hated more than thinking with his schlong, it was doing it in front of an audience. Natasha was late coming home, and instead of focusing on her sister, Alya, who happened to be Max’s assignment, all he could think about was Natasha and what kind of trouble she was getting herself into. Alya’s curvy younger sibling was a powerful distraction...but that wasn’t the only reason his mind kept wandering back to her. Max was in security, for fuck’s sake. Of course he was worried when she didn’t show up on time. He just also happened to want to get in her pants.
Max glanced at his watch, then back at his client. “Shouldn’t Natasha be home by now?”
Alya looked up from the papers she was reading and shrugged. “She probably walked.”
Alone? It was none of his business. His business was laid out on the table in front of him—going over the schedule for Alya’s weekend photoshoot on the Great Barrier Reef. He’d been the fashion model’s bodyguard for years now and had gotten to know both sisters in the process.
“It’s getting dark,” he said, keeping his voice businesslike, as if he was talking about any other client. “And you said she sounded upset.”
Alya leaned back in her chair and met his gaze. “If she doesn’t come home soon, I’ll call.”
She set down her pen, and it rolled across the sleek table, echoing in the silence of the enormous kitchen of her downtown Sydney apartment. She was eyeing Max carefully, like she had read into his question and was coming to her own conclusions, so he looked right back. He had mastered this easygoing I-have-nothing-to-hide expression back in high school after a few years of practice on his hard-edged father.
Preparing me for life, my ass. Sure, Max had learned to dodge trouble—he even got paid to use those skills with the elite private security firm Blackmore Inc. But nothing about Max’s life was what his father had intended.
He and Alya exchanged another silent moment, and then she gave a little nod.
“Natasha and Wayne were supposed to be celebrating her new research grant. All she said was that he wasn’t quite as positive about it as she had hoped.” Alya rolled her eyes and added, “Probably because she’ll have less time for helping with his articles.”
Natasha’s boyfriend was a real wanker. He was much older than she was and self-important as hell. Max had crossed paths with him once in this very kitchen, and the asshole had droned on like the future of the world depended on his research. Natasha couldn’t be serious about this guy, could she?
“She didn’t sound happy on the phone?” he asked.
Alya shook her head and returned to the documents, and Max’s shoulders came down a bit. Maybe they broke up. Goddamn, he hoped so. It was selfish, and under any other circumstances, hearing that Natasha was upset would be a punch in the gut. But his mind was moving in a totally different direction. Yeah, thinking with your schlong. He went right back to that night a few months ago when they had come so, so close to stepping over the line.
Since then Max had been looking for a chance to test the sexual buzz between them. Before it was too late. Because too late would be coming soon—specifically, at the end of next week, when his father would announce that he was stepping down as head of the Jensen Family Foundation and Max would become president. So, in addition to the photographers who followed him onto the beaches when he surfed or when he took a woman to dinner, Max’s life would also include planned public appearances and board meetings. It was a path he had worked to avoid. And the last thing he wanted to think about tonight.
Thinking about quirky, witty, oh-so-hot Natasha Petrova was a hell of a lot more fun. She was the only woman he knew who could use convoluted biology theories about the rules of attraction to shut him down. Of course, it only made him want her more, though he didn’t understand a damn word half the time. Maybe it was because he had just scraped by in biology class. More likely it was because he was concentrating on her lips. Luscious red lips. Which, all things considered, was better than staring at her breasts.
Over the years, he’d thrown dozens of propositions her way, each one wilder than the last, just to hear her response. Just to see her eyes light up as she laughed. Okay, also on the off chance that she’d forget about Max’s family’s name and his...reputation...and say yes to a little fun.
Max met Alya’s gaze again and raised his eyebrows, daring her to speak her suspicions aloud. He wouldn’t be surprised if Alya had caught on to his semi-obsession with her sister, but he still couldn’t get a read on what Alya thought about it.
His client gave nothing away. Instead, she gathered the papers on the table in front of her and took one more glance at their schedule. “With all these precautions, you’d think I was royalty. But it’s a relief.” She gave him a quick smile. “Stewart should be here soon.” Alya’s boyfriend was picking her up to go back to his place for the night, which meant Max should probably head out...
Keys rattled in the front hall of the apartment as the door creaked open and slammed shut.
“Natasha?” Alya called.
“Yep, it’s me.” Natasha’s voice echoed down the hall.
“Did Wayne properly celebrate your fabulousness at dinner?”
Max froze. He was a selfish enough bastard to hope the answer was no.
“Not 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