Australian press loved nothing better than to speculate on the latest conquests of the reckless black sheep from an old-money ranching family, the country’s version of royalty. As the “ugly duckling” daughter of Illana Petrova, as one American newspaper had called her at the tender age of thirteen, Natasha knew better than to go near a walking scandal maker like Max. She’d had enough of those in her life, having a famous Russian supermodel turned actress for a mother. Natasha had plenty of hard-earned academic achievements to her name, but they weren’t the kind the media valued. The last thing she’d want was to put herself through another round of public comparisons, all superficial and all finding her lacking.
Max rested his forearms on the table, all tanned and corded with muscles, covered in dark blond hair. A bit of her resolve gave up and tiptoed out of the quiet kitchen.
She cleared her throat and looked up at Max. “You probably think I’m an idiot, not telling off Wayne.”
“Not even close.” Max shook his head.
“Then what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking this is my lucky day,” he said, his voice lower, a little husky.
Her eyes widened. “Not that kind of lucky.”
Max leaned back in his chair and gave a loud bark of laughter. He shook his head and took a deep breath. “I thought I was the one with the dirty mind,” he said. “I mean, our stars seem to be lining up tonight.”
“I’m sensing a pickup line coming on.” Natasha rolled her eyes, but heat crept up her neck. Max’s grin suggested he was enjoying every minute of this exchange, and his eyes sparked with mischief and heat. Another chunk of her resolve snuck out the door, leaving her alone with her neglected libido.
“Maybe I need to step up my game with you,” he continued, leaning forward, his arms resting on the table only inches from hers. “Maybe I should focus on your interest in animal mating. If that turns you on, we could watch some videos where the male comes up to the female from behind and bites her in the neck while—”
“Nope.” Natasha shoved his biceps to cut him off, trying to ignore his hard, thick muscles under her fingers. “Animal mating is not the thing that turns me on. I just study the reproductive behaviors of angelfish, so of course mating patterns are something I think about.”
Max stifled a laugh. “Sure.”
Natasha gave him a hard stare. “You’re belittling my career right now,” she said. “Would you say the same thing to a guy who studies fish mating?”
His smile broke through, and he winked at her. “Of course not. The discussion would be much raunchier.”
Natasha pressed her lips together. Did he really think she was turned on by this topic, or was he just messing with her? That was yet another problem: he was never serious. From that very first comment three years ago, when he’d given her a suggestive smile and spouted that cliché about getting over her latest dating disaster by getting under someone better, she couldn’t decide if he was coming on to her or teasing her. Or both. Truthfully, Max’s deep voice could make just about anything sound possible.
The very biggest problem with entertaining Max’s flirtation was that she hung on to every word of it. Despite the fact that she knew better. Despite the disaster this kind of smooth-talking charmer had wreaked on her mother’s life—and hers. She had been so very careful to avoid the trap of men who loved women, the more the better.
He was watching her, waiting for her comeback. His eyes were alive, as if he wanted nothing more than to hear the next thing that came out of her mouth. But one of them had to insert some common sense into this discussion, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Max.
Natasha sighed, gesturing between the two of them. “There are a lot of reasons we should stay away from this. Why...?” She searched for a way to finish her question. Why did he want to start something with her? But everything that came to mind sounded too self-deprecating.
He hesitated, and for once the easy amusement faded from his expression. And in that moment, Natasha had to wonder how many careful calculations went into his seemingly careless attitude. Then his smile grew, and he leaned closer.
“Because you’re sexy as fuck, and I’ve had a hard-on for you for years,” he whispered.
Her mouth dropped a little, and she closed it quickly. There was no calculation in his expression, just unfiltered sexual interest. Could that be the whole truth? Probably not. Still, maybe it could be that simple.
Just like it had seemed the one night he’d looked at her like that before. Natasha had tagged along at one of Alya’s events, and both of them had had more than their share to drink as the night went on. Later, after Max followed them back to the apartment, with Alya passed out in her bed, Natasha had led him to the door. She had felt his gaze on her in the car, and she’d felt it again in their hallway, hotter, more intense.
When Natasha had reached the door to let him out, she’d turned around, and Max’s half-lidded eyes had been so hungry. Like he’d wanted a taste, even though he shouldn’t. She had worn a red dress that showed plenty of cleavage and smiled as his eyes dipped for a close-up view. Oh, God, she had been tempted.
I’m all for indulging with you, sweetheart, but you’ve had waaaayyy too much to drink to go down that road tonight.
His words had been soft, maybe even regretful, but they’d been enough to yank her out of her lusty stupor. Yeah, he had turned her down for good reasons, but the next time she saw him, it was as if that almost kiss had never happened. Like he had lost interest and moved on. Apparently not.
Was she really entertaining a hookup with Max again? Come on, brain. Don’t give up on me now. His dates had a tendency to wind up on the pages of gossip rags...though there wasn’t much chance of that with one little hookup, right? Or two or three, if they were spending a couple days together on a tiny island in the Great Barrier Reef...
Time for a last-ditch attempt to approach this rationally. She tilted her head and tried for a skeptical tone. “It just doesn’t seem to fit into your rules for women.”
“Is that what you think?” He smiled. “Interesting. What are my rules?”
She quirked a brow at him. “Number one, the woman must show her wares on the market, preferably tall, with long hair and big breasts. Number two, she must love red carpet events.” With each number she ticked off on her fingers, his smile fell a little. “Number three, she must have zero expectations the next day because you don’t do repeat performances. You want me to keep going?”
He was silent for a moment, almost as if he were at a loss for words. No way. Not possible.
She gave him a mock-serious, wide-eyed look. “Did I manage to offend Max Jensen, the world’s most laid-back guy?”
His face broke into his signature smile. “I’m flattered that you’re paying so much attention to my sex life.”
Heat crept up her neck. Of course he’d see it from that angle. And clearly he was right. “It’s hard to ignore when it’s on the front page of a magazine,” she said, her voice a little short. Okay, maybe she had felt tiny twinges of jealousy seeing him with all those other women, but that wasn’t why she had brought up the topic. Natasha twisted a strand of her hair
