He drew back in horror. “What do you know about stuff like that? There are so many things wrong with that scenario, I can’t even list them.”
“Good. Guy I was going out with had one of those setups. He shut the door behind him, pressed a button, and this awful song came on to get me in the mood.”
He took a step closer. “I hope you didn’t give him what he wanted. Not with that type of cheap trick.”
She grinned. “Nope, I wasn’t impressed.” She scooted over, moved one of the pillows, and motioned for him to join her. “Just a minute. Tell me what you think.”
“Carina—”
“Forget it. Wouldn’t want you to mess up your suit.”
Her remark hit home. His features tightened like she’d thrown out a dare. Never one to back down from a challenge, he toed off his shoes. She tamped down a giggle when he carefully positioned himself next to her with a huge space between them.
“So, what do you think?”
He sighed. “I can’t believe we’re rating beds. I feel like I’m in a Sleepy’s commercial.”
She bounced up and down. “Firm, yet plenty of give. The sheets definitely have a high thread count. And the pillows are perfect.”
“The pillows suck. Men hate fluffy pillows, they feel like they’re suffocating.”
“Really?”
“Yes. But the mattress is a good thickness. Firm but with enough give for—”
“Sex.”
Every muscle in his body stiffened. Carina held her breath as his head turned. Their gazes locked and she practically shook with the need to climb on top of him, press her mouth over his, and surrender. His pupils dilated and his jaw clenched. She waited. Moved an extra inch closer, making sure her shirt dipped down to expose a hint of cleavage. With deliberate casualness, she cocked her leg sideways and her skirt slid indecently high up her thigh. His delicious scent of aftershave, lemon, and clean soap swarmed her, more heady than any designer cologne on the market.
Tension cranked up a tight notch and buzzed through the air.
She waited.
“I was going to say sleep.”
He rolled to the side, got up, and stared at her with disapproval.
Frustration nipped and the pulsing folds between her legs pissed her off. She pursed her lips in a sulky pout. “Liar,” she whispered.
He moved.
With lightning speed, she found herself flat on her back. One hard knee pressed between her thighs and opened her up. He pinned her wrists over her head in a casual grip, and hovered. Carved lips paused an inch from hers, and those blue eyes shot sparks of fury and fire that set off a crazy, lustful reaction. Her body softened under his command in a need to be dominated and overtaken. All those hidden naughty fantasies sprang to life and out of the dark closet.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, cara.” His voice came out in a silky purr underlaid with pure steel. “Challenge a man in the big league, and you may regret it.”
Heady satisfaction rolled through her blood and swarmed her head. Dio, she was so hot her skin practically melted off her bones. This was what she craved—the domineering, sexual Max who could bring her to orgasm with one slide of his talented fingers. Carina raised her chin and met his gaze head-on. “Maybe I took a turn in the majors and liked it.”
“Now who’s the liar?” He lowered his head and nipped at her jaw. Her body shuddered and a moan built in the back of her throat. His tongue licked for a quick taste, and she arched up. “You think you can control the results, but teasing a man who’s hot for you isn’t wise. I thought you were smarter, little girl.”
“Did you ever think I want more than any man can handle?” The brave words lost a bit of impact as he tugged on her earlobe and a breathy gasp escaped. “All this time you’ve been wrong, Max. It’s not me who can’t handle them.” She smiled up at him with pure challenge. “They can’t handle me.”
He lifted his head. The air sparked and crackled between them. “Let’s find out, shall we?” His mouth slammed over hers. It was a punishment kiss; a learning lesson; a control of an art form he mastered.
Carina swore to prove him wrong.
His fingers tightened around her wrists as he plunged and conquered, so she begged for release. Carina begged, but it was for more, only more, as her body bucked to get closer and her tongue met and matched every dominant thrust. She surrendered every inch and loved every moment. Her nipples tightened to hard nubs and poked against her blouse. She grew wet and tried to open her legs farther for him, until he muttered a vile curse, shoved her skirt up, and pushed her wider.
He never released the bruising pressure of his mouth as his other hand slid up her leg and pressed his palm against her damp panties. Carina moaned and nipped his lower lip, urging him on with her body and—
Suddenly there was only empty air.
She fought for breath and sanity as he stood by the bed. His eyes widened with shock and something else, something dangerous and hungry that suddenly flickered to life. She sat up, pushed back her tangled hair, and made no move to neaten her clothes.
“What was that?” he growled in fury. “You were supposed to push me off, not get me off!”
She snarled like a pissed-off pit bull. “Who the hell are you to set up a challenge and not follow it through? I’m not afraid of your little demonstration, Max. I told you, I’m ready for more.”
“Dio, you’re crazy and begging for trouble. I’ve had enough. I’m putting you on the next flight out of here.”
Body still humming with arousal, she narrowed her gaze and spit out the words. “And what would you like me to tell Michael when I arrive back home?”
He pivoted and thrust his fingers in his hair. “I deserve for Michael to know. I’ve betrayed him.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, get over yourself. It’s none of my brother’s business who I sleep with. You’re acting like we’re in medieval days where you’ll duel for the loss of my honor. Poor women probably never experienced an orgasm with all those damn men trying to protect them.”
He groaned as if torn between laughter and horror. Carina enjoyed the sudden loss of his control as he struggled to learn how to deal with her. Finally. Max clung to the little girl he knew in the past, but it was time to see the reality and decide if he wanted it. Wanted her.
“You’re going home. I’ll deal with Michael.”
“No.” She got up from the bed, smoothed down her skirt, and straightened her blouse. “I’m not going home. I came to learn how to close an important business deal and I will. But I want you to think about something, Max. We can have one night together. Just one. Get it out of our system, have great sex, and move back to being friends.”
He shook his head and backed away as if afraid she’d launch herself at him. “You cannot do such a thing. I am not right for you.”
“I know.” She tamped down on the hurt and embraced the gamble of having him for one night. Slake the lust she’d lived with for years and move on. “I don’t have a crush on you anymore, but I have sexual needs I want to satisfy. I’ve been protected and sheltered my whole life, but I’m a grown woman now. It’s time you accept it.”
His obvious erection and conflicted expression gave her the confidence she needed. He wanted her. He was just too afraid to take his shot. Carina reached deep and gave him the truth. “I’m moving on, Max. I’m looking for a mature, sexual relationship that satisfies me. Nothing long term. I’ve just begun to spread my wings, and no male is going to clip them too soon. We’re attracted to each other, respect each other, and have a common bond. Why not have a one-night stand? In Vegas. Where no one will ever have to know.”
His jaw clenched. Heat burned in his eyes. Good. He was tempted—that’s all she needed for now. She closed the distance between them and he sucked in his breath. Full female power shimmered within her. She smiled slowly. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind leaving? I’m going to the pool. Catch you later.”
She didn’t wait for him to respond.
Carina pushed him and the shut the door behind her.
* * *
Max studied the man across the table. Eyes flat as a shark’s. Mouth set in a firm line. Not a quiver of tension in his wrists or fingers as he flipped up the card. He sat back in the cushioned chair, reached for his cigar, and grinned at Max.
“Any time now.”
Max ignored the taunt and concentrated on his hand. He threw the chip in. “Call.” He flipped over his pair of aces and waited. “Any time now.”
Sawyer Wells chuckled and copied the motion. Three deuces stared up at him.
“Fuck.”
“It’s been too long, Max. I’ve missed your humor. And of course, your lousy poker playing.”
Max buckled and lit his own cigar. The elaborate poker table fully stocked with chips was only part of the unique features of his longtime friend’s living quarters. The bar was just as impressive and one shelf alone held as many flavored vodkas, rums, and liquors as a guest could demand. The expensive artwork lining the walls would rival any famous collector’s. Decorated in vivid reds and earthy tones, Sawyer Wells always reminded him of a man who revered the life of luxury and focused on every element of pleasure without apology. “You’re just trying to get me drunk so you tempt me into a lousy deal with your hotel.”
The blond man shook his head and flicked the thick ash off the top of his cigar. His fair skin and golden eyes pegged him as a nonchalant surfer or bored prince. Until he turned sideways and revealed his scar. A wicked slash down his cheek, sometimes hidden by his long hair. Max knew both assumptions were dead wrong. The man made his own fortune, owned a sharp sense of humor, and a brain that challenged the most savvy executives. “Not my hotel. I’m just running the Venetian for a few more months. I’m building a brand-new chain to rival that asshole Trump.” Max laughed. “And as for your drinking ability, let’s just say it’s better than your poker game.”
“Bet that deck was rigged. I should’ve played on the main casino floor.”
“Somehow I don’t think you’ll be poverty-stricken from a few thousand.” His face reflected a memory Max never probed. They’d met on a yacht in Greece, where Max had his eye on a pretty princess trying to buck her overprotective daddy. Problem occurred when Sawyer swept in with the same intention. Max won the fight and the princess. He dumped her the next day, and both men ended up with a few bruises, a hangover, and a friendship that lasted.
When he discovered Sawyer knew Mama Conte, genuine like turned into deep affection, and they’d remained close throughout the years. But other than Sawyer’s success and lack of parents, Max knew nothing about where he’d come from. Fortunately, he didn’t give a crap. As he learned from experience, a past does not make a man’s future.
“Any other plans while you’re here?” Sawyer asked. “Other than my smoking you out of your money?”
“You wish. Dinner, some gambling, and letting off some steam with a companion.”
Sawyer arched a brow. “A particular woman?”
An image of Carina flashed before him. He deliberately took a puff of his cigar. “No. It’s better that way.”
Sawyer nodded. “Usually is. No one gets hurt and the ride is all pleasure. Still, something tells me you’re disturbed about something.”
Max snorted. “Don’t use your witch senses on me.”
“You must be afraid of them for a reason. Shall I set you up with someone?”
A grin tugged at his lips. “I can get my own women, Sawyer. I don’t need your sloppy seconds, but thanks for the offer.”
“You can only dream to have a shot at my rejects. Remember that time in Paris? I set you up with a model and you couldn’t close the deal.”
“I liked your date more.”
“So? I brought her home that night.”
“Yeah, but she slept with me the next weekend.”
“Bastard.”
Max laughed at the insult that held no heat. Sawyer had been his partner in many female escapades, all for the lure of the close and the prospect of pleasure. An odd emptiness pulsed in his gut. Ever since Carina bounded back into his life, he’d felt most of his relationships and actions were . . . flat. She made everything more vibrant and meaningful. What was wrong with him?
“Sawyer?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever want . . . more?”
His friend restacked the cards and neatened the pile of chips. “More what?”
Feeling ridiculous, he shrugged. “You know. More from women. More out of life.”
He paused in his shuffling and considered the question. “Not yet. I hope to one day, though. Why, Max? Do you?”
He pushed the emotion aside and deliberately laughed it off. “No, just wondering. I better go.”
“Yes, I will make arrangements to see you in a few hours when I can get the second half of your money.”
Max stubbed out his cigar. “What do you Americans say? Ah, yes, dare to dream.”
Sawyer’s laughter echoed through the room.
* * *
Three hours later, Max discreetly straightened his tie and asked the associate to check the air conditioner. Perspiration prickled on his skin under the designer suit and caused an uncomfortable itch. He tried to keep it together and get his head back in the game. Opening up a bakery in Vegas was a game changer, and he intended to succeed. After all, business was his heart and soul—the only item in his life that elicited a bone-deep satisfaction and pride. He’d craved that feeling his whole life as he scrambled to prove he was worthy. Just because his father didn’t think of him as enough didn’t mean he had to believe it. His mama showed him love and support every day. Damned if he’d disappoint her by becoming a screwed-up man in therapy moaning about a parental abandonment as if it was an excuse to fail.
The problem was his concentration. Every time he focused on business or distracted himself with a game in the casino, her ridiculous offer sang in his ears and mocked his sanity. One night. And no one would have to know.
But he’d know. Could he live with the guilt? Would that one night set off a series of horrible events to punish him for thinking with his penis instead of his brain?
The meeting began and rolled on. Max knew Sawyer and his team were interested, even with the famous chef at the Venetian who did all the wedding catering. The consideration of a bakery in this hotel spoke volumes, though Max realized the Venetian targeted the casual buyer rather than catering. He made a note to double-check with Michael, but figured the exposure from a pedestrian store may give them a bit of variety. It would be a great testing ground. First he’d need to calculate the statistics of crowds and buying habits, and crunch some numbers.
Carina kept her mouth shut, took notes, and listened intently. He began to wrap it up when Sawyer swung his attention across the table. “Signorina Conte, it’s a pleasure to meet Michael’s sister. I look forward to working with you and Max in the future.”
She smiled. Her face lit up with a natural depth of emotion that still fascinated him. As if she invited every person inside her soul for a visit, not caring if he was worthy. Max always felt special when she bestowed her attention, and fiercely protective of others looking to steal a piece of her. “Thank you, Mr. Wells. I think La Dolce Maggie would be a perfect fit for the Venetian, and look forward to moving to the next step.”
Max let out his breath and stood. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. We need to crunch some numbers and will get back to you on your offer.”
“It’s a fair one, Maximus.” Sawyer’s tone rolled soothingly as he shook his hand. “We cannot give up our specialized catering but think you’ll do well profit-wise with a store in the lobby.”
Max nodded and kept a worried expression. “I appreciate it, but I’m not sure it’s enough money for the gamble.” Taking the first offer on the table was ridiculous, and both men knew it. Both also knew the game very well. Max grabbed the papers, snapped up his briefcase, and—
“Actually, Max,
I think the offer was quite generous.” Carina stepped up to them with a thoughtful look. Max froze, mentally reaching out to her and praying she didn’t blow it. Knowing her incredible talent for figures, she’d already done the stats. Max forced a laugh and gripped her arm.
“But of course it is. Sawyer is always generous. We better go in order to make our scheduled conference call.”
Sawyer stepped neatly in front of Max and smiled warmly at Carina. A shark disguised as Nemo, he went in for the kill. “What a talent you have for numbers, signorina! I’m so glad you agree it is quite fair. For instance, you never received such an offer for your opening in Tribeca, right? I was told you took a lower opening bid in order to gain visibility for your chain. And this is what Vegas will do for you!”
Max opened his mouth but it was too late.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you knew that,” she said with a pleasant chuckle. “The profit margin we calculated as minimum would be met with a little extra. I think Michael will be quite pleased with your offer, as is Max.”
Sawyer grinned and met Max’s gaze.
Merda.
His associate in training had just rolled over on her belly and allowed the shark a fatal bite. There would be no more negotiating at this table, and Sawyer’s obvious glee confirmed it. Carina beamed with success as if she had personally closed a great deal instead of killing it.
Max clamped down on his temper. “We shall see, shan’t we, Sawyer?”
“Definitely.”
His fingers tightened on her arm in warning. “Let’s go.” He gave a final nod and guided her out the conference room, down the hallway, and into the elevator. She opened her mouth to say something, but his look must have been enough. Confusion flickered across her face, but she kept silent as they reached their room, keyed in the code, and stepped over the threshold.
He let his briefcase drop, ripped off his jacket and tie, and exploded.
“What have you done? You have an MBA, for Christ’s sake—and you break the first rule of business in negotiations? You never, ever tell them it’s a good offer in an initial consultation. You just gave Sawyer your approval, and that means he’ll never raise his offer. We now have no wiggle room and have to either accept or refuse.” He cursed viciously and paced. “Michael will kill me. I don’t think there’s a way out of this mess now.”
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