Free Penthouse Suite by Sandra Chastain Page A

cover that body, or we may never get off the boat.”
    Kate knew she had no choice. She looked down at her body and back at the man. She’d never thought much about how she looked. Back in Kentucky she was accepted for who she was. Since leaving home she’d had to fight so hard to prove that she was able to do a man’s job that she’d grown used to rough talk and sexual innuendo. She’d always become just one of the boys. But Max didn’t see her that way. And when he looked at her, her body reacted in very feminine ways.
    Even now her sensitive nipples were responding to the rough touch of the fabric rubbing against them as she breathed. “I’ll be there,” she said in a whisper.
    “I’m glad.” The dreamy quality was back in her voice, and Max felt a warm sense of possessiveness swell inside him. Another minute and that wouldn’t have been the only thing that swelled.
    Kate splashed her face with water, ran a comb through her hair, and turned to the closet to survey her wardrobe. Cover her body? Fine. She tugged on the pair of faded jeans she’d been wearing the last time she worked on the car. Battery acid had eaten holes in the legs, and there was a three-cornered tear in the knee. She pulled a grease-smeared T-shirt emblazoned with the Atlanta Braves logo over her head and stuck her feet into sneakers with holes. As a last glowing touch, she crammed the orange cap on her head. She looked like a slob. That ought to keep him from forcing her to go, she decided.
    Kate rounded the corner of the building and caught her breath. The grim expression on Max’s face and the sight of his clenched fists made her chest tighten and her stomach flutter. Unsuccessfully, she fought back an attack of panic, then ducked into the souvenir shop, rubbing the goose bumps that had suddenly raised like ant hills down her arms.
    “May I help you?” The sales clerk hovered near the entrance, obviously suspicious of the oddly dressed woman hiding behind a rack of sunglasses.
    “Ah, yes,” Kate stammered, desperately wishing that she had never turned her automobile into the driveway of La Casa del Sol. She saw Max plowing through the lobby in her direction. He’d seen her.
    “I’d like these,” she said as she searched the rack wildly, selecting a pair of over-large bright yellow plastic sunglasses.
    “Kate!”
    She jammed the glasses on her nose and turned to face him.
    “What are you doing, and why are you dressed like a refugee from a thrift store? Never mind.” He took her hand and drew her unyieldingly toward the front door.
    “Ma’am? Excuse me, ma’am?” The clerk was scurrying behind them like a bird uncertain of her perch.
    “Yes? What in blazes do you want?” Max roared.
    “The glasses, sir. There is a ten-dollar charge for the glasses the lady bought.”
    “Ten dollars? If those awful things cost ten dollars, I can understand why you have so many of them. Tell Helen Stevens to write a charge off and put those tacky things on sale immediately.”
    “Yes, sir.” The puzzled clerk was unsure of what was happening, but she was beginning to understand that the man directing her was someone in charge. “What shall we price them at, sir?”
    “Give them away if you have to. Just get rid of them.” He was doing it again. He was acting like a jerk, he realized.
    “Max!” Kate protested. “She’s only doing her job.” Kate hurried out the front door, trying to lure Max away from the clerk and the curious onlookers in the lobby.
    “I’m sorry.” Max let out a deep breath and followed her, a look of confusion etched across his tanned face. “I’m acting like an idiot. But I wanted you to come, and I was afraid that you wouldn’t.”
    “You were?” Kate’s surprised response poppedout before she could stop it. Max led her to a low-slung black sports car and opened the door for her. He paused, a dark look of intensity reflected in his eyes.
    “Why didn’t you stay last night?”
    “Because I never