Grand Passion

a seat on the board. She knew you'd take over Curzon if you got half a chance.”
    Max looked as if she'd slapped him. His hand clenched around the handle of his cane. “Is that what you think I'm trying to do? Take control of your family and your inn?”
    Cleo was horrified. “Of course not.” She scrambled to a kneeling position in the center of the bed. “Max, you're getting this all wrong.”
    “Is that right? What part am I getting wrong? It all sounds very clear to me. You think I'm taking over, and unless I handle things the way you want them handled, you're going to back out of the marriage. Did I miss anything?”
    “I am not going to back out of the marriage. Will you please stop putting words in my mouth?”
    “I'm using the words you used.”
    Cleo lost her temper. “What on earth is the problem here? Why don't you want me with you tomorrow when you talk to Spark?”
    “Because I don't want you there. Isn't that reason enough?”
    “No, damn it, it's not.”
    Max moved to the window and stood looking out into the darkness. “It's all the reason you're going to get. And if that's not good enough, you'll have to make your own decision about what to do next.”
    The bleakness in his voice was Cleo's undoing. His words echoed with a cold, aloof loneliness that tore at her heart. She wondered how many times in his life Max had waited for others to make the decisions that would send him down the road to the next temporary home.
    With a soft exclamation of pain that was as deep as his own, Cleo leaped off the bed and ran across the room to where he stood at the window. She threw her arms around him and leaned her head against his bare chest.
    “Max, I've got news for you. It doesn't work like that now.”
    He touched her hair with a hesitant hand. “What do you mean?”
    Cleo raised her head to meet his eyes. She framed his hard jaw between her palms. “You don't get kicked out of this family just because you are occasionally as stubborn as a mule and have an annoying tendency to govern by fiat.”
    “I don't?” He searched her face with eyes that mirrored both grim acceptance of his fate and a tiny flame of hope.
    “No.” Cleo stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “You're one of us now. It doesn't matter if you occasionally screw up, remember?”
    Max's eyes were more enigmatic than Cleo had ever seen them. “You're sure?”
    “I'm sure.” Cleo grinned. “Of course, in return, you have to learn to accommodate some of my little foibles, which may tend to irritate you now and again. For instance, I am not going to give up on this matter of going with you when you confront Spark. But that's family life for you. A little give and take. What the heck. Nothing's perfect.”
    There was no answering amusement in Max's expression. “Cleo…”
    “Yes?”
    “Never mind.”
    Max pulled her against him and held her so tightly Cleo thought her ribs might crack. But they didn't.
    After a while Max led her back to bed.

    A long time later Max stirred and rolled reluctantly off of Cleo. “You can come with me tomorrow,” he said.
    Cleo wondered why he sounded like a gambler who had just bet everything on a long shot.
    * * *
    The meeting had been arranged on neutral territory. Spark had suggested that Max meet him at a small motel located forty miles from Harmony Cove. Max had agreed.
    He had thought about the meeting most of the night, but he was still not fully prepared for the flood of memories that assailed him when Spark opened the door of his small motel suite. No matter how he sliced it, Max thought, there was no getting around the fact that he owed Spark a great deal.
    It was Spark, after all, who had first made it possible for Max to indulge his grand passion for fine art. It was Spark who had allowed him to handle some of the most brilliant paintings that had been produced by West Coast artists in the past twenty years. It was Spark who had provided Max with the opportunity to meet Jason Curzon.
    “Well, well, well.” Spark's expression was one of cool, half-amused appraisal. “It's been a long time, Fortune. You seem to have done rather well for yourself. Hard to believe that once upon a time you made a living running errands for me.”
    Spark had changed little during the past twelve years, Max thought. He looked as polished and sophisticated as ever. He still had the supercilious curl of the lip and that expression of bored condescension that was so useful for