Forgotten Honeymoon. Marie Ferrarella

this. His real business needed him, not the inn. The inn would do just fine continuing the way it had. Without her fingers all over it. “Just what gives you the right to come waltzing in here—”

      She had to stop him now, before he got up a full head of steam and wasted both their time. He might have time to kill, but she didn’t.

      “I didn’t ‘waltz,’” she corrected sharply. “I walked—nearly breaking my neck on the loose board in the front, I might add.”

      He set his mouth hard, his eyes narrowing to slits. “Pity.”

      She got the distinct feeling that he wasn’t apologizing for the presence of the loose board, he was lamenting the fact that she’d avoided the injury.

      Ignoring that, she continued, getting to her point. “And I’ve had a good hour to look around—”

      One hour, and she was passing judgment on his foster parents’ lives’ work. “That makes you an expert.”

      She raised her chin as she took up the challenge in his voice. “No, I arrived being an expert.”

      God, talk about brass. Hers was glinting in the sun, and could have served as a beacon to guide ships home in a fog. “On inns.”

      Kristina ignored the obvious sarcasm. “On profit margins, and how to sell something.”

      He took his time in responding, instinctively knowing that it annoyed her. “And what, exactly, is it that you sell?”

      She could have slapped him for what he was obviously thinking, but it wouldn’t have gotten them anywhere. After all, she’d come here to work. Even with an insufferable mental midget like him. “I’m an ad executive. I’m responsible for the Hidden Sin campaign.”

      He was vaguely aware that she was referring to a perfume. The latest copy of a magazine he subscribed to had arrived in the mail smelling to high heaven, because one of the pages had been impregnated with the scent. “Congratulations. I heard sin came out of hiding.”

      “The perfume,” she retorted.

      Inexplicably enjoying the fact that he could bait her, Max responded, “Never heard of it.”

      If he thought he was getting to her, he was mistaken. “I don’t doubt it. We haven’t found a way to pipe the commercials into people’s sleep yet.”

      He heard her message loud and clear. At another time, it might have amused him. But she, and her manner, irked him beyond words. “You’re implying that I’m lazy?”

      Kristina crossed her arms before her chest. Her expression congratulated him on finally catching on. “The inn is run-down, the bookings are off,” she pointed out, warming up. “You’re in the red—”

      He cut in curtly. “It’s the off-season.” From the corner of his eye, he saw June shaking her head in disapproval. What was he supposed to do, humor this crazy woman?

      Right there was the beginning of his problem, Kristina thought. “There shouldn’t be an off-season in southern California.”

      He looked at her, completely mystified by her reasoning. “Is this something you just made up?”

      She sighed. She was trying to hold on to her temper, but he wasn’t making it easy for her. She’d carried on better conversations with her parakeet. “If you’re going to challenge everything I say, Cooper, we’re not going to get anywhere.”

      He took a moment to compose himself. “What makes you think I want to get anywhere with you, Ms. Fortune? I like the inn just the way it is.”

      He might, but what he wanted alone didn’t count. She eyed the wide sofa before the fireplace. If it had a style, it might have been Early American. That, too, would have to go.

      “Not good enough.” She ran her hand along the floral upholstery and wondered when it had last been cleaned. “I’m half owner.”

      He read her intentions loud and clear. Very deliberately, he removed her hand from the sofa. “And you can’t do anything without my half.”

      Can’t had never been part of her vocabulary. “I can buy you out.”

      Ironic, wasn’t it? He had wanted to sell his ownership in the inn. Ever since his foster parents had given it to him, he’d wanted to sell it and devote himself completely to his business. Now the perfect opportunity was presenting itself, but he wasn’t about to take it.

      He wasn’t about to sell his share to her, because that would mean selling out, selling out and abandoning people he’d known for a long time. He had no doubt that within ten minutes of his signing the deed over to her, Kristina Fortune would send the staff packing and hire some plastic people to take their place.

      He’d be damned if he was going to let her fire people he had known and liked for years. There was a place for loyalty in this world, even if fancy ad executives with creamy skins didn’t know it.

      “No, you can’t,” he told her. “Not if I don’t want to sell.”

      He wasn’t making sense. It was clear he didn’t have any interest in the place. If he did, he wouldn’t have let it deteriorate to this extent. She hated things that didn’t make sense.

      “I don’t understand. Why would you want to let all this go to waste?”

      There was a fantastic view of the ocean from the rear of the inn. People would pay dearly for the opportunity to wake up in the morning to it. Yet the hotel’s bookings were way off, even for the so-called off-season.

      People like Kristina Fortune only had one view of things—their own. He’d had experience enough with her kind. Alexis had been a great teacher.

      His mouth hardened. “What makes you think it’s going to waste?”

      Oh, God, the man was an idiot. Good-looking, but an idiot. She looked at his face again, taking in the rugged lines, the sensual sweep of his lashes. The bone structure that was faintly reminiscent of the tribes that had once walked this land freely. He was probably accustomed to getting by on his looks and nothing more.

      But that wasn’t going to cut it here, not with her. Especially not when it got in the way.

      “Anyone with half a brain would know—” Kristina began testily.

      Having stood on the sidelines long enough, June came around from behind the desk and placed herself between the two of them. She could almost hear the lightning crackling on either side of her. This exchange wasn’t going to get anyone anywhere. They both needed to cool off and begin again. She didn’t care a whit about Kristina and what she did or didn’t want, but she did care about the inn and Max.

      “Ms. Fortune, why don’t I have Sydney take you up to your room?” June suggested brightly, as if Kristina had just walked in. Her smile was warm and genial. “You must be tired, after your long flight out here from—” She let her voice trail off as she raised her brow inquiringly, waiting for Kristina to supply a location.

      “Minneapolis,” Kristina replied tersely, her eyes never leaving Max’s infuriating face.

      June nodded, as if the city’s name had been on the tip of her tongue. “Five-hour flight. Bound to make you tired.” If she had been a bird, she would have been chirping. “Sydney!” She raised her voice, letting it carry to the rear of the inn. The last time she saw the young woman, Sydney had been on her way to the kitchen to see about getting lunch.

      Kristina wasn’t tired, but she did appreciate the value of retreating and regrouping. Shouting at this numbskulled cowboy wasn’t going to get her anywhere. She needed a few minutes to freshen up.

      And to get a better grip on her temper. She rarely lost it, but this man seemed to have an ability to wrench it from her with breathtaking speed.

      “All right,” she agreed. “I can unpack a few things, and then we can get started. I have a lot of notes and