“Should I pick you up from work? It’s that white building next to the mall right?” Max realized his blunder as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
There was a small pause and then Denora spoke again. “Yes. How do you know?”
“Well, you write for World Insight magazine, right?” he hastily said. “I know where it is.” Max lowered his voice, adopting a sensual, perfectly modulated tone. “I told you that I’m a fan of your writing, Denora.”
She gave a nervous smile. “That’s nice of you to say.”
“What time do you get off tomorrow?”
“Five thirty,” she replied. “But I was actually thinking of going home to get changed first. Maybe you could pick me up from home instead? Shall we say six thirty?”
Bingo.
Max grinned. “Of course. What’s your address?” He pretended to note down the address that he now knew by heart. “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow, Denora. Good night. Sweet dreams.”
“Thanks, Max. Sweet dreams to you too.”
Max’s eyes crinkled in a triumphant grin as he tossed the phone on the couch. After weeks of meticulous planning, things were finally shaping up.
Those bastards were going to pay. Of that, he was certain.
Chapter 3
Denora wasn’t the type of woman who normally fussed about clothes, but the following night she changed her dress three times before settling on a simple figure-hugging black gown that went all the way down to her ankles. She absently glanced at the clock and checked her reflection again. For a split instant, she considered changing into something shorter but then decided against it. Max would be there in ten minutes and she still hadn’t done her hair or makeup.
Muttering under her breath, she ran a brush through her caramel-tinted hair until it shone and flew down her back. She hastily applied her makeup, adding a smear of wine-red lipstick as an afterthought. She briefly considered slipping into a pair of heels but handsome Irish billionaire or not, Denora always felt more comfortable in flats. She pulled on a pair of sparkly gold sandals and was just spritzing some of her favorite perfume when the doorbell rang.
“Just a minute!” she called, frantically looking around for her clutch purse. She tucked it under her arm and went downstairs to open the door. A quick glance out of the window told her that it had started to rain. She took a brief second to adjust her hair before opening the door.
The sight of him nearly took her breath away.
He was dressed entirely in black, with a crisp shirt and a snug pair of pants that did nothing to conceal his muscular legs. He seemed even taller than she remembered and she couldn’t help but inhale the musky scent of his cologne as he leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. A thrill shot down her body as his stubble lightly scraped across her cheek.
“You look beautiful, Denora,” he said sincerely as he walked in and closed the door behind him.
“Thank you.” She smiled shyly. “Hey, what’s all this for?” she asked, noticing the two large bags that he was holding.
“The harbor-front restaurant is probably no longer a good idea because of the rainstorm, so I thought we might eat in instead.” He cocked his head to the side. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”
“Oh. Well, yes. I guess I can rustle something up,” Denora said, flustered.
“Don’t be silly. I bought supplies.” He held up the bags. “Show me to the kitchen. I first thought I would ask you to come to my hotel for dinner but then I decided to cook for you. I promised you lobster risotto and that’s exactly what you’re gonna get.”
“Seriously?” She giggled, leading the way towards the spacious kitchen. “You’re going to cook me dinner?”
“Yes.” He set the bags down on the table and shrugged out of his coat, accidentally spraying her with several droplets of water.
“Hey, you’re all wet.” Denora’s eyes were concerned. “Hold on, let me get you a towel.”
“Thanks.” He flashed her another sensual grin.
Denora rushed upstairs to get him a thick towel and by the time she returned to the kitchen, he’d dimmed the lights and lit several scented candles in glass jars all over the counter. She couldn’t help but notice that he’d also freed the first two buttons of his shirt to reveal just a hint of sparse hair across his broad chest.
“Wow.” Her eyes were wide as she looked around.
“I hope you don’t mind the candles,” he said, accepting the towel.
“Not at all.” She smiled, glancing at the rows of groceries on the table. “Tell me how I can help.”
He briskly rubbed the towel across his hair, quickly drying it. “You are just going to sit here and have some champagne,” he said, handing her the towel. “Tell me where you keep the glasses.”
“That cabinet right there,” Denora said, sitting down at the island counter. She absentmindedly brought the towel to her face, inhaling his intoxicating scent as he turned around to grab two flutes from the cabinet. She watched as he wrapped a kitchen towel around the bottle and expertly uncorked it with a muffled pop.
“There you go.”
She took a sip of the champagne. It was dry and ice cold, exactly how she liked it. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” she asked
“Sure,” he said firmly. “But first, I need to get this in the fridge.” Max reached into one of the bags and pulled out a large square box.
“What’s that?”
“That is for later.” He placed it in the fridge and winked at her. “Now show me where you keep everything.”
An hour later, there was a delicious-smelling lobster risotto bubbling away on the stove. He’d even made a lemony rocket salad and opened a fresh bottle of champagne. She’d offered to help several times but he’d insisted on doing everything himself. So, she perched on a barstool and they spoke as he bustled around the kitchen. Denora couldn’t believe how easy it was to talk to him. His face lit up as he told her about growing up on the ranch. He tried to ask her about her own childhood but she quickly changed the subject.
“Shall I set the table in the dining room?” Denora quickly got down from the barstool.
“We can eat at the counter, if you prefer,” Max said. “I mean, we’ve got candles and everything right here.”
“Yeah, no problem. Just let me get the plates and stuff.” She ignored his curious look as she walked over to the kitchen cabinet. The truth was, Denora never spoke of her childhood. Even Grace knew absolutely nothing of the past. She’d worked too hard to put everything behind her.
“Denora? Are you okay?”
She suddenly realized that she was standing motionless in front of the cabinet. Denora shook her head and gave him a small smile as she got out two plates and set them on the counter. “Sorry. I got distracted.”
“I hope it’s not the champagne,” he said with a smile. “Because there’s another bottle coming up.” He uncorked it and brought the bottle over to the counter, along with their glasses.
“That smells divine,” Denora said as he served the risotto. “Tastes even better,” she added as she took a spoonful.