Intimate Betrayal by Donna Hill Read Free Book Online

reporter types,” he teased, “just can’t be satisfied without knowing every single detail.” He pushed out a prolonged sigh. “If you must know, I thought I’d take you to the Top of the Sixes for lunch. Then down to Soho. There’s an art gallery opening that I wanted to see.” He turned to look at her. “I hope you like art,” he stated more than asked.
    â€œLet’s put it this way, I know what I like when I see it. That’s the extent of my knowledge of art.” She chuckled.
    He smiled when he realized he’d discovered a new level of admiration for her honesty.
    â€œI can guarantee that you’ll love this guy’s work.”
    â€œI’ll take your word for it.”
    For several moments they rode in companionable silence, until Reese spoke.
    â€œWhat changed your mind?” she asked softly.
    â€œAbout what?” he hedged.
    â€œAbout me. What earth-shattering event made you want to spend your Saturday with me, the woman you love to hate?”
    â€œI think your instincts are off again.”
    â€œYou mean you don’t hate me?” she taunted.
    He slanted her a look. “It’s not you.” He paused to gauge his words. “It’s what you represent.”
    Reese digested what he’d said. “What is it that you have against journalists?” she asked, struggling to maintain a lid on her temper.
    His jaw clenched. “They tend not to have any conscience, for starters.” The pain of remembrance laced his heavy voice, making it vibrate with emotion. “They have no qualms about intruding on a person’s life and turning it upside down.”
    â€œI see. And you feel I’m no different from the nefarious ‘they,’” she tossed out, fighting to disguise her hurt behind a wall of anger.
    â€œAre you? Aren’t you here to get ‘your story’ no matter what it takes?”
    â€œYes I’m here to get a story Max, because it’s my job. Just because you’ve had a bad experience with reporters doesn’t give you the right to paint me with the same black brush.”
    Maxwell spun the wheel, turning the car on two wheels,causing traffic to swerve around them. The high-pitched squealing sound of the tires reminded Reese of pigs being led to the slaughterhouse. He jerked the car to a screeching halt.
    He turned on her, his dark eyes blazing. “The right!” he boomed, his heavy voice reverberating in the small space. “I have every right. This is my life we’re talking about, and you want a piece of it. Just like all the others. What makes you any different?”
    Her sense of injustice made her want to fight back, to tell him what a bull-headed, stubborn fool he was being. But instinct told her that Max’s outrage went much deeper. She reached out and touched his arm. “What happened to you, Max?” she asked so gently the words wrapped around his battered heart and cushioned it.
    He looked down at the hand that held him, so long and slender. His gaze trailed up her arm to rest on her face and at eyes that beheld him with such compassion he was stunned by the impact. His eyes swam over her face, heating her.
    Her grip tightened and he felt her warmth slowly spread through him.
    He leaned closer. She held her breath, longing for what she knew was to come.
    Maxwell reached out and stroked her face. His thumb traced the outline of her full, rich mouth. Her eyes slid shut as a tremor of delight tripped through her.
    â€œReese,” he exhaled on a hot breath. Her eyes slowly opened and met his uncertain gaze.
    â€œDon’t be afraid,” she uttered in a husky whisper. She closed the space between them. Her free hand reached out and ran across his hair of onyx silk. She caressed the smooth bronze jaw, the eyes of ebony that curved upward in invitation.
    He turned his head to kiss her palm, then the tender inside of her wrist.
    His kisses were