Gull Harbor by Kathryn Knight Page A

arm curled around her shoulders. “Claire, I am so sorry I hurt you,” he said, his voice ragged with emotion.
    She dropped her forehead to his chest. “I believe you.”
    His other hand stroked her hair, and she stayed in his embrace while she battled back the tears. She focused on the comforting thud of his heartbeat as he ran his fingers through her loose curls.
    “I missed you this week,” he murmured.
    His breath in her ear sent a delicious shiver through her body. She couldn’t resist this anymore. She didn’t want to. “I missed you too,” she admitted, turning her face up to his.
    He brushed his lips against hers tentatively, and a moment of exquisite anticipation spun out between them. Then his mouth captured hers in a bruising kiss that sought to make up for the years they’d been apart. She returned his fierce kisses, moaning as their lips and tongues met with frightening urgency.
    A tiny voice inside her head whispered a warning, reminding her that he still hadn’t explained why he’d left her that way. She shoved it aside. She didn’t need explanations, she needed him. On her, inside her, filling every space. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she clung to him as he lowered her onto the bed. Every nerve in her body burned for him, and she arched her back to rub her hips against the solid length of his erection.
    His hand slipped under the hem of her skirt, and his rough fingertips left a trail of fire as they traveled up her thigh. Her hands explored the ridges of muscle under the smooth skin of his back. She kissed his neck, tasting the salty sweat from the day’s heat.
    The shrill ring of a phone pierced the air, shattering the silence. Claire’s eyes flew open and she froze as though she had been caught doing something wrong.
    Max lifted his head. “Damn it,” he growled. “That’s the intern’s ring tone.”
    “You should get it.” She pushed on his shoulders gently. “Really.”
    His phone continued its demanding ring from its perch on her dresser. “I’m sorry,” he said, rolling off of her with a groan.
    The ringing stopped as he reached for the phone. His eyes darted back to Claire, lying flushed and breathless on her white comforter. He contemplated putting off the return call for a few minutes. He could jump back into bed with her, and they could quickly finish what they’d started. But the call was about his business. And the beautiful woman in the bed was Claire. She hadn’t had sex in five years—she deserved better than this. Hell, he hadn’t even taken her out on a proper date.
    Jabbing at the call button, he stalked over to the new window as he waited for his intern to pick up. “Hey, Sean. What is it?”
    By the time his intern had finished describing the chaos at the tavern, Claire had composed herself. She leaned against the headboard, her long legs crossed at the ankle, her flared skirt arranged to cover her thighs. The spiral notebook lay on her lap, and she tapped a pen against her swollen lips.
    Max crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’m really sorry. Sean’s in over his head. I’ve been gone a few hours now, and it’s Friday night. An entire order for a large party never got placed, and they’ve been waiting almost two hours. And a group of drunken college kids are giving the bartender a hard time because he doesn’t want to serve them anymore.” With a sigh, he reached for her hand. “I know it sounds like trivial stuff, but—”
    “But it’s your business,” she said, cutting him off. “I understand about making sacrifices for a job you love.” Her gaze flicked down to the notebook page.
    “I guess you do,” he agreed. He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear with his free hand. “Will you come by tonight?”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” she said playfully. “What’s in it for me?”
    “A free dinner. Compliments of the house.” Sliding his fingers to the back of her head, he pulled her in for a quick kiss. “I