Grand Passion

Nothing says you're limited to the role of a rubber-stamper on the Curzon board. You can take action. I never noticed you having any problem controlling your own board of directors.”
    “Damn it, I don't particularly want to get involved with running Curzon. I've got my hands full with my own company.”
    “This would be a very short-term arrangement. Help Kim take control of the board. Once she's been elected CEO, you can retreat gracefully from active management and let her take over completely. You can start rubber-stamping her projects the same way you used to rubber-stamp Jason's.”
    Roarke rubbed his jaw. “Kim's brilliant and gutsy. She's got what it takes to run Curzon, doesn't she?”
    “Once she's no longer worried about trying to placate Dennison, she'll do fine. She doesn't need me. What she needs is help taking the company away from her father. You can be the one to give her what she wants most in the world.” Max paused and smiled slightly. “Think how grateful she'll be.”
    Roarke narrowed his eyes. “She'd never go up against her old man.”
    “I think you could convince her to do it,” Max said.
    Roarke looked briefly intrigued. Then he shook his head. “I don't know. Even if I could talk her into trying to stage a coup, I doubt we could pull it off. Kim would have me on her side, but that still leaves a couple of cousins and her aunt. They'd follow Dennison because they're used to taking orders from his brother.”
    “You can handle the cousins, and that's all you need,” Max said quietly. “If you and Kim show a united front, they'll start taking their lead from you two, rather than Dennison.”
    Roarke considered that for a moment. “Maybe. It just might work. I don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything, but would you mind telling me what's in this for you, Fortune? What do you want for being so damn helpful?”
    “All I want is your guarantee that you and Kim and everybody else with the last names of Curzon or Winston will quit showing up here at the inn at unexpected and inconvenient moments,” Max said softly.
    “I think I'm getting the picture.” Roarke looked at Cleo, and then he met Max's eyes. “You want us out of your way.”
    “Yes,” Max said. “I do. And I'd really appreciate it if you'd start the process immediately.”
    Roarke slanted another glance at Cleo and smiled. “I can take a hint. It's a long drive back to Seattle. Guess I'd better get started.”

Chapter

13

    T hat was a cozy little scene I walked in on just now,” Max growled as the door of the dining room swung closed behind Roarke. He gave the stack of folded tablecloths that Roarke had left behind a disgusted glance. “Thinking of taking on additional help?”
    “Why not? Hotshot executive material is all over the place these days. I might as well take advantage of some of it.” Cleo concentrated on spreading another cloth on a table.
    Max sat down at one of the tables in the far corner near the window. He propped his cane beside his chair and watched Cleo with brooding eyes. “We have to talk.”
    “About what?”
    “Last night would probably be a good place to start,” Max said.
    “I've got a better idea. Let's talk about this morning, instead.”
    Max's eyes darkened. “What about this morning?”
    “Did you really try to marry Kimberly in order to get your hands on Curzon International?” Cleo asked in what she hoped was a tone of mild curiosity.
    There was a long silence from the table in the corner. “What do you think?” Max finally asked.
    Cleo threw him a glare as she whipped open another tablecloth. She looked away quickly because his eyes were burning with an emotion she could not define.
    “I think you must have had a very good reason for asking her to marry you,” Cleo said in a subdued voice. “Either you were in love with her, which everyone including you seems to seriously doubt, or you wanted something from her. What was it, Max?”
    “It's been three years since the engagement ended.” Max absently rubbed his thigh. “I believe I've forgotten what it was that convinced me I wanted to marry her.”
    “Don't give me that.” Cleo approached his table with the last of the unfolded cloths. “You told me that she represented a lot of things you wanted. What were those things, Max?”
    He looked at her. “Whatever they were, they don't matter any more.”
    “You don't want Curzon International?”
    “No.”
    “You don't want Kimberly