Baddest Bad Boys(75)

Ignoring the obvious SPAM, she scrolled down looking for Max’s message. When she found it, she grew anxious waiting for it to open as her antivirus software twiddled its cyber-thumbs. What if his schedule was virtually impossible? How far out would he propose that they postpone their week together? Weeks? Months?

Max’s message, while short, surprised her.

Will meet you at the hangar at three this afternoon.

Pack light. Lots of sunscreen.

Yours,

M

This afternoon? Surely he didn’t think their week started today? Slightly panicked, she reread the note.

Pack lightly? Sunscreen? Where were they going? Had he not mentioned their destination in an e-mail for security reasons? Her eyes fell on the clock. She had less than five hours.

She hit Reply, intending to list all the reasons she needed more time. Except none of them held water. She clasped her hands in her lap and stared at her nails. To do as Max bid was wildly impulsive. God, when was the last time she’d done anything impulsive?

Duh. Try yesterday. Coming here, leaving that note. It didn’t get much more impulsive than that.

Still, she felt nervous over making love with Max for the first time. She frowned at her word choice. Technically, this would be their seventh time. In seven years.

If it wasn’t so pathetic, all the sevens would sound quasi-mystical. The truth was anything but. Seven years ago she’d been an overprotected nineteen-year-old eager to lose her virginity. Losing her heart hadn’t been a concern.

Until she met Max DeLuca. Even then, he’d had a reputation. He comes from a long line of womanizers, her grandfather had warned. Stay clear.

At first, she’d heeded that advice and kept her distance. Max had been larger than life. Young, rich, and privileged, not to mention worldly and drop-dead gorgeous. From the first moment they’d met, he’d seemed determined to pursue her. Eventually she’d succumbed. It had been summer break and she and her girlfriends had taken over the beach house. Max and his pals were ensconced next door. Sex was on everyone’s mind back then. When Max learned she was a virgin, he’d backed off. But he hadn’t given up. “No pressure,” he’d promised. “Your first time should be unforgettable.”

And that’s exactly what it was. A week before she had to return to campus, she’d given in. Looking back, she realized their first time hadn’t been glorious. In fact, it had been awkward. Max had been patient and understanding, promising it would get better with practice. However, privacy with a houseful of party animals had been rare. Sex between them was rushed, secretive.

They’d spent their last night together on the beach. And that had been unforgettable. That night she’d finally found the rhythm. She had been eager to learn everything, but time transpired against them. Max had promised there would be endless opportunities to explore all things carnal in the future. They promised to keep in touch, promised to get together in the fall.

It never happened. Fate spun both of them in different directions.

She sighed. Was this her chance to turn back time? Were the sevens an omen? Once before, she’d had seven days with Max, but back then, she hadn’t known it would end. Now she did.

That meant making every moment count. She picked up the phone and paged Gerard. “I’d like to leave early. I have a little shopping to do on the way to the airport.”

6
A computer glitch at Logan International had flights backed up. As it turned out, it was after five when Max’s private jet finally taxied up to the hangar—without Max.

From Gerard, Ellie learned that their destination—Charleston, South Carolina—was temporary. “From Charleston you’ll be taken by boat to San Regale,” he had told her. “Mr. DeLuca will meet you there.”

A riff of excitement played up her spine. San Regale was a private island off the coast of South Carolina; it had been in the DeLuca family for years. Nicknamed “Sensual Isle” by the tabloids, San Regale had its own rumor factory. Several stories purported that exotic orgies were hosted regularly there, with yachts coming and going in the dark of night to preserve the anonymity of the rich and famous.

The island had a public mystique as well since it was the only DeLuca holding that had never been extensively photographed. And while the DeLucas had homes and villas tucked all over the world, mostly for philandering, Stefan had always made it clear that San Regale was off limits.

Ellie’s imagination worked overtime during the flight. Was she ready for this? Her original proposal had been for one night, which she felt confident enough to handle. But seven nights alone on an island with Max? Was she insane?

In Charleston there was another delay, this one weather-related. Ultimately, she was ferried to the island by a helicopter. Gerard bid her farewell at the airport. “Mr. DeLuca will be waiting at the island.”

They touched down on a wide stretch of beach just as dusk was setting. Her breath caught at the sight of Max. He was dressed casually in worn jeans, a polo shirt, and shabby deck shoes. His dark hair was loose and a five o’clock shadow darkened his jaw. In short, he looked…dangerous.

He helped her disembark, pulling her close and bringing her hand to his mouth. He kissed her fingertips, then held her hand, his thumb stroking lightly over her knuckles. She felt electricity zing clear down to her toes.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she lied. Actually, I’m about to jump out of my skin, thanks.