It had seemed like an eternity for Kimberly between the pool and the closet—now it seemed like an eternity since the closet and this. This, Max’s hand on her aching breast. Max’s raspy voice in her ear, whispering the hottest invitation she’d ever received.

She knew she should find the strength to say no. Because she knew, by his own admission, that all he felt for her was lust. But he’d weakened her defenses, bit by bit. Made her so weak and hungry. It was a horrible, wonderful culmination of all the emotions and sensations she’d experienced since seeing him again.

“Oh Max …” she breathed.

He was still near her ear, his warm breath branding her skin there. “Say yes, babe. Tell me you want me as much as I want you.”

And she was too weak, too hungry, to turn him down. If lust was all she could have from him, she’d take it.

“Yes, Max, yes. I want you. You know I do.”

A heavy sigh of blissful relief whooshed from him. And then he was lowering warm, soft kisses to her neck—just before raking his teeth gently down her earlobe. Oh my—she sucked in her breath as incredible sensation moved all through her, reaching places far beyond her ear.

His kisses moved to her mouth then—hot, delicate tongue kisses that seemed to wrap around her and take hold of her soul. He cupped both of her breasts in his hands and she gasped her pleasure—how badly she had yearned for this. For three long, lonely years she had waited, dreamed, of being in Max’s arms again, and right now she wanted him more than she ever had before.

He kissed her some more—kissed her as he kneaded her breasts, kissed her as he pushed the silky robe off her shoulders and to the floor. He kissed her as he eased one hand down over her hip, then let it dip teasingly between her legs before brushing his fingertips up over her bare stomach, finally stopping at the front clasp on her bra.

As the clasp came undone, the bra loosening around her, she basked in the sensation of being undressed by him—even if she hadn’t been wearing much in the first place. And then he was pushing the lace cups aside, grazing his palms over her taut, sensitive nipples, then holding her breasts in his hands, peering down at them. “So beautiful,” he murmured.

He bent over her, raining tiny, fire-infused kisses to the tips, flicking his tongue expertly over the hardened beads until she feared he'd drive her completely out of her mind. After which he took the peak of her breast into his mouth, hard and fervent, making her pant and whimper, making her whisper heatedly, “Oh Max, it feels so good. Please don’t stop. Please.”

And then he stopped.

And she sort of wanted to kill him—but immediately she remembered. Max’s lovemaking was legendary. He knew exactly what to do and when to do it. When she looked down into his eyes and he looked back, his gaze sultry and knowing, she knew she was at his mercy now and there was no taking control. She didn’t even want to.

Sinking to his knees, he kissed his way down her stomach and she tingled hotly below, waiting, wanting.

And then came the sweet kisses on her thigh, edging upward with achingly slow precision—until finally they met with her panties. He knelt before her, gently moving the lace aside with rough fingertips, making her clench her fists and pull in her breath.

She watched as—oh God—he began to kiss her there, at the very crux of her desire, at the same time pushing two fingers up inside. She gasped, reaching over her head, clawing helplessly at the wall behind her so as not to collapse from the mind-crushing sensations.

“Max.” She didn’t know if she was whispering or screaming at this point, and she didn’t care.

Using a strong, guiding hand, he lifted her left leg, placing her foot on a chair beside her, so he could reach her better, so that her delicate folds would open to him more. She clenched her teeth to keep from sobbing at how much she felt it, how his mouth was making her body tremble in ecstasy, how the sensations had now become wild pulses that rippled through her at lightning speed.

And it was about to happen, she knew, about to tear through her with all the power of a locomotive, about to bury her, and then…he was gone.

Rising up, he took her in his arms, where she whimpered, “Please Max, why?”

“Shhh,” he soothed her, holding her close, dropping soft kisses on her neck, running his strong hands over the length of her back. “Don’t worry, babe,” he rasped. “We’re not done yet. Not even close.”

“But—” She’d been so on the edge, so deliciously near, and he—he’d abandoned her. “Maybe you weren’t close, but I was.”

“Shhhhh now. Trust me.” And then he was kissing her again, those same passionate tongue kisses that turned her inside out, and she could taste the remnants of his affections, and on second thought, this hardly felt like abandonment. Trust me. She did. She would.

Pulling back from her, he gently lowered her panties to her ankles to let her step free of them. Then he stood back, gazing on her nakedness, until finally he uttered, “You take my breath away, Kimberly.”

And then he was undressing, too, unbuttoning his shirt and nearly ripping it off, yanking the shoes from his feet, pushing his blue jeans down and off along with his boxer briefs. And she studied every contour of him, every masculine inch, just as he’d studied her—remembering, wanting. “Don’t make me wait, Max.”

His voice came as breathy as hers. “I don’t think I can.”

He dug in his wallet for a condom and they fell frantically to the bed, both shoving the jewelry aside, until finally he plunged into her welcoming flesh without a second’s more delay. She tried not to cry out at how good it felt, at how right and perfect this seemed. He moved in her slow and deep, each stroke penetrating her very core, and she wrapped her legs around him tight, never wanting to let him leave her, never wanting this glorious connection to end. I love you, Max. I love you, love you, love you. Inside, she whispered the words, over and over.

When he pulled away from her yet again, she heard her own sob, followed by his soothing, “Shhhhh.” And she felt like a terribly impatient lover, but she couldn’t help how badly she needed him.

Then he rolled her onto her side, entering her from behind. She remembered telling him once that she could feel him deeper that way—and it was true, she still could, and a sharp moan escaped her with every thundering thrust. She’d never felt this whole in her life—this right, this incredibly fulfilled. Having Max inside her created a perfect moment in time, perfect beyond measure, and she prayed it would never end.

When his hand slid over her hip and thigh, and his fingers began to gently stroke her center, his touch was like velvet. She closed her eyes and let herself simply bask in it—until again that warm, driving tension began to build inside her, fill her, prod her, until she was grinding against his hand as he moved in her from the back.

And then it took her—a startling release. Stunning in its intensity, and beautiful because it was filled with all the love she felt for the man who had taken her there. Higher and higher the sensations carried her, until at least she was coming down, catching her breath, sighing her bliss.

Only he was coming now, too—with a deep groan as he thrust hard, hard, hard inside her. An overflow of emotion shook her at the connection they shared.

They stayed quiet, still, as he held her afterward, his arms wrapping around her from behind.

And she hoped he wouldn’t notice her ridiculous reaction, but finally he leaned over, peering down at her in the moonlight. “Are you crying?” he whispered.

She lifted a hand to wipe her tears away and tried to cover a necessary sniffle. “No.”

“It’s all right if you are, Kimberly,” he murmured, low and sweet. “It’s okay.” And then he lowered a gentle kiss to her cheek and lay back again, still holding her tight.

* * *

The morning sun urged Max’s eyes open. Looked like another beautiful day outside—a beautiful day to catch a thief.

Then he glanced beside him in bed—and he saw Kimberly, bare but for the sheet that rose only to her waist, a diamond choker still circling her delicate neck. He crushed his eyes shut again. She looked incredibly lovely. But he’d made a very big mistake.

He couldn’t believe he’d let it happen. Well, okay, maybe he could—it had started to seem inevitable as the day had progressed yesterday.

But it was completely unprofessional.

And it had clearly stirred up some old feelings for her, tender feelings—yet that didn’t mean anything had changed.

The best thing he could do would be to get out of bed. Get in the shower, get dressed, get downstairs. Not make a big deal out of this. Move on.

So he rolled over away from her, ready to push the covers back—when she stirred next to him. Damn.

Peering over at her, he watched her eyes flutter open. Watched her turn to him with a sleepy, sexy, sweet-as-candy smile. “Morning,” she said, her voice butterfly soft. Double-damn.

As soon as Kimberly saw him, her thoughts—practically her whole being—leapt to last night. To the complete and utter fulfillment he’d brought her, to the intense connection unlike anything she’d ever shared with anyone before.

“Uh, hi,” he said, his gaze downcast. And only then did she really see him. The troubled expression shadowing his handsome face. The worry hanging over his dark eyes. His deep voice had sounded vaguely cool, dejected.

“Are you…okay?” she asked. But inside, she begged him. Please, please don’t do this. Please don’t act how I’m afraid you’re going to act.

“Yeah, fine,” he replied without looking at her. Then he reached over the side of the bed and grabbed his underwear. “We’d better get moving. Big day today.”

She sighed—looked like he was going to act that way. Like nothing had happened.

And she couldn’t stand that. In fact, she wouldn’t stand for it.

She sat up in bed and stared at him. “Are you just going to pretend we didn’t have mind-blowing sex?”

Next to her, he sighed, but still didn’t look at her. “We shouldn’t have. It’s my fault. I’m sorry. I got too close to you and lost control.”

She swallowed hard. He’d just made everything completely clear to her. Even after last night, all he felt for her was lust. Still.

And she knew she should have foreseen this—in fact, she had foreseen it. She’d told herself over and over that to go to bed with Max would be a mistake because he would never return her feelings.

She’d forgotten about that last part amid her ecstasy—and now it was slapping her in the face, hard. And it hurt just as much as she’d imagined it would. Maybe more, because imagined hurt was nothing like real hurt. Real hurt cut to the quick and you couldn’t dull it and you couldn’t escape it. It was just a part of you. And already, it felt like the biggest part of her.

“I have a suggestion, Tate,” she said, not looking at him. “If Carlo’s not around, stay away from me. That way you won’t be tempted to lose control again.” Then she got up and walked to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

* * *

Max looked after her, immediately missing the sight of her pretty backside when she slammed the door. Apparently he’d handled this the wrong way. He hadn’t meant to make her mad—he’d just thought it would be easier if they both got on with the business of doing this job.

He climbed out of bed and did his best to make it, fluffing the pillows and pulling the comforter up. Then he gathered the fake jewelry strewn around the covers and on the floor, and put it all neatly back into the black velvet box, which he also found on the carpet at the foot of the bed.

Of course, when he thought about it, she was right—he could try to pretend this hadn’t happened, but it had. And he didn’t think he’d be forgetting about it anytime soon. He could still feel her creamy breasts filling his hands, and the way her body had opened so warm and moist to take him inside. He could still feel the way his heart had seemed to contract when she held him tight, when her breath sounded so ragged in his ear, and when she came—especially when she came. Talk about evoking emotions—he’d felt things he didn’t even know names for.

And then she’d cried. He’d almost forgotten that part until right now. She’d cried and he’d held her and he’d told her it was okay. He didn’t even know what he’d meant by that.

Or maybe he did. Maybe he’d been saying: It’s okay to feel so much, because I feel it, too.

Damn. It was true. He’d felt it, too.

He shook his head at the disarming realization, then grabbed up his clothes and went to use the shower down the hall.

* * *

Kimberly stood in the shower letting the water cascade over her—hoping it would somehow wash away her mortification. But water couldn’t do that. Nor could tears. She’d been having so many inane wishes lately—ever since Max Tate had re-entered her life.

Ugh, she couldn’t stop remembering. How she’d begged him. How she’d whimpered and sobbed and panted and pleaded. He certainly wasn’t the only one who’d lost control. Only her loss of control had been much more complete than his—hers included her body and her heart.

And good Lord—she’d been so overcome with love for him that she’d cried afterward? How utterly embarrassing. Especially now—now that she knew it meant nothing to him at all.

Toweling off with one of the plush bath sheets from the enormous linen closet, she promptly dropped it in the laundry chute and stood before the marble sinktop brushing her teeth. Plush bath sheets, marble sinktops—suddenly the lavishness of their accommodations no longer held the same awe for her that it had only a day or two ago. It just wasn’t important compared to her feelings, compared to her heart.

After throwing on denim shorts and a T-shirt—who cared if Carlo thought it was sexy or not?—she scooped up the choker and bracelet she’d set on the sink and came out into the bedroom.

She’d heard the door close and knew Max was no longer there, but she was surprised to see he’d made the bed and cleaned up the jewelry. He’d left the black velvet box sitting neatly on the comforter, lid open, waiting for her to drop the missing items back inside.

Laying the gems back among the others, she gently closed the box, then slid it into the safe and shut the door. And she felt a distinct sadness fall over her, because packing up the jewelry and closing it away seemed somehow like…packing up her and Max’s relationship and hiding it away, as well—which was obviously exactly what he wanted.

And that made sense, because the jewelry and the relationship had something else in common, too. Both were fake.

But snap out of it, Brandt. Toughen up—you’ve got a job to do today. You can cry your heart out later, but for now, it’s back to work. And with that, she put on her tough investigator’s face, tempered it with a little of the flirtation that came from Max’s “wife,” then went downstairs ready to put in this last few hours of work before calling it a day with him—forever.