And not really the home of his heart? I studied him as he glanced at the mansion. Dressed in black jeans, a matching Henley, the long sleeves pushed up to his elbows revealing, corded, tattooed forearms…he was hot. Gorgeous. But his features appeared as if cast in granite.
I took a deep breath as he helped me out of the Jeep.
Probably sensing my apprehension, his expression softened. Even though he didn’t smile, his gaze gentled. “None of them bite, I promise. You’re beautiful. They’ll love you. It’s just me they can’t stand.”
I rubbed my damp palms down my dress as uneasiness took hold. For Max’s sake, I hoped this afternoon went by smoothly and without incident. He was decent, kind, and thoughtful. How a parent could not love their child, lovehim, I had no idea.
His hand on my lower back, he ushered me up the steps. The front door opened as if by elves—no, not elves, but a sturdy, middle-aged maid. Her steel-gray hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail. She wore a black dress, white apron, and soft-soled black shoes.
“Max…” A smile brightened her pale cheeks, appearing delighted to see him. “The family and guests are out on the back terrace.”
“Thanks, Millie.”
“No butler?” I teased in a whisper.
He snorted, but I noticed the amusement in his eyes. Then I stood there, taking in the elegant foyer with its circular upper gallery and crystal chandeliers, a little overwhelmed by the grandeur.
“C’mon. I’ll show you around later,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me along with him.
“Why don’t we find your room and stay there for the afternoon?”
A ghost of a smile appeared. “Believe me, I’d far prefer that, too. I’d rather play with you than be out here.”
“Max?”
At his name being called, we both turned. A tall, dark-haired guy exited one of the side doors into the wide, marbled passage. “I’m damn glad you turned up.”
“What? Can’t handle the vultures on your own, Tanner?” he asked, tone droll. “You hide in there?”
The guy snorted.
So this must be his cousin. He appeared to be a year or two older than me. He was about Max’s height, lean, good looking, and sporting well-cut, sable hair. His striking, but cool, teal gaze rested on me. “You brought a date?”
Max’s bisected eyebrow rose. “You seem surprised?”
He shrugged and stuck his hands in his pants pockets. “You usually turn up solo, you never bring your…er, friends home.”
“Logan’s mygirlfriend.” Max’s jaw hardened. “Logan, Tanner Harding—” he broke off.
Another tall, dark-haired man left the same room Tanner had exited and halted when he saw us. He was probably in his early forties, extremely handsome, but in a cold and aloof way.
“Maxwell.”
And I knew exactly who he was. At times, Max sported that same cold aloofness.
Normal people would sayhelloand ask why one was late and the other would answer. Not the Sinclairs. Heck, at the sub-zero temperature in the foyer, I wanted to find a sunny spot outside and hide until my blood thawed. Instead, my hand tightened on Max’s in support.
Max drew me close and finished the introductions. “My father, Leland Sinclair. This is Ila Logan, my girlfriend.”
“Miss Logan,” he said, his expression cool. Manners impeccable.
A shiver skated along my spine. Ugh, so needed the sun right now. “Hello.”
Nope, there was no “pleased to meet you” or “welcome.” I inhaled deeply, feeling waaaay over my head being in this place. Poor Max, having to grow up in this mausoleum.
Intro over, Max steered me past his family and headed for what appeared to be the entertainment room at the end of the long corridor which led out to the terrace. The wall-to-wall folding doors stacked against the wall.
We stepped outside into the sun’s warmth again, and it chased away the coldness from inside.
