Baddest Bad Boys(76)

“I apologize for not meeting you earlier. My flight was already under way by the time I learned you’d been held up.”

In a flurry of windblown sand, the helicopter took off, leaving them alone. Max had already loaded her luggage onto a golf cart. Before she could protest, he picked her up and set her on the seat.

“Thank you.” Sue her if it was passé, but she liked it when Max held her.

“My pleasure. Didn’t Gerard say you should take it easy with the foot for a day or two?”

“It’s been a day.”

“Humor me.”

The vehicle’s oversized, knobby tires had no problem in the sand as they zipped along the south side of the island. In the fading light, it was hard to see much. The number of trees surprised her. From what she could tell, the dense pines seemed to shelter much of the grounds.

“The main house is just ahead,” Max said. “Straight up from the dock.”

The dock had a large powerboat berthed on one side, a sailboat on the other.

“How many houses are on the island?”

“Four. The big one and three smaller ones. Two of those are guest quarters, on the far side. They’re empty. We have the place completely to ourselves except for Tyler, our groundskeeper, and his wife, Maria. They live in the third home. Maria keeps house and cooks. You’ll rarely see them, though. Our family has employed them for years—I trust them one hundred percent.” Max looked at her. “I want you to know you’re safe here.”

His words and sincerity touched her. Just don’t read anything into it, she reminded herself.

The main house was a two-story Cape Cod with porches and decks adjoining the ground floor. At Max’s insistence, Ellie explored the downstairs while he took care of her luggage. What she saw shocked her. She had expected a tasteless, brothel-type macho-pit, complete with nude sculptures and mirrored walls. Instead the house was, well…cozy.

Ferns and fragrant orchids were everywhere. A set of double doors led into a library. That room, a long rectangle, had French doors and a patio on one side. She took in the professional touches—the showpiece rug, the original watercolors.

The view beyond the doors was spectacular. Open water. A large mahogany desk dominated one end of the room. A briefcase and laptop rested on the desk’s polished surface. Max’s? Just beyond the desk were more glass doors that led to a swimming pool. The work space layout offered simultaneous views of ocean and pool.

The room’s interior wall boasted floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. She scanned the titles, a collection of expensive leather-bound classics. Again, not what she anticipated. The gilt spines of the books were pristine. For show, she thought. What a pity.

She moved toward a sloppy-looking shelf closer to the desk. The books here were worn, well used. Well loved. One had dog-eared sheets of paper stuck inside. She read the titles. These were Max’s books. Yacht Design. Outboard Engine Specifications. Powerboats For Racing.

She smiled, remembered boating with him during that long-ago summer. While their friends sunbathed and partied, Max had pointed out different vessels, talking about hull shapes as if he were describing a lover’s body. He’d talked about designing boats—yachts, really—and had showed her some sketches. He’d teased her about decorating what he’d build. “We’d make a great team.”

He’d been so wrong.

Hearing footsteps in the hall, she turned just as Max joined her.

“You found my favorite room,” he said. “So what do you think of the place?”

Ellie turned and nodded. “Um…It’s lovely.”

“You sound surprised.”

She tried to cover her gaffe. “I’ve heard stories.”

“About the orgies?” He chuckled. “My mom’s sister started them.”

“Why did she do that?”

“To piss off one of my dad’s subsequent wives. San Regale was originally my father’s fishing retreat. Until my mother came along. My father said she visited the island once and next thing he knew, she was having a house built here. Each successive wife added on, until eventually Dad simply banned females.”

“I bet that went over well, given the orgy rumors.”

“Exactly.” He moved toward a bar tucked in the corner. “I know you had dinner in Charleston, but I thought we’d have a few hors d’oeuvres later. Wine?”

Before she could respond, Max’s cell phone started ringing. He tugged it out and glanced at the display. “Sorry. I need to take this.”

She nodded. “Actually, I’d like to shower and change. It’s been a long day.”

He answered his phone with a quick, “I’ll call you right back.” Snapping it shut, he escorted Ellie to the foyer. “Your things are in the guest suite at the top of the staircase. It’s got a private terrace and bath.” Once again, he brought her fingers to his lips, but this time he pressed a kiss to her palm, then folded her fingers over it. “Let’s meet on the patio in an hour.”

When Ellie reached her suite, she shut the door and leaned back against it. They weren’t sharing a room. Was she relieved or disappointed?

Her eyes fell on the bed, the physical equivalent of the million-dollar question. Where would they do it? His room? Hers? This bed was queen-sized. Adequate. Until she recalled Max’s suite in the penthouse; it had an oversized king. Something suited for sexual Olympics. Pros. Not amateurs.