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 breasts. 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 gay.”

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 gay?”

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 gay.”

“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 gay?”

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.”

She walked away with her head held high and joined her brother. Max watched and wondered what the hell he’d started. Was he nuts? Any type of sensual challenge was off-limits—but she’d pushed him. The undercurrents of their conversation cut deep. Had he treated her like that? Guilt assuaged him at the thought of being condescending to someone he loved. And he did love her. Like a sister.

Max shook his head and went to get some air. He needed to get a grip. No more sparring. No more teasing. They needed to cultivate a business relationship while he taught her the rules of the game and hoped she didn’t surpass him in the skills needed to take over his job. The situation was sticky enough without another complication—especially a sexual attraction.

He breathed in the clean, crisp air and settled himself. This was just a temporary setback brought on by curiosity.

It wouldn’t be repeated.

Chapter Three

Stupid. She’d been so stupid.

Carina watched him from under her lashes as he snapped orders over the phone to one of their suppliers. Last night had been a big mistake. Challenging him on any sexual level was off-limits, but she hadn’t been able to help herself. For the first time, she met him on equal footing, and the heady feeling was too much to contain.

Until he leaned forward, his mouth inches from her own. The sexy plumpness of his lower lip, the rough stubble hugging his chin and jaw, the drugging heat of those baby blues. Even dressed in jeans, a button-down white shirt, and casual charcoal sports jacket, he reminded her of James Bond on vacation. Not just any Bond. No, he was all Pierce Brosnan, with his smooth good looks, rakish black hair, and hard-muscled body. She bet he’d jump buildings and kill the bad guys without breaking a sweat. His slight accent curled each syllable just a hint to elicit an almost mesmerizing reaction from any female in the room.

She’d almost swooned like a Victorian heroine. Instead, she fought the sensual haze with a survivor’s instinct and managed to come out on top. Too bad the victory was short-lived. The ache between her thighs and the tightness of her nipples told her she’d never be fully over Max. Her body sang and wept in his presence. But she’d had years of practice, and it was something she’d have to live with.

Their odd conversation held too many hidden levels that she didn’t want to face. At least they both focused on business this morning. They’d been polite, composed, and ready to work—exactly what she needed.

He clicked off the phone and unfurled more than six feet of coiled muscle. “Walk with me. We have a meeting with sales.”

She grabbed her briefcase and took off after him, using two steps for every one of his. The headquarters for La Dolce Maggie were now separate from La Dolce Famiglia, which her sister Julietta ran in Italy. When Michael decided to expand the bakery business throughout New York, he’d taken on an ambitious plan to reveal a new opening every quarter. Each location was chosen based on a number of statistics, and Carina agreed with their decisions after reading the reports. Of course, dealing with various chefs, suppliers, and contractors was overwhelming, and Max seemed to be involved in every level.

Three men sat around the gleaming table of polished wood. Dressed in suits and ties, they gave off the impression of sharpness and polish. They stood as they entered and nodded in welcome.

“Carina, this is Edward, Tom, and David. They’re our top regional managers, and we’re meeting to see how to increase sales in each region. Carina is my new assistant in training.” They greeted her warmly, and everyone sat down. Max immediately delved into a detailed discussion regarding quotas, outreach, and a variety of other methods she’d learned in school. She scribbled furiously in her notepad and took stock of their responses to Max’s suggestions.

Edward spoke up. “The main problem we’re having is separating ourselves from the normal competition. Panera is still huge. Other mom and pop stores in the area focus on bread. Of course, we have the supermarkets for the cakes.”

“Local is key,” Max said. “New Paltz may be a college community, but there’s an eclectic mix of new and old world. We’re buying up advertising in every local newspaper and magazine. We’ve used local community contractors and suppliers, so we need to find fresh ways of keeping the connection strong. We’re not looking to compete with the coffee shops or supermarkets. We want business functions, weddings, big parties. We push all fresh ingredients, variety, creativity. An artistic-type bakery will appeal. That’s our focus.”

Carina cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Max. Have you focused on events coming in spring? Fairs, tastings, outdoor markets?”

“There are a variety of places we can book booths, but we didn’t know if it would be worth it,” Tom said.

“It’s worth it,” Max said. “Set it up. Very good, Carina.”

She tried not to beam from the praise.

“The Farmers Craft Festival is two weeks from Saturday. It’s a little late, but if we have some taste samples and advertising, we may be able to squeeze it in,” Tom said.

“Do it. Find someone to man the booth. Remember to keep the menu a secret, though. We want to build surprise of what we’re offering so no one tries to copycat. Research shows more sales and word of mouth is gained by unveiling at the last moment.”

“Done.”

They spoke a bit more and Max pulled back his chair. “Tom and Dave—can I speak with you a moment?”

Carina gathered up her materials and Edward stopped beside her. “Great suggestion. Nice to meet you.”