Lovers at Heart

by Melissa Foster

  “Max! You okay?”

  The security guard's voice wrenched her back to the chaos. She tore her eyes from Treat and whomever the woman was that he was holding as if she meant everything in the world to him, and she blinked away the unexpected tears that threatened her steely reserve.

  “Clear a path or you’ll be removed from the premises for the rest of the festival.” Even she could hear the difference in her voice, the weakness. Damn it. Her eyes darted back to Treat, who was staring at her with an incredulous look on his face. Suddenly painfully aware of her jeans and T-shirt, the ponytail in her hair, and—oh God—how she must look like a crazy woman standing on top of the car, she clambered down to the ground as the crowd surprisingly obeyed her orders and began to dissipate. Threats of eviction usually worked.

  She turned off the intercom and fumbled for her keys. Treat was heading her way. She wouldn’t be caught dead speaking to him after the way he’d blown her off six months earlier. The woman he was with now was stunning, and obviously well connected, and it was abundantly clear by the way Treat looked at her that she was exactly what he wanted.

  “Max,” he called.

  His smooth, deep voice was enough to send her heart aflutter. She cursed under her breath as she started the car and navigated around the crowd. She glanced in her rearview mirror, grasping the steering wheel with trembling hands. Damn him for having this effect on her. Treat stood alone in his dark suit, watching Max’s car, while his beautiful companion looked on with a confused expression on her face.

  Chapter Three

  “WHAT THE HECK was that all about?” Savannah asked.

  Treat couldn’t believe his eyes. Max. After all these months, he’d thought he had squelched the need she stirred within him, but seeing her standing on that car like she could command the world—all wrapped up in an adorable five-foot-five, one-hundred-ten-pound frame of brown-haired beauty—all those urges came rushing back. Treat saw right through those jeans and that T-shirt. He’d seen the sexy woman beneath, the one she tried so hard to ignore.

  Damn it. How could he have been so stupid? And now Savannah was looking at him like he’d lost his mind, and he wasn’t so sure he hadn’t.

  “Nothing. I thought she was someone I knew.” What the hell was Max doing at the festival—standing on top of a car? Of course Max was there, he realized. The other groom in his cousin Blake’s double wedding had been Max’s boss, Chaz Crew. Chaz owned the festival. One phone call six months earlier would have told him everything he’d ever wanted to know about Max, but he hadn’t made that call. His only goal had been to forget her—and now Treat wanted to know more.

  “That was more than nothing, bro.” Savannah flashed a sly smile. “Let me tell Connor I’ll catch up with him, and we’ll go grab some coffee and chat.”

  Treat couldn’t put anything in his stomach if he wanted to. It took every bit of his focus not to run after Max’s car, or ask the security guard where he could find her. He didn’t want to make a scene, and it was obvious that she didn’t want to talk to him. He was frozen, locked into place between what he wanted to do and how quickly Max had fled. The thundering of his heart was too strong to ignore, and now, with the hope of forgetting her gone, he accepted what he had feared all along—the thundering was his heart's way of telling him not to let her go.

  TREAT BRADEN. Oh God, Treat Braden. Max drove as fast as she could into the underground garage that was reserved for the festival’s staff. She slammed her car door shut and paced the concrete floor. What is he doing here? Is he doing this just to torture me? Is this some sort of game to him? She thought she had hated him enough after the way he’d treated her that she’d become immune to even the sight of him. But the way her heart melted with one look from his piercing dark eyes convinced her she was wrong. Boy, was she wrong.

  Get a grip.

  A voice came through her earpiece. “Max, I need you by Marquee One.”

  Damn it, Chaz. Now? “Be right there,” she said into the earpiece. There were thousands of people milling about. What were the chances she’d run into Treat again? Not much, she decided. She felt a pang of disappointment, then chided herself for it.

  Max hurried to Marquee One and flipped through her planner to make sure there were no issues with it that she hadn’t taken care of. She found Chaz staring up at the large sign.

  “Max, come here.” Chaz motioned her over with a flash of his pearly whites. His hair had lightened from the sun during the summer, and he still carried a copper tan, giving him the look of a twenty-something surfer rather than the thirtysomething director and owner of the festival. “Look at that. What do you think?”

  She squinted at the sign, having no idea what she was supposed to be seeing. Maybe she just couldn’t focus because her heart had yet to settle down. “What?”

  “That there.” He pointed again.

  “Chaz, sorry, but you’ve lost me.” She pushed her earpiece to her head and answered another request. “Yeah, no problem, Grace. Sure.”

  “I think we can have Joey maneuver something right along that wall, in that divot of the sign, to create another major sponsor location. I looked at both sides, and they match. What do you think?”

  Leave it to Chaz to find more opportunities for sponsorships in the middle of the festival, when Max would give anything to hide beneath a rock. There he stood, smiling and pleased with himself at the chance to sell more sign space and bring more funding to the festival. Max could easily be annoyed with him for his bad timing, but she had no siblings and he’d become the brother she’d always wished she had. After so many years of working together, they bickered like she imagined siblings would and cared just as deeply about each other. Chaz’s wife, Kaylie, had become one of Max’s closest friends.

  “I think you’re a pain for calling me out here for something like this.” She smiled, and he crossed his arms, trying his damnedest to look angry. “You know I’m right. Why are you even looking at this stuff right now?”

  The screening was letting out, and people streamed out of the theater entrance. Max and Chaz stepped to the side, listening to the patrons as they talked among themselves.

  “Incredible,” an older woman said.

  “Loved the dramatic flair of that one character. Winston?” said another.

  “Oh, I hated him. Too full of himself,” a short, stocky woman said with a wave of her hand.

  “Hot, though. And talk about commanding an audience! That Connor Dean is amazing.”

  They could have just as easily been talking about Treat. Just the thought of him made her mind ache. Why was she torturing herself like this? She should just disappear into the office and stay there until there was a real emergency.

  “Hey, Max, look!” Chaz waved. “Treat? Over here. Hey, buddy. How are you?”

  Max turned her back, frantically running excuses through her mind. Sick? Need to go help the crew. Lighting, yeah, that could work. She turned with the excuse ready on her tongue.

  Treat’s eyes locked on hers.

  Max’s mouth went dry.

  “Chaz, Max, how are you?” Treat asked in that wanton voice that made her legs turn to wet noodles.

  Please go away. Please go away.

  She couldn’t focus on what Chaz was saying. All she could do was stare at the woman who had her hand on Treat’s shoulder. God, she’s pretty. Max hated her already. Oh no. She was reaching her hand out toward Max.

  “I’m Savannah,” she said.

  Savannah. What kind of name is that? She must be a model or something. Without thinking, Max looked down at her own attire and cringed.

  When Max didn’t acknowledge her, Chaz stepped in. “Chaz Crew, nice to meet you. This is Max Armstrong.”

  She gave Savannah’s hand a quick shake and tried her best to flash a feigned smile, then buried her nose in her planner before the woman—or Treat—could strike up a conversation.

  “Max.” Treat moved to her side while Chaz talked to Savannah. “How have y
ou been?”

  So much for looking busy. Max kept her eyes trained on her planner. “Fine. Why are you here?” What is wrong with me?

  “Max, I’ve been wanting to say something to you.”

  Go away.

  “I’m sorry for what happened in Nassau.”

  Why do you have to sound so sincere? Why was he being so nice? She wanted to hate him, to run away and never look back, and here he was, standing next to his ridiculously gorgeous model girlfriend, apologizing for being the ass that he was.

  Max held on to her resolve by a thin thread. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She lifted her gaze and saw the hurt in his eyes.

  “I…you…I’m sorry,” Treat said.

  In his expensive dark suit and finely pressed white shirt, just as he’d been wearing almost every time she’d seen him in Nassau, he brought memories tumbling back. She nodded, unable to speak.

  “Come on, Treat. Let’s get some coffee and catch up. Then we’ll go see Dad,” Savannah urged.

  Treat held Max’s gaze a beat too long. She felt her cheeks flush with desire. She wished she could tell him it was okay—even though it wasn’t—and take his gorgeous, chiseled face into her hands and kiss those luscious lips of his. God, how she wanted to taste his tongue in her mouth, feel it—

  “Treat?” Savannah’s eyes darted between Treat and Max.

  “Right. Um, Max, may I call you?”

  How can he ask me that with her standing right there?

  “Dad’s waiting,” Savannah said in a singsong voice.

  Dad? “Dad?” The word slipped from Max’s lips before she had a chance to think.

  “I’m here to see my father. Savannah hijacked me on the way to his ranch.”

  There it was again. The way he looked at Savannah with adoration. I’m an idiot. Just take your girlfriend and go away, please.

  “Nothing like being hijacked by a beautiful woman,” Max said in a snarky tone.

  Treat’s hearty laughter wrapped itself around her heart and squeezed. Now you’re making fun of me?

  “She’s beautiful, yes, but she’s also my little sister.” Treat smiled at Savannah, who crinkled her nose at him in a cute, sisterly way.

  “Yeah, he’s so not my type.” Savannah laughed. “Hey, Max, why don’t you join us for coffee?”

  “Um...” I’d rather be shot in the head. Sister? Suddenly Max remembered that only Treat and one of his brothers had been able to make it to the wedding. Now she really felt stupid. “I have to be available on-site to field any problems, and I have so much to do—” Like burying my head in the dirt.

  “Go, Max. You deserve the break. She works like a monster sunup till sundown. Max, just keep your earpiece on in case there’s a real emergency,” Chaz said. “Sorry, guys, but I’ve gotta run. Max, don’t forget to ask Joey about that sign when you have a chance.”

  She watched Chaz walk away and was quick to bring up the list of excuses she’d already run through in her mind. “I actually have some lighting issues that I need to attend to.”

  Savannah smiled. “Are you sure? We don’t mind.” She arched a brow in her brother’s direction.

  “Max, I would be honored if you’d join us.”

  Every bit of her body—especially those naughty areas that she was trying so hard to ignore—screamed, Yes! Yes! Go! But Max had no desire to get hurt again. “I’m sorry, but I really can’t.” Breathe, I can’t breathe. There’s no way I can sit with you and pretend to sip coffee.

  Treat took her hand and brought it to his lips. She closed her eyes as his sensuous lips warmed her skin.

  “May I call you?” Treat asked again.

  Still lost in that single kiss, fantasizing about what she’d like him to kiss next, Max had to shake her head to pull herself back to the conversation. She tapped her earpiece, hoping she could pass her momentary digression off as a technical issue. She was acting like those brainless bimbos she hated. Why does he have that effect on me? Max couldn’t believe he was laying it on so thick in front of his sister, but maybe Savannah was used to seeing this side of Treat. He probably treated all single women this way. Why then was she tearing out a piece of paper from her planner and writing her cell phone number on it? And why was she staring at his ass as he walked away? Oh God, I’m in so much trouble.

  Chapter Four

  HAL BRADEN’S crowded driveway told Treat everything he needed to know. He stepped from the SUV as Savannah caught up to him. Savannah had peppered him with enough questions when they’d had coffee. He’d tried to downplay his feelings about Max and said she’d worked with Scarlet to help organize Blake’s wedding. He thought he’d seen a bit of disbelief in Savannah’s eyes, but if she didn’t trust his answers, she never let on. The last thing he needed was more questions—especially in front of his siblings.

  “This was supposed to be a relaxing getaway, not a party,” Treat said as Savannah looped her arm around his.

  “It’s not a party. Everyone’s schedule was clear, so we thought…”

  Treat sighed at the thought of a busy weekend, but he was glad his brothers would be there. It would be good to see his family all in one place again. They each had built successful careers that had made them very wealthy—but kept them too busy for regular get-togethers.

  The smell of home wrapped itself around Treat like a warm embrace: fresh-cut wood, steak on the grill, and too much testosterone for one household filled the entry foyer.

  “There’s my boy.” Hal stood from his favorite leather recliner and hugged Treat. The two men stood eye to eye. Hal’s lush black hair was now layered with thick patches of gray around his temples.

  “Dad.”

  “Son. It’s good to see you.” His father gave him a pat on the back as he moved to hug Savannah. “Sweetie, did you have a nice afternoon with your big brother?”

  “Yeah. I always do.”

  The way Savannah’s eyes lit up when they walked out to the backyard to greet their brothers told Treat of her adoration for each of them. He hoped that never changed, but had Savannah known how he’d treated Max at the resort, that adoration would have withered away quickly. The thought shamed him.

  Rex was the third-eldest brother in the family and the first to reach him when he arrived. He hesitated for just a second before saying, “Treat, glad to have you back, man.” Rex worked on the ranch with his father, and his muscular physique was proof of the hard physical labor he endured. Like their brother Dane, who spent his days trying to save the lives of sharks, Rex sported a year-round tan.

  “How’s he holding up?” Treat lifted his eyes to his father. His father was sixty-five years old and still strong as an ox, but that didn’t keep Treat from worrying about him. He worried about them all, but since his mother died when he was eleven—an age when every kid believes their parents will live forever—he counted every day with his father as a blessing.

  “He’s good.” Rex put his arm around Treat and walked him away from Dane, who was hovering close by. “You okay?” Treat was close to all of his siblings, but each relationship was different. Rex was three years Treat’s junior, and as such, the competitiveness Treat felt with Dane, who was just a year and a half younger, had never been present in his relationship with Rex. Although he and Rex often confided in each other when it came to personal matters, Rex carried a chip on his shoulder about the family business.

  “Yeah. I needed a break. Got a little burnt out.” Treat watched Rex narrow his eyes. He knew his brother wasn’t buying his excuse, but he wasn’t ready to expose his feelings for Max just yet.

  “Yeah? You sure?”

  Treat nodded. “Of course. I’m fine. Really.”

  “Can we have him back now, Rex?” Dane asked with a grin.

  Rex feigned a punch to Dane’s gut as he walked past.

  Dane embraced Treat. He was three inches shorter than Treat and every bit as dark and handsome, the only difference being Dane’s brown eyes always seemed to be dancing with opt
imism, while Treat’s often appeared more serious, contemplative. “You should have seen the girl I banged last night,” Dane whispered.

  Treat laughed at their running joke. In reality, Dane was more likely to be chasing big fish than bedding women. “I already had her mother,” Treat joked, but this time, the joke tasted wrong as it rolled off his tongue. He looked at his father. His dark eyes had harbored the pain of missing his wife for more years than Treat could count, and he once again felt the newfound draw of wanting to experience the love his parents had shared—the draw that he’d begun to recognize when he’d met Max.

  Dane pulled away, laughing. “You always were the king.”

  Treat went to the stone barbeque pit, where Josh was tending to steaks and baked potatoes, and put an arm around his brother’s shoulder.

  “And how’s my famous dress-designing brother?” Josh was the leanest, least aggressive of the Braden crew. With a love of fashion since the day he could pick out his own clothes, Josh was a designer to the stars and owned several high-end fashion boutiques.

  “Hey.” Josh smiled. “I do more than dresses.” Because Josh had a sweet demeanor and had always been tight-lipped about his female conquests, Treat and his brothers had spent many nights of their youth pestering him to kiss and tell. He’d held strong then, even about the heart-quaking crush he’d had on Riley Banks—the one that everyone else knew about but Josh thought he had hidden. No matter how much his brothers prodded him for details, Josh continued to keep his private life just that—private.