better care of it than you did yours.”
Max smiled at her retreating back. It was a nice rear view. What surprised him was that he was actually beginning to believe that Kat Hamilton hadn’t been behind stealing the photos. Which brought him back to who, then, if not Kat?
He was considering that question as they left by the front of the gallery and started across the street toward the small café next to the hotel. He hardly heard the roar of the big engine; he’d been concentrating so hard on how to get this woman to help him with his story. He was surprised she’d even agreed to have breakfast with him. Maybe he would let her pay.
Or maybe he’d try a different approach. Maybe he’d tell her the truth, which would mean paying for breakfast himself.
The engine roar filled his ears, jerking him out of his thoughts. He looked up as a large SUV came around the corner and headed right for them.
MAX DIDN’T HAVE time to think. He acted instinctively, surprising himself as much as Kat. He grabbed her and threw them both back out of the way as the giant SUV roared past. The vehicle had missed them by mere inches. As the dust settled, he listened to it thunder away, the shock of the near miss hitting home. Had whoever was behind the wheel purposely tried to run them down?
“Excuse me?”
He felt Kat’s body under him, surprised that there were more curves than he’d expected in a woman as fit as she was. She dressed in a way that hid her attributes well. Why was that, he wondered again idly as he realized that one of his hands was resting on her full, nicely rounded left breast.
“Get off me,” Kat said, shoving his hand away.
“That was purely accidental,” he said as he rose and offered her a hand up.
She ignored it as she got to her feet. “Sure it was.” She brushed at her jeans and sweater. “What was that about anyway?”
“Uh, I just saved your life.”
She shot him a disbelieving look.
“Did you not see that SUV that was speeding directly at us only moments ago?” He looked around for someone on the street to verify his story, but it was early on a Sunday morning, so there were no other people out yet.
“Us?” She looked away from him in the direction the vehicle had gone. “If the driver of that SUV really was trying to kill one of us, I’m betting he was aiming for you.”
He appraised her. “Why would someone want me dead?”
“Are. You. Serious?”
“Not everyone hates reporters.”
She scoffed at that before starting across the street. He suspected she was more shaken by the near hit-and-run than she was letting on. But then again she hadn’t gotten such an up-close-and-personal look at the chrome grille on the monster SUV as he had.
Still it appeared Kat Hamilton didn’t scare easily. He filed that information away for the future and followed her. Unlike her, he glanced around in case the SUV came back to try again. He was still surprised she’d agreed to breakfast. He chalked it up to curiosity. She had to be as interested in her mother’s past as he was. Maybe more.
Then again, she could just be hungry like she said.
As he held the café door open for her to enter, he looked back out into the empty street. Had that just been some irresponsible kid driving that SUV who hadn’t even seen them?
* * *
KAT STUDIED THE man across the table from her as she questioned her sanity. She’d had a delayed reaction from their near accident in the street and now felt herself shaking inside. Not that she believed someone had been trying to kill her. Maybe Max, though, she thought as she considered the handsome, arrogant reporter sitting across from her. I bet it was a woman behind the wheel.
“I’m not sure this was a good idea,” he said as he rearranged the napkins and salt and pepper shakers.
She sighed. “I’m buying, so order whatever you want.” Had her legs not felt so weak right now, she would have walked out. She just needed to sit for a few minutes.
He quit fooling with the items on the table to meet her gaze. Max didn’t seem like the nervous type, but when she met his eyes, she saw that he appeared to be anxious. Or at least he wanted her to think that.
“This could be more dangerous than I originally thought,” he said.
Kat gave him an impatient stare. Why had she agreed to this? She certainly couldn’t trust anything that came out of his mouth. Look how he’d taken advantage of a close call on the street just now. Or had he set the whole thing up? Either way, she could still feel the heat of his hand from where he’d held her breast.
And now he appeared to be trying to scare her.
“You really don’t have anything on my mother, do you? This was just a ruse to get me to what? Buy breakfast? Or just scare me into telling you something about her?”
He gave her an innocent, hurt look. “You think I had something to do with what just happened?”
“I suspect you’d stoop to just about anything to get what you want.”
“I’m shocked you would think that of me. Seriously, I thought you and I were becoming friends.”
She laughed. “Does that work on other women?”
A waitress in her late teens appeared with two menus, two cups and a coffeepot.
“Good morning,” Max said, turning on his charm and immediately rattling the poor girl.
“Good morning,” the girl stammered and sloshed coffee onto the table. She hurried away to get a dishrag to clean up the mess.
He shot Kat a grin as if to say, “See, all women find me irresistible.”
Kat groaned and disappeared behind her menu.
The waitress returned, sopped up the spilled coffee and apologized profusely.
“It’s all right,” Kat assured her. “It could have happened to anyone.”
Max shot her another grin before picking up his menu.
Kat waited for the young woman to finish filling their coffee cups as Max continued to peruse his menu.
“We’ll both have bacon and eggs, hash browns and a side of pancakes,” Max said.
“No,” she said and tried to stop the waitress, but Max shooed the girl off with a wink. Kat had been planning to have nothing but coffee and toast like she usually did to also make this breakfast as short as possible. “I don’t eat pancakes, let alone bacon or hash browns or egg yolks for that matter.”
Max lifted an eyebrow.
“What?” she demanded.
“I hadn’t taken you for one of those.”
“One of those?” she repeated, feeling her blood begin to heat.
“Why do you deny yourself one of the pleasures of life?”
“Bacon?”
“Eating.” He leaned on his elbows on the table to study her. “What other pleasures do you deny yourself?”
“I really don’t have t—”
As she started to rise, he reached over and put a hand on her arm. “Sorry, didn’t know you were that sensitive about life’s...pleasures.”
She shot him a daggered look. “Just tell me what I’m doing here.”
“I hate doing business on an empty stomach.”
“Start