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world as he knew it was crumbling at his feet. A woman had turned up on the beach to make every drop of blood in his veins race and burn with a kind of hunger that had wanted to be assuaged now. And his best friend was getting married.

      Stan grinned. “It will be a sweet death.”

      “It’s a career move, right?”

      “It’s a life move, Max. I want you to be my best man.”

      Max opened his mouth and found he couldn’t answer. He replaced his stick in the rack.

      Stan grinned. “Take it easy. You’ll recover from the shock by morning. And as soon as you do, you’ve got to call Danielle Harrington and start unraveling this mess.”

      His stomach somersaulted. “I don’t want to call Danielle Harrington.”

      “We have to meet with her and cool her down.” Stan cracked the balls whether Max wanted to play or not.

      Then the door opened and Marcy Leeds poked her head into the room. “Stan? Are you almost through in here?”

      Max watched his best friend grin like a besotted puppy. “In a minute, hon.” And then she gave a come-hither smile before she retreated, Max thought.

      He had to get out of here.

      “All right,” Max muttered. “I’ll call Dani Harrington tomorrow.” But he damned well wasn’t going to like it.

      Danielle was in the middle of a meeting at ten-thirty on Monday morning, recapping the current status of the war between Harrington Resorts and the Coalition for Wildlife, Fields and Streams, when Angelique knocked on the conference room door and stepped into the room. “You told me to interrupt you.”

      “I did?” Danielle remembered nothing of the sort.

      “This morning. If he called.”

      “He—oh!” Danielle’s heart stood still for a moment. She looked quickly at the faces surrounding the table. “Max Padgett is on the phone.”

      She pushed past Angelique and hurried down the hall to her own office. By the time she reached it, her knees were liquid. She looked down at the blinking light on the phone. Angelique had almost been right, she thought. It had taken him seventy-two hours to call…but then, he couldn’t have reached her over the weekend even if he had tried. Her home number was unlisted, a well-guarded secret. Richard had been emphatic about business not following them home. She’d never thought to change that. There was no reason to. There wasn’t anyone she particularly cared about being able to reach her during nonbusiness hours.

      Until now. She made a mental note to ask Angelique to call the telephone company.

      Danielle took one, two, then three deep breaths and finally grabbed the receiver. “Hi,” she said. Then she covered her eyes with one hand, fighting a moan. She sounded breathless and hormonal and flirtatious, exactly like a woman who would run around on television in her underwear.

      “Hi, yourself,” Max said, his voice vaguely rough. And she thought he sounded as thought he had just come up for air after a long, slow, heated kiss.

      Her knees gave out. Danielle sank into her chair.

      “Have you come to your senses yet?” he asked.

      “And here I thought you were calling to tell me you’re giving up.”

      “It will never happen.”

      No, she thought, he wouldn’t be a quitter. “We have a problem then. I’m not planning to back off, either.”

      “What are you saying, Dani? That we’re evenly matched?”

      Something unseen snatched the air from her lungs. “Maybe.”

      “Let’s talk about it.”

      “Talk.” She couldn’t breathe. “When?”

      “Tomorrow night? Are you free?”

      She hadn’t had anything but a free evening since Richard had died. “Let me check.” She put him back on hold.

      She inhaled carefully, deliberately, trying to get oxygen to her brain. Then she stabbed the blinking button on her phone again. “I can manage it. I’ll have to move a few things around, but this is important.”

      “That’s progress,” he said in that low, intimate voice.

      “It is?” Her heart hammered.

      “A week ago you wouldn’t answer my mail or take my phone calls. Could it be I’m gaining ground?”

      Not in the way you think. Danielle closed her eyes as the words tumbled to her lips. She pressed a hand to her mouth to keep them trapped. “I’ll let you think so.”

      He laughed that warm whisky-edged chuckle. It came through the wire and touched her skin. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, shivering again. “Could you hold another moment?”

      Danielle slammed her palm down on the hold button again. She dragged a shaky hand across her brow. What was going on here? She wasn’t any good at this…at this flirting business! Were they flirting? She didn’t know! She’d barely even dated before she’d met Richard—she’d been too busy getting her M.B.A. And she hadn’t dated since he’d died. He’d been the sum total of her experience with men. And there had been no perspiring brows or weak knees or irregular heartbeats with Richard. So when it came to Max Padgett, she was lost.

      All she had were her instincts.

      They were definitely flirting, she decided. She thought again of her resolve to use that to keep his mind off the birds, at least long enough for her to break ground. She picked up the phone again. “Where would you like to meet tomorrow night?”

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