gripped the arms of the leather chair in the Cattleman’s Club lounge. “While I want to help, I’m beginning to lose the thread here on your questions. I feel as if we’re covering ground you must already know from your research.”
“I’m digging for nuances.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re a computer techie. Not a detective.” Okay, so she’d actually been a little rude, but only to give herself distance from Max and his striking aqua eyes with dark lashes, his dark brown, rumpled hair that her fingers itched to comb through. He was quite simply imperfectly gorgeous. This ex-hacker-turned-billionaire tech genius. Bad-boy brilliant. A potent mix.
“I’m experienced with cyberprotection, so it is a combination of both. Quit worrying about what I need to know. Leave that up to me.”
“I just expected this interview to go faster.”
“Your bread and pastry dough. Can’t it be punched down and rise again?”
Now, that surprised her. Because he was right. “A few more minutes, perhaps. But I need to pick up my children from preschool soon.”
He nodded, his booted foot resting on his knee and twitching as he took notes on his tablet. Hiking boots. Expensive, clearly, but worn in. Not worn just for show. “Of course. I’ll move this along, then.”
The image of those well-worn boots and faded jeans contrasted with the button-down shirt and pocket protector. God, why couldn’t life be simple for once? “At least Cecilia, Simone and Naomi—they’ve gone from suspects to victims. Nothing seems off-limits to this creep in what secrets are revealed. Exposing Cecilia’s birth certificate in spite of her closed adoption. Sharing private medical details about Simone’s in vitro pregnancy. Then announcing Naomi’s pregnancy and stealing her chance to share that special news? It’s crazy around here. All of us feel vulnerable.”
She crossed her arms against her chest, a poor attempt at a shield from all this mess. Still, it made her feel better, if only temporarily.
“You have nothing to hide.”
“Everyone has secrets.” And she had so many parts of her past that she wanted, more than anything, to wish away.
“You look pretty squeaky clean on the internet.”
Her secrets weren’t internet worthy. They just made for grief and nightmares and a difficulty in trusting in picket fences anymore. “Well, having our friends hurt is wounding, too.”
“I’m not giving up until this bastard is found and stopped.” His large hands clenched into strong fists along the arms of his chair.
Very large hands.
Lord, she didn’t want to think about clichés about the size of hands and feet right now. She kept her eyes firmly off his boots, damn it.
But the way those hands then unfurled and carefully handled the thin tablet had her envisioning nimble touches and more...so much more.
There was no denying the conviction in his voice, and she couldn’t help admiring that. He truly was here to help, and her adopted town needed that help. The people here deserved the best. They’d done so much for her, welcoming her and her children with open arms. She should be helping rather than being so caught up in her own concerns.
This town had welcomed her wholeheartedly and she wanted to feel a part of things, to make a contribution however she could. And she really only had one thing to offer.
She tipped her chin and, before she could change her mind, blurted, “Mr. St. Cloud—um, Max—you can stay at my B and B free of charge, as my thanks for helping out the town.”
She might not have as much as some residents of this wealthy town, but she had her pride and she could offer something to help out Royal in its time of need. She was not going to fall victim to some smooth-talking player. For the next few days—or even weeks—she could hold strong.
Besides, it wasn’t like she was his type of female.
“Thank you very much, Natalie. I will gratefully accept.”
He smiled.
And holy hell, that gave her pause. His smile lit his eyes and made her stomach flip in a way she’d forgotten was possible.
What had she gotten herself into?
* * *
Cell phone in hand on his way to his rental vehicle, Max charged through the Texas Cattleman’s Club parking lot. The old-world men’s club dated back to around 1910, and was a large, rambling single-story building made of dark stone and wood with a tall slate roof. He needed to touch base with Chelsea and report on his progress with interviews this afternoon.
And let her know he wasn’t going to be staying with her after all. He’d made—his mouth twitched—alternative plans. He unlocked the rented Lexus SUV—a larger car was a must to transport his gear.
Natalie’s offer had stunned the hell out of him, but he hadn’t even hesitated. Would seducing a suspect jeopardize his investigation? Sure.
Lucky for him, she wasn’t a suspect.
Thumbing speed dial for Chels and setting the phone for hands-free talking, Max steered past the stable, pool and tennis courts, all TCC member perks. And all freshly maintained. Chels had told him part of the clubhouse roof and many of the outbuildings had been damaged in a massive tornado a few years back. The group now took special care to reinforce the roof and had added some height to the ceilings so the main building seemed airier than before.
For a club steeped in tradition, a lot had changed in the TCC lately. He might not be a member, but he’d done his research since this group seemed to be the focus of the hacker’s attacks. Colors had been brightened. It wasn’t such an “old boys’ club” anymore, especially because women were now full members.
He accelerated out of the lot and headed toward town, toward the B and B, just as Chelsea answered his call.
“Max!” Her voice chimed through the car’s speaker as he drove. “Hello, my friend. How did the fact gathering go after I left?”
“Interesting... Nothing conclusive yet, but lots of pieces to review and leads to follow once I get my gear set up.” He’d come straight from the airport.
“I can’t thank you enough for dropping everything and coming here personally to help.”
Chels’s voice filled the car as he made his way down the road. His eyes darted from the asphalt in front of him to the dusty town.
“That’s what friends are for. We go way back. I still owe you for teaching me about which fork to use,” he joked, tapping his brakes to let a minivan out of a parking lot. She’d taught him more than that. She’d helped him learn the nuances to moving in circles of society he needed to build his business.
She’d also given him the nod to be himself and not let those societal boundaries contain him. Heaven knows, she was an edgy original herself. They really could have been siblings, as they were made from the same mold in many ways.
Slowing, he drove past a school yard
