Lovers at Heart, Reimagined

by Melissa Foster

  Savannah was looking at him like he’d lost his mind, and he wasn’t so sure he hadn’t.

  “Nothing,” he finally answered. How could he have been so stupid to have looked at Max so callously that morning at the resort? He’d been a jerk, regardless of how he’d been burned before. He clearly wasn’t over her, and something told him he might never be.

  “That was more than nothing, bro.” Savannah flashed a sly smile. “Let me tell Connor I’ll catch up with him later, 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 willpower not to run after Max’s car. He didn’t want to make a scene, and it was obvious that she didn’t want to talk to him, but the rush of emotions consuming him were too strong to ignore. With the hope of forgetting her gone, he accepted what he’d feared all along—he never should have let her go.

  TREAT BRADEN. HOLY smokes, Treat Braden. Max drove as fast as she could into the underground garage reserved for the festival’s staff. She slammed her car door shut and paced the concrete floor. What is he doing here? She thought she had 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.

  She needed to get a grip, because Max Armstrong did not lose control. She didn’t melt, or pine, or otherwise fall apart over a man.

  Or at least I never have. Until Treat.

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

  Darn it, Chaz. Now? “Be right there,” she said into the headset. There were thousands of people milling about. What were the chances she’d run into Treat again? Pretty low, she decided. She felt a pang of disappointment, and immediately chided herself for it.

  She grabbed her planner and hurried out of the parking garage, flipping through her checklists to make sure there were no issues with that theater that she hadn’t yet 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 sported a deep copper tan, giving him the look of a twentysomething surfer rather than the thirtysomething millionaire. “Look at that. What do you think?”

  She squinted at the sign, having no idea what she was supposed to see. 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 shifted her headset to answer another request. “Yes, no problem, Grace. Sure.”

  Chaz pointed to the sign. “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 when they were planning the destination wedding for her and her older sister, Danica, who married Blake Carter.

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

  The screening had just ended, 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 Max’s 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 across the street to Treat and his beautiful companion. “Treat! Over here. Hey, buddy. How are you?”

  Oh no. No, no, no. This could not be happening. Max turned away, frantically running through excuses to hightail it out of there. Sick? Need to go help the crew. Lighting, yeah, that could work. She turned with her excuse at the ready, opening her mouth to speak. Treat’s eyes locked on hers, and her mouth went dry.

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

  Chaz said something, but it was all she could do to stare at the woman who had her hand on Treat’s shoulder. She was gorgeous, with a friendly smile. Of course she had a friendly smile. She had Treat! Max hated the green-eyed monster clinging to her shoulders. She wasn’t used to it, and she didn’t like the way it made her feel.

  “Hi. I’m Savannah.” The woman extended her hand in greeting.

  Savannah. What kind of name is that? She must be a model or something with those long legs and slim body. Max looked at Treat in his expensive suit and finely pressed shirt. Then she glanced down at her own less-than-glamorous attire. She absently touched her efficient ponytail, and cringed.

  “Hi. I’m Chaz Crew.” He shook Savannah’s hand. “And this is Max Armstrong.”

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

  While Chaz and Savannah talked, Treat moved to her side, bringing a wave of the spicy, masculine cologne she smelled in her dreams. “Max. How have you been?”

  Too frazzled to face him, she kept her eyes trained on her planner. “Fine, thanks.”

  “I’m glad we ran into each other. I’ve been thinking about Nassau.”

  Giving me that look wasn’t enough? You needed to flaunt another woman in front of me just to show me what I already know? That you could have anyone you want?

  “Max,” he said a little quieter. “I’m sorry for what happened there.”

  She wanted to dislike him, to run away and never look back, because that look he’d given her had been too reminiscent of the ex-boyfriend she’d spent years trying to forget. But the sincerity in his voice brought her gaze to his, and Treat was looking at her like he had in Nassau, as if she was all he saw. Memories tumbled in, one after another—their incredible kisses, the feel of his strong arms around her, his sweet whispers in her ear…

  Those intimate memories were like an addictive cocktail, and she reveled in their intoxicating sweetness. She should not be thinking about them, or how different things might have been if she had woken up in his arms the next morning. And he should not be looking at her like that when he was with his ridiculously gorgeous girlfriend.

  Unwilling to put herself in a position to be hurt again, and hanging on to that resolve by a thread, Max said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Hurt and confusion rose in his eyes, fraying that thread to near breaking.

  “Come on, Treat,” Savannah urged. “Let’s get some coffee and catch up.”

  Treat held Max’s gaze a beat too long, and she felt her cheeks flush with desire. She wanted to tell him it was okay—even though it wasn’t—to take his handsome face between her hands, and kiss his luscious lips one more time. Why were her feelings for him so overwhelming? She’d never believed in love at first sight, and certainly not with a man who could be so quick to judge her, but her heart was racing the way it had the
first time she’d seen him in Nassau.

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

  “Right,” Treat said sharply. “Max, may I call you?”

  How can you ask me that with your girlfriend standing right there?

  “You have a date with Dad, remember?” Savannah said in a singsong voice.

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

  “Yes. I’m here to visit with my father,” Treat said. “Savannah hijacked me on the way to his ranch.”

  There was that look again. Not the one he’d given her, but the way he looked lovingly at Savannah. “Nothing like being hijacked by a beautiful woman,” Max said a little too snarkily. Jealousy was not a pretty thing.

  Amusement rose in Treat’s eyes. “She’s beautiful, yes, but she’s also my younger sister.”

  Savannah crinkled her nose at him in a cute, sisterly way. “He’s so not my type, all suited up and proper. Hey, Max, why don’t you and Chaz join us for coffee?”

  Max was too embarrassed about her misconception and was still struggling with too many emotions to be clear-headed. “I have to be on-site to field any problems that come up, and I have so much to do—”

  “Go, Max. You deserve the break,” Chaz urged. “She works like a maniac sunup till sundown. Max, just keep your earpiece on in case there’s an emergency.” He turned to the others and said, “Sorry, guys. I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got to run to a meeting. Max, don’t forget to ask Joey about that sign when you have a chance.”

  She watched Chaz walk away and quickly remembered the list of excuses she’d already thought up. “I actually have some lighting issues that I need to attend to.”

  “Are you sure?” Savannah arched a brow in her brother’s direction.

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

  The disappointment in Treat’s expression was palpable. She was this close to changing her mind. Every bit of her—especially those naughty parts that she was trying so hard to ignore—screamed, Yes! Yes! Go! But Max was too confused by his showing up and his apology to think straight. “I’m sorry, but I really can’t.”

  Treat took her hand and brought it to his lips. She closed her eyes as his lips warmed her skin, bringing another rush of emotions.

  “May I call you?” Treat asked again.

  Still lost in that single kiss, thinking 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 to pass off her zoning out as a technical issue. She was acting like those brainless bimbos she hated. Max couldn’t believe Treat was laying it on so thick in front of his sister, but maybe Savannah was used to seeing this side of him. He was a billionaire who owned properties all over the world. He probably treated all single women this way.

  If she believed that, why was she tearing a piece of paper from her planner and writing her phone number on it? And why was she staring at his butt as he walked away, hoping he’d call?

  I’m in so much trouble.

  Chapter Four

  HAL BRADEN’S CROWDED driveway told Treat that the rest of his siblings, or at least most of them, had come to see him. He stepped from the SUV as Savannah parked her car. She had peppered him with questions when they’d had coffee, and he’d tried to downplay his feelings about Max and simply said she’d worked with Scarlet to help organize their cousin’s wedding. He thought he’d seen a hint of disbelief in Savannah’s eyes, and the last thing he wanted to deal with 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 through his.

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

  Treat sighed at the thought of a chaotic visit, but 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.

  They climbed the porch steps of his childhood home, and the familiar scents of fresh-cut wood, steak on the grill, and too much testosterone wrapped around him like a warm embrace. It was good to be home.

  “There’s my boy,” his father called from the living room. He stood from his favorite leather recliner and hugged Treat. At six foot six, Hal Braden stood shoulder to shoulder with his eldest son, his broad chest and arms still solid and strong from years of toiling on the family ranch. His thick black hair now had patches of gray around his temples, hints of his age Treat liked to ignore.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “It’s good to see you, son.” His father drew Savannah into his arms. “Sweetie, did you have a nice afternoon with your big brother?”

  “Yes. I always do.”

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

  Savannah headed for Josh, who was grilling at the other end of the yard, a few feet from where Dane was busy texting. Rex was walking toward Treat. Rex worked on the ranch with his father, and his muscular physique was proof of the rigorous 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.

  Rex hesitated for just a second before saying, “Treat, glad to have you back, man.”

  “How’s he holding up?” Treat shifted 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. Since their mother had died when Treat was at 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 ran an assessing eye over Treat. “You okay?”

  Treat was close to all 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. But Rex carried a chip on his shoulder about the family business and was careful not to get too close to Treat.

  “Yeah. I needed a break. Got a little burnt out.” Treat watched Rex’s eyes narrow. He knew his brother wasn’t buying his excuse, but he wasn’t ready to expose his feelings for Max just yet. He’d come here thinking he’d escape his feelings, but now they were in full force. He should be focusing on his family, when all he wanted to do was call her.

  “Yeah? You sure?”

  “Of course,” Treat assured him. “I’m fine. Really.”

  “Can we have him back now, Rex?” Dane asked with a grin. He was three inches shorter than Treat and every bit as dark and handsome, the only difference being Dane’s eyes always seemed to dance with optimism, while Treat’s often appeared more serious, contemplative.

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

  Dane embraced Treat and said, “You should have seen the girl I was with last night.”

  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 their old joke tasted wrong as it rolled off his tongue. He glanced at his father, whose dark eyes had harbored the pain of missing his wife for countless years, and he once again felt the 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 barbecue pit, where Josh was tending to steaks and baked potatoes, and put an arm around his shoulder. He was the leanest and least aggressive of the Braden crew. With a love of fashion since the day he could pick out his own clothes, Josh lived in New York City, was a designer to the stars, and own
ed several high-end fashion boutiques.

  “I hear you’re wiping Vera Wang off the map.” Treat was proud of his brother’s accomplishments.

  He shook his head. “One day.”

  “One day you’ll let that humble nonsense go and boast about your success. Got a girlfriend yet?” Josh had always been tight-lipped about his female conquests, even about the heart-quaking crush he’d had on their childhood friend Riley Banks when he was younger—the crush that everyone knew about but that Josh thought he’d hidden.

  “Haven’t you read the gossip magazines? Apparently I’m going out with three different women.”

  “Sounds like you’re having fun, then. Where’s Hugh?” Hugh was their youngest brother and the biggest risk taker of them all. He was supremely self-centered, which at times rubbed Treat the wrong way, and his career as a race-car driver was a testament to the way he lived his life, indulging in fast cars and even faster women.

  Josh shrugged. “Race, maybe? Steaks are ready.”

  Treat took off his jacket and carried the platter of steaks Josh handed him to the table. His father had one arm around Savannah and the other around Dane as they went to sit down. Man, he’d missed these guys. Treat spent most of his time traveling and living out of a suitcase. He didn’t usually mind his lifestyle. In fact, there had been a time when it was all he wanted. But lately he’d found himself contemplating a more settled life.

  He set the platter of steaks in the center of the table alongside the salad, wine, beer, vegetables, and three types of sliced bread—typical Braden fare. Most family gatherings were centered around a barbecue of some sort.

  “You started without me?” Hugh barged into the yard with his arms open and a grin on his face. His thick, wind-tossed hair gave him a youthful appearance. “Treat, you’ve graced us with your presence after all.”

  “Good to see you too, Hugh.” Treat stood and wrapped an arm around him.

  Hugh sat down and was the first to help himself to a steak from the platter, snagging the largest one.