Maxwell looked at her for a long moment, seeing hurt, outrage and genuine concern brimming in her amber eyes.
“Are you hungry?” he asked in that same alluring tone, as if he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. “I’m starved, and I know a wonderful restaurant where we can relax and talk.”
She opened her mouth to toss out a sarcastic retort, but when she saw the gentle look in his eyes, she changed her mind. “Sounds perfect.”
They rode for more than a half hour in silence. The only sounds were the soft notes of music coming from the incredible stereo system of Maxwell’s black-on-black Corvette—his West Coast mode of transport.
He drove with a single-mindedness, intense—just as he appeared in every area of his life. A sudden, hot flush flooded Reese when she contemplated the thought of what he would be like as a lover. Would he be just as focused and controlled—just as relentless, consuming everything around him and giving little in return? Or was that the one aspect of the inscrutable Maxwell Knight that became unleashed?
She was so involved in her erotic meanderings that she didn’t realize they’d stopped until Maxwell was at her side with the door open.
He leaned slightly forward and extended his hand. “We’re here.”
She looked up at him and her breath stuck in her throat when she saw the undeniable look of hunger dance in his exotic eyes. Almost as if afraid of being burned, she cautiously placed her hand in his.
The restaurant he’d selected was a half mile from the beach. From the vantage point of their table by the window, Reese could see the shoreline being stroked by the gentle lapping of the waves. Just off the horizon, the setting sun cast a brilliant orange glow across the shimmering water.
For several moments, Reese stared at the tranquil scene absorbing its beauty, allowing the moment to fill her with an inner peace.
While in profile, Maxwell seized the moment to enjoy watching Reese, unobserved, and felt the steady stirring within him. As much as he tried to deny it, Reese Delaware was getting under his skin and damnit, he wanted to keep her there. She embodied all of the qualities he’d want in his woman: brains, wit, confidence, honesty, beauty, and sexy as all hell. But he’d been burned before and wasn’t sure if he could handle it again. What if he opened up to her, really opened up, and she spilled his deepest thoughts and dreams onto paper. His father had nearly been destroyed by a news-hungry journalist, and then they came after him when Victoria turned on him. It had taken months and a crack public-relations firm to cool the heels of the reporters.
He sighed in silence. He didn’t get to where he was by not taking risks. And there was no question that Reese posed risks he probably could never conceive of.
As if aware of his close scrutiny, Reese turned her gaze in his direction and without preamble asked, “What are you thinking about, Max, right this minute?” She leaned forward as if his answer held the wisdom of the universe. Her eyes were transfixed on his face.
“I was wondering if I should take a chance—Reese.” He, too, leaned closer until only the small glass centerpiece that held a scented candle separated them. He looked at her over the flickering flame. “I have every reason to be wary of you. My gut instinct tells me that I should give you the bare minimum and send you on your way.”
“But,” she whispered.
His chuckle was soft, deprecating. “But—” he smiled “—what I’m beginning to feel about you is telling me otherwise.”
Reese grinned seductively. “Are you saying that you’re having feelings for me Mr. Knight?” She ran her pearl-polished nail across his knuckle.
Maxwell laughed outright, shaking his head while he enclosed her hand in his. “Reese, any man would be a fool not to fall all over himself trying to find out what makes you tick.” His voice descended another octave, and he stared into her questioning gaze. “And I don’t consider myself to be anybody’s fool.”
Reese continued to look at him even as she raised his hand and brushed her moist lips across his knuckles. “Why don’t we start from here, today,” she said in her throaty voice, “to get to know each other and save the interviewing for the office.” Her eyes were the wind racing across his face. “There are so many things I want to know about you—and believe me, they have nothing to do with my job.” She grinned wickedly.
Maxwell’s smile matched hers. “Things like what?” he challenged.
Reese opened her mouth to respond, when a shadow and the scent of Chanel No. 5 floated across their table. They both looked up simultaneously. Reese was instantly alert to the mixture of shock, anger, and something she couldn’t place on Maxwell’s face.
“Victoria,” he said, his voice laden with memories.
The striking woman moved closer, her startling green eyes zeroing in on Maxwell. She reached for him, her long, slender hand the color of suntanned porcelain, clasped his, the one that had moments ago held Reese’s.
“It’s so good to see you again, Max.” Her voice was light, almost musical in its quality, Reese noted with annoyance. Who was this woman and why in the devil did she have to show up now?
Victoria bent, daintily at the knee until she was eye-level with Maxwell. “How long will you be in town?”
He ignored her question, knowing that he’d answered it when they’d spoken on the phone. He eased his hand from her grasp and indicated Reese.
“Reese Delaware, this is Victoria Davenport.” Reese spotted the telltale tightening of his jaw.
Slowly Victoria rose and Reese had the unsettling sensation that she knew this woman with the silky strawberry blond hair and green eyes. A dull pounding began in her temple. She winced.
Victoria summoned all of her self-control to quell the rage that bubbled to the surface like hot lava. So this was her. In the flesh. Her half sister. She swallowed her pride, and recalled her promise to her mother on her deathbed. Her smile never reached her uncanny eyes. “Nice to meet you. How did you two meet?” she asked in a sugar-based voice.
Maxwell leaned back in his seat. “Ms. Delaware is a journalist from Visions Magazine.”
“Oh, yes,” she said brightly. “I believe you did mention that on the phone.”
Inwardly Reese cringed. So they’d spoken on the phone—recently. “Where are you from?” Reese queried, in her get-on-the-good-side interviewer’s voice. “That’s definitely not a California accent I hear.” Her smile was full of encouragement, laced with venom.
Victoria tossed her mid-back-length hair over her shoulder with a toss of her head—an affectation that Maxwell, at one time, thought was sexy. Now it annoyed him.
Victoria’s smile was slow in coming. “Norfolk, Virginia. And you?”
“I grew up in Arlington, Virginia,” Reese said slowly, as though searching for her thoughts.
Victoria felt a tightness in her chest. Her heart began to race. They’d practically been neighbors—all those years, she thought, the blood boiling in her veins with a surge of jealousy. “What a small world.” She forced a smile.
Maxwell watched the exchange with growing interest. The two women were like night and day in personality and in looks. Reese with her dark beauty and Victoria with her lighter than air looks. How curious, he mused, that he had been, and now was, attracted to such opposites.
“Well,” Victoria said on a long breath. “I must be going. I have some business clients waiting for me. Nice meeting you, Reese.” She turned her attention toward Maxwell. “And I hope we can…get together before you head off to Tokyo.”
“I don’t see where I’ll have time.” He hesitated. “But maybe I’ll give you a call.”
She