Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
As Max peruses each page, he asks me pointed questions, which I do my best to answer. Watching Max’s big hands turning the pages of my secret notebook is making me dizzy. Light-headed. It’s the most intimate thing I’ve ever done with any man—far more intimate than letting one fuck me or eat me out.
Midway through the book, after my most recent explanation, Max’s body notably ignites. He asks me a flurry of questions, and with each answer I give, his demeanor becomes more and more energetic.
“This is it,” Max declares. “Your Big Idea, baby. You’re a genius. This is the one we’re going to focus on for development.”
We. We’re going to focus on developing it—together? Max and me? Mere minutes ago, when Max instructed me to report back to him regarding my progress on the tasks he’s given me tonight, I felt excited to know, for sure, we’d be in contact after family camp. But this comment from Max feels like an even bigger deal than that. How long does it take to develop a doodle into an actual, functioning thing? Weeks? Months? How long is Max planning to work with me on this project?
“Okay, first things first,” Max says. “We’ll need to meet with my engineer buddy to find out if he thinks this idea has legs, like I do; and if so, the cost for creating a prototype.”
My stomach sinks. “How much would a prototype cost?”
Max waves at the air. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll handle all costs.”
“It sounds expensive, though. Would this be a loan, or . . .?”
“If my buddy thinks this idea is as good as I do, then I’ll pay for the prototype as a gift to you. After that, we’ll talk about next steps and if it makes sense for us to create a formal partnership.”
My heart is crashing. “A business partnership?”
“Yeah.” Max considers. “If it comes to me investing more than, say, twenty grand, we’ll draw something up for me to recoup my investment out of future proceeds. Until then, however, we’ll call whatever money I’ve spent a gift to you—a thank you for everything you’re doing for me.”
Twenty grand? Max is willing to spend twenty grand to develop one of my silly little doodles? And this, after already having bought me a fake engagement ring for eight grand? “I don’t know, Max. It feels like way too much to let you spend.”
“It’s not. I’ve got plenty in the bank. And if all goes well in Wyoming, I’ll be making more money than I know what to do with in the near future. Let me do this, Marnie. I’m excited about it.”
“Only if you’re positive it’s not too much,” I murmur.
“It’s not.” He slides his palm on my cheek and kisses me softly. Reverently. I’m thinking our kiss is going to ramp up and become heated and passionate and desperate, like our kisses always do, but Max pulls away before that happens and leans his forehead against mine. “I meant it when I said you’re a genius,” he whispers. “That’s not a figure of speech. I’m in awe of your incredible mind.”
“I’m in awe of yours, too,” I whisper. I’m trembling. “I knew you were smart, but . . . Wow, Max.”
Something passes between us. A current that feels different than anything that’s flowed between us before. Whatever it is, it’s causing my heart to ache. No, to explode with adoration and affection for this incredible man. I jerk back suddenly, shocked by my sudden realization. I’m falling in love with Maximillian Vaughn. I don’t want to be. God knows, I don’t. But, alas, suddenly, I know that’s exactly what’s happening to me.
Max’s chest heaves. His Adam’s apple bobs. He runs his hand through his hair and stares at me for a long moment, looking flushed and out of sorts. Finally, he says, “Listen, I know we talked about going another round tonight, but we’ve got an early flight tomorrow. Maybe we should get a good sleep.”
I force a smile. “Yeah, we need to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to give a convincing performance tomorrow.” What happened? Did my face give me away? Have I scared him off? “I was about to say the same thing,” I add, rising from the couch. “Sleep well. Goodnight.” With that, I turn on my heel and stride, red-faced, toward the hallway. Before I’ve made it out of the room, though, Max calls my name in a tight voice, so I stop and turn around, my heart pounding in my ears.
Max opens and closes his mouth. Shifts his weight. “Thanks again for everything you’re doing for me,” he finally says. “I hope you know I really appreciate it.”
My heart sinks. “I’m getting plenty of upside out of our arrangement, too.” With that, I stride down the hallway toward my bedroom. And this time, Max doesn’t call my name or try to stop me.