Page 34 of Contracted and Claimed By The Boss

The pub was cool and dark and just stepping inside she knew her suspicions were correct, because while the fit-out retained the charm of the pub’s history, it was also immaculate and clearly no expense had been spared.

The ceiling was ornate pressed metal, the floor was wide, dark timber boards, and the artwork on the wall comprised stunning landscapes of the outback—originals that she guessed hadn’t come cheap. Max led Paige to a table near the back—there were only two other patrons, both sitting at the bar. No sooner had they sat down than the waitress appeared brandishing a couple of menus, with an extensive selection of food—further evidence that the kitchen was bankrolled by someone who didn’t rely on the place turning a profit.

‘What’s good?’ Paige asked with a small smile.

‘Everything.’

She heard the pride in his voice and her insides leaped. ‘That’s high praise for a country pub.’

‘Trust me.’

And because everything between them felt just a little too right, because they were a little too in sync, she wanted to remind him that she didn’t trust anyone, but it was enough just to remind herself.

She turned her attention to the menu, selecting a garlic prawn dish. When the waitress arrived, Max ordered a bottle of white wine, and his own meal, a rather more substantial-sounding ‘surf and turf’.

The waitress was friendly with Max, in a way that Paige couldn’t pretend she didn’t notice, and couldn’t pretend she didn’t feel a hint of envy about. But that was normal. On a purely primal level, they were lovers, and, just like in the animal kingdom, she temporarily felt she’d staked some kind of claim to him. It didn’t mean anything beyond that—she just didn’t want another woman making eyes at Max while they were having lunch.

But given that he’d been celibate for the past six years, she probably didn’t need to imagine him suddenly leaping over the bar and making love to the other woman. If that was going to happen, he’d have the decency to wait until Paige left, she was pretty sure.

Having been intimate with Max, she found it hard to imagine him living without sex. He was so passionate, so powerful, so...skilled...in that department. To have denied himself that pleasure was bad enough, but to have denied other women seemed almost criminal. That same little blade of envy pressed into Paige as she thought of his wife and wondered about their marriage. He must have loved the other woman a great deal. Except...hadn’t he said he’d hated being married?

Curiosity burst through her, irrepressible and urgent. ‘What was your wife like?’ Paige asked, before she could think better of it.

If Max was surprised, he didn’t show it. He lifted his gaze to Paige’s face, let his eyes linger there a moment, his lips tugging downward as he lost himself in his thoughts. ‘Volatile.’

It was the last thing she’d expected him to say.

‘Very beautiful,’ he amended, his voice softening, so that jealousy dug in a little deeper.

‘How did you meet?’

He tugged a hand through his hair. ‘We were part of the same social circle. She was friends with my friends. I don’t actually remember the first time we met, I just became aware of knowing her one day.’

‘Not love at first sight, then?’

The waitress appeared with an ice-cold bottle of Riesling and two glasses. Max poured the wine, and Paige sipped it just because she wanted something to do with her hands.

‘You and I have our cynicism in common. I don’t believe in love at first sight any more than you do.’

‘Why do you think I’m cynical?’ she prompted.

He lifted his brows. ‘Our conversation last night?’

‘Knowing that I don’t believe in love for myself personally is different from saying I don’t believe in it for other people. I think love is out there, and that some people, maybe even lots of people, get struck by that mythical lightning strike. Just not me.’

‘You’re a little young to speak in such absolutes.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m an expert on this one subject: myself. I know who I am and what I want from life. It’s not that.’

‘Lightning doesn’t always listen to what we want,’ he pointed out, rocking the base of his wine glass against the polished tabletop, eyes locked to hers so she had the strangest feeling he was picking her apart and studying her, piece by piece, even the parts Paige didn’t fully understand about herself.

‘So what was it like?’ she asked. ‘I presume you loved her very much.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because you were married.’ Paige floundered a little, realising that one thing didn’t necessarily equate to the other. ‘And because you haven’t—you’ve been—’

He almost looked to be enjoying her discomfort because he leaned closer across the table, and their legs brushed so Paige shifted a bit, her insides quivering with recognition at the contact.

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