But he cut her off before she could finish.
“This is exactly why I didn’t want to be involved with my family,” he said, his words tumbling out. “The press release was supposed to raise awareness for the charity. I never would have agreed to it if I’d known...”
He let the last word linger in the air as he shook his head. Then he squatted down in front of her, resting his hands on her legs. Her heart gave a traitorous leap. He was so close, and his blue eyes were intense and serious.
“You know it’s not true,” he said softly. “I would never do that to you.”
She blew out a breath. “No, you wouldn’t. Not like that. Not on purpose.”
“Thank fuck,” he muttered. He brought his hands to her cheeks and pressed his lips against hers. It was the softest, the gentlest of kisses, and he stayed like that, eyes closed, breathing against her.
“I’ve missed you these last few days,” he whispered.
She bit her lip. “I missed you, too.”
“Please come with me to the fundraiser tomorrow.” His words came out forcefully, and he huffed out a breath.
Natasha frowned. “This is shaping up to be my worst nightmare, Max.”
“I know, Nat.”
“I don’t want to deal with...this.” She gestured between them helplessly. “The drama, the public humiliation.”
“No,” he said, and he leaned forward to kiss her. “I won’t let it be like that.”
“Not on purpose.” All the problems faded away as he touched her, smoothed her hair, took her bottom lip between his. God, she loved kissing this man. It was hard to stop once she started.
“I’ll make sure you’re protected,” he said. “No photos of you published, no photos with Francesca or anyone else that could set off suspicions.”
Another kiss, and another. Her heart was thumping madly, and her body ached for more. It felt so good, but she pulled back. “What are you doing?”
“Reminding you of why you want to say yes.”
She chuckled. It was, in fact, a very good reminder. “What am I walking into, Max?” she asked softly.
“The breast cancer clinic is for my mother, her legacy,” he said quietly, his eyes so sad and serious. “I have to be a part of that.”
Natasha nodded. “Of course you want to be there tomorrow, Max.”
Max shook his head impatiently. “I’m not just attending the event.” He sat back on his heels and rubbed the back of his neck. “This is my future, Natasha. I’m going to be the president of the Jensen Family Foundation, which means I’m the face of it, too. All that PR bullshit. Which was why that photo with Francesca happened.”
She stilled. The situation had just managed to get worse. And he was still asking her to step into this with him.
“And if I go, I’ll be a part of that?” she asked.
“No, not if you don’t want to,” he said. “You’ll be there because there’s no one else I’d want to go with. And this is our family’s function, so I can control what members of the press come and what photos they’re allowed to publish. But after this one, things will probably change.”
She wrinkled her forehead. “And you’re inviting me so I can witness that?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m inviting you because it’ll be a hard day, and having you there will make it a lot better. Maybe that makes me selfish, but I’m feeling a little desperate right now.” He rested his hand on her thigh, moving it up and down slowly. “I want you with me.”
She tried to contain a swell of hope as he ran his other hand through her hair, down her neck, over her shoulder. He leaned closer, so his mouth was almost touching hers.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about my new position this week. I’m going to have the attention of the media, and what matters is what I do with it. I can use it for something good,” he said. “But that goes for you, too. If the media spotlight points your way, you can deflect it toward something you care about—a cause, an organization, whatever.”
He was talking about more than just Saturday’s event. He was asking her to consider beyond Saturday, to try something more. Her gut reaction was to argue that things were different for him and her, that being the woman who took him off the market, with the possibility of being publicly labeled as inadequate, wasn’t the same as being known as Australia’s beloved playboy. But Max already knew it wasn’t the same. He was asking her to look at it differently, to look at what she could do with it instead of what it did to her.
“I’ll consider it,” she said softly. “I’m still making up my mind about Saturday.”
