“So this is how the other half live,” I say, sinking deeper into the uber-comfy plane seat. How is it possible that this jet is cozier than any living room I’ve ever been in?

Across from me, Max grins. “Did I forget to mention we have a small private jet on hand? My bad.”

“Small?” I repeat, gazing around the luxurious cabin.

“The cousins took the big one.”

He offers me a glass of wine, and I take it, savoring the taste before I grab another of the fancy crackers that were also stored in the sideboard. “I’m surprised you don’t have any caviar on board. What kind of ramshackle operation are you running here?”

Max grins. “Cute outfit,” he notes, looking me over with a sizzling stare. “You should have worn it to the party.”

I laugh. I’m wearing plain cutoffs and a tank top. I barely had time to change out of my gown and throw a few things back in my suitcase before we raced to the airfield. “I figured I’d better go practical,” I tell him. “Who knows what other tricks your grandfather has up his sleeve?”

“Don’t remind me.” Max stretches out his legs next to mine. His ankle comes to rest against my bare calf. I can’t bring myself to move away. What’s a little footsy between friends?

“So I have a question for you,” I say, trying to distract myself from the lean lines of his muscular body, still dressed in that tux. “If everyone else in the Carlisle family is . . . well, a piece of work, how did you make it out with some good still left in you?”

“Some?” he teases, nudging my ankle.

I try to give him a withering stare. “I’m withholding judgment. But based on first impressions, you’re not a vicious piranha like the rest of them.”

“My babydoll, she’s so sweet to me,” Max teases, and I laugh.

“That’s right, pookie.”

Max’s expression turns thoughtful. “I don’t know why I’m so different. Even growing up, I could never really connect with them. It felt like we were all playing a part, you know? Artie striving to be this cut-throat business tycoon to impress everyone, Parker fighting for attention by dominating every sport she could. My parents would stash me with family every summer, but I steered clear. I was busy getting in trouble of my own.” He winks, and I don’t have to ask to know that the trouble in question probably involved girls.

“What about you?” he asks. “You’re taking all this in stride. Maybe insanity runs in your family too?”

“Is there any family that’s completely sane?” I counter. “I guess mine is pretty normal, all things told. Mom and Dad have a house in the country, out in Vermont. All quiet and picturesque. Which of course drove me crazy when I was a teenager, because the last thing I wanted was quiet, but I survived.”

“Clearly,” Max says.

“My brother’s in theater,” I add. “He’s a big-time Broadway producer, but he’s about as grounded as any show-business person I’ve met.” I shrug. “Maybe the Gages are just kind of boring.”

Max snorts with laughter. “Hallie, the last thing you are is boring.”

I flush, surprised at the compliment. “I guess I have been keeping you on your toes.”

“Me and the rest of the family. Talking back to the investors. Revamping Cordelia’s fashion choices,” Max counts them off.

“Hey, you asked me to distract her.”

“And now you’re probably top of her hit list.” Max grins over at me. “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll protect you.”

“From Cordelia? I could snap her like a twig.” I giggle and take another sip of wine. “It’s Artie I’m worried about. He looks like one of those American Psycho guys—wound so tight, he’ll explode.”

“As long as we’re a thousand miles away . . .” Max clinks his glass to mine in a toast. “Here’s to beating them at their own game.”

---

We touch down at a private airstrip, out in the middle of nowhere. Being Max, of course, he’s arranged to have a rental car waiting for us, despite the fact it’s the middle of the night.

“Next stop, the cemetery,” he announces, getting behind the wheel.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to find it?” I ask, peering through the windshield. It’s pitch black out, our headlights the only illumination for miles around.

“Siri never lets me down.”

“Can Siri rush deliver some holy water and stakes?” I shiver as we pass an abandoned old barn. “Because it’s like the first act of a horror movie out here.”

“No stakes,” Max says. “But I do have an excellent roundhouse kick.”

“I guess that’ll have to do.”

He reaches over to pat my knee, and even though it’s a casual gesture, barely touching for a moment, I feel the heat everywhere. “Don’t worry,” Max says with a grin. “I’ll fend off the undead for you, any day.”

“Good. Because I watched as much Buffy as the next girl, but vampires are definitely beyond the scope of our contract.”

By the time Max pulls over at the small cemetery, rain is spitting from the dark night’s sky. “I don’t suppose you packed an umbrella?” I ask.

“Sorry. You can stay here if you want.”

“Are you kidding?” I reach for the car door. “I want to see if we’re right!”

I take two steps out of the car—and fall flat on my butt. SQUELCH. Max laughs, and then has to grab hold of the car for balance when he hits the mud patch.

“Here.” He helps me up, and then strips off his jacket, settling it around my shoulders.

“I guess flip-flops aren’t the best choice for a midnight stroll through the graveyard,” I say, levering them out of the mud. “Let’s find that grave and get out of here.”

We search the gravestones, using our cellphones as flashlights in the dark. Distant thunder warbles. Max starts whistling a jaunty tune, as if we’re out for a pleasant turn around the park and not creeping around in a graveyard. I raise my eyebrows at him.

“To scare away the vampires,” he says innocently.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that trick before.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s a secret only known to the innermost circle of— Hey, I’ve found it!”

He points to a massive tombstone topped with an angelic statue. Even in the dim light, I can see the envelope clutched in the angel’s hand.

“Yes!” I cry. “We were right!”

“You were right,” Max corrects me. He grabs me by the waist and swings me around. “We did it!”

His victory is infectious, and I laugh, suddenly weightless. “Watch it!” I warn him. “The mud!”

Max sets me down gently, and brushes a strand of wet hair from my face. His eyes are stormy blue in the darkness, and his fingertips hot against my face.

My breath catches. My eyes drift to his mouth, and then just like that, he’s pulling me close again, into a hot, reckless kiss.

Ahhh.

God, I’ve been dying to taste him again. His mouth is hard and possessive, claiming mine, and a shudder of lust rolls through me at the feel of him. His hands are all over me, molding me against him as the fire between us blazes hotter, and I forget everything. Like my rules, and our arrangement, and the fact I’ve sworn off men like him . . . None of it matters, not with Max’s tongue doing wicked things to mine, and his body so hard against me.

Very hard.

Hello.

Max releases me, looking bashful. “I, uh . . .”

“That’s one way to say thank you,” I blurt, trying to keep things light.

He relaxes, running his hand through his tawny hair. The rain has left it roguishly rumpled again. His gaze drops to my mouth as if he’s thinking of planting another one on me, and I’m tempted to beat him to it. But out of his embrace, I’m getting soaked—and cold. “We should, umm, the clue . . .” I manage, still flustered.

“Right.” Max reaches up to grab the envelope. We huddle in the shelter of a nearby tree to squint at the words on the card.

Our fortune is built on words, and the words were built here/

Pressed into paper to be read far and near

“Is he talking about the publishing business?” I ask. “The words were built here?”

Max pauses. “Maybe he means the place where the first Carlisle newspaper got off the ground. Harperville. That’s where it all started.” He pulls out his phone, and a few clicks later, nods. “It’s just a few hours’ drive from here.”

I can’t help but let out a yawn. He glances over. “Tired?”

“No,” I lie. Then I yawn again. He laughs.

“You’re right, it’s been a long day.”

“A long couple of days.” I think back. New York, to Palm Beach, to Virginia . . . in less than forty-eight hours. No wonder I feel like I could curl up right here and sleep.

“The clue can wait until morning.” Max takes a photo, and tucks it back in its hiding place. “Let’s see if we can find someplace to sleep for the night.”

We squish back down the muddy path to the waiting car. I can’t imagine Artie and Parker having to clamber through all the muck—if they ever make it out here. “I wonder if they’re all still racing around Boston.”

“Here’s hoping,” Max agrees.

Back in the car, Max turns the heater on full-blast, and I snuggle deeper in his jacket. There’s something cozy and intimate about wearing a guy’s clothes. From the look he gives me before he starts the ignition, I have the feeling he’s thinking the same thing. Well, maybe not the cozy part. The heat in his eyes practically ignites me.

Can we get back to the kissing part of this adventure again?

Down, girl. My voice of reason pipes up, reminding me of all the reasons we’re supposed to stay platonic. Still, as the miles drift past, I can’t help sinking deeper into this quiet, sensual haze we’re in, with just the noise of the rain on the windscreen, and Max’s steady breath, beside me at the wheel, making me imagine just what I would do if there were no stakes here, no contracts or consequences . . .

Suddenly, Max wrenches the wheel, jolting me awake. Before I can even say a word, I see a shape looming on the road right in front of us.

A deer.

Max slams on the brakes. The car swerves, and my heart lurches into my throat. We hit the side of the highway hard, then bump over the incline—and straight down, into a ditch.