Forgotten Honeymoon. Marie Ferrarella

perform well.” After all, she wasn’t heartless—she knew it was difficult to make it in this world.

      He dropped the bread, and with it, the last of his appetite. “That makes them sound like trained seals.” Leaning forward so that his face was inches from hers, he observed, “You have a very strange way of putting people off, Kristina. Is it a gift, like everything else you own?”

      No, she wasn’t going to enjoy working with this idiot. Kristina squared her shoulders. “You don’t like me very much, Cooper. Fortunately for me, no pun intended, that doesn’t matter. We can work together without liking each other.”

      He didn’t have to read between the lines to know what she was saying to him. “As long as I do things your way.”

      “If my way makes sense…” Kristina let her voice trail off, leaving him to reach the conclusion that her way did make sense on his own. If the man had any brains at all.

      His mouth quirked in a humorless smile. “As in ‘Dollars and—’ Correct?”

      She didn’t care for the way he was talking down to her. If he didn’t like the idea of turning a profit, why was he hanging on to the inn? “Most people go into business to make money. This is a business.”

      Sydney returned with their meals before he could respond. He waited until Sydney receded again. He didn’t miss the sympathetic look in her eyes as she left.

      He nodded toward the plate in front of Kristina, taking advantage of the small diversion. “Eat your steak, Kris.”

      She hated nicknames. “The name,” she told him, enunciating every syllable, “is Kristina.”

      The name is Pain, he thought, resigning himself to a very arduous evening. “Eat your steak, ‘Kristina,’” he said deliberately.

      Looking as if she had won a small victory, Kristina cut a piece of the thick steak on her plate. She had to admit that it did look appetizing. But the serving itself could be improved upon. Smaller portions, more artistically arranged. Honeymooners weren’t all that interested in food, anyway.

      She looked up and saw that Max was watching her. “Just look around you. The inn has sixteen bedrooms. Only five of them are filled.” All five couples were in the dining room now. The room fairly echoed with her voice, reinforcing her point about the poor attendance.

      The steak was done to perfection, but his appetite had completely waned. “And what you propose would fill them.”

      “Yes.” Her eyes fairly glowed as she leaned forward, energy vibrating through her affirmation. “We’ll have bookings two months in advance.”

      She knew nothing about the business. How could she be so certain of her ideas? “Sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

      There was no hesitation in her voice. “Yes.”

      He pinned her with a look. “Why?”

      Hadn’t he been listening? “Because I’ve got a good sense of business.”

      She was unbelievable. Had anyone bothered checking her for a pulse? “Is that all it is to you, just business?”

      “Of course it is.” She looked at him incredulously. “What else could it be?”

      Patiently, like a teacher talking to a backward child, Max began again. “I mentioned earlier that it was a home—”

      Did he really think she was being taken in by his smoke screen? “Spare me the sentiment, Cooper. It’s just another excuse you’re using not to do anything. I’m sure you’re very comfortable this way. Well, you don’t have to worry. I will handle everything. I’m accustomed to that. You can go on just napping.” Disgust filled her eyes. “We’ll try not to make too much noise for you, especially not when I slip you your share of the profits.”

      He’d tried it June’s way. He’d tried being polite. This woman wouldn’t understand anything but a show of force. “Tell me, because I’m new at this—does walking around with a wallet where your heart is supposed to be require any extra care on your part?”

      Her head jerked up. How dare he! “I can’t talk to you if you’re going to be abusive.”

      That was a laugh. “Talk to me? Lady, all you do is talk at me, not to me.” He raised his voice, for once unmindful of the people in the dining room. “I don’t think you know how to talk to a person so that he’d listen of his own free will.”

      Kristina rose, throwing down her napkin. She didn’t have to listen to this, and she certainly wasn’t going to sit here trading insults with him while others listened.

      “Tell the chef that the steak was delicious. The company, however, was not. It left a great deal to be desired.”

      With that, she walked out of the dining room.

      Like the others in the room, Sydney had been looking on. She came forward now to clear away Kristina’s plate. “Don’t let it get to you, Max. If I’d been in your place, I would have decked her.”

      Max sighed. Sydney meant well, but that didn’t alter the fact that he was going to have to find some way to work with this infuriating woman.

      “Thanks, but you’re not in my place, and decking her wouldn’t have helped, anyway.”

      Max looked down at his plate. It was a damn good steak. He wanted to finish his meal, but he knew there was damage control to attend to. With a sigh, he rose, leaving his napkin on the chair.

      “Tell Sam this is nothing personal. The steak is great.”

      He went after Kristina, aware that the other guests were all looking at him. God, but he wished he was back at the construction site. Steel and concrete were things he knew how to handle. Stuck-up, gold-for-blood rich witches were in a league all their own.

      A league Alexis had been quick to join, he recalled, jilting him and running off to marry that fancy executive of hers. When he thought of it, the man Alexis had described to him was a male counterpart to Kristina. No wonder he didn’t like her, he thought.

      Max passed June at the front desk. Instead of saying anything, the older woman just pointed toward the door. He sighed and hurried out.

      He was in time to see Kristina heading toward the beach.

      Good. With any luck, she’d drown herself.

      Not that he could let her.

      Cursing roundly under his breath, he rushed after her.

      Four

       D amn stupid woman. With his luck, she’d probably walk straight into the water and get pulled under by a strong riptide. Then he’d be stuck explaining the situation to the local police.

      “Hey!” Max called after Kristina as he hurried to catch up.

      She made no effort to stop, and didn’t give any indication that she’d even heard him. If anything, she seemed to quicken her pace.

      Max swore as he broke into a run. The wind stole his words away, scattering them over the water. As if he didn’t have enough trouble on his hands already with construction deadlines, now he had to deal with a rich, spoiled brat set on doing everything her way.

      “Hey!”

      Catching up to her, he grabbed Kristina by the arm and swung her around to face him. Even in the limited moonlight, he could see the storm clouds passing over not just the face of the moon, but her face, as well. It was a sensual face, a face he might have been attracted to. If it didn’t belong to Kristina.

      But it did, and he had less than no use for someone like her.

      “Don’t you know that it’s dangerous to run off in the dark when you’re not familiar with the area? The surf’s heavy this time of year. Some of those waves could wash you out to sea before you had sense enough to scream for