Max takes my hand and squeezes my fingers. “Will you come with me, please?”

I stop trying to figure out Jimmy’s odd interest with me and look up at Max. “Sure.”

He leads me through the gallery, nearly dragging me along behind his long strides. He takes the stairs two at a time to the loft, where there’s a kitchenette and reception area.

When he finally stops and turns to me, I frown. “What’s going on?”

“Let me take that.” He takes the wine from my hand and sets it on the counter.

“Why?”

“Because I want your hands to be free when I do this.”

And that’s when it happens. He slides his hands into my hair and sweeps his lips over mine. But this is different than the chaste kisses we’ve shared before now. This is a hot sweep, sweep, linger that promises more. His thumb grazes the line of my jaw, and I open instinctively under him until he’s kissing me full-on, his tongue against mine, his lips patient then coaxing, his fingers brushing up my neck and into my hair.

I’ve waited for this kiss since I was old enough to think kisses from boys were something worth wanting. I’ve waited for Max since I realized boys were worth wanting. And here he is. Kissing me as if he’s craved me as long as I’ve craved him.

Slowly, he leaves my mouth and trails sweet kisses along my jaw and down my neck until his mouth opens against that tender skin at the crook of my neck. His hot tongue sweeps over it.

I close my eyes and try to catch my breath. But it’s hard when he’s this close and his mouth and teeth and tongue are doing things to my neck that feel so good my brain is imagining them everywhere else. Imagining them places I’ve never felt a man’s tongue.

When he lifts his head, his blue eyes have gone smoky.

“What was that for?” I whisper.

“I think William’s bartender was trying to steal away my date.”

A puff of air slips between my lips. “He was just trying to cheer me up.”

“Why did you need cheering up?”

I shrug. “I’m just in a mood.” Or was in a mood. Clearly Max’s kisses are a much more effective remedy than wine.

He skims his thumb over my bottom lip. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“I do?”

Grinning, he tugs me toward the stairs. “Come on. I want to kiss you in front of that bartender.”

Present Day

Mom, Granny, and I have been looking at wedding venues, and this is our last stop. I’ve been tense all morning, but the moment I stepped into the gallery, I remembered Max kissing me for the first time. The memory drained the tension from me like someone turned a release valve in my muscles.

I’ve always loved this place. William’s gallery, the smile on Maggie’s face when she works with art, the way the sun shines through the wall of windows at the back and reflects off the stained-glass art hanging from the ceiling. And best of all is the memory of that kiss.

“Hey, girlie. How are you doing?” Maggie asks as I step into the gallery. She’s looking especially gorgeous today in a loose-fitting black tank, dark jeans, and strappy sandals.

“I’m good.” I force myself to be positive.

Across the street, Max is standing outside the health club, chatting with a gorgeous, leggy blonde. The old Hanna would have felt twelve kinds of inferior to a girl like that. The old Hanna wouldn’t have believed a guy like Max would want a girl like her. Too bad the old Hanna’s mind is stuck in the new Hanna’s body.

I shift uncomfortably as the girl leans in flirtatiously and presses her hand against Max’s chest. I’ve never had the confidence to be a flirt, but that doesn’t mean I don’t recognize when someone is putting the moves on my man. Who is she? Some sorority girl he’s training? Does he like her?

Max carefully removes her hand from his chest and takes a half-step back.

Next to me, Maggie follows my gaze and snorts. “Don’t even worry about it, Han-Han. That boy only has eyes for you.”

Mom paces a circle in front of us and frowns. “I’m just not convinced the gallery really gives you enough room for many guests. It would make for a gorgeous, intimate wedding, though, that’s for sure.”

“I didn’t even know Will let people have weddings here,” I whisper to Maggie. “I mean, I don’t remember if I did know.”

“We just started it maybe six months ago,” Maggie says. “It works really well. The bride generally comes down the stairs instead of having a traditional aisle, and we have white chairs in storage we can set up here in the lobby for your guests.”

“Sounds beautiful.”

“It is.” Maggie raises a brow. “Have you actually set a date?”

“No, but Mom’s pushing me to.”

“Nothing pleases that woman more than seeing her daughters marrying good men,” Maggie grumbles. “I swear, if she keeps pushing Asher, I’m going to lose my shit.”

“So no ring for you yet?” I ask.

Her shoulders tense. “Asher dropped some hints a couple of months back, and I freaked out. I think I scared him, and God knows if he’ll ever ask now.”

“I’m sure he just wants to make sure you’re ready.”

She shrugs and waves away the subject. After Maggie’s history, I can imagine talk of weddings would panic her a little. I cut my eyes to Max. Only he’s not outside anymore, and before I see where he’s gone, the bell over the door chimes.

“Hey, Max!” Maggie calls.

From the door, Max grins and runs his eyes over me appreciatively. They’re this gorgeous blue that made me weak in the knees back when he didn’t notice me, but having them aimed at me like that nearly melts me to the floor.

“Max!” Mom calls, hurrying over to him. “You got my message. I’m so glad you could come over.”

The way he just looked at me has my heart pounding triple-time in my chest. Or is that anxiety over what we found on my computer this morning, fear that I’ve screwed up a good thing?

Max escapes Mom’s grasp and then he’s spinning me around and grinning at me.

“Pardon me for a moment,” he tells Maggie. “I need to kiss my fiancée.” He presses his mouth to mine in a kiss that’s sweet and tender and sizzles all the way down to my toes. Before I can kiss him back, he’s pulling away.

“Hello there,” I whisper.

His eyes have gone smoky. He brushes my hair off my shoulders. “I didn’t know we were looking at wedding venues.”

I settle my hands on his shoulders awkwardly, not sure what else to do with them. After last night, it’s funny that I would feel unsure about touching him, but it’s not natural to me yet. In my mind, Max is still more crush than fiancé.

“Mom insisted.” I watch him carefully. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“We aren’t in any rush.” He smiles. “Well, you aren’t. Personally, the sooner I have you sleeping in my bed, the better. Speaking of which, how’d you sleep?” His voice drops, low and husky. He may not have Nate’s river-bottom bass, but sweet Jesus, Max does husky well.

“Okay.” I force a smile. After he dropped me off at home last night, my conscience kept me up tossing and turning, and my four-thirty alarm came too soon. “What about you?”

He presses a kiss to the crook of my neck. “I would have slept better with you in my arms, but I managed okay.” He inhales audibly. “God, you smell so good. What are you wearing?”

That makes me smile. “I think you’re smelling sugar cookies and cinnamon muffins. Lizzy and I did a little baking this morning. Making you hungry?”

“Hmm. I’m hungry, all right.” He snakes a hand under my shirt and brushes my navel with his thumb, and my mind flashes on the image from the gossip site—me pressed against the side of the building, Nate’s hand creeping up my skirt.

I try not to tense. God. This is ridiculous. How can I feel so guilty when I don’t even know if I’ve done anything wrong? Right. Because there’s an innocent explanation to all of this.

“Mom’s having girls’ night at her house tonight. She wants to talk wedding plans.”

“You should.” He pulls his hand from my shirt and smooths the fabric back in place, but his expression is unreadable. “You’ve been working too hard lately. Not spending enough time with your sisters.”

So I’m told. Why didn’t he encourage me to spend more time with them back before the accident, when I was alienating Liz? Then again, I’ve probably been busy with the business and all the exercising. Not to mention a very serious boyfriend and a hottie on the side.

“Want to come with me? Mom wouldn’t mind you crashing her dinner.”

“I wish I could, but I have a late client again.”

A late client. The same woman as last night? I bite back the question. I have no right to be suspicious of Max. Quite the opposite.

“The bride can enter from the stairs,” Mom’s saying. “Guests right there where you two are standing. It would be small but intimate.”

“What are you thinking?” Max asks me quietly. “You seem distracted.”

I force a smile. We’re supposed to be deciding where we’re going to exchange vows, and I’m too busy trying to figure out what I’ve done to pay any attention. “I’m just wondering when you can come by my place so we can pick up where we left off last night?”

“What do you think, Max?” Mom asks from the back. “Should we try to do this in October? Imagine the colorful leaves floating past on the river.”

He never takes his eyes from mine. “The sooner the better.”

“Great!” She claps her hands gleefully. “Maggie, pull out the calendar for October. Let’s set a date!”

10

“LISTEN.” MAX squeezes my hand and tugs me toward the side room and away from Mom and Granny, who are chattering with Maggie over the calendar.

It’s done. We set a date. I have six weeks before I marry Max.

This is the room William uses for special collections. The first collection shown in here was of some shockingly intimate portraits of Maggie, but the artist kept it under wraps, so no one knew what he was showing until the opening. Asher bought them all that night, and rumor has it he burned them in a bonfire behind his house.

I don’t know what happened between Maggie and the painter, but it sure looked like he’d put her secrets on display. As I scan the walls, now covered with a collection of Maggie’s mosaics, I wonder what that would be like—your biggest secrets, your biggest shame on display to the world. Would it be painful, the shock of it? Or would there be an element of relief to know you didn’t have to work so hard to hide anymore?

“We need to talk,” Max says softly behind me.

I spin around and my stomach pitches at the worry written across his expression. Does he know about Nate? About Sunday night? Does he suspect that another man’s been touching me? Kissing me? Sliding his fingers inside me?

The memory sends a shudder through me that’s equal parts arousal and fear. I’ve wanted Max my entire adult life, and I’m terrified I might have ruined my chance.

“What’s going on?”

He draws me into his heat and nuzzles his smoothly shaved cheek against my neck. “You smell delicious. It feels so right to have you in my arms again.”

“Who’s the one with the faulty memory now?” I ask, trying for humor. “I believe you had me in your arms just last night.”

He cups my face in his hand. “This is all happening so fast—the wedding date, the venue—”

“Oh my God. You want to call it off?” The words slip from my mouth on a squeak at the same moment my stomach releases from its panicked clench and takes a free fall to the floor.

“No. That’s not it.” His lips meet mine—firm and sure. It’s not a kiss of seduction but one of demand. “I want to marry you. I wouldn’t have given you that ring if I hadn’t wanted that. But…” His hands fall from my face, and he drags one through his hair. “I know everyone thinks I just proposed last week, but they’re wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I proposed months ago.”

Laughter carries from the hallway back to us, and I hear Granny say, “—young, lusty love. Let them have their moment!”

“I don’t understand. Then why does everyone think we just got engaged?”

“I gave you the ring, and you…” He turns away, his broad chest lifting on a deep inhale.

Nate. I was going to throw away a life with Max for a fling with some rocker? Was he the reason I told Max I wasn’t ready? How stupid could I be?

“I didn’t accept,” I whisper.

“I don’t think you believed I was in love with you.” He runs his fingertips lightly over the swirls of yellow glass pieces making up a mosaic interpretation of Starry Night.

I’m such an idiot. Because that’s something I would do—I’d deny a proposal from a man like Max, a man I’ve wanted my whole life, just because I didn’t believe he really loved me.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

He turns back to me and tilts my chin up until he’s looking in my eyes. “But I was in love with you, Hanna. And I am. Desperately, hopelessly, helplessly in love.”

“Max.” I put my hand on his arm. “I was an idiot. I—”

“I told you to keep the ring, that I would wait until you were ready. I was beginning to think you didn’t want a future with me. You’d pulled away. We barely spent any time together. We were just in this hellish limbo while I waited for you to decide.”