At that thought, he turned and gave me a view of his chest.

At this view, arguably better than his back, I sucked in breath then whispered to myself, “Oh my God.”

“Hey baby,” he called, apparently (and luckily) not hearing me and headed my way.

I stood immobile as he walked to me.

He stopped in front of me, his head tipped down and his hand came to my jaw, tipping my head up.

“You sleep okay?” he asked softly and I nodded. “Wake up at nine o’clock your time?” he went on and I shook my head. “Sorry I was out so late.” I shrugged and he grinned. “I see I got Nina Zombie.”

“Um…” I muttered.

He shook his head once still grinning then dipped his face and touched his mouth to mine. My toes curled.

“Look after the bacon, will you?” he said when he lifted his head. “I’m gonna go put on some clothes.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Might be good you get some coffee in you before you get near sizzling bacon grease,” he advised, still amused.

“Okay,” I repeated on a whisper.

“God,” he muttered, his thumb drifting across my cheek, his clear, gray eyes watching it go, “you’re cute.”

I swallowed. He let me go and walked away.

I stood where he left me and realized that I was, officially, in trouble. If I couldn’t function at the sight of his chest, how was I going to tell him we weren’t going to explore what was happening?

Especially if he kept touching me and calling me “baby”?

I pulled myself together enough to take one step when the door under the loft opened, my body jerked in surprise and I gave out a small scream.

A girl walked out, a woman-girl, like Becca. Wild, curly, almost frizzy strawberry blonde hair and a lot of it. Cute as a button face. Cornflower blue eyes. Long, thin, shapely legs that went on forever.

And last, but oh so definitely not least, she was wearing the shirt Max wore yesterday.

I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

“Forgot to tell you,” Max called from upstairs, probably because he heard my scream, “Mindy’s here.”

“Hi!” Mindy cried brightly and skipped to me, actually skipped. “You’re Nina, right?”

“Right,” I said, immobile again, this time for a different reason.

“Cool!” she cried, grabbing my arm in one hand, my hand in the other, both with a friendliness that was unreal and she jumped up and down twice.

“I, um… need to look after the bacon,” I told her.

“Oh, sure,” she said, looking suddenly confused at my behavior in the face of her outgoingness.

“Nina’s a zombie in the morning, Mins,” Max called and I knew he could hear everything. “Maybe you should look after the bacon, darlin’.”

Mins? Darlin’?

“Cool!” she cried again as if looking after bacon was her heart’s desire, her hands moving from me. “I can do that.”

Then she turned and part skipped, part slid on the wood floors in her adorable baby blue socks with darker blue hearts all over them, part danced to the kitchen.

I followed with a lot less exuberance.

No, it wouldn’t be hard to tell Max we weren’t going to explore anything. He wanted me to be a member of his harem? No. Not me. I wasn’t going to become a card carrying member of that particular club with, apparently, Mindy, who he’d brought home when I was under his bloody roof, and maybe Becca not to mention the ex-member, bitchy, cheating, awful Shauna.

No way. No bloody way.

I went to the cupboard over the coffeepot as Mindy pushed the bacon around in the skillet and I took down a mug. Then I poured coffee. Then I spooned in some sugar. Then I went to the fridge and sloshed in some milk. All the while I did this, my mind tortured me.

Did he sleep with her on the couch when I was upstairs in his bed? He was a big guy but his couch was deep, long. Mindy was long too but she was also thin. It would be cozy but it would work.

Did they do it, Max knowing I slept like the dead?

Or maybe not caring if I heard?

And also not caring what I’d think that he had a predilection for young girls?

Not that he seemed to discriminate since he’d obviously wanted me and Shauna seemed to be about my age. Maybe he slept with anyone. Maybe that was why Sarah, the hostess at the restaurant, gave me that weird, closed down look when I walked in. Maybe he liked buxom, copper-haired, Deadheads with fabulous earrings too.

I was sipping at my coffee and seething when Mindy turned to me. “So, you live in England?”

“Yes.” My reply was short and curt and I didn’t care. She might be okay with this arrangement, seeing as Max was gorgeous and had a fantastic house, but she was young, she’d learn.

“You like it?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied again and saw Max rounding the counter in jeans, a navy t-shirt that fit him like the gray one he wore with his pajama bottoms. In other words, it fit him too well.

I had the urge to throw my coffee mug at him and then I squelched this mainly because he meant nothing to me. I barely knew him. This intensity of emotion was because I broke up with my fiancé via e-mail the day before. My emotion had nothing to do with Max.

He hit the range, his hand hit Mindy’s waist and my eyes narrowed on his touch.

“I got it now, babe,” he said softly and I felt that punch in my gut again when he called her “babe”.

Mindy moved away on another skip then she rounded the counter and planted herself on my stool.

“Duchess,” Max called and my eyes cut to him, “get Mindy some coffee, will you?”

He wanted me to get Mindy a coffee?

I was back to wanting to throw my coffee mug at him.

Max was oblivious, I knew this because he turned to Mindy and asked, “You take cream or sugar?”

“Lotsa milk, two sugars,” Mindy ordered and I moved to make her coffee mainly because this would give me something to do, something that had nothing to do with me inflicting bodily harm.

As I was filling her order, Mindy called out to me, “Hey Nina, you ever wanna move home?”

“Home?” I asked, pouring coffee.

“America.”

“No,” I lied because I did, all the time, I missed home constantly. The trouble was I was also home in England and I knew if I came back to The States I’d miss my other home so I couldn’t win either way.