Max shook his head. “Not a chance. I’d like nothing better than to be a part of that conversation.”
She wasn’t trying to put herself down, just insert a little dose of reality into this conversation. It was all theoretical, nothing to get worked up about, so she let it go. But there was something in his eyes as he looked at her. For a moment, he looked uncertain. Then his hands stopped, and he looked right at her.
“There’s an event coming up next weekend. I’d like you to go with me.”
She blinked at him. “What kind of event?”
Creases had formed between his eyebrows, deeper this time.
“A foundation dinner. For a charity.” He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, and she was pretty sure she wasn’t getting the whole picture.
“Just like that? You don’t have another date lined up for it?”
He shook his head. “Wasn’t planning on taking a date to this one. It’s a family thing. But I’d love to hear you chat that room up with marine biology.”
Natasha was still stuck on the wordfamily. Even she knew he didn’t get along with his notoriously surly father. Everyone in Australia knew it. More importantly, she knew instinctively that this subject was a no-fly zone in conversation, but now that he had opened the door on this topic, she pressed further. “What happened between you and your father?”
Max sighed. “Nothing monumental. Just the typical rebellious teen versus autocratic father thing. Which, apparently, I haven’t outgrown.”
The corners of his mouth turned up in the hint of a smile.
Now it was her turn to squeeze his hand. “You’re not a sullen teenager, Max. Not even close.”
“When I was a kid, I was the fuck-up younger brother. Which maybe you can imagine,” he said, his smile curving into a smirk. “Too loud, too impulsive, too risky. My mother was the only one I was really close to.”
“Your mother, the jazz singer your father very publicly fell in love with and whisked away to Western Australia?”
“Yep. And they stayed there all the way until the very end.”
She sensed there was more to that comment, and she waited for more details but they didn’t come. Maybe it was just as well that they didn’t move into deeper territory. After all, this was just a sexy fling, even if it felt like... Well, she had no idea what this felt like.
Natasha bit her lip and pointed them onto safer terrain. “You’re not going to tell me more about the dinner?”
“Why?” he asked, smiling a little. “Afraid it won’t meet your standards?”
She raised her eyebrows in mock concern. “Aw, are you worried about meeting my standards?”
He tickled her sides, and she shrieked and squirmed in his arms. His cock was stiffening between them, and she rubbed against it, making them both moan. But as her breathing calmed, the original topic came back.
“Why are you inviting me, Max?” she asked.
“Beyond the possibility of getting laid afterwards?”
She rolled her eyes and tried to tickle him back, but it wasn’t nearly as effective.
Then he looked away, out at the ocean, like he was really giving her question some thought. Finally, he said, “The flowers.”
She blinked, her mind racing to make the connection. He must have seen her confusion because he added, “The flowers you sent after my mother died.”
Those flowers.Of course. It wasn’t that she had forgotten; it was the fact that he’d broached the subject at all that tripped her up. Natasha wouldn’t have known about his mother’s illness except that Max had let Alya know he would be out of touch for over a month, that someone else would be taking over any bodyguard duties she needed. Nothing else. Somehow, Natasha had known something big was happening. A few weeks later she’d read the news in the paper, so she sent flowers with a note.
You’re not really a flowers kind of guy but I thought you might be this month. Natasha.
The next time she saw him, Max said nothing about his mother or the flowers. He had just been his usual, easygoing self. So she’d let it go.
“I should have said something before,” he continued. “It meant a lot.”
If she wanted more details about his family, this was her opening. “You and your mother were close?”
