“You think I have an agenda?”
“I think you have a nerve, expecting me to take pleasure in your company.”
“Would an apology help?”
“For the other morning? Oh, I think it would take a lot more than ‘sorry’ to make up for that outlandish allegation!”
Diana had set out for the late afternoon wedding determined on three fronts. To enjoy herself, no matter how many bad memories the ceremony evoked. To ignore Max, no matter how fine he looked in a formal suit. And if the second failed, to not get involved in another altercation.
So much for good intentions.
She’d been so focused on blocking out the impact of his touch, his scent, his sexy drawl—and that damn lopsided smile!—that she’d allowed herself to be sucked into this dialogue with less resistance than she’d given his request for a dance.
Now she waltzed on with her heart in her throat, dreading an offhand and meaningless apology as much as she feared further harsh words. But he didn’t reply for a long while, during which he turned her expertly to avoid another couple—Zack and Skylar, she noticed, absorbed in their own conversation—and in the process he managed to shift his grip and ease her closer into the protective shield of his body.
For a moment she forgot herself and her resistance in the smooth slide of his jacket beneath her fingers and the memory of his smooth, hot skin beneath. Then he spoke, so close to her ear that the deep timbre of his voice took on a life of its own in her blood. Battling her way back from those sensory depths, it took a little while for the ambiguity of his response to register.
I’ll keep that in mind.
That’s what he’d said. But what did he mean? That an apology wouldn’t be worth the effort…or that he’d need to put in more effort?
Diana wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer, yet not knowing left her feeling off-kilter and dissatisfied, like when a movie ended too suddenly without tying up all the threads. For a while she fostered that resentment of a story left unfinished. Would it have hurt him to explain himself and his changed attitude? Would it have been too much for him to attempt an apology?
Honestly? Yes. She knew him well enough to answer her own questions. Max Fortune had never been one for fake sentiments or for long-winded explanations. He made decisions, he acted, and those actions did the speaking for him.
Perhaps he didn’t have an agenda.
Perhaps, because of their errant partners, he’d simply found himself in a situation where he felt he should ask her to dance. Except asking would have resulted in a rebuff so he’d acted….
“It’s only a dance,” she murmured, repeating his earlier words to close the conversation in her own mind.
But he’d heard, apparently, because he leaned back a little, enough that he could look down into her face. “I’ve changed my mind about that,” he said. “It’s not only a dance. It’s our first dance.”
“Is it?” she asked, as if she hadn’t known, as if that hadn’t registered the instant he’d swung her into his arms.
“Yeah.” The same crooked smile as earlier touched his lips, but there was a dark gravity in his expression that caused her heartbeat to slow and deepen. “Seems we never got around to actual dates. Maybe that’s something else I need to apologize for.”
“That’s not necessary,” she told him.
Dating hadn’t been necessary, either, she thought with a bittersweet jab of memory. She’d fallen straight into his bed the night they’d met. Sure, they’d gone out for plenty of meals but those had always ended in a giddy rush home when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other any longer.
It was only after her return to New York, when she’d waited anxiously for a call that never came, that she’d taken an unblinkered look at her status in his life. No visits to meet his family. No double dates with his friends. Dancing with Zack earlier, she’d been stunned to learn that he and Max had been friends since university. As entrepreneurial partners they’d started up a range of ventures from the time they graduated, and yet she’d never met Zack and he knew nothing of her.
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