Baring It All

by Rebecca Hunter

  He glanced around at the deserted side street. He was a dozen strokes away from coming. Fuck it. He was going all the way. Max grabbed a rag from the glove compartment and smirked. He had thought of a few reasons to put the little towel in the car, but this hadn’t been one of them.

  Leaning back in his seat, he fast-forwarded through his fantasy until he came to the part where she looked up at him and asked, Can I taste? Then she’d lick his tip, swirling her tongue around a few times before her lips closed around him. His balls tightened, and his hand moved hard and fast in a few last strokes. He grabbed the cloth and came hard into it, his hips thrusting. Max gulped in a few breaths of air. Goddamn, this woman wound him up for reasons he didn’t even understand.

  He glanced at the heap of his jeans next to his seat. The trip to Green Island was going to be interesting, and a hell of a lot of fun.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WHEN MAX WALKED into the virtual conference room, the rest of the Blackmore Inc. team was already there. Derek Latu and Simon Rodriguez were sprawled in two of the seats behind the room’s half-circle table, and a very real-looking image of Cameron Blackmore, the Sydney team’s CEO, was on the large screen against the wall. Cameron’s virtual half of the table, projected on the enormous screen on the wall, was from New York. The Sydney office’s screen lined up with the New York office’s table perfectly to complete a round conference table.

  The whole setup had been Jackson McAllister’s idea, from when she’d done PR work for the head office. She was the Sydney team’s image consultant for a stint before Cam fell for her and chased her back to New York, where he was now working temporarily.

  “How’s the Big Apple?” asked Derek. “Jackson works, so I know you’re not in bed all day.”

  The rest of the team chuckled.

  “Cold as hell. Thank fuck we’re leaving soon,” said Cameron, smiling. “She’s given her notice. We’re going to take off for Paris soon. Not that it’s any warmer there.”

  “You’re getting on a plane again?” asked Simon. “Does Jackson really know what sitting next to you means?”

  Max watched his friend carefully, waiting for the answer. Cameron had managed to keep his fear of flying well hidden from the public, but Max, Derek and Simon knew the lengths he had gone to in order to avoid travel over the years.

  “She knows,” said Cameron, his expression turning serious. “Let’s get this meeting started. Surveillance update, Simon?”

  Simon went through the growing list of clients their virtual security department was currently monitoring.

  “You sure you’re satisfied with more of a desk job going forward?” Cameron asked him. Simon had played a big role in developing this aspect of the team’s services in recent months and would continue to oversee it.

  “I’m using my degree and getting home for dinner every night,” said Simon. “I’m satisfied.”

  Max let out a laugh and clapped Simon on the back. “We know you are, mate. We know.”

  Big grins came from Derek and Cameron, and Simon even cracked a smile.

  “You’re welcome for pushing you to take that job with Marianna,” said Cameron.

  “I’ve already thanked you a hundred times, asshole,” rumbled Simon, but there was no malice in his voice. He laced his fingers behind his head. “Sometimes I still can’t believe she’s here in Sydney with me.”

  Ever since Simon reunited with his first love when she came from Miami seeking protection, Max had seen a different side of his formerly stoic friend. The woman who’d been off-limits to Simon growing up was now his fiancée, and he actually looked...content. Derek had been married for a while, but now, Cameron and Simon head-over-ass in love?

  That brand of happiness baffled Max. Sure, he could understand the appeal of having someone in his bed every night, but there were so many pressures that could wreak havoc on two people caught in a sex-induced haze. Life had a way of steering relationships south—as in Antarctic south—at least for the Jensen family. When his mother was still alive, the media storms surrounding his parents had pushed them to retreat to Western Australia permanently, and his brother...well, TJ was a lot like their father, and he just seemed to shut that part of his life off.

  “Moving on,” said Cameron. “Reconnaissance on the world summit in three weeks?”

  Derek gave a run-down on his team’s schedule, adding, “We’ve booked the final security walk-throughs and client meeting after Max returns from Green Island.”

  “I’ll be back on Monday,” said Max. “Henning is covering me and keeping an eye on Alya’s ex-boyfriend’s movements from the office.”

  Cameron frowned a little. “You sure you want to go on this job?”

  “Why the hell wouldn’t I want to?” he asked with a smirk. “Low-risk trip to a tropical paradise.”

  Natasha would be there for some bedroom paradise, too. Or maybe she liked it outdoors? He couldn’t dream of more ideal workplace conditions if he tried.

  The conference room was silent, and Max shook himself out of his wandering thoughts. He looked around the room slowly. All three men were watching him, and no one else was smiling. Derek rested his hand on Max’s shoulder. “The Jensen Family Foundation dinner won’t be easy next weekend. And you’ve got a lot of changes coming.”

  Max scowled. Goddamn, this was the last thing he wanted to think about right now. He had spent every day since he was eighteen making sure his family bullshit didn’t run his life. There was no way he was going to start down that path now.

  Which was why he’d continue to work for Blackmore Inc. for the foreseeable future. Of course, he’d need to dedicate a good chunk of his free time to fund-raising, charity events and other activities for the foundation. At some point, he might even need to cut back a little on the number of assignments he took. But Max would never quit. He’d always want to keep this part of his life, where he’d earned his position on skills alone.

  “It’s not a problem,” he said roughly.

  “Someone else could go with Alya,” said Derek.

  Max frowned. “I dealt with my shit last year when my mother died, and I’ll deal with it again next week. A few days on the beach won’t change that.”

  The last thing Max wanted was to move back into the Jensen family world, where his easygoing nature didn’t fit with his family’s rigidity and stoicism. Where his every move was measured against his father’s and grandfather’s legacy. But his very last promise to his mother was that he’d take this position if his father asked, if her death was too much for him.

  Frankly, when Max agreed, he hadn’t actually expected that request to ever come, considering his father’s well-established will of steel and unwillingness to show a hint of vulnerability. Yeah, his father had loved his mother, though he was more the taker than the giver in that relationship. Ironic that it took his mother’s death to bend his father’s will—when it was too late for her to appreciate it.

  There were other issues that would come up when he headed the family foundation. Stepping into the Jensen family spotlight had the potential to play out just like his admission to Princeton. After years of falling short of family expectations, Max’s father couldn’t trust him to find a university that would take him on his own merits, so he had sweetened the deal behind Max’s back. Price tag: a new graduate library with the Jensen name on it. That way, every single person who set foot on that campus knew Max didn’t earn his place in the freshman class. The fact that his admission had cost a whole fucking library spoke for itself.

  His father’s vote of no confidence had made him doubt himself. Never, ever again. If Max had to take on everything that went with being president of the Jensen Family Foundation, he would do it on his own terms. His mother’s other hope—that Max and his father would finally reconcile—had been left unspoken. Even in her last weeks, his mother had known better than to ask for that.


  But enough of that shit. For the next few days, he could concentrate on a job he had earned on merit and some downtime on an isolated island. Warm water, warm beaches, hot woman...

  “Yeah, I can see why you don’t want to give up an assignment like that,” said Derek, stopping Max’s schlong thoughts before they got any further.

  Cameron smirked. “I’m sure there will be plenty of attractions for you to enjoy.”

  Max gave them all a smile, letting his reputation work to his advantage here. He certainly wasn’t going to tell them that there was only one attraction on Green Island he was interested in. And he was finally getting private admission.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE YACHT SLOWLY approached the Green Island dock, skimming through calm, cerulean waters. The ocean breeze blew through Natasha’s hair, but it barely helped. It was hot as hell up in North Queensland, even out on the water in the shade of the boat’s canopy. A bead of sweat trickled down her neck and disappeared into her tank top.

  The engine cut, leaving only the sounds of water splashing against the sides of the boat and Natasha’s own breaths. How had she never made this trip before? She had been meaning to come to the Great Barrier Reef since she and Alya moved to Australia three years ago, but she had familiar research sites on the Hawaiian reefs, so it was much easier to start experiments there. And Green Island wasn’t cheap, so she couldn’t just pop up here for an extended weekend.

  The captain tied up the boat as Natasha tore her eyes from the green-blue waters and gazed at the little island. White sand, palm trees, just big enough to explore, small enough to feel remote, like nothing from the mainland could touch her. Paradise, for sure. It was no wonder Tropical Bliss was shooting their new branding campaign here.

  The white beach that stretched along the shore of the island was empty of people, but as they pulled in she spotted a colorful row of beached kayaks, a sign that a resort lay somewhere in the tangle of palms. Max had timed their arrival ahead of the first ferry from Cairns. They’d stayed in the ocean-side city after flying from Sydney last night. It was early to be up on a Saturday but it was worth it. The day tourists weren’t here, so the island was quiet, with only the resort staff and the other fashion shoot folks who had flown in. They had made it through the trip without even a hint of Alya’s ex, as expected. Natasha let out a deep breath and glanced at Alya. Her sister leaned over the deck rail next to her, bundled in gauzy swathes of wraps and scarves, topped with a wide-brimmed hat. The only signs of stress were in her hands, fidgeting with the strap of her handbag.

  Natasha brushed her fingers over her sister’s. “It’s official. We can relax now.”

  “I’m working on it,” Alya said, the corners of her mouth turning up. “Max was right about this place. I can’t see any way we could be caught unawares on this island.”

  Natasha said gently, “I’m sorry you have to think about this stuff in such detail.”

  Her sister sighed, her shoulders sinking a little. “It’s probably time I stopped worrying so much, but I can’t bring myself to just yet.”

  Nick Bancroft was the asshole responsible for that. He’d used his charm, money and power to attain anything he wanted, and at one point that had been her big sister. Nick apparently believed that women didn’t break up with him—that honor he reserved for himself—and his exes certainly didn’t flee in the middle of the night.

  That move had earned Alya some very unsettling threats. The restraining order on Nick had been so much harder to get than it should have been, and for a while, Natasha had begun to suspect what Alya believed from the beginning: that Nick Bancroft’s influence kept him above the law. His obsessive and erratic behavior had resulted in their leaving Los Angeles and necessitated a security boost when Alya restarted her career on the other side of the world.

  But Blackmore Inc. had influence, too, and in the end, money couldn’t buy everything. Thank God. Now calls and surprise visits to Alya’s workplace were violations of the court order, and even Nick couldn’t talk his way around that. No more claiming that each encounter was a mistake or misunderstanding. Whatever Blackmore Inc. had done since their move to get Nick to back off, it had worked.

  Despite the fact that Natasha had left behind her former academic community in California, she didn’t regret moving here with her sister. They’d lived on a few different continents growing up—including Australia once. Home was wherever Alya was. That would never change.

  “Blackmore Inc. has been a big help to me in moving past what happened in LA,” said Alya. “And Max is here all weekend.”

  Natasha suspected the reassurance was as much for her benefit as for Alya’s. Her sister still felt terrible about getting Natasha caught up in the mess with Nick. But she didn’t mind that Max came along on various trips and events. Not at all.

  Natasha took off her sunglasses and looked at her sister. “New rule. No Nick talk on Green Island.”

  Alya laughed. “You’re right. New topic.”

  Natasha wiped her brow. Damn, she couldn’t wait to get in the water. “Do these cabins have air-conditioning?”

  “I hope so.” Alya searched through her handbag and pulled out a brochure.

  Her sister skimmed the little booklet while Natasha’s interest wandered up to where Max was helping the captain unload their bags onto the dock. He was working, so she was free to gawk at him while he paid absolutely no attention to her. He was dressed in all black, his biceps stretching at the sleeves of his T-shirt, all muscles and tanned skin, and his thighs were outlined in his jeans. He had worn a blank expression on his face for most of the day, like he was immune to the sweltering heat and the amazing scenery, but as he’d climbed off the boat—giving her a nice view of his ass—he looked a little more relaxed. One step closer to the Max who had kissed her and then watched her strip through her bedroom window.

  Most of the time, he exuded the kind of charm that echoed her mother’s high-end world. Even without knowing the details of his background, it was clear Max came from money, both from the ease with which he moved through the functions he attended with Alya and from the implied confidence it took to reject that world. He, unlike most people, would always get a second chance. He had that in common with Nick, though somehow privilege didn’t have the same asshole effects on Max.

  But as soon as there was any hint of a threat, she got a glimpse of another side of him. Underneath his easygoing exterior was a man with laser-sharp focus and an iron will. Maybe this was the appeal of the high-end security business...because Lord knew he didn’t need the money. One look at the tabloids—yeah, she occasionally peeked—suggested that Max took nothing seriously, but his résumé was filled with accomplishments that suggested the exact opposite.

  Natasha had barely had to cyber-snoop to learn his story. Early years working for his family’s ranching empire, graduating from Princeton with honors, starting position on a professional rugby team, principal at Blackmore Inc., the top security firm in the country—all accomplishments that couldn’t be bought.

  She admired his fuck you attitude toward all the expectations for perfection that she herself had buckled under.

  “They have—” Alya looked up from her brochure, and her voice cut off. Natasha snapped her gaze away from Max and looked where her sister was pointing, but not quickly enough. Alya’s mouth curved into a slow smiled.

  “Soooo...” Her sister drew out the word suggestively. “Max.”

  “What about him?”

  Alya wasn’t deterred. Her smile grew as she waited. Okay, so it wasn’t the first time her sister had caught her ogling Max, but like Natasha, Alya had also weathered enough of her mother’s obsessive relationships to not mistake the stormy throes of lust for intimacy. Her mother’s string of husbands had thrown the three Petrova women’s lives into turmoil, moved them all over the globe, only to come to a calamitous end each time when the next budding starlet t
urned the man’s head. Natasha didn’t have to explain why Max was very bad news.

  She sighed. “Max is the cotton candy of men.”

  Alya snorted. “Pink and fluffy?”

  They both turned for a good look. The only hint of Max’s more playful side right now was the dark blond hair that curled at the base of his neck. He stood, legs spread, in the middle of the dock waiting for them, his arms crossed. His mouth betrayed no hints of a smile, and his eyes were hidden behind dark glasses.

  Nope, nothing pink and fluffy about him at all. Alya turned back and gave her a mischievous smile.

  “Not exactly,” said Natasha. “I was thinking light and delicious but bad for my health. There’s a reason they only sell cotton candy at festivals. It’s not for everyday consumption.”

  Alya tilted her head a little. Natasha couldn’t read her sister’s expression behind those sunglasses, but she was pretty sure Alya was weighing just how far to push this discussion.

  “I thought that while you’re on holiday this week, you were easing up on all that pressure you put on yourself.”

  “I am,” said Natasha. “And it’s not pressure. It’s sanity planning.”

  “But maybe it’s festival time.” Her sister’s words were laced with amusement. She gestured out at the sparkling green ocean. “Just saying. A couple days of fun and escape, right?”

  Natasha chuckled. “Mmm...maybe.”

  She wasn’t ready to share her sexploration plans with Alya yet. Her sister made hooking up with Max sound so easy, so uncomplicated, but she couldn’t for one moment forget the limits. The man was serious eye candy, and now Natasha was joining the ranks of women who would get a taste. One of many. She’d be offended for him if he gave any indication that he minded. Which was what made this time-limited plan work: clear boundaries.

  Her sister took one last look at the brochure she was holding and stuffed it back into her handbag.