Forgotten Honeymoon. Marie Ferrarella

no doubt.

      He wondered if she enjoyed irritating him. Trying another approach, he brusquely took her arm and ushered her out of the room.

      Surprised, Kristina tried to yank her arm away and found that she couldn’t. “Hey.”

      Max ignored her protest and tightened his hold. His voice was polite, if strained. “I think that once you become familiar with the surroundings, with the people, you’ll see that—”

      She knew what he was going to say, but it wouldn’t change anything. She’d already made her plans, and she was going to see them executed. “I’m sure all the people you have working here are lovely, but this isn’t their home. It’s a place of business. And I intend to see that it’s run like one.”

      He didn’t want to create a scene. Releasing her arm, he waited until an elderly couple had made their way down the stairs, then continued what he knew was an argument in the making.

      “You’re wrong.”

      Of course. He had to say that. Men like Cooper were contrary about everything. “About what?”

      Taking her arm again, he politely but firmly marched her down the stairs. He hadn’t wanted to really get into an argument yet, but he should have known better than to think he could avoid it.

      “This is a home. Their home. The staff lives on the premises. And it was my home, too, when I was growing up.”

      Well, that would explain some things. Kristina was unaware that her voice had taken on a patronizing tone. “And I’m sure that to the boy you were, it was a great place, but—”

      Max felt his temper flaring. This wasn’t why he had sought her out. Not to argue, but to convince, and if that failed, to compromise. It didn’t look as if it were heading in that direction. Max surprised her again, this time by abruptly placing his finger to her lips.

      “Why don’t we table this for a while? Let’s just go to dinner. We can continue negotiations over a good steak.” He saw a smug, superior look enter her eyes. They would have been beautiful eyes, but for that. Think it’s all settled, don’t you? Well, think again. “Or are you a vegetarian?”

      By the way he posed the question, she knew he didn’t think very highly of that persuasion. Kristina was tempted to say that she was, just to annoy him. There was something about him that pushed all her buttons in a perverse way. Maybe it was his attitude toward her, as if she were a little girl, playing games. Or maybe it was just that he was so damn good-looking, the way David had been.

      Actually, if she was to be impartial, Max was better-looking than David. But that wasn’t going to get in the way of anything. All it would do was solidify her resolve. If he thought he was going to use his looks to get her to change her mind, he was in for a surprise, she thought confidently. Her mind was made up.

      Kristina’s eyes held his. “No, steak’ll be fine. Rare.” It was what she considered one of her few weaknesses.

      It was his turn to be surprised. Her answer coaxed a smile to his lips. “Finally, we agree on something.”

      It was a very sensual smile. Her own lips seemed to tingle where he had touched them.

      Kristina tossed her head. It was an action depicting arrogance and defiance. Yet, just for a brief moment, Max thought it was tinged with an element of insecurity. Probably his imagination.

      “We’ll agree about this,” she told him, gesturing about the front room as they walked through it. “Eventually.”

      He smiled at her without saying another word. When pigs fly jet planes.

      Out of the corner of his eye, he saw June watching them. Like a mother hen, he thought, concerned that the wolf was going to eat the chicks. Not this wolf. Not if he could help it. He nodded at June as they entered the dining room.

      The spacious room, with its polished wooden floor and knickknack-lined shelves, was at the rear of the inn. It had a fantastic view of the ocean through large adjacent bay windows. Though the meals here were excellent, they were considered secondary to the scenery.

      Kristina had made note of the view as she took her quick tour of the inn. Now, as a brooding storm hung over the distant sky, it struck her as magnificent.

      Max saw the look on her face and interpreted it as a point in his favor.

      “Like the view? Or would you like to improve on that, as well?” he couldn’t help adding.

      Her jaw tightened. She had developed her present sharp-tongued way of dealing with people because she’d discovered that no one bothered to listen to her opinions or follow her suggestions if she voiced them politely. They thought of her as “Kate’s granddaughter,” or “Nathaniel’s little girl.” She was that, but she was so much more. She was her own person, and if it took a heavy hand to make her point, then a heavy hand was what she had to use.

      “Only by making sure the windows were cleaner. They could stand a washing,” she attested casually.

      Max wondered if killing her now would make the other guests lose their appetite, or if they would wind up applauding him.

      Sydney approached their table. Sydney, like Antonio, doubled as a waiter during meals. Max nodded toward her. “Tell Sam we want two filets mignons. Rare.”

      “Anything to drink?” Sydney asked, placing an order of bread in the middle of the table.

      He could do with a Scotch, a double, right about now. But he knew he was going to need a clear head to take on this woman fate had seen fit to saddle him with. “Just water. Two.”

      Kristina bristled at his presumption. “I can order for myself, Cooper.”

      He raised his hands, as if pulling them away from a sacred artifact he shouldn’t have touched. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to tread on your territory. Go ahead.”

      “Iced coffee, please,” Kristina told Sydney as she took her seat.

      “How appropriate,” Max muttered under his breath. Their eyes met and held. He saw a flash within hers, and felt a measure of satisfaction. “Given the warmer turn of the weather,” he added.

      For the moment, Kristina said nothing. Sydney turned toward Max. “Will there be anything else?”

      “No, just see if Sam can hurry it up.” The chef had a tendency to let guests linger over their drinks. Now that he was sitting opposite Kristina, he wanted this over with as soon as possible.

      Sydney gave Max a wide smile. “Sure thing, Max.” The smile turned frosty as she nodded politely at Kristina. “Ms. Fortune.”

      Kristina spread her napkin across her lap. Not waiting for Max, she cut a slice from the loaf. The bread should have been warm, she noted. She glanced up at Max, then thought better of bringing the fact to his attention. Minor details like that would be lost on him.

      Others, however, had to be made known. “You know, you really shouldn’t let her call you Max.”

      He tore off an end of the loaf, a little abruptly, though his tone remained mild. “Funny, I was just thinking that you shouldn’t insist on being called Ms. Fortune.”

      Kristina’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t take criticism well, especially if, in her opinion, it was unwarranted.

      “Why?”

      He would have thought that it was self-evident. But maybe not to someone like the ice princess. “Puts distance between you.”

      She still didn’t see what he was driving at. Delicately she pushed aside the bread. Never a big eater, she wanted to leave room for the main course. “That’s exactly my point.”

      Max took a deep breath. He was stuck with her. That meant he was going to have to try his best to educate her. She obviously had no experience in dealing with people who didn’t have silver spoons in their mouths.

      “You