even close,” she called.
Max blew out a breath. She didn’t sound upset. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on his part.
Natasha’s keys clanged on the front hall table, and her shoes thumped to the floor, one by one. “Instead, he suggested we see other people. I’m officially free to have a little fun. His words.”
Alya choked on her water, midsip. “What?”
Holy shit.
A better man would make himself known before Natasha spilled any more of the intimate details about her evening. But there was no way in hell Max was taking the high road here.
Natasha’s footsteps clunked down the hall.
“We’re taking a break. So I can have all the time I need for my career.” The last sentence was filled with sarcasm.
The bathroom door closed. Alya stared at the empty doorway to the hall, her attention completely focused on her sister. All the better if she forgot about Max. The toilet flushed, and Natasha’s footsteps came closer.
“This all started when I tried to wake him up with a blow—”
Natasha rounded the corner and froze, her eyes fixed on Max. Oh, fuck, she looked hot. But then again, she always did. The dress was white, classy, and it didn’t show cleavage, but there was no hiding those natural wonders. Her black-rimmed glasses gave her a sexy librarian vibe, a visual he’d come back to later that night.
Natasha watched him from the doorway. Max kept his expression neutral while searching her face for lingering hurt or sadness. He couldn’t find any traces. Just a hint of challenge. Good. If she’d come home in tears, Wayne might have needed a late-night talking-to. The thought was a mild surprise. As it turned out, even in this situation Max couldn’t stand the idea of her getting hurt.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me Max was here?” Natasha muttered to her sister, her eyes still fixed on him.
Alya wrinkled her brow. “Sorry. I was stuck on what you were saying.”
Natasha stared at Max for another beat. Then she let out a sigh. “I suppose I’ll care more about this tomorrow, but right now, I don’t give a shit. Everyone is welcome to hear about my fabulous evening.”
Natasha brushed long, blond wisps of hair off her face and plopped down into the chair next to Max. She gave him another quick glance, as if she was still registering his presence. Her eyes lingered on his biceps for an extra beat before she turned to her sister. He hid a smile behind his hand. A nice guy would stand up and excuse himself, leaving the two sisters alone for a private conversation. Too bad he wasn’t that guy. If Natasha wasn’t kicking him out, he was staying for the rest of the show.
Alya was still shaking her head. “You okay?”
“I can’t believe this happened again. I thought Wayne would understand, that with his own crazy schedule, he’d respect my work.” Natasha gave a huff of frustration. “Dinner a few times a week, sex, support for each other’s work and an occasional holiday—is that too much to ask? Why does dating always lead to other crap expectations?”
Alya snorted. “He didn’t ask you to pick up his dry cleaning again, did he?”
Natasha shook her head. “I think I made my answer clear the last time he asked. Now it’s his department’s barbeque. But, seriously, why is he asking me to make a plate for it?” She turned to Max and pointed her finger at him. “And Wayne already mansplained all the ways medical research is different from other biology research, why his job is so much more important.”
“You think I’d talk down your work?” he asked with an almost straight face. “Not a chance in hell.”
Her complete absorption with saving the marine world was an appeal, not a drawback. Instead, Max had been thinking about the last time he’d witnessed one of her breakups. She’d been devastated. So if she wanted to direct some of her manfrustration at him, that was fine. Anything that steered her away from hurt.
“Maybe I should lower my standards. Just sex. No relationship at all.” Natasha massaged her temples. “I think I’m getting a headache.”
Max’s rational brain stuttered to a stop at the words just sex, starting him down that thinking-with-his-dick road, which was paved with justifications.
She just wants sex. Hey—that’s what I want, too.
Yeah, that wasn’t a particularly nuanced or eloquent path.
Alya’s heels clicked on the tile as she crossed the kitchen floor to the white cupboards. She grabbed a glass and filled it with water, dropped in a Berocca tablet, then set it in front of Natasha. All three of them watched it fizz.
“You’re going to need this.” Alya tapped the glass. “I don’t get it. He actually took you to a beautiful restaurant with water views just to dump you?”
“Technically, I broke up with him, but that was after he suggested a more ‘open’ relationship. Oh, and he also backed out of the Hawaii trip. Wayne said the hospital was short-staffed so it was better for him not to take a holiday right now. And since I’ll be putting in long hours soon, he didn’t want to ‘hold me back.’ Nice of him, right?” Natasha blew more strands of hair out of her face and took a gulp from the glass. “This was before the waitress even stopped by. Of course, that helped me decide on my order. The caviar is pretty damn expensive, as Wayne now knows.”
Max smiled a little. Natasha definitely sounded more frustrated than sad about the situation, and she still had her sense of humor. All good signs.
“I still don’t get it. You and Wayne have always had tight schedules. What changed?” asked Alya.
Natasha glanced at Max, a flush creeping up her neck. She eyed him. “Promise not to bring this up after tonight?”
“I’ll do whatever makes you happy, sweetheart,” he said, slowing on whatever.
His words had the effect he was hoping for. Her eyes widened, and the flush racing to her cheeks deepened. She usually tried to hide it a little better. That forbidden surge of attraction. Except now it wasn’t forbidden. She was single.
But he really meant it, and not just sexually. He had tried to stay away, despite the tsunami of hot tension that hit every time he found himself alone with Natasha, because he came with something Natasha despised: media scrutiny. In his case, it mostly took the form of speculations about his sex life and judgments about his general morality. And when he took the position his father had groomed him for next week, the attention would step up. His father’s coverage had gotten personal at some point, at the expense of his mother. When Max took his place at the head of the Jensen Family Foundation, he had no doubt Natasha would steer as far away from him as she could.
Alya cleared her throat. “You were saying?”
Natasha was watching him, her lips parted a little, but she snapped her mouth shut at her sister’s voice. “Right. The reason for the time apart.” She drummed her fingers on the table and glanced over at Max. “Since you’re here, and you’re a guy—with a dick, I’m assuming—I want your opinion on something.”
Max
