Their Million-Dollar Night (4 page)

“That's hardly the same thing,” she said.

He arched one eyebrow at her. “We'll talk about this some more after you've changed.”

He gestured toward a canvas structure that was the size of a dressing room. She was amazed at how much he'd accomplished in such a short time. She'd seen him on the phone before they'd boarded the plane, so she knew he'd made a few calls. She tipped her head to the side and studied this man who was able to make things happen so quickly.

“I didn't bring anything else.”

“I've provided everything you'll need. Go,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and urging her toward the changing area.

She entered the room and saw two boxes from Saks. She opened them both. One held clothes for her,
the other clothing for him. She sank down on the wooden bench that was inside the structure and closed her eyes.

What was she doing? What did this mean? She should be at the casino in the gym working out. She should be trying to claw her way back to where she'd been before Alan had taken her life away from her. She should be more leery of being with Max—but she wasn't.

But she was tired of living with the fear that she'd never be fully alive again. Tired of pretending that nothing had changed when everything had. Tired of being scared because she'd never allowed herself to be before.

She stripped out of her clothing and opened the box. Her new clothes were wrapped in tissue and she pushed it aside, sorting through them. There were a pair of capri pants in signature Burberry plaid that hung low on her hips, bisecting one of her scars. The pants only covered part of it.

She dug deeper and pulled out the shirt, which was a cute T-shirt trimmed to match her pants. She pulled it on, but the T-shirt ended an inch above the pants. Her hands shook as she realized that her scars would be visible to Max.

She couldn't do it. This was just one of many things she didn't want to let Max see about her. He might be able to ignore the differences between them,
but she couldn't. He was physically perfect—she didn't have to see his naked body to know it.

“Does everything fit?”

She grabbed her silky halter top and held it up to her stomach, trying to make the shirt cover her. But it didn't.

The flap opened. Max stood there on the sand, his shoes removed, his shirt collar open and the sea breeze blowing in his hair. There was a slight chill to the morning and she shivered.

“I can't wear this.”

“Okay.”

“I mean, it's not that I don't appreciate the gesture but it's—”

He put his fingers over her lips again. Rubbed his thumb carefully against them and she closed her eyes, wanting to lean more fully into him. Wanting to pretend that all the things she didn't like about herself wouldn't matter to him.

But she knew they would. Because her scars mattered deeply to her.

“There should be a sweater in there.”

She hadn't looked deeper. She sat on the bench and looked up at Max.

He came and sat down next to her, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her into the side of his body. She was tempted to rest against him. But didn't.

She froze when she felt one finger trace the edge
of her shirt to where the fabric ended and her skin was bare. She knew the moment he encountered the first scar. He didn't pull back or flinch away, just let his fingers continue caressing her, but she couldn't go on.

She pulled back, wanting to run away. To find some place to escape to.

Max lifted his head. “Let me change and then we'll have breakfast.”

He wasn't going to say anything.

Grateful for the chance to escape, she stood and left. He knew her secret now—and she wasn't sure she wanted him to.

M
ax watched the canvas door drop back into place and clenched his fists. Now he knew more about her
injury
than she'd wanted him to. What the hell had happened?

He could call Hayden and get all the details. Hayden treated the staff at the Chimera like family, and Max knew that his friend would have the facts. But he would rather have Roxy tell him.

He changed quickly, barely noticing the clothing, and exited the dressing room. Roxy wasn't waiting at the table but instead was standing close to the water, watching the waves cycle.

She turned as he approached, her face still, as if
she were afraid of what he'd say or do. And his heart ached for her. He realized in a flash that she needed something…someone who could make her forget her scars and the life she'd once had. She needed him—or maybe he could convince her that she did.

No one should ever feel the way she did. And he knew that she felt alone and in a kind of emotional pain that couldn't be expressed. Knew it because he'd felt it himself. Of course, that had been long ago before he'd started taking steps to make sure he'd never be dependent on anyone again.

“Isn't this better than the Grand Canyon?” he asked, striving for a lightness he wished he felt.

“It's definitely one of a kind.”

“Well, I try. Want to take a walk? There's a big surf point at the end of the beach. I don't know if the waves will be breaking but if they are, well, it's awesome to watch.”

“I'd like that. Do you surf?”

“Not big waves, but some in Waimae. You?”

“No. I can't chance—couldn't chance an injury.”

Dancing. He finally started to understand the impact of not being able to perform anymore. “Were you always going to be a dancer?”

“Yes. My mom wanted me to be one.”

“Was she living through you? My dad wanted me to row because he'd been on a champion team.”

“No, it wasn't like that. She died when I was
four, and it's one of the few things I really remember about her.

“She'd sit in the front room at the dance studio and watch me.”

Max slipped his hand into hers as they walked down the beach. He was aware of each step she took and made sure that he kept the pace slow so she wouldn't stumble.

She told him more about her life and he realized that until recently dancing really had been her everything. Listening was the key to his success in business, and when he'd been in his early twenties he'd realized that he could apply those same techniques to personal relationships.

But it was hard to focus on social skills when he wanted to pull Roxy back into his arms. He wanted to have her in his bed where he could remove her clothing and see her scars for himself. He wanted to lave them with his tongue and sooth away the lingering hurt they'd left deep inside her.

“What?”

He realized he'd stopped walking and was staring at her. Staring at her waist. “Nothing. Are you ready to head back?”

She took a deep breath. “I know you felt my scars.”

“Yes, I did.”

She said nothing else and he wasn't sure how to proceed.

“I just want a chance to get to know you, Roxy. You don't need to tell me anything, any of your secrets. Keep them for now.”

They arrived back at their picnic spot. Max seated Roxy and then himself.

“How did you arrange this so quickly?”

“I have a well-paid staff that knows how to make things happen.”

He signaled to the caterers, who were waiting patiently nearby to start serving breakfast.

He picked up the Tiffany box and handed it to her. When the caterers had left and they were alone again, he said, “Just a little memento for you.”

“You didn't have to.”

She held the box loosely in her hands as if it were a time bomb.

“Open it.”

“Stop bossing me around,” she said, but a smile flirted at her lips.

“No.”

She stuck her tongue out at him but slid the ribbon off the box and then carefully opened it. She pulled the necklace from the box, and held it up. He stood and walked to her side of the table. Dropping to his knees behind her, he took the platinum chain from her and fastened it around her neck. The pendant was a diamond-encrusted sea branch.

Unable to resist the smooth length of her neck, he
dropped a kiss there. Her skin tasted so good that he wanted to nibble on her. But she shifted to her side, her hands coming up to frame his face. She turned until they faced each other.

Their breath mingled, their eyes met and Max felt something shift in his soul. Something he hadn't been aware he'd been missing or searching for until this very moment came into focus. And he realized that he wasn't going to let Roxy go.

“Thank you.”

She kissed him then, nothing tentative in her embrace, but like a woman who knew what she wanted. Her tongue traced over his lips before sliding into his mouth, tangling with his own tongue. Tasting him with leisurely strokes of her tongue. Strokes that set flame to his entire body.

He angled his head, forcing hers back until he was in control. Control of the kiss and the woman in his arms. She made soft mewling noises in the back of her throat and he swallowed them.

 

Roxy forgot about the fact that she didn't know who she was. Forgot about the strangeness of this experience that was unlike anything she'd ever known. Forgot that she had a body she no longer liked.

Instead she let herself live in the moment. She felt the crisp linen of Max's shirt under her fingers and how that contrasted with the muscled body un
derneath. She felt the passion in his mouth as it dominated hers.

She felt the swarm of lust rising in the pit of her belly and overcoming her. She moaned deep in her throat and felt him move.

He stood up and walked back around the table. She touched her lips as he settled onto his cushion.

Every other man she'd ever dated would have pushed her for more. Would have taken the invitation she hadn't meant to issue with her kiss. She wasn't sure if it was Max who attracted her or the fact that he was looking beyond her scars to the woman beneath. Making her feel once again like a sexy, vibrant woman and not handicapped.

If he'd taken advantage she would have known how to handle him. She would have frozen him out because she could barely stand her naked form, how could she let anyone else see it? Even Max.

“It looks lovely on you,” he said.

“The flush from your kiss?”

“That, too.”

She tried not to be charmed but she already had been. Her cell phone started to ring and she pulled her purse into her lap, trying to mute the sound of the song she'd downloaded as her ring tone.

“Is that ‘Dancing Queen'?”

She groaned. Every time she heard it she wanted
to pretend her life hadn't changed even though she knew it had. “Yes, please don't tease me about it.”

Now that the cat was out of the bag she might as well answer her call. “Hello?”

“Hey, Foxy Roxy, it's Hayden. Wanted to let you know I've got you scheduled to start working tomorrow morning with the spouse of one of our high rollers. Basically you'll entertain her and keep her busy in the casino.”

Hayden was all business and she wondered if Max had ruined her relationship with her boss with his high-handed manner. She needed to make sure that Max knew dating was one thing—were they even dating? Did she want to?

She took a deep breath and turned away from Max. “Is that okay, Hay? I know that Max asked you—”

“Everything's fine. I'm glad to see you and Max enjoying each other.”

“It's not like that,” she said, wanting to explain but not sure where to begin. There was no other man she'd have gotten on a plane with and flown out of Vegas just for breakfast.

“Whatever you say. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Hayden disconnected the call and she turned to face Max. He watched her with that intense gaze of his that made her wish she could read his mind.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

She thought she heard genuine concern in his
voice but that could just be wishful thinking. He'd said he wasn't after a vacation fling and the necklace he'd given her—her memento of the day—cost more than her mortgage payment. So what was he expecting from her?

“Yes. Just Hayden telling me about my new assignment.”

“Is it to your liking? I can have him change it to something else.”

“You have to back off that. I'm used to being in charge of my own life.”

He shrugged. She noticed he was more relaxed than she'd seen him since they met. In the casino there'd been an intensity to his face as he'd gambled. But not here.

“I'm not trying to take over, I promise. I'm only making the way smoother so that we can do things like this.”

“I can't do breakfast tomorrow.”

“Lunch?”

“I don't know. But my job is important to me.”

“I can appreciate that. But I'm only in town for a short time.”

“I mean it, Max. I grew up on charity and I have to work. This is important to me. Don't do something like this again.”

He nodded. “I'm sorry. I'm used to making things happen.”

“You're used to getting your way. But I'm a working girl and I'm not easily managed. You have to ask me before you rearrange my life.”

“I can do that,” he said.

“You seem different here,” she said, before he could comment on the fact that she'd been staring.

“How?” he asked.

She felt silly; she'd never intended to bring the subject up. “I don't know exactly—more relaxed.”

“I am in the company of a beautiful, charming lady and we're alone on the beach. What more could anyone ask for?”

“I'm thinking, fewer of those clichéd lines.”

“Hey, that wasn't a cliché.”

“Beautiful and charming…I know I'm not either of those things.”

“How do you know that? Maybe you've never been told before.”

She leaned forward, hearing the words of Madame Tremaine in the back of her mind. Her level-three ballet teacher had made sure that Roxy knew her limits.
You're too homely to be the lead without having the skill to keep the audience's eyes from straying to your face.

The words echoed in her head, and for a minute she was that twelve-year-old at that awkward stage between girl and woman. “I was told by an expert that I shouldn't rely on my looks.”

“No you shouldn't, but that doesn't mean you should dismiss them, either.”

She didn't know what else he wanted from her. But he didn't stop watching her. “What?”

“I'm trying to figure out what you see when you look in the mirror.”

Those words struck fear into her heart and she wrapped her arms around her waist.

 

Max had no idea how to deal with Roxy. Usually his words had a golden quality to them and people took them to mean more than he ever intended. But he'd never had someone look at him the way Roxy was. And he felt like a jerk.

She was hyper-sensitive about her body and he struggled to understand that. To him she was a woman who worked out and took care of herself. He could tell that she spent time on hair and makeup, yet she didn't have the confidence he would have expected.

He hadn't meant to hurt her but somehow he had. Maybe he should buy her something. Except he knew that money wasn't the solution. He'd learned that at a young age when he'd watched his mother wither from expensive gifts but a lonely life.

Roxy definitely liked the beach.

“Do you want to go to Hawaii for a few days?” he asked. He had a place on the Big Island of Hawaii, which would probably be crowded since it was
summer and the height of family-vacation season. “We can get away from Vegas and really have a chance to get to know one another.”

She shook her head but the sadness had left her eyes and he felt better. He wasn't even sure what he'd done to make that happen. “I have to start a new job tomorrow, remember?”

She was pretty cagey about that job that she wasn't even sure she liked. But he could respect her need to work and pay her own way. Those were the very two things that had driven him to start his own company, Pryce Enterprises, and not go to work for his family.

“Hayden won't mind waiting a few extra days for you,” Max assured her. He was confident that he could pay the wage of a temporary employee so that Roxy's job would be waiting for her when she got back.

“I can't. Why would you even offer such a thing?”

“You seem to like the beach.”

She tipped her head to the side, studying him, and he hoped she found whatever it was she was searching for in his gaze. Hoped that whatever was there wouldn't scare her off. He tried not to think about how her breasts had felt pressed against him when they'd kissed. Or the fact that he'd been able to feel her nipples harden. He wanted to touch and taste them.

“I do. But why a sudden trip?” she asked.

He couldn't remember what they were talking
about. He was imagining them both naked in his tropical paradise retreat.

“Max?”

Something about why he'd offered to take her to the beach…he remembered suddenly that it hadn't started out as a sexual thing but more of an emotional one. He'd wanted to stop her from hurting.

“Blondie, you had a look on your face…” How could he say it without upsetting her again. Damn, this was exactly what he wasn't good at.

“What look?” she asked, shifting her legs under the table.

“Never mind, I thought you needed a distraction and it was either offering a trip or kissing you.”

“So you opted for the trip?”

“If I kiss you again I don't think I'll be able to stop until I'm buried in that sexy body of yours. And I have the feeling public displays of affection don't rank too highly with you.”