“Let me know if you have any questions about the area. I’d be happy to show you around.”
She sipped her wine and half closed her eyes in pleasure. “Hmm, there’s one thing I need above all else.”
“What?”
“A gym. Can you recommend one?”
“Michael installed a full facility at the company. I’ll show you tomorrow. I usually work out in the early morning if you ever want to join me.” Her gaze flicked over his body as if assessing his muscle structure. He grinned. “Want me to flex?”
The old Carina would have blushed. This one pursed her lips and pondered. “Maybe.”
“Brat.” He raised a brow. “You always hated working out.”
“Still do. But I love to eat, and I have a weight problem. Exercising balances both.”
Max frowned. “You don’t have a weight problem.”
She sighed. “Trust me, when most clothes are made for tall, leggy women with no hips, you have a weight problem.”
Irritation prickled his nerve endings. “That’s stupid. You have an actual ass and br**sts. That’s the kind of weight a man looks for.”
He almost gasped when the words came out of his mouth. Conversations with Carina never included body parts, and heat actually tinged his cheeks. What the hell was he doing?
But she didn’t look embarrassed. In fact, she laughed out loud and clicked her glass with his. “Well said, Max. But I still may take you up on that offer. How’s Rocky?”
A faint smile curved his lips. “Great. He’s completely healed and turned into a lapdog. Kind of embarrassing. I’ve never met a pit bull who’s disinterested in any stranger unless they rubbed his belly.”
Her almond-shaped eyes softened. Her family deemed Carina “the animal whisperer” for her ability to communicate with any animal. After he rescued Rocky from the fighting pit, the first call he made was to Carina. She told him exactly how to handle and treat the abused pit bull, and they had worked as a long-distance team to heal his battered soul. “I can’t wait to finally meet him in person,” she said. “Photos aren’t the same.”
The image of Carina in his home and with his dog settled over him. It was odd how much he looked forward to seeing her on his own turf. He usually hated bringing women to his house and tried to avoid the trap by going to theirs. Carina took a sip of her wine and startled him with a bold question.
“How’s your love life? Who’s the flavor of the month?”
He shifted his feet. “No one special.”
“Didn’t you turn thirty a while ago?”
“What does that have to with anything?” he asked. He hated the defensiveness to his tone. “I’m only thirty-four.”
She shrugged. “Just wondered if you had interest in settling down, having a family. Like them.”
The two couples stood close together, deep in conversation. Nick’s hand rested on the side of Alexa’s belly, and Michael bent his head to whisper something in his wife’s ear. The air of close intimacy and joy shimmered around the tight circle and left Max with a hole in his gut. Sure, he wanted that. Who wouldn’t? But no woman had made him want to give up his freedom and commit to her forever. He swore he’d be single for life unless he was absolutely one hundred percent sure. He’d never walk away from his wife and family like his father. He’d never abandon someone who needed him. Therefore, he didn’t have the luxury of making any errors within his relationships. The moment a woman wanted to stay in his bed for too long, or invited him to family functions, he took a long hard look at the relationship. If there wasn’t enough feeling, he moved on.
Unfortunately, he’d been moving on for years now with no permanent relationship in his past.
“One day,” he said. “When I meet the right one.”
“Your mama is getting nervous,” she teased. “I think she’s starting to say extra rosaries with Father Richard, praying that you’re not g*y.”
He choked on the sip of wine. Who was this woman? Her mischievous expression made him want to challenge her. “Oh, is that so? And do you think I’m g*y?”
His muscles tightened under her hot gaze as she took in every inch of his body. “Hmm, I always did wonder. You dress quite nicely. You know your designer brands. And you’re a bit too pretty for my taste.”
The breath whooshed out of his lungs. “What?”
“No offense. I prefer the bad-boy type. Casual, longer hair, maybe a motorcycle.”
“Your brother would kill you, and I bet you never rode on any damn bike.” Temper snapped at him, made even more ridiculous because he knew she was teasing him. “And you know I’m not g*y.”
“Okay.” She lifted her shoulders as if he now bored her. “Think what you like.”
Her evasive answer pissed him off. Had she been on a bike with some guy looking to take advantage? And why did he care? She was a grown woman, for God’s sake, and no longer his concern. She could date whomever she wanted. The image of her clutching some guy around the waist hit him full force. Thighs tight around the hum of the engine. Dark hair flying in the wind. The dip and speed as she hung on tight with the promise of a very different ride afterward.
Maybe it was time Carina Conte realized he wasn’t a man who took well to teasing.
He lowered his head. Her eyes widened in surprise as he dipped his mouth close to hers; close enough to see the gorgeous peach sheen to her skin, the ruby red of her lips, and the tiny gasp of breath she emitted in a warm rush. “Want me to prove I’m not g*y?”
She paused just a moment, then rallied. “I never knew my opinion really mattered.”
The words hit with deliberate precision. Her sharp intellect hidden under a veneer of sweetness always fascinated him. Rarely did she have the courage to spar, and he found himself enjoying this new woman before him. “Maybe things have changed.”
“Maybe I don’t care.”
A smile touched his lips. “Maybe it’s time I give you a message for my mother. A type of proof.”
The pulse beat madly at the base of her neck. Still, her tone was cool and under control when she spoke. “Maybe I don’t like to be used.” She took a step back and dismissed him. “Maybe I’ve moved on, Maximus Gray. I’m no longer your sweet little pup begging for a bone. Get over it.”