Free The Millionaire Tempted Fate (A Novella) (Sweet and Savory Romances) by Shirley Jump Page B

to her, that he didn’t think about her in anything other than friend terms, but he’d been lying to her and himself.
    "Then why are you marrying Becky?" Angie asked.
    He sighed and lowered himself onto the arm of the loveseat. "Because you mean too much to me."
    She snorted. "That’s rich. I mean too much to you so you’re going to walk out of here and marry someone else?"
    "Your friendship is the most important thing in my life, Angie. It always has been, and it always will be. You don’t understand. I—" He cut off the sentence.
    She closed the distance between them and put a hand on his arm. "What, Max? Tell me. That’s what I’m here for, to listen."
    It was the tenderness, the care in her voice that hit him the hardest. Here he was, breaking Angie’s heart and her first concern was him. He let out a curse and shook his head. Angie’s apartment was small, and with the two of them and the dog, there was no room to leave, to gain space, to avoid the subject. "We’re two similar creatures, Angie, aren’t we? Both of us so afraid of repeating what we grew up with, that we run in the opposite direction. Me with my lists and logic, and you by avoiding commitment."
    "I’m trying to change, Max, I really am. I don’t want to be afraid anymore and maybe lose the best thing that ever happened to me."
    He reached up and brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. "I feel exactly the same way. I don’t want to lose you."
    "Max—"
    "And if keeping us as just friends is the only way I can do that, then I will." He sighed. "I’m sorry."
    Her face fell, and the light dimmed in her eyes. "Me too. Because I think you’re making a big mistake."
    "I probably am." He ran a hand through his hair and looked at the dog she had bought them, sitting on the braided rug, watching the conversation with wide brown eyes. "Do you remember that day I came to your house, after my father kicked me out the first time?"
    She nodded. "My mom let you sleep on the sofa."
    "That night, I made a vow that no matter what, I would never let you down. Never hurt you. You were there for me when I needed you most, and all I ever wanted to do from that day forward was to do the same for you."
    "Max, you haven’t—"
    "I have. Last night. Today. I made love to you and I broke your heart, and if we did this again, if we took this to the next level, I would let you down. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but down the road, we would become my parents. And in the process, we’d lose our friendship and everything that makes us special." He cupped her jaw, and realized he was breaking two hearts today. Was he making a mistake? Or would he look back on this moment and be glad he had saved them both a lot of heartache? "You deserve so much more, Angie."
    "How can you say that? You’re marrying Becky—"
    "And maybe I shouldn’t even be doing that either." He let out a breath. "I thought by making a list, I’d avoid all this…" he waved a hand.
    "Emotion? Complications?"
    He chuckled. "Yeah. Exactly. Picking a wife by a checklist takes the emotion out of it, and makes it a sensible choice."
    "No, Max. It makes it a losing choice. For you and for her. And I can’t understand why you, a man who has made a career out of taking risks, can’t see that." She raised on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. There was no passion in the kiss. Instead, it felt a lot like a goodbye kiss. "You’re the bravest man I know, Max Blackwell, and also the dumbest."

 
     
1 14-ounce can sweetened condensed milk
Kosher salt
3 sticks butter (3/4 pound), unsalted, room temperature
1 cup sugar, plus extra
1 teaspoon vanilla
3 1/2 cups flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
Sugar, sugar, sugar. That’s the key to forgetting the man who broke your heart, and to admitting your plan went horribly awry.
     
    First, make the caramel. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Pour the milk into a pie plate, stir in 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt, and cover it tightly with foil. Put the pie plate in a