Free Grand Passion by Jayne Ann Krentz Page A

away.”
    “You look like you've just seen a ghost.”
    “Go away,” she hissed.
    Max ignored the command. Instead he calmly closed the door. “Don't faint. I'm no good with fainting women.” He put an arm around Cleo and pulled her tightly against his chest.
    “I'm not going to faint. I've never fainted in my life.” Cleo wanted to resist the compelling heat of his body, but it was soaking into her, driving out the chill that had gripped her a moment earlier. She stood there, leaning against him for a few minutes.
    The man in the mirror .
    Eventually she started to relax. Max felt solid and strong and he smelled good. Cleo inhaled the enticing combination of soap and maleness. She had never before found herself captivated by a man's scent, but Max's fascinated her. Surreptitiously she tried to bury her nose against his chest.
    “Are you okay?” Max asked.
    The question broke the delicate thrall that had begun to form around Cleo. Embarrassed, she raised her head, straightened her glasses, and pushed herself away from him. “I think so. Sorry about this. I was a little startled by something. I'm okay now.”
    Slowly he released her. His eyes never left her face. “What was that all about?”
    Cleo knew she should keep her mouth shut. But her defenses were down because of the shock of seeing the ribbon on the pillow and because of the way Max had held her. She knew she owed him absolutely no explanations. But she suddenly needed to talk to someone. If Jason had been there, she would have told him the whole story.
    Max had been Jason's friend. Max was not a stranger. Not really.
    “That ribbon shouldn't be there.” Cleo didn't know where to start. She went over to the bed and stood looking down at the coiled length of satin. “Someone put it there.”
    “A gift from Sammy?”
    “ No .” Cleo hugged herself. “God, no. Sammy wouldn't know anything about the significance of a red satin ribbon left on a pillow.”
    “But you do?” Max did not move.
    “It's a scene out of a book I wrote.” Cleo shivered. Then she spun around and went to the bookshelf. She took down the copy of The Mirror that Nolan had given to her that morning. “It's from this. Chapter three.”
    Max took the book and glanced at the cover. “You wrote this? It says the author's name is Elizabeth Bird.”
    “That's me. Elizabeth Bird is a pen name. Until recently it's been a deep, dark secret known only to members of the family. But today it has become painfully obvious that someone else knows it.”
    “Why did you try to keep yourself anonymous?”
    Cleo watched his face. “Take a look at the book.”
    Max flipped open the cover and scanned the inside flap. He looked up after a moment, his eyes unreadable. “You write women's erotica? I thought you wrote romantic-suspense.”
    Cleo lifted her chin. “I wrote one book of erotica before I started writing romantic-suspense. The Mirror is that book.” She bit her lip and could not resist adding, “It was actually rather well received. Even got some good reviews.” Of course, Max wouldn't believe that, Cleo thought. She wished she hadn't sounded defensive. She wished she'd kept her mouth shut.
    “I see,” Max said. There was absolutely no inflection in his voice.
    For the life of her Cleo could not tell what his reaction was to the news that she had written The Mirror . “That book you're holding in your hand is the chief reason Nolan decided I was unsuitable company for a rising politician.”
    “Ah, well. Politicians tend to be a rather dull bunch, don't they? No imagination.”
    Cleo smiled dangerously. “I suppose it confirms your earlier opinion of me as a loose woman.”
    “It confirms my impression that you are a very unpredictable woman.” Max sat down on a small, chintz-covered chair without waiting for an invitation. He leaned his cane against a table and started to massage his thigh with an absent movement of his hand. “Why don't you tell me what this is all