Page 15 of Risk It All
I meet his gaze and hope he'll get the message. “It doesn't matter.”
Max
I'm notthe type of man to hold grudges or let issues nag at me, but I can't shake Madeleine's maddening attitude. I could handle it if she wasn't interested in me, which I don't believe for a moment. Her reaction to me when I was close to her is proof that she's not as immune as she wants to be. When we were nearly nose-to-nose while talking to Eleanor, there was that green flash in her eyes, and small, nearly imperceptible, hitch of her breath. She's interested alright.
What irks the most is that her dislike of me is on unfounded beliefs that I'm like all the other men she's dated. That I'm like Chase Elliott. I don't know all the details of that relationship, but I know of Chase's reputation for using anyone, including a woman, to get what he wants. The idea that he probably did that to Madeleine pisses me off. But I'm not him and it's not my fault she had a bad experience.
I try to shrug off my annoyance as I sit and buckle my seatbelt for the flight from Frankfurt to Abuja. Now isn't the time to try and convince Madeleine I'm an okay guy, or get caught up in the attraction I have for her. Now is the time to prepare to enter a world I've never seen or experienced. I need a clear head and focus.
I turn my attention to the window, glad that I have the window seat. I push away the thought that Madeleine's reason for wanting the aisle seat is so she can easily get away from me.
“You're angry.”
I consider denying it, but that's not my style. I turn my head to her. “Not angry. Annoyed.”
She gives me the smirk I've come to know so well. The one that says she believes I'm a conceited jerk. “Because I haven't fallen for your charm?”
“Oh, you've fallen. You just don't like it.”
Her hazel eyes narrow. “Your arrogance is showing.”
“Am I wrong?” I stare at her, daring her to tell me differently.
“Is that why you're doing all this?”
I shake my head, wondering how I can still be attracted to her when she's so infuriating. “Yes, Madeleine. I've left my company in someone else's hands, spent a fortune, and am risking my life, your life, and the lives of countless others just to get you in my bed. Now, who's the arrogant one?” I turn away, watching the ground slip away as the plane rises. I don't want her to see how much her comments not only anger me, but also hurt.
She sighs. “You're right. I didn't really think that—”
I whip my head back to her. “Then why say it? Is this part of your plan to protect yourself by casting me as a Casanova?”
“No . . . Maybe . . . I don't know. I'll admit that I find you . . .”
“Interesting?”
“Okay, interesting. And five years ago, I might have been willing to see where that might lead, but not today. We'll do this trip, but I'm not going on a date with you when we get back.”
“Even though your aunt wants you to.”
“Even though my aunt wants me to.”
I study her, hoping she'll say more. I wait her out until she finally says. “It wouldn't work between us.”
“Because I'm a lothario.”
“No.” She shakes her head and laughs. “No. I don't think that. At least not anymore. But our lives are too different. When this is done, you'll go back to L.A. and I'll go to New York and plan my next assignment.”
“Yes. That would be hard. Because getting from one coast to the other is nearly impossible.” I roll my eyes. A part of me is annoyed at myself for letting her get to me. I'm practically begging her for a date. I don't think I'm a conceited jerk, but I know most other women would be happy to have dinner with me. I'm definitely not interested in dating a woman who doesn't want anything to do with me socially.So, what the hell, Max? Let it go.
“I'm trying to be serious.”
But I can't let it go. I might not get a date, but at least I might get some respect. “You want serious?” I turn my body as much as the seatbelt will let me move so I can look her directly in the eyes. “The only reason I was in New York and attended your aunt's benefit was to meet you.”
Surprise then shock shows in her wide eyes. “Why?”
Reining my annoyance, I answer her in a calm voice. “I wanted to meet the woman who wrote the article on foster care. You’re the first journalist I’ve read who really captured the challenges of the system from a child’s view. My intentions were purely to tell you I appreciated how much deeper you went into the issue than most journalists do. When I saw you, I thought you were beautiful, and my interest grew. I'm a man, after all. Of course, that meeting didn't quite go as I imagined.”
“So why are you still interested?”
