the force of that anger, the accusation slamming into his chest like a physical blow. I knew what you are. Which proved just how much Max didn’t know and didn’t want to know. Blind assumption, just like the rest of the world. Quint only wished the tremor in his voice 168

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came from anger and not hurt. “Maybe you should have stuck around for the rest of the conversation before you tossed a tantrum.” Nausea spiced with anger boiled up around the words and Quint had to swallow before he made a complete fool of himself. “I didn’t need to stick around. I heard you talk about taking away peoples’ jobs like it was nothing.” Max pushed past Quint, heading back into the living area. “Cutting your losses. That’s what it’s always going to be about with you. You can rationalize it any way you want, but when it comes down to it, that damned company means more to you than anything else. I can’t live like that.” Oh, no. You’re not going to steal my heart and then walk away from me. Not like this. Quint followed. “I never denied that. I told you why.” Damn it, if Max would just stand still for two minutes and let him explain. “Max, what’s Quint’s car doing—oh, my goodness!” Quint turned to see Jenn and Sully standing in the doorway, eyes wide and Jenn’s hand cupped to her mouth. He felt the shiver of the a/c across his shoulders and realized he was standing in the middle of Max’s apartment wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. Great. Just lovely. “What the hell is going on?” Sully glared up into the loft area. “Max!” “Quint, I don’t understand why you’re—” Jenn’s gaze shifted to her brother tossing Quint’s bag and polo shirt over the rail of the loft. “Oh…um, you and…Max?” Quint couldn’t deal with her. Not when the one spark of 169

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joy he thought he’d found lay dying in his hand. “Max. Don’t do this. If you’d just listen for one minute.” “Leave. Please God, leave.” Max descended the stairs, not noticing or maybe not caring that he wore nothing more than boxers. “I can’t live with a man like you. I don’t know why I thought I could.” “Live with…” “Jennifer.” Quint grabbed his polo shirt and shoved it over his head. “There’s been a crisis at work. A WolfeCorp factory in Brownsville burned down Friday night. I just heard about it a few minutes ago. I’m calling a board meeting for tomorrow morning at eight. I’d like you to be there.” He went for his cell phone and sketch pad without waiting for an answer. “Oh no. You don’t get my sister involved in your dirty work. You want to play God with peoples’ lives, you do it without Jenn.” Max stood halfway down the stairs, hands tight on the rail. Quint couldn’t bear to look at those bright blue eyes glittering with anger, the flush he knew he’d see across that handsome face. He slipped into his loafers and faced Jenn squarely. “Jenn. We need to keep this from getting any worse than it already is. Please.” He didn’t wait this time, either. The car felt chill even in the late summer heat. Quint tossed his bag into the passenger seat and was about to close his door when his sketch pad fell out of the bag and onto the floor. Max’s portrait stared back at him, that incredible vision of trust and love. All a lie. Quint ripped the page from the book and let it drop from his fingers to the pavement. He 170

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didn’t need a picture to remember what he’d lost. Or what had never existed in the first place. He gunned the engine and headed for home. Such as it was. He doubted anything would ever feel remotely like home again.

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CHAPTER 10 Jenn looked like she’d just been gut-punched. “Max? How… You said you’d never met Quint before the picnic and…” She glanced back at the door as she sank into the chair Sully pushed her toward. “How…” Max’s body shook, only his grip on the stair rail keeping him upright. Gone. Quint, the hopes of a future together, everything, gone. At his order. Because CEO really was a corporate mogul first and the man Max had laughed with and fallen in love with second. “I thought I could overlook it. I really did. I thought I could separate the vulture from…from…” The man I wanted to spend my life with. He sank down on the step. “I thought it wouldn’t really matter. 172

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But it did. I couldn’t stand there and listen to him talk about all those peoples’ lives as if they were just playing cards. I couldn’t.” His hands trembled so he clasped them together. Sully started to speak but Jenn held up a hand. “Wait. Just wait a minute. I need to understand at least part of this first.” She moved to the phone on the kitchen counter and pulled a small card from her purse. “Bill Gallagher’s over the local holdings. He’s probably the one who called.” She punched in a number and brought the phone to her ear. “Bill? It’s Jennifer Bowman. I just spoke with Quint and he said something about a fire down in Brownsville? I only caught part of it.” She listened for a moment and sighed. “Bill, I’m going to put you on the speakerphone while I grab a pen.” She pressed the button and a hollow air sound filtered through the speaker. “Would you repeat what you just said, please?” “I said you need to talk to the boss about his crazy idea of rebuilding the factory.” A deep strong voice rich with a west Texas twang sounded over the speaker. “It’s been losing money for over three years with no sign of improvement. I know he’s hung up on the idea of helping the employees, but we can’t keep supporting a failing operation just because he’s too soft-hearted to let it go. The fire was a blessing. No one would blame him if we didn’t rebuild.” “And what did he say when you told him that? That it would be wisest to just let it go.” Jenn’s gaze rested on the kitchen island, the pen tapping softly on the granite surface. “He chewed me out after something fell over wherever he is and said he didn’t like the idea of tossing five hundred 173

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people out of work. He even wants me to call the factory manager and make sure everyone gets a week’s pay while we sort this out.” The exasperation in Gallagher’s voice rang through clearly. “You’re the newbie around here, Miss Bowman. Maybe you can talk some sense into him. Heaven knows none of the rest of us can. Quint’s too much like his father.” “So I’ve learned in the past week.” Jenn lifted sad eyes toward Max. “I think it’s best to just do as Quint asks and we’ll figure something out tomorrow. I’ll see you then, Bill. Goodbye.” She pressed the speaker button and sighed again, her smile loving but still disappointed. “He didn’t know you were listening, Max. What do you think?” “I think I’m gonna throw up.” Max bolted for the bathroom, stomach heaving. Dear God, what had he done! Quint. His body purged everything he’d had since he awakened, leaving him empty. Quint. He dry heaved. Every vicious, angry word Max had said echoed through his mind. “He’ll never forgive me. No way.” His sister’s gentle touch on his back burned like a lightning bolt. “Max? I don’t understand.” “They’re lovers.” Sully’s voice from the doorway, firm but quiet. “What started out as some lame ass plan to protect you from the Big Bad Wolfe backfired, landed Max square in bed with the enemy and turned into a whole lot more than mere sex.” A soft T-shirt came flying toward Max. “And then it blew up in his face. That’s the nutshell version. You feeling 174

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well enough to fill in the blanks, friend? So we can work out the part that leads to happily ever after?” Max sank down beside the toilet, trembling, icy sweat covering him. “Happily ever after. That’s where I thought I was headed.” His head dropped, hot tears springing into his eyes. “What was I supposed to think? After Quint’s stupid bargain, how was I supposed to know the stories about him and his dad were true? Oh, God.” Tears splashed onto his legs. Jenn’s hand stroked his arm. “I don’t think I got most of that, Max. But Sully’s right? You and Quint and more than a one-night stand?” “Doesn’t take long to fall in love, Jenn.” Max looked up to see a smile on Sully’s face he’d never seen before, full of confidence and more than a little affection. A smile aimed directly at Max’s sister. “I think we managed it in just a couple days.” Her cheeks flushed a little. “True.” Sully stepped closer and picked up the T-shirt, holding it out to Max. “Come on, brother. Time to spread it all on out the table. Then we’ll figure out how to glue it back together.” *

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“You wanted to protect me. I wish you’d told me. I’d have stopped you.” Jenn pressed a kiss to Max’s cheek as she replaced his whiskey glass with iced tea. “No more. You’ll be sicker than you already feel.” Max pushed it away. “Tea isn’t going to do it tonight, sis. And I doubt there’s enough liquor in Dallas County to make 175

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me feel sicker than I do.” He wanted to get up and pace the length of the living room, but doubted his legs would hold him. “Nothing can make me feel worse.” “What a mess.” Sully caught Jenn’s fingers and rubbed them between his own as he leaned toward Max over the island. “But Quint’s got to know you misunderstood. Just call him and apologize.” “Yeah. Like he’s going to pick up any call from me. You saw his face when he left. I hurt him. I hurt him bad. He hates me by now.” A new wave of nausea rose up. “Give me the whiskey and save the Mary Sunshine routine for Jenn. She’s the one into rosy pink glasses, not me.” “Then go see Quint. He’s got to be either at home or the office. I can’t think of any place else he might go.” Jenn paused, pretty brows drawn together. “Though…with this thing in Brownsville…” She sighed deep and let Sully take her in his arms, leaning on the big man’s thigh. “I don’t know, Max. He might…he might throw himself into solving that first. But you could try.” “Yeah, I can try. Let me get dressed.” Max rose, knees shaky as he mounted the stairs. The sight of the rumpled bed slammed a sledgehammer into his gut. The room still smelled of Quint’s cologne and the subtle musk of sex. He had to grab the edge of his dresser to stay upright. If Quint wouldn’t forgive him, Max would never be able to face this room again. He left his jeans where Quint had tossed them on the floor and dug for a different pair in his closet. Disturbing his boots from the disarray Quint left felt like a sacrilege, but Max 176

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managed to pull them on before he fled to the moderately less painful downstairs. The sight of Jenn’s hands tight in Sully’s as they sat across the kitchenette from each other warmed him even as it made his loss all the sharper. “So, you think house or office?” “I’m not sure, Max.” Jenn’s brown eyes held sadness. “I just don’t know him well enough to say.” She waited for him to pull his shirt on, then came over to hug him tight. She brushed his hair out of his eyes. “You spent the whole weekend together, didn’t you? What do you think? Or is there another place he might go?” Max shook his head, the aloneness of the man he’d come to love nearly overwhelming him. “He doesn’t have anywhere else.” He sank down while he buttoned his shirt. “Yeah, he spent the weekend here.” The mixing bowl on the counter caught his attention and drove a spike through his chest. “Quint was making cookies when his cell rang. Could you…do something with them. If he says no, I won’t be able to… Just do something with them, okay?” “Cookies? You gotta be kidding me.” Sully shook his head. “You two have got it bad if he’s baking for you.” A look from Jenn made Sully raise his hands in surrender and resume contemplating the granite countertop, a grin still playing over his lips. “I’ll take care of it.” Jenn picked up the car keys and pressed them into Max’s hands. “It’ll work out, Max. It might take some time, but you’ll work it out.” A soft smile brightened her face and she leaned close enough to whisper. 177

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“I’m glad you shooed me out of the house, though. You might have all your space back again in a few months if things keep going the way they are with Sully. I know that’s probably not something you want to hear right now, but…thank you.” “I’m happy for you, sis. I really am. I think you and Sully will be great together and I hope it works out.” Max squeezed her hand. “I for damned sure don’t want to have to choose between you if it doesn’t.” “You just worry about you right now. And if you can’t track Quint down tonight, you know where he’ll be in the morning.” Jenn stroked his cheek. “Don’t give up, Max. Not if he really means that much to you.” Max’s gaze settled on the cookie dough bowl. “He does.” It took more effort than he expected to push himself to his feet and move to the door. “I don’t think I realized just how much until I had to face this place without him.” The old factory space loomed in the fading daylight, cold and sterile. Even the few sculptures standing out in the open area, their dust covers rendering them vacant specters, didn’t eliminate the sudden feel of a tomb. Got to get some air. It felt like a vise slowly squeezed Max’s chest until his ribs would shatter. He waved Jenn and Sully off. “I need to get out for a second.” He stumbled to the door, pushing it to the side, fleeing to the open night heat of the loading dock. The wet dust scent of a fleeting Texas sprinkle turned the air sharp. It must have rained a little while he was busy destroying his life. Where would Quint go? Neither home nor office would 178

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hold comfort, though the office might give Quint some memory of his father…wait. Damn it, Max didn’t have a clue where Quint’s family house might be. If the tenants weren’t home the garden might beckon. But Max wasn’t going to drive all over Highland Park looking for one blue Jaguar among hundreds of luxury cars. The office was the best place to start. The wind ruffled a sheet of paper along the concrete ramp, and from habit Max bent to pick it up to toss in the big trash bin. The light above the dock shone down on the dirty, rainsplattered sheet. The surcease he sought from the breathless aching in his chest fled, the night growing dim and airless. No. Oh, God, no. Over, truly over because of Max’s own stupidity and hard words. Words that would never be forgiven. Max could see Quint lounging on the bed, pad in hand as he committed a moment of their passion—Max’s passion—to paper, granting it a sort of immortality. Setting their love into something more permanent than their memories of an instant in time. God, Quint had been beautiful, gray eyes soft with love and amusement and hope for what they could share. The future blossomed before them. I’ll have something of you with me on long business trips… “Looks like you don’t want anything of me with you at all, babe.” Max sank down on the concrete dock steps, ruined drawing clutched tight. “Not even a reminder.” “Wow, Quint did that? That’s gorgeous. Even if it makes me twitch.” Sully’s voice should have made him turn, but Max couldn’t seem to make his body function even that much. The big guy sat down on the steps next to Max, one broad hand 179

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resting on Max’s shoulder. “Hurt can make us do some things we regret later, Max. Why don’t you hang onto that until you’re sure he doesn’t want it back?” “I’m pretty sure right now. Sul, I screwed this up so bad I don’t blame him for never wanting to see me again.” Max couldn’t even feel ashamed his sigh shivered out. Besides, this was Sully, his best friend, who knew everything about Max— whether Sully really wanted to or not. Max smoothed a bit of dirt from the drawing, careful not to smear it into mud. “For a little while, this is how Quint saw me.” “I think he still sees you that way. And right now it hurts too much. If it didn’t hurt he’d have taken it home and burned it. Hang onto it.” Sully blew out a sigh and wrapped his arm around Max’s shoulders. “Oh, hell. We’ve been friends long enough. I can handle it if you need to do something besides just sit there and shake. Just don’t hurl on me, okay?” “I don’t have anything left to hurl. Jenn wouldn’t let me have any more whiskey.” Max leaned into the support his friend offered. “I don’t think I can manage this tonight. I know I’ll do or say something stupid. Or I’ll throw myself at his feet in public and embarrass him.” Max closed his eyes as he realized a new screw up. “Oh crap. Sully, Quint’s not out. You can’t say anything about him being here with me or being gay to anyone. He’s not ready for that step and I can’t do that to him on top of everything else.” “Not generally my topic of conversation, remember? I won’t say a word. You’re gonna have to tell Jenn though. She’ll probably go in Monday morning and try to play referee. 180

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Uh…” Sully brought something up from its resting place next to his thigh. “I found this upstairs. I know you keep it in its bag unless you’re using it and, uh…” Max took the camera, fingers so numb he nearly dropped it. “Yeah.” He managed another long, shaky breath. “I woke up to find Quint sketching this.” The drawing rattled in his hand. “I made him promise not to move and ran down for the camera. He was gorgeous. Not just in the usual sexual way but in a…an emotional way. The look on his face…” Max couldn’t continue, tears clogging his voice. “Aw, man, come here. Better than Jenn seeing you cry.” Sully pulled him tight and long fingers ruffled clumsily over Max’s hair. “It’s gonna be okay.” Max gave up and just let the hurt flow, holding to his best friend. Sully’s awkward comfort kept the devastation from consuming Max, a shield from facing this alone. Max’s hand tightened on the drawing as he held on to the lifeline Sully offered. Breath returned in slow, violent gulps. Tears washed his vision clean and he could see the fine strokes of the drawing. New heartbreak shot through him, deeper than before. Somewhere out there, hunched over his desk at the office or in the sterility of his penthouse, Quint dealt with the pain alone. Max clutched Sully, unable to even voice his guilt because he knew Quint hurt and had no one to hold him. And it was all Max’s fault. “Hey, it’s okay, Max.” Sully gently took the camera from Max’s shaking hands. “Look, if you can’t deal with it, I’ll 181

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erase the card for you.” “No!” Max reached for the camera again. “I may never have a day like that again.” He drew a long breath. “But I have to try. I have to get myself together and go see him.” “Uh…” Sully shifted a little. “Look, I wasn’t going to say this in front of Jenn, but maybe you should wait until tomorrow morning at least. You’re in no shape to drive with your hands shaking like that. It won’t help if you get yourself wrecked. Both the penthouse and the office are gonna be locked down tight, and if he’s not in either place you can’t possibly search every bar in DFW for him. Plus, um…he might need a little breathing space, too.” Max didn’t want to agree, didn’t want to go another eight hours without seeing Quint, but he knew Sully was right. He gave a reluctant nod. “Yeah, okay. But I have to try in the morning. I can’t let him go on believing I meant what I said.” Sully went very still, that too-silent pause Max knew too well as a signal of uncomfortable words needing to come out. “Uh, Max? Not to add a new anvil to that pile of steel on your chest, but you did mean what you said. As far as you thought you knew what was going on. You made a hell of an assumption, based on the man you knew from the papers as opposed to the man you know in your heart. And you didn’t give him a chance to explain. Maybe before you go see him…you better figure out which man you’re going to trust.” “You know I hate it when you go Obi Wan on me, right?” Max sighed. The urge to throw things resurfaced. “Crap. I love him, Sully. I want him with me so bad I don’t think I can get 182

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past it. And I want to trust him. But the first thing he said to me matched the guy in the papers. It’s not a matter of which one I trust, it’s a matter of whether I can live with it. And I think I have to, because I don’t think I can live without him.” “Let me ask you something, Max.” Sully shifted and leaned against the loading dock wall, knees pulled up and long arms resting on them. “Believe me, I’ve heard plenty about Quint Wolfe over the last couple of days, and if I weren’t absolutely sure of Jenn’s love I’d be jealous as hell. If you were breaking in a new agent or apprentice or something for the studio and weren’t sure if the kid was gonna make the grade, if you were swamped and everything depended on whether or not your newbie could be trusted to not screw things up, how would you react if newbie’s big brother essentially sabotaged your effort to get to know your apprentice and then threatened to take you apart for so much as looking at newbie cross-eyed, based on nothing but big bro’s image of your rep around town? A rep you didn’t ask for. Don’t you think you might bristle a bit?” “I know! Okay. I know.” Max gestured with his free hand. “I know I pushed his buttons. And he responded by pushing mine. But I also know that company is always going to be first with him. Quint’s never claimed otherwise. I just have to wrap my head around that.” “And why do you think that is?” Sully held up a hand as his voice softened. “I already know the answer, Max. Jenn already told me. She knows more than even Quint realizes right now. I just want to see how much of it you’ve figured 183

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out.” “Because I’m so in love with him I can’t see straight. I know that, too.” Max weighed the camera, the images inside representing his goals. “I need him.” “Not why do you have to wrap your head around what you think he is. Why do you think that company always comes first with him? Because I’ll tell you something. Until you understand that, really understand where his heart is in that matter, you don’t know him.” Sully stood and offered Max a hand up. “Come on, I’ll sneak you a whiskey when Jenn isn’t looking.” Max pushed up off the steps. The tiniest spark of hope fought the paralyzing terror of never holding Quint again. Knowing Sully was right didn’t do any good for the knot in his gut. “Sneak me the bottle. I think better when I’m halfcorked.” *

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Quint rubbed his eyes and drained the tepid, bitter black coffee in the bottom of his cup. Pacing his lonely, silent apartment in between scotches hadn’t done a damn bit of good except to remind him of how truly empty his life was, so he’d given up at 3:00 A.M. and come in to the office to try to make some sense of the other current mess in his life. The one he could do something about. Now, with the sun coming up over the skyline, he studied the option he’d come up with for presentation to the board. It had to pass. Too many people depended on it. He searched his 184

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mind for each objection someone could raise, determined to have an answer. “Quint?” No. He must have dozed off over his report again. Nothing else would bring that soft voice so close to his ears again. Quint had been haunted all night by that voice and so many images in his memory that he’d finally come here to get away from it. And it had followed him, would quite likely follow him the rest of his life. Quint kept his eyes on his report and ignored the sudden blurry spot on the notes in the margin of his proposal. He’d grieve and lose his mind later. Right now he had work to do. “Quint. Please. I need to talk to you.” A dark form appeared in front of his desk. “I…Crap. I suck at this, Quint. I’m sorry. Okay? I was stupid and idiotic and I’m so sorry and… Could you look at me? I mean, did I screw it up so bad you don’t even want to look at me?” Quint’s throat tightened and another tear smudged his notes. He didn’t dare look up, didn’t want to see what game either his mind or Max Bowman might be playing now. He had to swallow to speak. “If you’re not some image from my nightmares over the past several hours, would you mind explaining how you got up here at 7:00 A.M. when there’s no one else around? Unless you informed security that I’m your l—ex-lover?” He gave up trying to stop the pen from shaking in his hand. Quint could hear Max’s breath shiver in. “I’d never do that. Never. I made Sully and Jenn both swear they’d never 185

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say anything about us either.” Another shaky breath rippled. “As for the guard downstairs, I told him I was Jenn Bowman’s brother and I was helping her with a big board meeting this morning and needed to get her stuff set up. I’m here to…grovel. To beg you to forgive me.” “A man should never have to apologize for his opinion. You stated yours quite clearly.” A part of Quint longed to believe, to sweep Max up in his arms and kiss those luscious lips, say that yes, he forgave and loved Max with all his heart. But he couldn’t afford to. Not right now. Not when so many people were depending on him to save their livelihoods. And if he dared acknowledge his emotions at all right now, his soul still bled that Max couldn’t trust him, could never trust that Quint wasn’t the man from the media coverage. It would eat at the foundation of any relationship they might try to have. He barely managed to hold back a hurt driven comment about how Max had no legal control of Jennifer’s WolfeCorp shares, and as such had no course to be here, and how very good the sculptor was at pretending to be what he was not. “I’m sorry, I have a meeting to prepare for. There are people depending on me.” The callused hands Quint longed to feel on his skin clenched. “I know. I get that. Now.” Uncomfortable silence stretched. “I’m sorry. For bothering you this morning. For everything.” Max’s fingers unclenched. “I’ll go.” Quint managed to focus on his report until the soft steps moving toward the door paused. He didn’t need to look up to know that Max’s eyes would shimmer like a prairie sky and 186

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those long fingers would be poised on the doorjamb in an almost-caress. But the shivered sigh and the soft creak of a boot on a loose joist destroyed Quint’s control. “Max.” “Quint. Please. I love you. I do. I want to make it right.” The words rushed as if Max feared he’d never get the chance to say them. “Let me try.” God, it would have been better if Max had simply turned around and said nothing. Quint had to set his pen down before he snapped it in two. He pulled in a deep breath and looked up into pleading eyes, making a new, excruciating decision. “Max, I have five hundred good, loyal people waiting for me to save their jobs. I don’t even know if I can at this point. But my personal life must take a back seat to that right now. No matter how…troubled it is. Regardless of what you think of me, I owe it to them to do as much as I can for as long as I can. Can you understand that?” Dark lashes veiled those pleading eyes for an instant before Max looked at him. “I can. I do. I…it’s sort of what I… Look, I know you need to do this and I want you to do this. I can wait.” Max’s hand dropped from the doorjamb. It would never work. Fear and mistrust would destroy them both. As in so many business scenarios, Quint should just cut his losses and walk away. Cleaning up the mess in Brownsville could take weeks or months. By then Max would have moved on and found… Quint had to look down at his report again. He needed to clear his mind and get ready for the meeting. The prospect of cutting his losses had never hurt like this. 187

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Quint managed two words and prayed they’d be enough to get the burning spear out of his gut long enough to think straight. “All right.” “Okay. Right. I hope the meeting goes well.” Max lingered a moment. “I’ll be waiting whenever you’re ready.” Quint feared he didn’t have enough trust left to hope that might be true.

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CHAPTER 11 “Quint, it’s all well and good that you want to help these people. But it’s not financially viable to rebuild a factory that was losing money in the first place. Look at the mess the rest of the country’s in right now.” Findlay M. Pratt’s craggy face belonged on a rancher, not a corporate business mogul. That wind- and sun-lined visage fooled many an opponent into believing the old man, with his white hair and penchant for pearl snap shirts, a rube. Nothing could be farther from reality. Pratt had all the business acumen of a major Wall Street player. Quint pushed to his feet and braced his hands on the table, addressing Pratt but aiming his words at all of them. “I don’t 189

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care what the rest of the country’s doing. We didn’t jump on that bandwagon because Dad had the common sense to look more than six months ahead, and he knew it was going too hard too fast. So we stayed with what we know best, goods and services that don’t hinge on the market swings. I will not put five hundred people out of work until we’ve exhausted every possibility, so I suggest the lot of you get off your cynical…” He stopped and rearranged his words as Jennifer Bowman shifted in her seat at the edge of his vision. “Get your cynical butts out of the negative and either listen to my proposal or give me some better ideas!” Murmurs and dissent erupted around the long conference table. “Quint, you aren’t your father. You can do things differently.” “There’s a time when it’s proper to close a facility. In this case, fate did it for us.” “It’s not sound business to keep it going just to support the workers.” “Right. We aren’t a welfare state.” “I agree with Mr. Wolfe.” Jenn Bowman tapped the paper in front of her. “As soon as he notified me, I began to do exactly as he instructed and come up with some ideas. I feel the factory should be rebuilt.” She waited a moment for the expected protests. “Please, let me finish. I read earlier this month there was a proposal to retool the plant before this happened, to make a more competitive product. But the cost was prohibitive. Well, when we rebuild, we can make it 190

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anything we want.” If he weren’t focused on kicking some sense into the board’s stubborn asses, Quint would have smiled at her. How very much he had underestimated this young woman! Far from the naïve hayseed he’d thought her on sight, Jennifer carried herself with poise and dignity, every inch a competent businesswoman with the right vision for his company. And a drive to work equal to Quint’s own. Right now Quint also felt intense gratitude Jenn didn’t share her brother’s bright blue eyes. He didn’t think he could have handled that. “It was a thirty-year-old building!” Andrew Middleton pounded the table with all the fervor of an evangelist. “It’s going to cost three times as much to build it to code, plus you have the rising cost of the materials, the labor… Hell, we might just as well take all that money and dump it into the Gulf!” “Or turn the land over to the property development corporation your grandson owns, Drew?” Quint kept his voice quiet and watched Middleton’s jaw drop mid-bluster. “I do keep abreast of other projects in the state. And the various projects you all participate in. Let me be very clear on this matter, gentlemen. I will not sacrifice these jobs in the name of a fast buck.” “And I assume the building was properly insured. That should cover the cost of rebuilding. If not, we need to analyze all our other properties to assure such a loss won’t happen again.” Jenn faced Drew squarely. 191

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“The permit alone will take up the insurance payout.” Middleton’s white puffs of eyebrows lowered at Jenn. “As you should have already figured out, young lady, if you intend to earn your place in this room.” “And I’m sure the board would be interested to learn why you under-insured a facility, placing WolfeCorp in a position to suffer substantial loss. I’m sure such actions would result in a reevaluation of your place on the board, Mr. Middleton. And I have a copy of the policies, if you’d care to see them.” Jenn’s eyes might not match Max’s in color, but the fire was identical. “I think you’ll find your calculations need work.” Quint’s gut jolted. Andrew Middleton, on the board for twenty-five years, had been one of his father’s closest friends. That— Later. I’ll deal with him later. God bless you, Jenn. He turned to the others around the table. “So. The proposal is to rebuild as soon as possible and get back on line.” “You planning to pay out six months to a year’s worth of payroll for no work, Quint?” George Bevin leaned back in the leather chair and drummed his fingers on his considerable stomach. “There’s no way you can justify that expense to the stockholders. A couple already screamed about the week’s worth. By the time you get up and running, your five hundred workers will have had to move on to something else just so they can eat.” “Or maybe they’ll just go back to Mexico and we can quit subsidizing green cards.” Ben Finch, Quint’s age but on the board for only five years, flipped absently through the proposal. “Look, Quint, no one’s faulting your motives. Your 192

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dad taught you well. Too well for the times we live in. But it’s not going to work.” “I don’t offer proposals that don’t work, Ben.” If they’d just shut up and listen for two minutes, Quint could show them how it would work. “What if we move it a mile south?” Jenn’s soft voice made Quint look up. Her gaze was directed at the map of the factory site. “The rebuild, I mean.” Findlay Pratt shook his head, a patronizing smile on his wrinkled face Quint would love to remove in one punch, and sighed. “No one teaches geography anymore. That’s the Rio Grande, Miss Bowman. A mile south of the site is Mexico.” “I know, Mr. Pratt.” Her dark eyes touched Quint’s. “WolfeCorp isn’t restricted to just the United States, is it?” Brilliant. Really not so Mary Sunshine today. And she played hardball as well as anyone he’d ever met. Quint felt rich pride in her. “No, we aren’t. We own land across the Rio Grande from Brownsville, in fact. A large swath of it.” Quint restrained half his smile. “Gentlemen, I’d like to take a break. My secretary has ordered an array of coffee and pastries if you wish. We’ll reconvene in thirty minutes and I have a feeling we may have a new proposal to lay on the table.” He touched Jenn’s elbow. “Will you stay, please?” Jenn nodded and waited while the others trouped out in search of the men’s room and coffee. “What is it, Quint?” He gestured her to a chair and sat down, leaning toward her. “Tell me the idea you’ve been working on. The one you asked me about last week.” 193

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“I…” Her cheeks colored a bit. “The proposal’s not done yet, I still have to…” He stopped her with a tap on the table. “Tell me. We can find whatever else we need later. But after listening to you just now, I think perhaps you have more to offer than you believe.” Jenn smiled. “If you say so. I don’t have the presentation with me, it’s at home. I…” He raised a brow at her and she laughed. “Okay, here’s the unrehearsed version. We have a lot of farmers back in Oklahoma. Small farms that used to make a profit for the families who own and run them. But so much of that has been bought up and industrialized by big conglomerates. There’s no place for the small farmer anymore. I just thought if maybe there was a way to…give them a market to sell to, one that would take what they could produce, we could save a lot of farms and a lot of people’s livelihoods.” “I’m with you so far. And how could WolfeCorp help? And make a profit for our shareholders so we can stay in business.” He studied the play of color across her face. “Jenn, if we don’t stay open and viable, we can’t help anyone.” “I know. I just hadn’t got that far, which is why I didn’t want to tell you about it yet.” Her fingers twisted together on the oak conference table. “It couldn’t be one big centralized plant, I know that. It would have to be regional or even smaller. But you have a single problem to deal with right now…” She glanced at the map again. “Quint, isn’t southern Texas a big agricultural area? And northern Mexico?” “The Rio Grande Valley is one of the major fruit and 194

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vegetable producing areas of the country, on par with California and Florida. Are you proposing we build a test plant in Matamoros?” He held up his hand to stop her response. “If you are, I think it’s a brilliant idea.” “Well, I don’t know as I’d call it a formal proposal, but… You do?” Jenn’s eyes went wide. “Are you sure?” “If I weren’t I’d hardly say so, would I?” Oh, the resemblance to Max definitely existed in that wide-eyed joy. “So, we’ll present the bare-bones to the board and flesh it out as quickly as we can. I think I can get a task force on it by afternoon.” “Oh, Quint, that’s wonderful!” She barely waited for him to stand before she threw her arms around him in an impulsive embrace. Quint chuckled at the speed she tried to compose herself. “I mean, um, I’m glad I could help.” He gave her a quick hug anyway. “So am I, Jenn. So am I.” *

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“And the board came back in, and you should have seen the looks on their faces when Quint laid out the whole plan. He told them they’d have a printed proposal by Friday and if anyone had a better idea they’d best speak up, because he was headed for Brownsville in the morning to tell the workers.” Jenn barely paused for a breath. “Oh, Max, I wish you could have seen him! Those stuffy old corporate birds just stared at him and raised their hands to vote yes.” “I wish I could have seen him, too.” Even to his own ears, 195

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Max sounded subdued. The visit to WolfeCorp hadn’t been the worst he’d feared—after all, Quint hadn’t ordered security to drag Max out and shoot him—but it sure hadn’t been the best, either. “I’m glad he was able to find a way to help those people. And I’m proud he used your idea to do it.” “He said moving the plant across the river into Mexico would cut both rebuilding and operational costs. Food processing is a big deal in the Rio Grande Valley and, regardless of economic times, people have to eat.” Jenn helped herself to another serving of rice as if to demonstrate. “We won’t be able to pay the workers during rebuilding. But Quint said we’d offer them temporary jobs at other WolfeCorp facilities, and give them first shot at any jobs the rebuild will offer if they have the skills. He had all the vice presidents working out the details before lunchtime.” “Sounds like he’s got all his ducks in a row.” Sully glanced up at Max, concern in the big man’s sage green eyes. “You better eat something, Max. Quint gets done rearranging the face of the Rio and he might want to spend some energy on something else.” The humor stayed gentle. “He just needs to cover his bases, Max. You told him you’d give him time to do that, right?” “Yeah. I told him I’d wait.” Max managed a couple of tasteless spoonfuls of rice and beans before his stomach rebelled. Quint wouldn’t even look at him for most of their brief interview. “So does Quint have you running WolfeCorp while he’s gone?” Max found some pride in being able to say his lover’s name with only a small tremor disturbing it. 196

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Jenn laughed over the rim of her iced tea. “No. I don’t have that sort of expertise yet. Maybe someday. He asked me to come up with some ideas for a brand name and a logo to use when the co-op gets started. I’m toying around with The Pantry Shelf or something like that.” She set the glass down and laid her hand over Max’s. “I suggested maybe while he’s down there Quint should take a week or so and just find some place to relax. Let his mind clear. It’s easier to figure out what you want when it’s not staring you in the face. I believe he knows you were sincere about apologizing, Max, but I think the hurt is still too close right now. He said he might just do that, take some time.” “Yeah. Good. Time is good.” Except it was killing Max. Each hour away from Quint only deepened the cold twisting just below his breastbone. “Look, I have a meeting with a client early. I’m gonna work for a couple of hours, then head to bed.” “Max.” Jenn caught his hands as he rose from the table, dark eyes seeing right through his excuse. “I do understand. But I know he wouldn’t want you to make yourself sick. And I think maybe when he gets back you shouldn’t focus so much on trying to make things right. You just show him how much you love him.” “I hope he lets me.” Max squeezed her fingers. “Look, I really do feel better when I work, so I’m going to go bang on some metal for a while.” He couldn’t sit here with the weight of Jenn’s sympathy pressing down on him. He knew she wanted to help, but each assurance of how good it would be 197

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when Quint returned only made Max more certain he’d never see his lover again. The studio waited empty and dark for him, shards of his tantrum still scattered over the floor. Max hadn’t wanted anything to do with art of any form in the last twenty-four hours. Something caught his eye on the workbench by the window and he moved to the moonlit area. Oh, damn. A sculpture Sully had asked him to help with nearly a month ago, before Max ever met Quint. Delicate dogwood blossoms for a bouquet in copper and steel, the enamel well-cooled now and ready to be welded onto stems. The same snowy blossoms Quint had almost wept over in Mary’s booth. His fingers traced the cool blossoms. He should finish. He owed it to Sully. And it would get the reminder of Quint out of his studio. The enamel felt glassy smooth, comforting his fingertips. Yeah, he could do that and pretend he’d never seen Quint. Just like his lover had done. The lesson in the dogwood mobile hadn’t escaped Max. “I don’t need less of you around me, babe; I need more.” More. He remembered the photographs sitting in the data card of his camera. He couldn’t bear to look at them tonight, but maybe… Max bent down and hauled a box of clay from the bottom shelf of his supply cabinet, the clay he used for models of his castings. Lifting it onto the table, he grabbed a drop cloth and spread it out for workspace, then sank his fingers into the cool medium and pulled it out, letting his own body heat make it 198

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malleable. At this point he didn’t need the damn photos anyway. Every inch of Quint lay stored in his memory. His eyes knew the way the sun glinted on pale hair and his hands remembered the sun-warmed feel of hard muscles gone soft with passion. The clay would take on the shape Max longed for, give his memories form. Max let his eyes drift closed and recalled the feel of Quint’s smooth jaw under his fingertips, the full pillowed lips over a strong chin. The exotic remembered scent of Drakkar Noir blended with the damp earthy odor of the clay. Quint always got that gorgeous little shiver when Max stroked and kissed those lips, caressed that jaw. No, wait. Max opened his eyes and pulled open the drawer where he kept his detailing tools. Not clean shaven. Max wanted to feel that glorious texture of soft stubble, the sensation that could leave him breathless with a single nuzzle. But nothing felt right to his fingertips. He’d have to go to the supply store and find just the right tool. Smooth would have to do for tonight. But then, he had time. He had nothing but time. Max leaned his forehead against the smooth surface of the clay and let warm salt tears kiss it into surrender. *

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Quint let the soft blend of voices wash over him as the meeting broke up and he began to gather his papers and blueprints. The response to the proposal had been 199

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overwhelming. Every single plant worker had some skill that would allow them to stay on payroll during the rebuild, even if it was just to haul materials from one spot to another. So dedicated, willing to work hard for their families and make a better life for themselves. Quint decided it was time to put another plan into action he’d had in his head for a decade. An education fund for the children of his employees in this area, one that would eventually pay for itself as these children got good jobs and paid back the loans so others could benefit. He knew a number of local citizens who would jump at the chance to be a part of something like that. He’d start drawing up the proposal tonight. “Mr. Wolfe, sir.” Quint looked up to see Inaxio Ortera, one of the best foremen WolfeCorp had ever hired at any facility, standing at the edge of the table, weathered hands tucked deep in the pockets of well-worn but clean work pants. Inaxio had been foreman of the plant for as long as Quint could remember, and two of the Mexican national’s sons worked there as well. “Inaxio, you’ve known me since the first time Dad brought me along on a business trip when I was seven. I think you can call me Quint by now.” Quint smiled at long-ago memories he wouldn’t brush aside anymore. “What can I do for you?” “You do much for us already, Mr. Quint.” Inaxio served as the informal translator between the newer workers and the middle management, even though the older man’s thick accent had never dimmed. “Most bosses, they just say ‘oh, let it burn, we sell the land and make more money.’ But not you. You’re 200

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a good boss, like your padre. You work hard to make sure we feed our families.” “To do less wouldn’t be ethical. At least not to my way of thinking.” The smile Quint offered said he’d never be able to do less. “But as I said, what is it that you need today?” “Just to say thank you. And to ask how you are doing. I have not seen you since your padre died.” Inaxio’s black eyes warmed Quint even as they regarded him for a very long moment. “You working too hard. You need to come fish where we take you as a boy. Always quiet there. Good place to rest. And good fish for supper.” Rest. Lord, that thought appealed. “I wish I could. I’d love to see it again. It’s been a long time.” Inaxio’s lined face broke into a grin. “Too long. And good fish for supper tonight. Rosa would be happy to see you. Hotel food is lonely, no good for growing boy or old friend. You come eat with us, sí? You go back to work in the morning.” Those dark eyes twinkled beneath the old man’s ball cap. “Rosa say she gonna make empanadas today. Shame to miss that with you so close.” “It would be not only a shame but a sin.” Quint held out his hand. “I’d love to.” “Good.” Inaxio’s handshake was as firm as Quint remembered. “I help you with all this, sí?” The Mexican grunted softly as he hefted Quint’s laptop case. “You gonna need more fish just to be able to carry this home, Mr. Quint. Why people got to bring a whole office with them I never understand.” 201

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“Well, it may be a while before I see my office again, so I take what I need. Let me put part of that in the portfolio. Even out the two.” He reached into the side of the briefcase and pulled out a couple of pads, intending to stuff them in with the presentation. “Oops.” One of the pads slipped from Quint’s fingers, landing on the table facedown and half open, one of the pages bent. His sketchbook. “God, I hope that was a blank page I just killed.” “You still draw. We have the picture you drew of our casa when you were fifteen. Rosa put it in a frame and hung it in the kitchen.” Inaxio grinned again. “Even if you did make our chickens from Rhode Island.” Quint chuckled. “I’ll have to do a more authentic one for you. I still dabble. It’s my secret vice.” He lifted the pad to straighten the folded page, hoping it could be rescued if it weren’t blank. The sketchbook almost fell from newly-numb fingers. His mind blanked as he stared at the image he’d rendered with such love. Max. A smiling, happy Max, his then-lover’s face aglow with a wealth of precious emotion. “You okay, Mr. Quint?” Inaxio stepped closer, trying to see the drawing. “Something is bad?” Quint closed the pad, hiding Max’s face away. No need to shock the old man. “Something I didn’t wish to remember.” Understanding blossomed on Inaxio’s face. “Ah, woman trouble. I know the look. Me, I have had the woman trouble. Long ago. But I remember.” He patted Quint’s hand. “You 202

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need to come to my home more than I think you did. Ah, the broken heart, what we call being destrozado. It is never easy. You come rest with us and forget this one who did not have the sense to love you back, que?” “I…” Did he want to forget Max? The thought squeezed Quint’s chest until he felt sure he’d have to gasp in front of Inaxio or die. But how could he give his heart to a man who didn’t trust him, who didn’t even want to see past the public image Quint had always tried to ignore? Still, the thought of walking away burned deep. I need to think. Quint pulled in a breath and managed to look at his old friend. “Inaxio, I will be happy to join you and your family for dinner, but I don’t wish to impose my company on your small household. I could use a rest, though. You don’t happen to know of a small hotel where I could find a few days’ quiet, do you?” “Do you recall the villa on the little bay beyond my house? The one that is very old? You drew it, too? It is available for the rent. You want it?” Quint remembered the spot. A tiny cottage, by today’s definition of “villa,” but quaint and peaceful. “It sounds perfect. Yes, I’d like to rent it for a week. What’s the price and what else do you need?” Inaxio raised a hand. “For you, no extra needed. And I get you good price, Mr. Quint.” “Amigo. My friend.” Quint felt a piece of his father in those old, warm eyes. “You don’t need to do that. You’re the one temporarily out of a job, remember?” 203

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“You work hard to help us, Mr. Quint. And you are good friend. Now I help you.” Maybe more than just a bit of his father lurked there. Maybe that dear man wasn’t as far away as Quint had thought. *

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Quint stared at his latest drawing and let a long sigh slip past his lips. Yet again, his attempt to sketch the expanse of ocean and palm trees outside his tiny villa ended up as a picture of Max. This time his ex-lover reclined against the sweep of a faintly bent palm, all pure beauty in a pair of scandalously short cut-offs. Every curve of those long legs, every line of that bare chest captured in loving detail. And each subtle nuance of that far-too-well-remembered face glowed with love. Quint let his head drop back against his padded wooden lounge chair. Useless. Just useless. “Why the hell can’t I get you out of my head?” What sort of masochist held onto the memory of a man who thought Quint a ruthless user with no consideration for anyone but himself? Even after that incredible weekend. Opening your heart wasn’t supposed to hurt like this. Max’s voice whispered in the back of his head, the lilt of it in time with the soft swoosh of the surf. “I’ll be waiting whenever you’re ready.” “Damn it.” Quint cursed up at the latticed roof of his temporary patio. “You had to come and apologize, didn’t you? Had to give the irrational part of me some sort of stupid, 204

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impossible hope.” He sighed and reached for a Corona, one of the two he allowed himself a day. He’d already decided drinking himself into oblivion wasn’t an option. Heartbreak or not, people depended on Quint for their livelihoods and their nest eggs. And Dad never ran away from a problem in his life. I won’t turn away from that lesson. So, time to deal with it once and for all. Only Quint wasn’t dealing. All he’d managed in the three days he’d been here was make sketches of Max and befriend one hungry seagull. He set the sketchpad aside and looked about for his winged companion. The perpetually ravenous bird should be about somewhere. “Hey, Carmine! You ready for a snack?” He pulled a slice of bread from a bag. “I could use the company. I’m losing my mind. Again.” Talking to the bird beat drawing Max over and over. A raucous squawk rent the breezy silence, a flash of white swooping down from seemingly thin air to snatch the morsel of bread Quint held out. The gull perched on the low stucco wall protecting the patio from the worst of the beach sand, shifting its feet as it stared at the rest of the slice in Quint’s hand. They’d already been through who had to be patient and who didn’t. “So, settle down and earn your bread. I’ve got this boyfriend, see. And I love him. And he loves me. But he thinks he already knows me, so he won’t even try to see past the public image the damn press dreamed up for me. Especially about business. He thinks I’m a ruthless, unethical 205

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shark. And he essentially dumped me over it. So why do I keep drawing his picture over and over?” He watched the gull consider the bread. “Yeah, I’m crazy. I got that part. But what do I do about it?” And there lay the problem. “It’s not like I have a whole lot of a life to go back to. Oh, sure, I could find some woman who’d be more than happy to marry me for my money and whatever pleasure I might be able to haul up for her. There’s a whole line just waiting any time I go out anywhere.” The thought made his stomach tighten. “I can’t. I can’t live that kind of a lie and I can’t do that to a woman, no matter how willing she may be.” Carmine, whose red beak had earned the gull its moniker, tilted its head and regarded Quint with those bright gold eyes. He tossed up a piece of bread, waiting for the bird to catch it and settle back on its perch. “I suppose I could find a nice guy. Of course, I couldn’t be sure he didn’t marry me…well, whatever you’d want to call it…for my money either. And I don’t know if I can handle being open enough about my preferences to actually look for a man to love.” The thought of Max and his complete disregard for Quint’s wealth and position brought a sting to the CEO’s eyes. “And I somehow doubt I’d find one to replace what I thought I had with Max anyway.” He cursed toward the rolling ocean. “So no wife, and a husband’s just about as unlikely. So where do I channel all this…emotion I have inside me?” Carmine made a sound something like a hiccup and hopped up onto the table next to Quint, poking that red beak over the edges of the sketchbook. 206

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“Oh, no you don’t. Here. It’s better for you.” Quint tossed another piece of bread onto the patio floor and watched the gull pounce. “What? You think I should channel it into the art? But I can’t do that. It’s mine. It’s the one thing I have left that’s not tainted by…” He glanced at the sketch pad again. Ten attempts in the last three days and every single one ended up showcasing Max Bowman in all his glory. If that wasn’t tainted, Quint didn’t know a better definition. “Okay. So it’s mine, but all I’d be able to come up with is a exploration into unrequited love. Well, not unrequited, but love that didn’t work out.” He watched Carmine troll for crumbs. “I need to take control of it again. First my art and then my life. I have to purge Max Bowman from both. And move on.” He settled back, trying to think of a way to accomplish that goal. “You know, Carmine…” He tossed the gull another piece of bread. “Just after my mom died, Dad told me he was going to quit smoking. I’d never thought much about it, since it was a pipe and not cigarettes. But he said he didn’t want me to have to worry about losing another parent. Took him three years to kick it. And he never apologized for slipping. I remember he always said that a man could accomplish anything with just two tools: willpower and practice.” And his father always said Quint inherited those traits from both sides of the family. “I can do it. Work through this addiction I have to Max. I 207

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only need to follow in my Dad’s steps, just like I’ve always done.” He picked up the sketch pad and carefully removed all the drawings to date, dropping another tidbit for Carmine so the gull would stick around while Quint took the drawings into the villa. When he got back, he had to shoo the bird away from the bread bag. “That’s rude. I’m not being stingy with you, so you’ll just have to be patient.” He sat back down in the chair and took a drink of Corona. “Okay. So where do I start? Sweeping vistas aren’t doing the trick.” Carmine, bold and brash creature, hopped closer. “What? You want to be my first model?” Those bright gold eyes made Quint chuckle. “Sure, why not. You look nothing like Max, so it should be hard to get the two of you confused.” The gull stuck around, remarkably interested in watching Quint’s pencil moving over the paper, trying to catch it once or twice until Quint laughed and spread two slices worth of crumbs over the table. He’d never noticed before how such a simple looking, rather homely creature had a beautiful palette of textures, smooth feathers against bright beady eyes and a deceptively sharp beak. Even the webbed feet had a delicate detail he had to concentrate to capture. At last Quint flipped the sketchpad around. “Well, my friend, what do you think?” Carmine flapped over to peck at it, red beak scraping at the paper. “Hey, all you had to do is say it looked good enough to 208

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eat.” Quint chuckled and pulled it away from the bird. “And not a hint of Max Bowman anywhere in it.” He drew a long breath, ripe with accomplishment. “I can do this.” He grinned at his model. “Okay, we can do this. One step at a time.” *

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“You sure you don’t want to stay more, Mr. Quint?” Inaxio’s dark eyes swept over him. “You look better, but I know you got to have more vacation time saved up than a week.” “I do. But I have work to do, Mr. Inaxio.” Quint grinned and zipped his bag. “A new plant to build, a corporation to run.” A life to rebuild. “I think I’ll come back more often though. I like it here. I can think.” “Is not many who rent the casa now. Too many people worried about money. Owner say he sell if price is good.” The old Mexican smiled at Carmine hopping along the patio wall. “Your pájaro amigo gonna miss you. Maybe you buy and not make Rosa or the bird miss you so much?” “That’s not a bad plan. Find out the details for me, okay? It would be nice to come down here when I want to.” Quint lifted his laptop case and reached for his carry-on bag. “And Carmine and Rosa wouldn’t be alone.” He grinned at his old friend. “I find out for you. I get my son to use his brain for something besides fishing. He knows computer things, how to send letters over the air. Is too new for me.” A weathered hand reached up to rest on Quint’s shoulder. “You are no longer 209

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troubled by the past. Is good.” Quint laughed. “All right. And don’t think you can fake me out. I know you can use the company email system.” He let the old man’s touch comfort. “We’ll go fishing next time though and let your son handle the work.” “You good boy. You be happy. I make sure new plant is as good as old one. We will keep our promises as you do.” Inaxio picked up a small box and presented it to Quint. “Rosa send empanadas for your flight home. Dios le bendice y guarda, mi buen amigo. I will see you soon.” The drive away from the little house on the beach held a poignancy Quint had half-expected. He’d rediscovered his own strength there, found a peace he’d lacked since his parents’ deaths. The sting in his eyes and the faint pain in his lungs were only natural. But Inaxio’s idea of buying the place lifted some of it. And his own newfound ability to deal with whatever life threw at him would take care of the rest. Just as he’d take care of his slowly mending heart. Step One: no more penthouse. If the lease on his family house had more than two months left Quint decided he’d look for a little studio apartment, somewhere that didn’t overlook the DFW metropolis. He’d had enough of looking down at the world from the fishbowl. Step two would be to start giving Jenn Bowman some projects, to build her management and creative skills. It would be nice eventually to be able to wave on his way out the door for a three-day-weekend and know his company sat in hands he trusted and knew agreed with his goals. 210

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Step three would take more effort. He had to face Max one last time. It wasn’t fair or right to let the other man hope. With luck, Max had already begun to move on. If even half the things Max mentioned about his usual love life were true, the sculptor would have found plenty of men happy to help him forget his heartache. When Quint managed that final bit, he’d be free to start the new life he wanted. Once he dropped off the rental car and settled into the understated comfort of WolfeCorp’s small company jet, Quint pulled out his sketchbook and flipped through the pages, a smile warming his lips. It had taken some doing, but gradually over the course of the week his drawings had gone from ultra-closeups of plants and animals, seashells along the beach and palm fronds in the yard to the wider angle vistas he’d always loved. A windsurfer who’d glided past the villa retained the platinum hair and lean lanky form instead of becoming dark-locked and broadshouldered. Quint smiled at the piece and decided maybe he’d make Leo happy after all. He pulled out a pencil and carefully signed “Q. Matthews” in the corner. Authors used pen names all the time; why not an artist? Quint’s first initial and middle name worked perfectly. He’d take the piece in to Leo for the fund-raiser the first chance he got. And that chance shouldn’t be too far distant. He’d call when he got home. His lips quirked up. Home. Maybe not completely the home he wanted, but it would be. And soon. He’d see to it. 211

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CHAPTER 12 A soft feminine voice broke into his thoughts. “You planning to come up for air soon, or are you going to build The Pantry Shelf all on your own?” Quint looked up to see Jennifer Bowman leaning against his office door, an amused smile on her face. “The rest of us would like something to do.” “Oh, I have a great deal for you to do. I need a partner in all this. Guess who has that job?” He sent a smile in her direction. “So, come in and sit down.” “Just wondering.” She walked into the office and settled in a chair. “You like the name, then? It seemed fitting, since the whole idea is the small gardener feeding their family through the winter and beyond. But my feelings won’t be hurt if you 212

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think something else sounds better.” Her dark eyes held warmth but the slightest hint of wariness as well. “Everyone else I’ve talked to seems to like it.” “It’s a good name. Marketable. It doesn’t sound like big business, which helps.” The smile he sent her way carried nothing but encouragement. “You have good ideas, Jenn. Don’t be afraid to stand up for them.” “Advice taken.” She tapped a fingernail on the arm of the chair for a moment. “I had another idea, since you’re being so generous. The logo for this new endeavor. I’m no artist, but what about a stained glass look, something simple like a full canning jar on a shelf, done in what Sully tells me is called plique-à-jour, a transparent enamel fired in a metal frame, but laid on a material that doesn’t stick to the enamel. When it’s cooled it looks like stained glass. He showed me some pieces online and they’re exquisite. It would be a beautiful sign for the plant, lit from behind, and the image of it would work just as well on the labels.” “That sounds wonderful.” Quint leaned back in his chair, tapping at his chin. “It’s easy, memorable and conveys that homemade perception we’re shooting for.” He grabbed a piece of paper out of his printer and a pencil from its holder. A few strokes and he flipped the page around so she could see it. “Something like that? An eyelet edging on the circle, keep the shapes simple and the colors bright except for the white background?” “Oh, Quint, that’s beautiful!” Jenn leaned forward, touching one edge of the paper. “And this wouldn’t be hard 213

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for Sully at all. Sometimes they’ve gotten pieces that take months to do, lots of curved edges where they have to start with a metal backing and then etch it off very carefully because it’s so delicate, but this…this could be done long before the plant opens.” “Good. Because we’re going to promote this like you wouldn’t believe.” Quint grinned and settled back in his chair. “The new sales team already has a hundred small farms signed up for their harvests in the Rio Grande Valley, on both sides of the river. And they’ve got ten times that to still work on. If the consumers are as excited as the farmers, we can probably expand into the rest of the South within three years. Then we’ll spread out over the rest of the country and into Mexico’s agricultural heartlands. I even have some investors in Calgary who are very, very interested in your idea. Canada’s breadbasket wants a piece of the action as well.” “So you’re thinking of a second plant already? That’s great.” Jenn’s eyes sparkled. Quint loved it when his instincts were proven right. And his negative assumptions proven so very wrong. Jenn would bring so much to the company and give him a trusted partner he could rely on. He hadn’t had the luxury of sharing that since his father’s death. “Make it work in Matamoros and there will be plants in Canada, California, Florida…half a dozen places. But first the prototype has to work.” “I hope…” She laughed at the pointed gaze he gave her. “It’ll work.” “Yes, it will. We don’t aim for half, Jenn.” Quint stretched 214

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one shoulder and the clock caught his eye. “And are you picking up my bad habits along with my good ones? It’s already after five.” His newfound insight forced him to add one more lesson. “Don’t sacrifice home and family for the job.” “I was headed out. I just hadn’t seen you all day, is all. Or not when you weren’t at light speed.” She stood and straightened her blazer, the hesitancy in her eyes clear. “I…uh, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” She turned and headed for the door. “Jenn?” He summoned every iota of courage. Time for Step Three. “Do you know if Max is home? If he’ll be home tonight?” She turned back around, a light brightening her eyes for a moment. “Yes! Did you want to…?” She looked at him and Quint watched the light die as she read his expression too well. “Quint…oh, God, he made me promise I wouldn’t get involved, but I can’t stand this.” Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and she gripped the doorframe. “I swear I’m not telling you this to get you to do something you don’t feel right about. But…he’ll be home tonight, yes. He’s home every night. He barely eats and he spends every waking hour in the studio with the door locked to anyone but Sully. When he bothers to answer me, he says he’s got a big project for a client, but…” Jenn stopped and swallowed. “Quint, I can tell you’ve come to some sort of a peace about it all, but he hasn’t. I’m frightened for him. I don’t know if coming over is a good idea or not.” 215

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“Leaving him in limbo sure isn’t a good one. And that’s what I did. But you’re right. I found my peace and I need to let him go so he can find his.” The last bit of hope faded from her face as he spoke. “It’ll be better than whatever it is he’s living now.” Cut his losses. His and Max’s. “I don’t disagree with you on that.” She glanced at the floor for a moment, then met his gaze. “But I know my brother. And I’ve never seen him in love before. Nothing even remotely like this. Whatever happens, Quint, you need to know it really was love.” The tightness in his chest he thought he’d left in Mexico returned. “I know. It was never his love I doubted, Jenn. It was his trust.” “I know.” She nodded. “I do know that, Quint. And he knows what he did to you. All he wanted was a chance to make it right.” Jenn sighed and tapped the doorsill. “I won’t tell him you’re coming. But please…let him at least say what he needs to before you say goodbye.” Yes, Max deserved that much of Quint’s time at least. “I will. I love your brother, Jenn. I know that and I know what I’m walking away from. But I’m saving us both a bigger hurt in a year or two, or maybe only six months from now. Right now I have a weekend to try and get past. And I think I can do that. I don’t think I could get past six months.” He settled his hands on his blotter. “Thank you. For everything.” “I’ll still be here tomorrow, Quint. No matter what happens.” She smiled. “Max knows that. In fact, he insisted on it. He knows how much working here means to me, and he 216

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said he didn’t want me to have to choose. He trusts you enough to know you wouldn’t ask that of me, either.” Trust? Not really. Maybe. “He’s right. I won’t. I’m thrilled to have you with me.” Quint tried to center his thoughts. Willpower and practice. He could do this. “Still, thank you. And I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Good night.” She waved and walked out, leaving him sitting there desperately fighting the urge to hope. *

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“Max. Max!” Sully’s broad hand slipped into Max’s sightline. “Okay, put down the pestle and step away from the enamel. The rate you’re going it’ll be atoms by the time you stop. We won’t have to fire it. It’ll just fuse with the copper all by itself.” A long, deep breath let Max’s fingers uncurl from the pestle. “Got a little single-minded.” The easy repetition of grinding the chunk of dry enamel into a fine powder for Sully’s wet-packs had let Max lose himself for a few minutes. “Hey, finer is better, right?” “Only if it stays enamel instead of being reduced to its component elements.” Sully caught the agate mortar bowl and set it on the workbench. “Look, why don’t we just take a couple days and go fishing? Get away from everything. It’ll help you clear your head.” Max’s gaze flew to the cloth-draped mound of his latest creation. Away from everything. “No. I’m good. I need to stay here.” Besides, he’d told Quint he’d wait. He’d never backed 217

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out on a promise yet. “I have a lot of stuff to do.” He pulled up a grin he couldn’t really feel, for Sully’s sake. “Besides, I’m really sucky company right now. Why don’t you take Jenn fishing instead? She doesn’t go all girly when she baits a hook.” Sully’s too-knowing expression said he didn’t believe a word of it. “So you’re gonna keep nursing this broken heart for how long?” “However long it takes.” Right now that looked pretty much like forever. “Seriously, I need to do this. It’s what’s keeping me sane.” Sully’s new expression cast severe doubts on just how sane Max managed to remain. “Okay, mostly sane. Just let it go.” Max settled his hands in his pockets now that he didn’t have grinding paint to keep them busy. “What are you going to do the next time Jenn asks you to go to a company function? You’re her only family here, Max. You can’t expect her to keep…” Sully’s head turned at the sound of a car pulling in to the loading dock area, a bright smile transforming his face. “You’re pathetic.” Max managed a grin with some real feeling behind it. “At least I have the good grace to pull a little romantic angst now and again. You’re so toast.” He slapped his best friend on the shoulder. “Can’t think of anyone who deserves it more.” Sully’s smile went soft. “Thanks. I know it has to be hard for you. I mean, me and Jenn being happy when you’re…not. 218

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But I know you actually mean it. You really are pleased for us. Once in a while I remember how come I like you.” “Just make an honest woman out of her before the year’s out, huh?” Max smiled as his sister came into the studio just in time to blush at his comment. “You’re gonna get all enamel dusted, sis. Jeans and work shirts only in the studio.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Get Sully out of here, would you? He’s driving me nuts.” “I will.” Jenn reached for Sully’s hand, a shaky smile trembling on her lips. “I need to talk to him anyway.” She tugged at the enamellist’s hand. “Come on, honey. I need to tell you something.” She pulled him away. Max left the door half open. Knowing them, they wouldn’t be back for awhile, and it was hot in the studio. He forced himself to put away the enamels and equipment, something he’d always been a little neurotic about in his studio. Lately though, it took an effort to make himself do much of anything except work on the project waiting for him under the drop cloth. The instant the equipment and paints were secure, he returned to the only work he really cared about. He swept the concealing sheet away. “Hello, babe. Time to see if I can’t make you a little more perfect. Get you a little closer to him.” The clay image—sketch pad in hand, silken hair tousled from sleep, face soft with emotion—captured a single moment and held it frozen for Max. “I think we’re almost there.” He trailed fingers over the figure’s cheek, the surface smoothed over sleepless hours until he had a perfect image of Quint. The 219

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best work he’d ever done. Completely lifelike, he almost expected it to answer him. “Another day or two and you’ll be exactly like him. Then I’ll cast you into metal. And you’ll be finished.” He swallowed the obstruction lodged tight in his throat. “And then I don’t know what I’ll do.” Max flexed aching fingers and surveyed the sculpture. “I suppose I’ll have to start a new one. Or do this one over. I don’t know.” His hand caressed dry clay. “Something to fill up the time until Quint comes home.” He sniffed and fingered a spot of moisture on the figure’s arm and then at the source of the flow—his own eyes. He wiped the tears with the back of one hand. “Damn. I swore I wouldn’t cry again tonight.” Max stepped away for a moment, trying to compose himself. If he let himself be truly honest, he really had no reason to believe Quint would show up, trust or not. Hurt like that, combined with a new project that would help so many, a chance to prove—no. Quint had never tried to prove anything to anyone except himself. He didn’t give a damn what the world thought; he just lived his life well and quietly. “But you did try to prove it to me.” Max turned from the workbench and surveyed the sculpture. “You let me in where no one else had ever gone and it wasn’t enough for me when the real world stepped in.” Agony flowed up in his heart and Max let the words pour out to the clay proxy, words he never expected to have the chance to say to the man. “God, Quint, I wish I could take back every word I said. Every angry second of it. Because you didn’t deserve it. You care so much and I couldn’t give you 220

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two minutes to explain. Jenn’s told me about what you’re doing. I wish I could see you. Just long enough to tell you I’m sorry and I’m proud to have ever known a man like you.” Tears choked him and Max sank onto the floor of the studio, one hand tangled up in his hair. “I’m so sorry.” *

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Quint watched, paralyzed as sobs wracked Max’s frame, shaking the strong body. Max’s plea, broken by unhindered weeping, crashed over him. “God, babe, I miss you so much. It hurts so bad and it’s all my own fault. Oh please, God, don’t let him feel this way. Don’t let Quint feel as bad as I do.” Words faded into deeper sobs. It couldn’t be. Of all the things Quint expected to find, this one didn’t figure in his plan at all. Not Max crying, great heartbroken gasps that hurt just to hear. Utter devastation. He knew because he’d seen it once before—four hours after his mother’s funeral, after all the concerned visitors had gone, when the house finally emptied of everyone but Quint and his dad. He’d found his father out in the garden, weeping as hard as Max because the other half of his dad’s soul now rested beneath a wealth of florist’s blossoms in a cemetery. All the willpower and practice of a lifetime couldn’t erase grief like that. It might dull it, give the griever a chance to find something to get through each day… “But it never works on love, son. You can hide, try to run, but it always follows. That’s what they mean about everlasting love. You don’t choose who brings it to you, but you never practice it away.” 221

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Quint’s heart hurt just looking at Max. That depth of grief…the sort of love his dad had for his mom. Everlasting love. The kind most people never found. His dad claimed it gave a man the strength to face anything. He managed the few steps necessary to reach his lover. “Max?” It came out a strangled half-whisper. Bright blue eyes, dulled by tears and reddened by exhaustion, snapped up to meet his. “Quint? Oh, dear God, tell me you’re really here and I’m not completely losing my mind.” The hand reaching up to Quint’s cheek shook like an oak leaf in a hurricane and felt like ice on Quint’s skin. A new sob clenched Max’s eyes shut again. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. You don’t have any reason to believe me, but I have to say it. I am so sorry for all those awful things I said.” Quint stared, shocked. His strong and vital Max had been reduced to this? Tears fell from blue eyes void of their impish sparkle, streaking cheeks gone hollow and wan. “Max.” He folded his hand over the one that trembled where it touched him. “I think your sorrow is pretty obvious.” And heartrending. The depth of it ate at Quint’s resolve, corroding away the belief that Max would heal and move on. “I believe you.” Max’s hand dropped away and so did his gaze. “Thank you. I didn’t want you to go on thinking I really believed you were any of what I said.” Exhaustion rendered Max’s voice breathy. “I hope everything is…is better for you.” Quint had to stop himself mid-flinch. That was it? Max just wanted to apologize? All those tears and grief over an apology? It didn’t make sense. 222

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Well, isn’t that what you wanted? To give him the chance to move on. To give yourself that chance. God, if he’d known that, Quint would have finished the conversation in his office a week ago and not had to go through the agony of seeing Max again. Too soon. Hell, the AIDS fund-raiser at the museum next month would be too damn soon. Willpower and practice. It appeared Jenn wasn’t right after all. Quint steeled himself for the next few sentences that would end it once and for all. “I…I’m doing all right.” A tremor ran through Max’s body. “Good. I’m glad.” Redrimmed eyes lifted to his again. “I mean it. I’m glad. I’ve been worried about you.” Was that fear Quint saw holding Max’s mobile countenance still, those blue eyes huge in the too-thin face? “I hated thinking I made you feel…” One hand waved, jerky and without any grace, trying to convey what Max couldn’t verbalize. Quint focused on the base of whatever large piece Max had started in the middle of the work room, a sizeable expanse of clay Quint just couldn’t bear to look at right now. Later, in a gallery somewhere far less personal. “You’re not the first person to see…the public image.” He left out only to keep from causing Max any more pain. “I’ll…manage.” Eventually. “That’s not really the point.” Max grasped the edge of the worktable and pulled himself up. “What I saw or didn’t see, I should never have said that to you. I love you. And that should be stronger than anything else.” He leaned a hip against the edge of the table and Quint wondered if the workbench were the only thing holding him upright. “I’ve found out too late 223

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that it is. Even if you were like that—and I know you aren’t. But if you were, it wouldn’t matter. That’s something else I found out. I have to believe in you. Whatever you do, good or bad or in between, I have believe in you. And I will.” A rueful smile appeared. “When the magazines report your next acquisition or sell off, I’ll know you had a reason. And that reason isn’t mine to question. I’ll know you did whatever you thought was best.” Quint let that reasoning swirl around his brain as he got to his feet and gazed out the multi-paneled window over the workbench, hands pressed against the worn surface, tiny grains of metal or enamel worrying his palms. “I’m not sure I like the idea that you’d just stand back and be supportive even if I did something completely ruthless and uncaring. That’s not who you are, Max. That’s not the same as understanding what the magazines didn’t say. I don’t…I wouldn’t want you to compromise your ethics like that.” Max nodded. “I’m not. I said I’d know you did what you thought best. That means that if you did do something ruthless, you’d have a damned good reason behind it.” His breath shivered in and out. “It would never be uncaring. Even if you made the decision in a split-second, you had whatever information you needed to make it. And you did what you thought was the right thing. How can I fault you for doing what you think is right, Quint?” “What I think is…wait.” Quint decided his brain either wasn’t tracking properly or Max wasn’t who Quint thought he was. Time to find out which before he allowed his heart the 224

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hope it begged for. “I was talking about a hypothetical. You said you’d stand by someone you cared about even if they did totally ruthless and unethical things, all in the name of love. I don’t think I like that scenario, Max. Love shouldn’t force you to abandon your principles.” Max’s soft laugh sounded painful. “I’m not in love with a hypothetical person, Quint. I’m in love with you. I’m talking about you. And for a change, you’re the one not listening. I said that I realize now that you have damned good reasons for every decision you make. And I said that regardless of what it looks like in the press or even out of your own mouth, I believe in you. I’m not saying I’d never try to talk you out of something if I had the chance. But I’d believe in my heart that you did it because you felt it was what you needed to do. Until you yourself told me differently.” “Well, at least we’re on the same page now.” Quint shifted a bit, his hands irritated by the worktable, but he left his gaze on the building across the street, fuzzy through the old handpoured glass panes. “I…um, Jenn suggested having you and Sully do the sign work for the new plant logo. Something called…plink-a-jour?” “Oh.” It sounded as if a blow had landed in Max’s gut. “It’s plique-à-jour.” Each word shook. “You should talk to Sully. He’s the expert. I just…I just…help. Him. When…” Max’s sentence ended in a sharp breath far too close to a sob. I should have just stayed away and sent a letter. Quint’s stomached curled into a tight knot and he found it hard to draw a breath. “Max, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound 225

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like…” God, they both just needed to walk away and be done with it. But he couldn’t leave with Max sounding about to collapse on the floor again. Quint turned to catch him by the shoulders. “Max, please, don’t…” The rest of the studio came into Quint’s sightline and a gasp completed the tangle of knots in his gut. “What’s…that?” “Don’t worry. It’s like the one of Sully. No one but me will ever see it.” Max’s gaze followed Quint’s to the life-sized statue taking up most of the worktable. “I give you my word, for whatever that’s worth. I made it just for me.” Good Lord. Quint stared at his own face beautifully rendered in smooth clay, even more detailed than the exquisite piece of Sully in the sculptor’s private collection. He halfexpected it to look up at him just like his reflection in the mirror each morning, right down to the same soft blur of stubble over its chin and jaw. Hours upon hours of work. That glorious morning, captured forever. Unlike the drawing Quint had tossed aside in a moment of despair, gone now. “I…” Words failed him, only one able to claw its way over his lips. “Why?” Max smoothed a hand over a clay knee. “I figure it’s all I’ll ever have. One weekend. I couldn’t let it completely fade away to just memory.” The hand dropped away. “I’m sorry it upsets you. But I can’t destroy it. I can only promise I’ll do everything to keep it completely private.” “Max.” Wisdom screamed for Quint to walk away. Just leave it all behind and not get his heart tangled up any more. But he had to know. That same trusting, newly opened heart 226

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just couldn’t leave well enough alone. “You had the photographs. Why…why would you spend all this time…obviously painful time…creating a…” Quint didn’t know what to call such a tribute. “I can’t touch you in photos, Quint. And I can’t really touch you in the statue. But the way you feel is burned into my hands. It’s imprinted there. The only way I can even half function is to know I can at least touch the shape of you.” Max dropped his head. “I needed to do this. I still need to do it. It’s all I have left, Quint.” I never was much for wise decisions. Quint could live without Max. Willpower and practice would eventually allow him to function outside the confines of his office and new studio apartment. But Quint found mere functioning left such a barren space in his soul it burned with unshed tears. Yes, he could live without Max. But Quint didn’t want to. Max’s own jaw felt sleek under several days’ unshaven growth. Quint felt his entire being draw in a cleansing, living breath. “No, Max. It’s not.”

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CHAPTER 13 Electricity arced through Max the instant Quint’s hand touched him. He gasped from the pure force of it, holding tight to the edge of the worktable just to keep his feet under him. A second jolt triggered by Quint’s words nearly sent him tumbling. “Not…” Quint couldn’t mean what Max’s poor heart insisted he did. He had to swallow twice before he could manage another word. “What else is there for me, Quint?” Oh, please, God, say you still want me. Max tried to take the prayer back the second it formed. He couldn’t deal with hope. If he hoped and lost, he’d never survive. “Perhaps this will tell you.” Soft—God! So soft—satin lips brushed over Max’s, long lean fingers threading into his hair. 228

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That glorious body pressed against him, one strong arm wrapping Max’s waist and holding tight. “I love you, Max. I could probably function without you, but I don’t want to. Say you’ll let me back into your life, please.” Tender lips claimed him again. Max’s arms clasped the warm body close. “Quint! Dear God, yes!” He’d never be able to recreate the feel of Quint in his arms, of those lips on his, in any statue of clay or metal. Nor could he capture the love sparkling in Quint’s eyes. Even Sully’s extraordinary talent with enamels wouldn’t be able to match the storm-cloud shades of gray and turquoise swirling there. “I know you can live without me, but I’m not sure I can do it without you.” “Then don’t even try.” Quint held him close, trailing kisses over Max’s brow. “And I said function. I doubt I could ever call it any sort of life.” Quint’s broad hand cupped the side of Max’s face, those sultry eyes searching Max’s. “You…look like hell, love. When’s the last time you ate? Or slept properly?” Max could smile now without feeling like his face might break. “Oh, let’s see… The last time I ate and slept with you.” His fingers dug into Quint’s shirt, holding tight. “I only look like where I’ve been, babe.” “Then I fear you’re going to hate me all over again for this, but I do believe you’re in far too fragile a condition for me to do anything but hover incessantly for at least the next twelve to fourteen hours.” Quint’s bright smile felt like sunshine. “Think you can survive that? When you’ve got your color and 229

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your strength back we’ll discuss…play time.” “So you’re gonna make me chicken soup?” Max held tighter, afraid Quint would fade into nothing but a dream. “Babe, I don’t need you in bed. Well, I do. Badly. But I can deal for a while. I just need to know you’re part of my world. I feel like I could take on the current world wrestling champion and all his minions right about now.” He drank in every line of his lover. His lover. Again. Not lost. His to have and hold and keep as long as he didn’t screw up really bad again. “You’re gorgeous. Absolutely the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” “You haven’t been around as much as I thought.” Quint chuckled and the sound warmed Max clear from his toes. “Actually, I was thinking maybe we’d order Chinese and go eat it while we snuggle in the admittedly empty comfort of my penthouse room. Give it a proper sendoff before I leave it behind.” Several scenarios ran through Max’s mind, at least ninety percent of them terrifying. “Where are you going? Mexico? To oversee the plant?” Max could deal with Mexico. If Quint would let him. He’d figure a way to work without his studio. “I… Can I come wherever it is?” “Mexico?” Quint’s eyes widened. “Well, yes, but that’s for long weekends and the vacation time I never bothered to use before. I bought a…well, Inaxio calls it a villa, but it’s just big enough for the two of us. But no, I’m giving up the penthouse for a studio apartment out of the downtown. I just have to go sign the lease tomorrow afternoon.” “A different apartment?” Max couldn’t sort it out. And 230

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didn’t really care. Quint wasn’t leaving town. Except for those long weekends and…wait. “A villa just big enough for the two of us? We’ll have those vacations together?” A slow smile spread. Quint and Mexico and time for just the two of them. Purest heaven as far as Max was concerned. Though… “Babe? You’re not out. Those magazines might get ideas if you keep running off to a villa in Mexico with me.” “I don’t intend to announce the address at a press conference.” Quint grinned and pressed another kiss to Max’s lips. “We’ll work it out. As far as I’m concerned, my private life is just that—private. But even if we don’t take DFW by storm, I don’t intend to squire any lady but your sister to ‘official’ events. And she’s practically engaged to Sully, from what I’ve seen of her lately, so it’s not a problem.” Quint sighed and leaned his forehead against Max’s. “Let’s just take one wave at a time. Eventually I’ll probably reclaim my family home from the renters. But I like the idea of a space that’s mine, not WolfeCorp’s.” Max pressed closer to Quint, needing to feel as much of his lover as he could. Dearest God, he thought he’d lost this forever. “Move in here. With me.” Okay, that sounds too needy and way too pushy. “I have plenty of space. I can fix you up your own place if you think it’s too much too soon, or if you don’t want to look like you’re living with a guy.” Better. Still needy, but a lot less pushy. And the needy part held honesty. The light in Quint’s gray eyes soothed and sparked at the same time. “I’m not sure Jenn’s ready to share kitchen space 231

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with her brother and her business partner. But I think I’d like being this close. You might not want to deal with the occasional nosy reporter, though. Fortunately, I’m not exactly Brad Pitt or Donald Trump, so it’s just local paparazzi. But they’re still rather relentless.” “They can kiss my very fine ass.” Max slipped a hand between Quint’s waistband and shirt, low on his lover’s back. So warm there, so perfect. “I’ll post this as private property and lock the gate.” What were a few reporters when he could have Quint with him? “Jenn’s likely going to be moving before long. She has Sully. And I hope they’re settled soon.” He brushed his lips over Quint’s jaw, the prickly roughness of after-five stubble delicious. “I love you. I never thought I’d get the chance to hold you and tell you that again.” Another deep laugh, rich as dark chocolate. “You seem to be improving in the color department already. If I can get you to eat something besides me, I might just take you back to my bed and make love to you with all of Dallas at our feet. Just once. Before I become a real member of the human race again.” “I’ll eat anything you want me to. Except brussels sprouts. I can’t stand those. Though if you really want me to, I’ll douse ’em in ketchup and give it a shot.” Max grinned just because it felt so right to tease and joke with Quint. “Seriously, babe. I’m okay. I’m better than that. I’m great. You’re here, you don’t hate me, and we’re together. There’s not a thing wrong with me that holding you hasn’t cured.” “Then let’s go. Your masterpiece here can wait until 232

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tomorrow.” Quint smiled at the statue. “I’m flattered beyond measure, but I’m not sure the museum is going to want one of their best patrons as part of the exhibit.” “I told you, babe. Private. Just for me. Besides, the museum doesn’t have the sort of security they’d need to keep order once people got a look at you like that. There’d be a riot and I’d get a thousand orders for copies.” His smile held all the new joy and relief he felt. “God, you’re good for my ego.” Quint captured Max’s mouth, sending a jolt of electricity down Max’s spine that felt so right. “And my heart. You probably should grab a change of clothes if you’re sleeping over.” Quint grinned and ran his hands down over Max’s ass. “If we actually get around to sleeping.” “Oh, I’ll sleep. Though it may be after you leave for work. I could use the rest. And then I’ll be there when you get home.” Max took Quint’s hand as he led the way to the living area. Quint’s gold brows mingled with that gorgeous fall of hair over one eye when he took in the loft space, one corner of his full mouth quirking. “Okay, this is your apartment. How can you be relegated to the sofa in your own apartment?” Faint heat settled across Max’s cheeks. Hell. Well, it seemed being in love meant you had to confess all your weaknesses. “I couldn’t sleep upstairs. Not once you were gone.” He shrugged. “Truth is, I couldn’t sleep anywhere. No place but the bed smelled like you, but it killed me to smell you and not hold you so…I sort of napped down here 233

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sometimes.” “Oh, Max.” Quint’s warm embrace wrapped Max again. “I’m sorry for all you went through.” “It was my own fault.” Max let Quint’s hold ease away the last lingering pains. “I screwed up bad. I think I deserved everything I got.” He pressed a hungry kiss to Quint’s luscious mouth, the taste better than any food he could think of. “And I don’t deserve you, but I’m damned sure glad you’re here.” “Do you know, for the first three days I was down at the villa trying to clear my head, I couldn’t sketch anything but you? I tried, but somehow everything always ended up with you in it.” Quint tilted his head back and let Max nuzzle warm skin. “It finally took a damn seagull to get me to figure it out. By the way, Carmine’s become rather a permanent fixture down there. I hope you’re not the overly jealous sort.” “I’ll deal.” Max murmured against tender flesh, loving the way it went from prickly stubble to smooth silk. “I can deal with anything now.” He sucked at a particularly soft spot for a long moment. “I didn’t try to get you out of my head. I built monuments to you instead.” “Which only goes to show how very much I don’t deserve you, either.” Quint sighed. “I only wish I hadn’t thrown away the drawing I did that morning. It’s a mass of soggy fibers or shredded bits by now.” “I have to admit, that hurt worse than just about anything. That’s when I realized it was really over and I’d said something completely unforgivable. But it comforted me, too. It proved you did love me for a little while.” Max lifted his 234

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pillow and pulled out a leather notebook. “I suppose I can stand to part with it if you really want it back.” He opened the notebook and pulled the drawing from inside. “The only real bit of you I had left.” “God, Max…” Quint hauled Max close and kissed him hard. “You keep it. I’ll have other opportunities to draw you in ecstasy. Oh, but let me see it for a minute.” Quint pulled a pen from his breast pocket, then took the drawing from Max’s hands and signed it in the corner. “There you go. Just don’t show it to Leo. He’ll want another one for the fund-raiser.” Q. Matthews. “I like the pen name.” So much so Max had to kiss Quint again, long and deep, drinking in all that he’d missed with such desperation. “I think I’ll frame this one now that I don’t need to keep it under my pillow.” Equal fervor responded. “Go get your stuff and let’s go to my place before we end up scarring your sister for life when she finds us naked on the sofa. Frame it later.” Quint’s hands slipped under Max’s work shirt and trailed fire over Max’s stomach. “Please.” Max dropped the notebook and drawing on the couch. “Definitely later. After I give you a whole new reason to draw another. I think a matched pair would look great.” *

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“So do you think you’ve eaten enough that your system will handle what I plan to do to it?” Quint grinned over his pork lo mein. “Or are you going to smirk at my drawings of you all night?” 235

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“Hey, I had no idea how great I was. Are my legs really that long? Damn, I’m hot!” Max’s smirk lit the penthouse. “I’m almost as hot as you are.” “Oh, more so.” Quint set the plate down, a different kind of hunger replacing the need for mere food. Two long strides and he had Max gently pinned back on the sofa, the buttons on that cotton work shirt taking far too long to undo. Quint ran his cheek over that broad chest. “I could use a shower after a long day. Care to join me?” “God, yes.” Max’s voice went husky with want and Quint’s body responded to the sound. Yes, Quint could function and even eventually live without hearing it. And he’d get by without the feel of defined muscles beneath his palms and callused fingers stroking his back. But he didn’t want to. He wanted to live, not just exist. And living meant holding and being held by Max. By the time they got to the shower a trail of clothes lay behind them, each removed with a great deal of kissing and touching until Quint could have left the water on cold and they’d have still raised a steam cloud. Instead he grinned into his lover’s shoulder as Max took in the state-of-the-art body jet shower with its wide roomy glass stall. “Something the matter, my stunned darling?” “This is incredible.” Max’s gaze turned calculating. “Can we sneak it out with you when you move to my place? I’m thinking of about a hundred different things we can do with a shower this big and this…techie.” A wicked little chuckle wound its way up from Quint’s 236

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gut, warm and so very good. “You forget, love. I may not draw a salary, but I’ve been living off very little of my stock dividends for the past twenty-five years. I think we can afford to buy one of our own.” Quint trailed his fingers up muscular thighs to tangle them in soft springy curls snugged against Max’s rigid desire. “But I certainly hope I’m at least as appealing as the anticipation of those jets.” “Oh, you’re the appeal, babe.” Max pressed back into Quint’s embrace, firm ass tight against Quint. He wriggled just a little closer. “Those water jets are just things I can use to make you happy.” “Mm. Well, for right now I just want you. We can get high tech another time.” Quint pushed against Max with his hips. “Come on, beautiful.” It took firm resolution not to take Max before the warm shower cascaded over them, but the feel of wet, slick skin made it worth the effort. Quint skimmed Max’s form with lathered hands, the sharp protuberances of his lover’s ribs shocking. How ill would Max have become if Quint had walked away? His gasp must have been louder than he’d planned. Max turned and slipped warm arms around Quint. “I’m all right, babe. It’s okay. Don’t think about what might have been. Let’s just enjoy what is.” Warmer lips claimed Quint, slow but hungry, savoring. “So you spent all week just drawing?” “Yes, before I managed to work you out of my head.” Something Max apparently had never managed or even attempted. Just like Quint’s father after his mother’s death. 237

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That same sort of enduring, all-encompassing love. Quint felt new warmth surging up that had less to do with Max’s kiss and more to do with what Quint now knew filled the other man’s heart. “You kept slipping into everything I tried to put on paper.” “Yeah, I noticed.” That gloriously bratty grin lit Quint’s heart as well as the shower. “It took a seagull to snap you out of it. I’m not even going to attempt to read a meaning into that.” Max’s hands caressed and then squeezed Quint’s ass. “Though if I were going to try…” “Now, now. No jealousy over Carmine. That gull is my best friend.” Quint closed his eyes, glorying in Max’s touch. His body drank in the feel of the man he wanted with such longing. His hands helped the water sluice their bodies clean. Max’s smiling face filled his gaze when he reopened his eyes. “God, you’re beautiful.” And too tired really for lovemaking in the shower. Quint could see the subtle droop of Max’s lids over those bright blue eyes, so much like the sun drenched ocean outside the villa. Quint pressed a kiss to eager lips. “There’s time to play in the water another day. Let’s finish up and find the bed.” Max’s smile added to the sensation of tropical brightness and peace. “I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than your bed.” Quint draped a huge towel over broad shoulders, loving that warm blue gaze all over again. Max pressed a kiss to his lips. “As long as you’re there with me.” “Always.” Quint smiled as he watched Max relax against his touch, drying the water from that satin skin. Max’s face 238

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tipped up, a long soft sigh gracing perfect lips. Quint couldn’t help but laugh at such an expression of bliss. “I think I could learn to enjoy spoiling you.” “I could learn to enjoy being spoiled.” Hands roughened from years of working with metal caressed Quint’s face. “My place won’t be this luxurious, babe.” “Did I ask for it to be?” Quint backed them toward the bedroom. “I told you, I use very little of this space as my own. And I don’t want something lavish even if we build a new space in the factory. The villa’s tiny but functional, and I don’t spend unless it’s art.” The soft mattress cradled their combined weight and Quint pulled his lover close. “I just want to be with you.” “I’ve wanted that for over three weeks, babe. Nothing else. Just you.” Max’s kiss held a greater hunger than Quint had felt before. He’d intended to keep it soft, let Max soothe into sleep if he needed to, but Quint found he craved his lover just as deeply, needed to feel that incredible passion erase every lonely corner of his soul. “Then take as much as you want or as little as you can handle tonight, my darling.” The hollow of Max’s throat tasted so warm against Quint’s tongue. “I’m not going anywhere ever again. Even a business trip to Tokyo is only physical distance.” Max’s hands roamed over Quint’s shoulders. “I’ll call you every night. Hell, I’ll come with you.” Hard desire pressed against Quint’s thigh. Quint grinned and gave up on gentle, grasping that lovely 239

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offering and stroking heated flesh. “Why don’t you come with me right now?” Profanity poured from his darling’s lips and Max’s hand closed around Quint. “I can do that.” Max’s back arched. “I’ve been fighting doing that since I saw you in my studio.” Max’s fingers smoothed over Quint’s tip, teasing and so right Quint nearly exploded. “Dear God, yes!” Quint managed to gather his last few remaining brain cells enough to reluctantly slip free and pin Max to the mattress. “But I think I’ve changed my mind about letting you take. You like it when I’m in control.” A swift, hard kiss to parted lips. “And the man says he makes a lousy bottom.” “You changed my way of thinking on a lot of things.” Max grinned up. “We can take turns. I find I don’t mind you being on top at all.” Quint stared down at his lover, a marvelous little bubble of mischief building in his heart. “You are tired. I guess I’ll just admit victory and claim my prize.” A swift turn and Max’s shoulders rested under Quint’s feet, a glorious offering rising from dark curls to meet Quint’s mouth. “Wherever shall I start? At the tip and work my way down, or at the base and tease you slowly until you shed tears of a far happier variety?” A shiver ran through Max’s lean body. Then a laugh. “You know, in this position, I could pretty much say the same thing.” Strong fingers kneaded sensitive flesh. “Quint?” The laughter faded. “Love me?” “Always.” Warm salt desire teased Quint’s tongue. “Like 240

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that…babe?” A sharp cry from his lover fueled the fire low in Quint’s belly. Max’s hands grasped the back of Quint’s thighs as his body pressed up to meet Quint’s lips. “I take that as a yes.” Teasing lost its appeal as Quint took his lover fully, heated satin beauty for him alone, a thundering pulse trembling under his caress. Max responded so beautifully to his touch, each stroke of Quint’s mouth drawing a cry or moan of purest appreciation. Tension pulled Max’s body violin-string tight, needing only Quint to release it. Exquisite, both the sound and the bounty before him, but Quint found he needed to see Max’s face. So much, much more than mere intimacy. A love so deep Quint would gladly sink into it the rest of his days. The less-than-soft protest as he moved to settle between Max’s long legs made him smile. “Patience, love. I would never leave you needing. I just want to see you.” Tight heat welcomed his touch, lean hips pressing up to his kiss again. “Watch me, Max. See and feel my love.” “Quint!” Max’s back arched again. Quint had no doubt his darling hovered on the very edge of release. “Babe, please!” “It’s all right, love.” One more long, loving stroke and a gasp sent Max’s love flooding over Quint’s tongue, sharp and salt as sea spray on a cloudless day. Gorgeous muscles trembled in waves of ecstasy. Quint eased up to kiss that broad, heaving chest. “I love you, Max.” A broad, strong hand reached between them, grasping Quint tight. It tugged and stroked in time with Max’s gulping 241

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breaths. “I know. I never doubted that.” Max panted, his sentences broken as his heart thundered from the aftermath of Quint’s lovemaking. “And I never, ever, stopped loving you. Not for one instant.” Words failed and Quint simply leaned his head against Max’s shoulder, letting his lover’s touch take him to the completion of their love, feeling his own tears of joy on that precious form. Kisses warmed his cheeks and hair, soft murmurs of affection brushed over his soul as they settled closer, wrapped in afterglow. The dogwood mobile stirred, drifting on a barely felt draft. Quint smoothed Max’s hair as his exhausted lover drifted into sleep, secure in Quint’s arms. The aching emptiness where his family had been didn’t seem a yawning chasm any more. Max filled so much of it. Quint watched the mobile dip and wave. So much found, just because he hadn’t trusted Jenn Bowman to vote her proxy with any intelligence. He grinned. “I suppose Aunt Elaine had the right idea about those shares after all.”

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T. D. M CKINNEY & TERRY WYLIS

T. D. McKinney was probably born with eclectic tastes. Growing up on the American Gulf Coast, she gained a great appreciation for all things Southern and a fascination with what the community around her termed the “War of Northern Aggression.” Frequent trips to New Orleans to visit relatives instilled an early love for that city and for the Cajun culture; one of her earliest memories is viewing Mardi Gras parades when she was three years old. She freely admits that at the tender age of six she fell in love with both Barnabus Collins of Dark Shadows’ fame and Jonny Quest’s scientist-father, Benton Quest. Sherlock Holmes followed soon after as one of the great abiding interests of her life. These early influences doubtless explain a great deal about the author and her writings. There is very little she doesn’t find interesting, whether it’s art, music, history, vampires, web design, or forensic science. Everything is there to be explored, investigated, and attempted at least once. This trait often carries over into her writing. She loves exploring characters that are not afraid to take a risk or step outside the constraints of society or family. And if the character doesn’t want to take that chance, she likes creating situations that require they do so.

Her two freshman offerings from Amber Quill Press perfectly express her eclectic nature. Dancing In The Dark is a dark romantic fantasy combining her love and life-long study of vampires with the hard reality of criminal profiling. My Secret Yankee (co-authored with Aimee Masion) is an American Civil War historical romance set in Union-occupied New Orleans that explores cultural and class differences and what happens when people from different worlds collide. T. D. lives in the Dallas-Fort Worth area of north Texas with her husband and young daughter. Artist, author, career woman, web designer, mother, and wife, she manages to keep busy. In her spare time, she shares her husband’s interest in collecting swords, vampires, the internet, science fiction, and all things Japanese. You can email T. D. at [email protected] or visit her website at www.tdmckinney.com. Terry Wylis is the pen name for a Rocky Mountain mom who’d just as soon not have to explain this genre to her kids. Still, you can email her at [email protected]. Catch us on Facebook! We’re listed as “Terry Wylis & T. D. McKinney.”

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