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“Then why did you? You don’t seem like the kind of guy to let yourself get talked into something you don’t want to do.”

Max’s mouth twitched. “I guess I figured it was worth a shot.” My look of confusion must’ve made him continue. “Chris and I separated two years ago. Since then I haven’t dated.”

“By dated you mean…” I trailed off, swallowing at his meaningful look.

“Any of it. Sex. Fucking. Love.” Max said the last part with derision. “Hell, I don’t know if I’m capable of that one anymore. I haven’t even kissed anyone since, and I haven’t wanted to.” His attention shifted past me to scan the horizon before coming back, a glint of frustration in his eye. “And now I’ve just spilled my guts to someone I barely know.”

“It’s fine,” I heard myself say.

Because it was. It was fine that he’d opened up to me. It was fine that he had issues getting close to people, especially given what’d happened with his ex-wife.

It was fine that I wondered what kind of woman it would take to make him feel again.

“We all need to talk to someone sometimes, Max. And sometimes it’s not the people we expect who are there for us.”

Max studied me a long moment. I stayed still, hoping he wouldn’t hear the thumping of my heart.

“What are you thinking?” His voice was rougher than before, like tonight hadn’t gone the way he’d planned either.

I’m thinking that now that I’ve caught you, Roadrunner, I’m not sure what to do with you.

My stomach flip-flopped, but this time it wasn’t Max’s doing.

“Oh, shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Alarm flashed in his eyes.

I pressed my hand to his chest for a moment, two. Then whirled and ran to the edge of the dock.

Dropping to my knees, I braced my hands on the edge and puked the contents of my stomach out into the black water.

After agonizing, humiliating moments, I sat back on my heels and wiped the back of my hand across my mouth.

I knew he’d come up behind me and was standing at my back. The last thing I wanted to do was meet his gaze when I turned.

“Wow,” came his voice from somewhere above the Converse sneakers I was studying. “When I said I felt weird for spilling my guts, I didn’t expect that kind of reciprocity.”

“Street food,” I said weakly. “That was embarrassing.”

“Yeah, well, we’re even. Let’s get you home.”

I led the way back toward the car in silence. We said almost nothing until I dropped him off at the community center, where he told me his car was parked.

“Your stomach back in place, Coyote?” he asked, leaning in the open window after he’d stepped out.

“Yeah. That was a special, one-time-only performance.”

“Aright. Night, Payton.” A ghost of a smile crossed his lips so fast I wondered if I’d imagined it.

“Night, Max.”

I took a hot shower when I got home. I’d expected to be replaying the horror of me puking in front of Max, but all I could think about was his words. The pain he’d experienced when his wife cheated on him. How difficult the last few years must have been. That he hadn’t been with someone in two years and hadn’t wanted to.

That memory was interrupted by the way he’d looked at me afterward. When I’d had the strange and ridiculous sense he wanted to kiss me.

Followed by the even stranger, more ridiculous realization that I wanted him do it.

Chapter 12

At night, huh?

The alarm went off at seven. I groaned, hitting snooze once while checking my phone.

So. Much. Work.

I had two client meetings today, plus a bunch of account updates, and projections for the next fiscal year.

I stumbled into the office, picking up coffee for me and Charlie on the way.

Through sheer muscle memory I managed to pay for my drink, find the right building, and get in an elevator. Missing my floor seemed inevitable. I suffered a few strange looks when I got off on seven and walked back down.

“P. Girl. What’s going on?” Charlie demanded, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

I blinked. I’d been nodding off and it was barely nine thirty.

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem. You’re like a zombie with better clothes.” She glanced down to take in my red pencil skirt, white shirt, and gray suede pumps.

I couldn’t hide it anymore. Not from my friend.

“Charlie, I have to tell you something,” I started slowly. “But you can’t tell anyone.”

Her eyes lit up. “I love secrets.”

“Promise you won’t say anything.”

“Fine.”

“OK. So when we lent Max Donovan the money, he kind of left out an important detail: that he actually needed ten million more than he told us. I promised to help him find someone who can give him the difference.”

“Oh my God. So he lied? Why didn’t you just report him?”

“Because I need the bonus. My mom’s going to lose her house.”

Her eyes widened. “Wow.”

“I know. I’m a horrible person and there’s no way I should even have thought about it. But first-half bonuses get awarded in two months. If I can hold Avery off until then, the money’s as good as mine.”

She leaned forward. “Payton? Don’t ever be ashamed for helping out your family. You’re the most rule-abiding person I know. You deserve some slack.”

I managed a weak smile. “Thanks Charlie.”

“So I get the
why
, but…when do you have time?”

I yawned. “After I’m done here. At night. Sometimes early morning.”

She arched a manicured brow. “At night, huh? Do you help him in bed? Against the wall? On his desk?”

I flushed. “It’s not like that. These guys work around the clock on their games. There’s usually a dozen people there until after midnight every single day.” I lifted a pen from my desk and studied it. “I wouldn’t do this, Charlie, except that I don’t know what else to do for my mom. But if anyone finds out…I’m going to be in serious shit.”

“Well, if you need me to cover for you? Consider it done.”

Gratitude washed over me. It felt good to share my dirty secret with my friend. “You’re the best.”

“I know. And as for the dev award, I’ll try to keep Avery busy for the next couple of months.”

As if he’d heard his name, Avery stuck his head in my office. “Charlotte. Come see me when you’re finished.” His tone said he didn’t approve of us talking. Or maybe even breathing.

“Uh-huh,” Charlie replied without even looking at him. I bit my cheek to keep from laughing. The girl had bull testicles for balls.

Avery frowned. “And hurry up. I have an important meeting this afternoon.”

“Right.”

“Why’s he so agitated?” I asked when he left.

“He got an invitation to a Harvard alumni tea. He just recently got word that he was to prepare a keynote speech on the importance of women in the Congo.”

“But—what? Is Avery really giving a speech on that?”

“Probably. But he wasn’t invited to.”

“You are evil.”

She shrugged. “He made Emma in accounting cry this week. I feel no shame for resorting to vigilante justice.”

“You’re still here?”

I turned, stretching, to find Max dressed in his best business casual: jeans and a crew-neck Henley.

“Apparently I’m a glutton for punishment.”

I’d moved to the Pit after Riley left at eleven. Now there were just a few holdouts. Claire. Terry. Muppet. I knew their names because I’d been making rounds with Starbursts earlier tonight.

I was gradually getting closer to the level of casual Max and his team sported daily. After leaving Alliance, I’d tugged off my jacket and left on the sleeveless ivory shell. My own “standing desk” involved my notebook computer on top of the silent pinball machine. My shoes had been kicked somewhere under the machine. I’d probably be crawling in a very unladylike way to retrieve them later.

“What’re you working on?” Max asked, crossing to me.

Last night on his boat flashed across my mind.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from him now, whether he’d be embarrassed about what he’d told me. Or awkward on account of the puking thing. But he eyed me levelly, hands stuck in his pockets.

“I’m trying to understand the industry better. Who Titan’s competitors are.”

Max made a scoffing sound. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Coyote? Titan has no competitors.”

I started to reply but he held up a hand.

“Kidding.” Max leaned his elbows on the pinball machine and I ignored the way the fabric stretched over his shoulders. “We have competition but you don’t need research to learn about it. There are five big gaming studios.” His tone shifted to instructional, like when he’d been teaching me about engines. “Two are on their way out. One just does mobile. Of the other two, Wonderwall’s focus is first-person shooters. The only other company who can come close to touching us for RPGs—role-playing games, like Oasis—is Axel Media.”

“They’re the ones releasing a game in five months.”

“Yeah. Axel pulls in double the sales we do but they have triple the team, plus more releases.”

“Did you go to business school?” I asked with curiosity. I hadn’t seen anything on my internet searches, and I figured any school would be vocal about claiming a popular entrepreneur amongst their alum.

Sure enough, Max shook his head. “I started undergrad at Boston U in sociology. Got sucked into coding a project and forgot to go to class for a week. I realized nothing changed. No one missed me. So I skipped another week. I kept skipping weeks and never went back.”

I guess you didn’t need school when you had the talent to do exactly what you wanted, and the drive to get there. The world was Max’s classroom. He had the luxury of taking the lessons he wanted and forgetting the rest.

That was probably why he was so determined and not used to taking other people’s ideas.

Or their shit.

It didn’t excuse his behavior. But with the extra piece of the puzzle? I got it.

I turned back to my computer, typing “Axel Media” into the search bar and clicking through to the first result that caught my eye.

“They’re publicly traded.”

“Mhmm.”

“I can’t believe they only started ten years ago. Look at their growth.” My finger traced the charts on the computer screen but Max wasn’t looking at it.

“I happen to know a lot of their ideas come from outside the company.”

“You mean they hire them?” My gaze flicked to his.

“No, they steal them.”

A cold tingle streaked down my spine at his bluntness. “That’s pretty cynical.”

He shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

“What makes their games so good?”

“You wanna try one?”

“Right now?” I asked, surprised.

Max’s fingers tapped absently on the top of the pinball machine. “Yeah. We could go upstairs so we don’t bother these guys.”

I played out Max’s offer in my head, losing myself in his unreadable dark eyes. A ripple of awareness started low in my stomach.

“It’s not a difficult question,” he prompted under his breath.

A loud laugh from across the pit broke me out of the spell I was under, and I remembered where we were.

“Maybe some other time. But thanks,” I added. “I’m running on zero sleep. I’d probably pass out on you.”

“Not me. If I start now, I won’t look up from the screen for at least six hours.” His expression was rueful.

“Do you
ever
sleep?”

Max straightened, taking a step back from the machine without losing my gaze. “Depends what the alternatives are.”

My mouth fell open but he’d already turned for the door.

Chapter 13

Like a mechanical bull

I didn’t catch up on my sleep that week.

I did make it to Tilt on Thursday, much to Charlie’s delight. What she didn’t realize was I spent part of the night in the bathroom working on drafting emails for Max to send to three prospective funders on Titan’s behalf.

We’d finally gotten an answer from one—Harmon Group. They were willing to meet with Max and Riley when we found a time. It’d probably be at least a month until we could, but finally something was happening.

I spent two straight nights working on the pitch. Riley’s office was comfortable enough, even with my rigged-up desk, but sometimes I ended up sprawling on the couch in the middle or the beanbag chair Riley had co-opted from the Pit.

Now I was finally running the practice presentation in Max’s living room.

“PC and video games are a $16 billion industry in the U.S. alone. Gamers spend ten percent of their free time playing games—fifteen percent in China.” I pointed to the screen. “More than half the market is dominated by MMORPGs. First-person shooters account for another twenty percent.”

I laid out the stats in my practice presentation, my notebook set up behind me in Max’s living room in front of the fireplace. Riley sat on the floor, his back against the couch and legs splayed in front of him. Max perched on the edge of the white leather couch, an unreadable expression on his face.

My stage fright was extreme enough to extend to an audience of two. Meetings at Alliance were tolerable because everyone was at the same table, sharing the spotlight. The moment I had to get up and walk to the front of the room? The butterflies started.

Vicious butterflies. With teeth.

But Max and Riley would be presenting this to funders, so it didn’t matter. I just had to get through the trial run.

“So,” I concluded after running through my practiced scenarios, “Phoenix is perfectly positioned to capitalize on these latest trends.”

Both men were silent when I finished.

“It’s just a draft. We can always change…” I trailed off as Max disappeared into his office and pulled the door closed without so much as a word.

My eyes cut to Riley. “What the hell? Was it that bad?”

He shook his head, holding up a finger. I grabbed my lip in my teeth and collapsed on the floor next to Riley, grabbing his arm. “No. You don’t get a second. You need to say something because I’m starting to worry I’ve fucked this up.”

I’d spent so long working on this presentation. After going home last night, something had driven me to spend another hour rehearsing. I wanted Max and Riley to be blown away.

Not running away like I had an infectious disease.

Riley held up a hand. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an asshole…”

I slugged him in the shoulder. “Quit pretending you know how to be diplomatic and tell me, dammit.”

“Fine. The presentation was passable. That’s not the issue.” I raised my eyebrows impatiently. “The issue is that you just spent the last fifteen minutes quoting scripture to the high priest of gamers. Looking like
that
.”

I glanced down at my outfit. My favorite tight black knee-length leather skirt was professional and a little sassy. A flowy pink blouse dipped at the front, stopping just shy of cleavage-town. My feet were bare because I’d kicked off my heels at the door. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing, Riley?”

“Nothing. Shit.” He rubbed his temples. “Forget I said anything.”

I glanced toward the door to Max’s office as warmth flooded my cheeks as it hit me.

Riley actually thought there was something between me and Max?

No way. Max didn’t think I was anything except an irritation he’d been saddled with.

Still, butterflies of a different kind started in my stomach.

I threw my pen at Riley, retaliation for making me question the way things were.

“Hey!” He raised his hands in defence. “Maybe I’m wrong.”

“You’re never wrong.”

“That’s true.” He tilted his head thoughtfully.

I wished this day would fall away. It was like high school all over again. Unable to resist, I slanted Riley a look. “Does he know…”

“That you want to ride him like a mechanical bull? Doubt it. Max is denser than a brick. The more important question is, do you want him to know?”

“What do you mean?”

“A lot of people depend on Max being brilliant. If he starts thinking less about Phoenix and more about what bra you’re wearing? It’s bad for business.”

“You’re being sexist.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m being a pragmatist, Payton. The last time Max broke it off with a girl, it cost Titan a lot of grief, a year of production, and about five million in lost sales. So if whatever you’re feeling is a case of hormones and you could find it in your heart of hearts to grab some guy off the street who you think could substitute in your flights of estrogen-induced fancy? I will personally pay for the eyebrow piercing.”

I worked up the nerve to knock on the door of Max’s office after Riley left.

“Yeah.”

I pushed the door wide to find the bank of monitors black. Max stood facing the windows, his back to me and his hands in the pockets of the jeans that seemed to be his uniform.

The music in the background was something slow and moody and quiet enough it hadn’t made it to the living room. The hairs on my arms prickled in response to instrumentation.

“Riley just left and I’m packing up.”

Max turned. The front of his hair was aggressively spiked today, but it was the glass in his hand that caught my attention.

I crossed to him and lifted the tumbler from his fingers, sniffing at it. “Ginger ale?” I asked, surprised.

“Worried about me drinking alone?”

I had to tilt my chin up to meet his dark gaze. His expression was alert but not hostile, and awareness started in my chest and snuck through my body. It suddenly occurred to me how close we were.

He set down his drink on the desk behind him and reached for the black Magic 8 ball. “You have one of these as a kid?” He tossed it lightly, caught it again with the same hand.

“No.”

“Always fascinated me.” Max turned it upside down. His eyelashes were thicker than I’d figured, framing lids that were at half-mast as he tilted his head to read whatever answer floated to the top. “There’s nothing magic about it. It’s just an icosahedral die. There are twenty answers, one on each of the sides. Half are positive, five are noncommittal, and five are negative.”

He offered me the ball. I took it, careful not to brush my fingers against his.

“Is Max Donovan full of shit?” I asked. The die floated to the top.
Yes, definitely
.

A ghost of a smirk crossed Max’s face but instead of feeling satisfied, I was annoyed. The stress of the past week was getting to me. After a dozen conversations and nearly as many arguments, I was no better at predicting Max’s moves, his thoughts, than this damn ball. It wouldn’t have mattered except…

Except that the night on the boat had changed something.

I reached across Max to set the toy on the desk a little too hard. “I know you think everything’s a game, Max, but you can’t play with real people. They stop playing along. Your staff put up with your moods because they think you’re the best thing since Nintendo, but it’s giving me whiplash. I’m tired of it. I’m…I’m just tired.”

“You done?” Max watched me, his expression inscrutable.

I frowned. “What?”

Impatient, he took my arm in his hand and turned me. I jumped at the feeling of him lifting my hair, moving it over one shoulder.

Then his hands were on my skin under the neckline of my top.

What the—

My mouth fell open and I was grateful to be facing the other way. I couldn’t protest when his thumbs pressed into the base of my neck, because Max Donovan was touching me, and that truth rendered every other thought meaningless.

Max’s fingers coaxed in slow circles with a patience I didn’t know he possessed, persuading my muscles to give. I wanted to arch like a cat into his hands.

“I know I’m not the easiest to be around.” His warm breath on my neck sent prickles down my spine and I realized what he was doing.

It was the world’s worst apology but his touch and his words healed my fried nerve endings.

When he hit a tight spot, I jerked.  The pressure lightened long enough that I could suck in a deep breath. Then Max was working the muscles again, and deeper than before.

Being the center of his attention for even a minute was heady. His fingers had my shoulders loosening but my stomach tightening. I bit my lip to hold in the appreciative noises that threatened to erupt as those hands lit fires that started along my neck, spread down my back.

When Max’s thumbs stopped, the emptiness was jarring. I heard my throaty moan slip out at the same time he did.

I entertained a hope that he hadn’t heard the noise as he turned me back to face him. The intensity I found in his expression made that hope evaporate. But a new need started deep in my gut when his touch lingered on my arms.

My gaze dropped to his mouth. That damned fine mouth.

I wondered how it would feel on mine.

“It’s late.”

Max’s words snapped me out of my spell.

I tried to control the flush in my cheeks as I ducked my head. “It is late. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I stepped back from his grasp, ignoring the lingering burn of his touch on my skin as I wound my way back through his giant apartment.

The elevator answered my call before I remembered something.

Dammit.

I retraced my steps to find Max back at his desk, typing on the keyboard. I entered without permission.

“You forgot to give me feedback on the presentation.”

Max barely glanced over his shoulder. “It didn’t light me on fire.”

The stab of disappointment was real, a blade in my side. I’d spent hours working on that presentation. Days, really. Now he’d barely take the time to acknowledge it.

“Lighting you on fire isn’t my job,” I reminded him coolly.

Max grunted, turning to rest irritated eyes on me. “Feeding your ego isn’t my job. You wanted my opinion, and I gave it to you. Don’t throw a tantrum because you don’t like it. I treat you exactly like anyone else around here.”

I raised my hands in the air and made a show of looking around. Max’s apartment was empty except for us, and silent but for the low chords bleeding through the sound system. “Do you seriously believe that? If you do, you’re the only one.”

He stilled, eyes narrowing. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Never mind. I’m out of here.”

“Payton.” The sharpness had me stopping next to the pool table.

Max crossed the office deliberately until he was on top of me. His body blocked the overhead light, making his taut expression even darker. His smell, woodsy with a little spice underneath, invaded my senses.

I remembered how his hands had felt on my neck. He could be patient, gentle. 

He wasn’t now.

“What?” My retort was breathy.

Dark brows drew together on his face, a mask of frustration. But that mouth…

His mouth was just parted, revealing the curve of that lip he liked to brush as if he didn’t know it killed me.

Fuck
, I wanted to bite it.

Hard.

Max reached out a hand, his fingers sliding into my hair near my scalp. A rush of pleasure coursed through my body.

I wanted to watch his face but couldn’t help the way my eyelids started to drift shut, my lips parting as his hand moved through the waves hanging loose at my back.

Until I felt him tug the ends, hard enough to make me gasp as my eyes flew open.

For all his talk, Max wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended to be. His black pupils had taken over his chocolate eyes, and a muscle in his jaw twitched.