Home > The Marriage Mistake (Marriage to a Billionaire #3)(12)

The Marriage Mistake (Marriage to a Billionaire #3)(12)
Author: Jennifer Probst

She gave a humorless laugh and moved in. Her cherry red fingernails snapped at his tie in pure dismissal. “I’m making my own rules now. And I’m more honest than you.” Her scent wrapped around him and made him want to run in circles like a dog trying to catch his tail. “You couldn’t have a real relationship if your life depended on it, so you’ve focused your attention on me. Nice diversion, but it’s not going to work this time.”

“You know nothing about me and my relationships. All I’m trying to do is guide a young girl through her training. Just like Michael asked me.”

His final shot caught its mark. Anger steamed from her pores. She teetered on the edge of her famous temper, and he prepared for the ensuing drama—almost welcomed it. This Carina he knew and could handle.

Instead, she brought herself back from the edge and shot him an almost pitying stare. Took a few steps back. The severe cut of her black jacket only emphasized the earthy curves of her hips and br**sts, a delicious contradiction that hardened his dick and screwed with his head. “If that’s what you need to believe to sleep at night, so be it. But while you’re comfortable with your illusions, know this. I don’t care what you do anymore, Max. Your relationships don’t concern me, but mine do. And if I want to boink Tom, Dick, and Harry in my own private time, stay out of it. Because I don’t want to sleep comfortably at night.” She smiled. “Not anymore.”

Her heels clicked on the polished wood. “I’ll be in accounting if you need me.”

He stared at the closed door for a while. This was no longer a girl he faced. This was a full-blown Eve, and he was in more trouble than he thought. He raked back his control and wondered what the emptiness in his gut meant. Since he didn’t know how to get rid of it, Max guzzled some water and moved on.

Just like he always did.

Chapter Four

Carina walked around the tiny loft apartment. Boxes littered the gunmetal carpet and the kitchen barely had enough room to fit a person with generous hips. The canary yellow futon splashed color and mixed with the array of crazed watercolors hung on the wall. Definitely not an artist worthy of a showing, but at least they were cheery and interesting to look at. The large windows opened to view an array of towering trees, as if she lived in a modern tree house from one of those fantasy movies.

It was perfect.

Joy splintered through her. Alexa’s apartment was her first official home that was all her own. Finally, she had the privacy she craved, and an endless array of opportunities stretched ahead of her. She didn’t intend to waste a single moment.

And it started tomorrow night with her first official date.

Footsteps echoed. Michael and Max pushed through the narrow doorway and collapsed on the sagging futon. “That’s the last of it.”

She giggled at the sight of two strapping, masculine men huffing over the long climb. “I thought you guys worked out at the gym every day. Yet here you are exhausted over moving a few boxes.”

They shared a look of incredulity. “Are you kidding me? What did you put in those boxes, anyway? Stones?” her brother asked.

“I need lots of shoes. And my art equipment.”

Max glared. “There must be three hundred stairs, all twisty and narrow. And where the hell is the air-conditioning?”

“Alexa said the unit is ancient. And I told you to hire movers.”

“No need. We wanted to be involved.”

Carina held back a sigh. “Fine. Thank you both, but why don’t you get going? I have to unpack and get settled. Maggie mentioned a benefit dinner tonight.”

Michael groaned and stood up. “You’re right. She’s going to be crazed about what to wear and no matter how many times I tell her she looks great, she says she looks fat.”

Carina laughed. “Just remind her she’s not fat—just carrying two extra bodies in her small belly.”

“I’ll try. Are you going to be okay? Do you need anything?”

She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Niente. I’m excited to get settled and have everything I need. I love you, Michael.”

His face gentled and he kissed the top of her head. “I love you too. Max? Coming?”

“In a minute. Go ahead.”

“See you later.”

Her brother left and she shifted her glance to Max.

Oh. My.

His dark hair was adorably mussed and a fine sheen of sweat gleamed on his brow. His worn T-shirt clung damply to a mass of carved muscle from his abs, pecs, biceps, and other yummy places. The ancient jeans hugged his ass and dropped low on his hips in a wicked invitation for a woman to play. He always seemed to loom over her in that delicious dominant way that made her tummy drop, especially since the top of her head only hit his chin. Well versed in ignoring her physical attraction to the man, she focused on her task.

Carina grabbed the first box and ripped it open with the box cutter. “Max, there’s no need to stay. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I know. But I’m thirsty. Want a beer?”

“I don’t have any.”

He grinned and unfurled himself from the couch. When he returned from the kitchen, he held out a frosty Moretti. Strong tanned fingers brushed hers. “Housewarming present.”

“Yum.” She pressed the icy cold bottle to her cheek and rolled it down over her neck. The chill peppered her flesh, and she sighed with pleasure. “Feels so good.”

He made a strangled sound in his throat. She shifted her gaze, and dark blue eyes pinned her with heat. Her breath hitched, but she managed to fight past it and take a step back. Funny, she never saw that look on his face before. Almost like he was . . . hungry.

She drank her beer in a thick, heavy silence. She spoke first and tried to cut through the odd tension. “So, big plans for the weekend?”

“Not really.”

“We have the site walk-through on Monday, right?”

“Yep.”

“What do you think of my new place?”

“Small.”

“Read any good books lately?”

“No. You?”

“Yeah, the Kama Sutra.” That got his attention. He scowled but offered nothing further. “Have you read it?”

“No need.” His husky drawl promised he did fine without the well-known sex manual.

She paused mid-sip. Temper nipped as she realized he still tried to intimidate her with his towering height and primitive, masculine energy. He was a walking, breathing, living Sex God and she was sick to death of being in his shadow. Carina narrowed her eyes, and her voice snapped. “If you have nothing to talk about or offer here, I think you should be on your way. I have a lot of work to do.”

   
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