That woman wasn’t Creed’s auburn-haired date, despite her impressive peacemaking performance.
A tap on his shoulder brought their dance to a halt and he turned to find Maya Blackstone apologizing for the interruption. Maya was the daughter of Nash Fortune’s third and current wife, Patricia, with striking looks that affirmed her Native American heritage. From what he’d gathered while living at the Fortune estate, Maya was a close friend of Skylar’s but maintained a cool distance from the rest of her step-siblings.
Maya turned a worried face to Sky. “Have you seen my mother? I’ve looked everywhere and can’t find her. She was so quiet earlier—I’m worried she may be ill.”
“She wasn’t feeling well,” Sky confirmed. “A headache, I think. She said she was going home before it got any worse, but she didn’t want anyone to fuss.”
“But that’s so unlike her,” Maya fussed regardless. “You know she hates missing any part of a family celebration.”
“Well, at least she missed Creed and Blake’s latest altercation. That wouldn’t have helped her headache any!”
“Oh, please, tell me you’re joking.”
“Problem?”
They all turned at Zack’s intrusion, and Max lost interest in Maya and Sky’s exchange about the warring half-brothers when he saw Diana at his friend’s side. Her hand remained in Zack’s, as if they’d paused in dancing to join the little huddle at the edge of the dance-floor.
That niggled at him a cursed sight more than all the dances she’d shared with her date.
Max had observed her interaction with that smooth customer all evening without detecting any spark of heat. The bloke was attentive as a lapdog and they seemed comfortable together. Obviously they were friends but he’d bet London to a brick they weren’t lovers.
His New Zealand buddy, however, had to be watched. Zack pulled women with a scary lack of effort—that’s what he’d wanted to warn Sky about. Perhaps he should have warned Zack to keep his hands off both his cousin and Diana!
A third man joined their group and Maya introduced him as her boyfriend Brad McKenzie, before filling him in on Patricia’s whereabouts. Apparently he’d been helping Maya in her search and now he took her hand and towed her onto the dance-floor. During the round of introductions and explanations, Zack had struck up a conversation with Sky and they, too, took to the floor.
Zack didn’t miss the chance to wink and mouth every man for himself as he departed.
Max reminded himself that Sky was capable of holding her own in any company. She also had a father and three big brothers to watch out for her. Besides, he’d been left alone with Diana and that realization brought an edgy satisfaction that overrode everything else.
All evening she’d managed to evade his company. Not that he blamed her. He’d had just enough champagne to admit that he could have handled their last encounter with more finesse. He hoped he’d had enough champagne to manage an apology.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked with cool politeness, still avoiding eye contact.
“It’s been…interesting.”
“In what way?”
“Keeping up with all the crosscurrents has been an exercise,” he admitted. “I can understand Patricia’s headache.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Fortune parties are never dull.”
“This one hasn’t been,” he said softly. “And that smile of yours just made it even brighter.”
He heard the little hitch in her breath, saw the flutter of pulse in her throat, and finally her gaze swung up to connect with his. In that instant there was no pretense, no anger, just the intense familiarity of this woman, of that look in her eyes, of how she’d fit in his arms, in his bed, in his life.
All the years they’d spent apart fell away like a tumbling house of cards. Whether it was the moment, the setting, the champagne, it didn’t matter. He knew that he still wanted her and chance had delivered the perfect opportunity to have her in his arms again.
When he took her hand, the kick of contact resonated through his body and hummed in his blood. He felt the slight tremble in her fingertips a split second before she tried to pull away, but he fastened his grip and tugged her nearer.
Her eyes widened in surprise and she puffed out a gasp of indignation. “What do you think you are doing?”
“Resuming the dance Maya interrupted,” he said, pulling her resistive body into the traditional waltz hold. “Since your partner abandoned you, looks like you’re stuck with me.”
Three
Finding herself so unexpectedly alone with Max—with a Max who traded quips and flattering charm rather than backhanded swipes about her marriage—had thrown Diana for a loop before he took her hand and set her fingertips alive with sensation. It took two seconds of that skin-to-skin contact to admit that she’d never responded so instantly and intensely to any other man.
Not before Max, not since Max.
She was still off balance and struggling for composure when he attempted to lead her into the waltz steps that matched an old orchestral standard. His hand on her back seared through the filmy fabric to imprint the skin beneath. Hormones that had perked to life with the first glimpse of his smile now soared to their own melody. Yet her feet dragged, heavy with I-can’t-do-this-all-over-again fear and reluctance.
Around them other couples took evasive action, and her obvious resistance was drawing curious glances. To stand her ground and demand he let her go would only bring more attention to herself, something she’d loathed since childhood. With a stage diva mother and Broadway director father, she and her sisters had been expected to not only share their parents’ limelight but to revel in it.
Somehow Diana had missed out on those particular genes.
One of the reasons she’d fallen in love with photography was because it placed her on the other side of the spotlight; one of the talents she brought to her craft was her understanding of stage fright. She worked hard to devise settings that put her subjects at ease, and she helped them by using the same disassociation and relaxation techniques that had pulled her through an unhappy adolescence and even unhappier marriage.
Now seemed a perfect time to apply those skills.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the music, letting the rhythm flow through her limbs and into the dance steps. After several minutes and a complete circle of the spacious ballroom floor, she had almost blocked out her partner. And then he spoke.
“Not so hard, is it, once you relax and go with the flow.”
“I started lessons when I was three.” Following a strong male lead had never been an issue for her. Allowing herself to be pushed and pulled had been her strong—or weak—suit. “Dancing isn’t the problem.”
Max had always been sharp; she didn’t need to state out loud that he was the problem. His mouth kicked into a rueful half-smile. “I guess I deserved that.”
“For railroading me into dancing with you? Yes.”
“If I’d gone the formal route and asked you for the pleasure of this dance, would you have accepted?”
“No.”
“It’s only a dance,” he pointed out.
“Is it?”
He regarded her silently for a moment. “What do you think it is, Diana?”
Not Mrs. Young. In fact he