advantage of Sophia Athena? Daughter of Paul and Anna
Bennet? God forbid.
He'd probably get no further than trying to kiss her, he told himself
angrily as he stalked across the room to find the bottle of complimentary
champagne that the hotel had sent up when he'd arrived. It was where he
had stuck it, safely stored in the small refrigerator. Moodily he removed it
and began to open it.
She'd probably turn all her fury and pain on him if he even so much as
tried to take her in his arms and kiss her. He poured the champagne.
But she was so weak and vulnerable right now. She might not realize his
intentions until it was far too late. The champagne tasted strange. He
glared down at the bubbling stuff in the glass in his hand. Simultaneously
he heard the sound of running water from the bath. How long would she
be in there? Max wondered. He tried another sip of the drink and stared
at his reflection in the mirror.
He didn't look anything like a cowboy, and Sophia preferred cowboys.
Or she had until tonight, he reminded himself savagely. Then Max
groaned. He wasn't likely ever to get another chance with Sophy Bennet
and he knew it. Never again would he have her all to himself in a hotel
room. Never again was he likely to find himself cast in the role of
comforter.
What if he abused the unique position in which he found himself
tonight? What if he actually managed to get her into bed? His palms went
abruptly damp.
"She'd hate my guts in the morning," he told his reflection with grim
certainty. God help him, he wanted her .
Max winced and turned away from the too-revealing mirror. She'd hate
him even more than she hated that cowboy.
But he'd never get another chance like this. Max was so certain of that.
If he didn't take advantage of the situation, he'd never know what it was
like to make love to the most intriguing woman he'd ever met. He'd never
wanted a woman so badly in his life. What in hell was the matter with
him?
His fingers tightened around the stem of the champagne glass. How
could he make himself walk away now from the glittering temptation that
had been put in his path? God help him, he was only a man, regardless of
how often she called him a wizard.
Was having Sophy tonight worth the risks of incurring her fury in the
morning?
Damn it, the answer was yes. He downed the last of the champagne,
staring out the window with unseeing eyes. What if he could make it so
good for her that she wouldn't remember their time together with rage?
What if he managed to show her just how much he needed her? There was
a streak of compassion in her, a gentleness that might temper her anger. If
she realized how much he needed her, perhaps she would be kind to him
in the morning. Perhaps she would stay with him…
The door to the bathroom opened on that dangerously tantalizing
thought. He turned abruptly to find Sophy framed in the doorway. She
looked so miserable and bleak. And it was all that stupid cowboy's fault.
"I could kill him."
"What?" She glanced at him in confusion, and Max realized he'd spoken
aloud. He shook his head and walked stiffly across the room to put a glass
of champagne in her hand.
"I said I could kill him. Except that he's not worth the trouble. Sophy,
you're better off without him. You'll realize that eventually."
"I suppose you're right" Wistfully she took the champagne and sat down
on the edge of the bed, smiling wanly. "It's just so hard to admit how
stupid I've been. I trusted him, Max."
"You weren't stupid." He sat down carefully beside her and put his arm
around her. She accepted the proffered comfort, leaning her head against
his shoulder. "You thought you were in love and you thought he loved
you."
"It could have been worse," Sophy mumbled, sipping the champagne.
"Worse?"
"I think I would have felt even worse if…if Nick and I had been lovers,"
she mumbled into the glass.
Max stifled a surge of satisfaction, barely managing to keep his
Bennet? God forbid.
He'd probably get no further than trying to kiss her, he told himself
angrily as he stalked across the room to find the bottle of complimentary
champagne that the hotel had sent up when he'd arrived. It was where he
had stuck it, safely stored in the small refrigerator. Moodily he removed it
and began to open it.
She'd probably turn all her fury and pain on him if he even so much as
tried to take her in his arms and kiss her. He poured the champagne.
But she was so weak and vulnerable right now. She might not realize his
intentions until it was far too late. The champagne tasted strange. He
glared down at the bubbling stuff in the glass in his hand. Simultaneously
he heard the sound of running water from the bath. How long would she
be in there? Max wondered. He tried another sip of the drink and stared
at his reflection in the mirror.
He didn't look anything like a cowboy, and Sophia preferred cowboys.
Or she had until tonight, he reminded himself savagely. Then Max
groaned. He wasn't likely ever to get another chance with Sophy Bennet
and he knew it. Never again would he have her all to himself in a hotel
room. Never again was he likely to find himself cast in the role of
comforter.
What if he abused the unique position in which he found himself
tonight? What if he actually managed to get her into bed? His palms went
abruptly damp.
"She'd hate my guts in the morning," he told his reflection with grim
certainty. God help him, he wanted her .
Max winced and turned away from the too-revealing mirror. She'd hate
him even more than she hated that cowboy.
But he'd never get another chance like this. Max was so certain of that.
If he didn't take advantage of the situation, he'd never know what it was
like to make love to the most intriguing woman he'd ever met. He'd never
wanted a woman so badly in his life. What in hell was the matter with
him?
His fingers tightened around the stem of the champagne glass. How
could he make himself walk away now from the glittering temptation that
had been put in his path? God help him, he was only a man, regardless of
how often she called him a wizard.
Was having Sophy tonight worth the risks of incurring her fury in the
morning?
Damn it, the answer was yes. He downed the last of the champagne,
staring out the window with unseeing eyes. What if he could make it so
good for her that she wouldn't remember their time together with rage?
What if he managed to show her just how much he needed her? There was
a streak of compassion in her, a gentleness that might temper her anger. If
she realized how much he needed her, perhaps she would be kind to him
in the morning. Perhaps she would stay with him…
The door to the bathroom opened on that dangerously tantalizing
thought. He turned abruptly to find Sophy framed in the doorway. She
looked so miserable and bleak. And it was all that stupid cowboy's fault.
"I could kill him."
"What?" She glanced at him in confusion, and Max realized he'd spoken
aloud. He shook his head and walked stiffly across the room to put a glass
of champagne in her hand.
"I said I could kill him. Except that he's not worth the trouble. Sophy,
you're better off without him. You'll realize that eventually."
"I suppose you're right" Wistfully she took the champagne and sat down
on the edge of the bed, smiling wanly. "It's just so hard to admit how
stupid I've been. I trusted him, Max."
"You weren't stupid." He sat down carefully beside her and put his arm
around her. She accepted the proffered comfort, leaning her head against
his shoulder. "You thought you were in love and you thought he loved
you."
"It could have been worse," Sophy mumbled, sipping the champagne.
"Worse?"
"I think I would have felt even worse if…if Nick and I had been lovers,"
she mumbled into the glass.
Max stifled a surge of satisfaction, barely managing to keep his
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