Grand Passion

did,” Max said.
    “Oh, my God.” Cleo sagged against the front desk. “I don't believe this.”
    “Relax, Cleo,” Max advised. “This is a male thing. I wouldn't expect a woman to understand it.”

Chapter

10

    I t was pleasant being a family hero, Max reflected the next morning after the breakfast rush. Trisha thought he walked on water because Ben was back. Ben seemed to be in the process of turning him into a role model. Andromeda and the rest of the Cosmic Harmony crowd thought he'd finessed the situation with Quinton's group of rained-out warriors brilliantly. Sammy thought he was great simply because he was back.
    The only one who was still grumbling was Cleo.
    She stalked into the kitchen shortly after the dining room had been cleared. Most of the staff were drinking coffee or tea and nibbling on the latest version of Daystar's muffins.
    Cleo came to a halt in the middle of the floor and stood facing everyone with her hands on her hips. Her expression was a cross between surly and triumphant.
    “That's the last of them,” she announced. “Tobias Quinton and his bunch are finally gone. As I live and breathe, it is my most profound wish to never see a manly warrior male for the rest of my natural life.”
    Max met Ben's eyes. Neither said a word. They both turned to look at Cleo.
    Max cleared his throat politely. “Just out of curiosity, how do you classify Ben and me? Wimpy weenies?”
    Cleo had the decency to blush. “Don't be ridiculous. You know what I mean.”
    “Does this mean I'm not getting a drum for Christmas?” Max asked.
    Sylvia, Andromeda, and the others burst into laughter. Cleo endured the reaction stoically. She went over to the counter to pour herself a cup of tea.
    “Go ahead, laugh,” she muttered. “But I'm here to tell you that it's just the sheerest good luck that Max and Ben were able to get those characters off to bed last night. What if Max had lost that stupid card game?”
    “How could I lose at cards with a name like Fortune?” Max asked equably.
    Andromeda was immediately intrigued. “Of course, Max. There's probably some harmonic connection between the name you were given at birth and your luck. Do you always win when you play?”
    Ben grinned. “I'll bet he always wins when he deals the way he did last night. I watched him. Cleo had nothing to worry about. Tobias Quinton never had a chance.”
    Cleo gave Max a sharp glance over the rim of her mug. “Did you cheat, Max?”
    “There are some things we manly macho men do not discuss in front of females,” Max said with lofty disdain. “It's a male thing, you know.”
    Cleo shuddered. “Speaking of male things, I certainly hope I never see another collection like the ones displayed in the solarium last night.”
    Everyone fixed Cleo with deeply inquiring looks.
    Max recalled the ring of nude men sitting in front of the fire. He smiled politely at Cleo. “Disappointed, were you?”
    Cleo gave him a goaded look. “Let's just say that none of them compared to the strikingly superior specimen I have recently been privileged to view in a private showing.”
    Max choked on his coffee. “Glad to hear that.”
    Sammy tugged on Cleo's jeans. “What's a male thing?” he asked with the persistence only a five-year-old can muster.
    Cleo glanced down and smiled benignly. “Sometimes it doesn't amount to much, dear. But occasionally it can be a work of art.”
    “Oh.” Disappointed by the answer, Sammy went over to the counter to help himself to another muffin.
    Everyone else started to grin. Cleo turned pink again and helped herself to more tea.
    Yes, there was a lot to be said for being a hero, Max thought. But the best part was learning last night that he didn't really have to do anything except come home in order to get the job.

    At midmorning Cleo halted in the middle of her walk and watched as Kimberly strode toward her across the rocky beach.
    Today Kimberly looked tastefully stylish in expensive penny loafers, heather gray trousers, and a hounds-tooth jacket. Her blond hair was in an elegant chignon. Cleo was suddenly very aware that her own hair was a windblown tangle.
    “Good morning, Ms. Curzon-Winston,” Cleo said, determined to be polite. “I thought you'd left.”
    Kimberly stopped in front of her. Her eyes were cool and watchful. “I wanted to talk to you before I go.”
    Cleo folded her arms across her chest. “About Max?”
    “Yes.”
    Cleo gave her a quizzical look. “There isn't much to