He was not immune. She knew it. Bree felt a little shot of triumph. He couldn't feel jealous and protective and not want to take her to bed himself. "The stopping," she told him. "Any of this." And she didn't mean just the conversation. This was everything that had clearly been there, in her subconscious, for a long time-maybe even before Colorado-but had gotten stirred up in the storm. This was a whole bunch of emotions she couldn't shut off now that they were on. She suspected it was the same for him. But she wanted to know for sure.

A couple more seconds pa.s.sed before Max responded. But finally he huffed out a soft breath that could have meant he was exasperated or that he was fighting a flood of emotions here, too.

She felt his grip loosen on her wrists, and she felt panic flutter in her chest. She didn't want him to let go.

"Tell you what," he said, shifting his weight back, definitely away from her. "When you're ready to stay in bed for an entire twenty-four hours with nothing on your body but my hands and mouth, let me know."

The panic was only slightly sharper than the shot of l.u.s.t that went through her. "Let's do that," she said quickly.

He moved back farther, putting s.p.a.ce between his abs and hers. She immediately missed the pressure.

He didn't look shocked by her sudden enthusiasm; he didn't look frustrated or even turned on, really. He looked skeptical.

"There will be no dirty books, no whipped cream, no handcuffs," he said. "Just you and me, naked for twenty-four uninterrupted hours."

He was watching her carefully, so Bree fought the urge to wrinkle her nose. Not that being naked with Max would be a hardship. It might take her twenty-four hours to memorize, and lick, every groove and plane and scar on his body. Something she really wanted to do.

But she wasn't good at just straightforward, unembellished, her-him-and-a-bed s.e.x. Especially for twenty-four hours. He hadn't been completely wrong in the barn when he said she had a hard time sticking with things for long periods. But she wasn't sure she liked that her best friend was the one pointing out her flaws. Or what he thought were her flaws, anyway. But if a best friend couldn't do that, who could?

Bree had to admit she'd been thinking about, and trying to avoid thinking about, his comments about her not being wired for long term. And that it was obvious he was disappointed in her for that.

Max had never been disappointed in her. He'd been frustrated. Even angry a couple of times. But disappointed felt different. She didn't like it at all.

Still, s.e.x wasn't the same thing as watching TV or reading a book or chatting. But, yeah, okay, she'd probably run out of positions in about six hours.

If he wanted to keep her in the bedroom for twenty-four hours, she was going to need the whipped cream at least.

"That's what I thought," he said as he fully released her and stepped back.

"Hey." She frowned. "I didn't say no."

He chuckled, though it didn't sound completely amused. "I just offered you twenty-four hours of s.e.x. That's not something you should have to think about."

"I was just-"

"You're not a twenty-four-hour-straight kind of girl, Bree."

She hated that. Except that she didn't. She'd never seen that as a fault. And she thought Max liked that about her-that she was always up for something new and fun.

And why did it have to be all or nothing with him? She had to have s.e.x with him for twenty-four hours straight or not at all? That was stupid.

Maybe this was why he didn't have a serious girlfriend. The guy was intense. Maybe it was good that she only saw him for a few days at a time. And that when it was for a solid week, they had hiking and skiing and stuff to do.

Bree opened her mouth to tell him all that-because d.a.m.n if her ego wasn't stinging-but suddenly another voice gave them an even brighter "Morning!" than Bree had.

They both turned to face the young woman who'd approached while they'd been . . . doing whatever they'd been doing just now.

"Morning," Max said with a smile.

Bree tried to a.n.a.lyze the level of gruffness in his voice compared to when he'd greeted her. She thought she could tell a difference. But her blood was still humming, with desire and frustration in equal parts, and she was still thinking about how long twenty-four hours really was, so she couldn't be sure.

"You're Mr. Grady, right?" the woman, a beautiful blonde who couldn't have been more than twenty, asked.

Bree actually snorted at that. She had never in her life heard Max called Mr. Grady.

"Yes, I'm Max," he said, ignoring Bree and sticking out his hand to the other woman.

The hand that had just been holding Bree's wrists together behind her back. The hand that had been down her pants in the ditch. The hand that- Bree's thoughts cut off as the other woman took that hand and shook it.

"I'm Ashley," the girl said, blushing slightly.

Blushing?

Bree looked back to Max's face. He was smiling widely.

"We spoke on the phone," he said.

Ashley nodded. "It was so nice of you to agree to this."

"It's no problem," he said graciously.

What had he agreed to? Suddenly Bree wasn't as eager to get to her bed. Especially now that she knew she was going by herself.

"I know I'm early," Ashley said. "I just couldn't wait."

Ashley was really pretty. And young. And she clearly thought Max walked on water.

"Hi, I'm Bree," Bree inserted, holding out her hand as well.

"Oh, hi. Ashley Swanson." Ashley took Bree's hand.

"Welcome to Chance," Bree said. The girl was tiny, too. She couldn't have been more than five foot two. She had long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and, of course, big b.o.o.bs. Bree was pretty sure she could snap her into two pieces. She could, for sure, flip Ashley over her shoulder.

"Ashley is part of a student research group from the University of Nebraska," Max said. "I spoke to their program two months ago about the weather phenomenon, or lack thereof, actually, here in Chance. When their professor heard about the EF4, he called and asked if some of the students could come out and study the readings and graphs and hear my firsthand account of the storm."

Ashley nodded. "We've been studying storms in Nebraska over the past fifty years looking for patterns or predictors," she said. "We're charting everything from temperature to wind speeds to land formations in the area. But, as you can imagine, Chance is an area of intense interest and study." She gave Max a bright smile, as if Max had personally made Chance so incredibly interesting.

Bree fought the urge to roll her eyes. There was some big-time hero worship going on here.

"Over the past year, I've been part of the group specifically studying Chance and Mr. Grady's firsthand accounts and video and photographs, comparing the Chance tornadoes to dozens of others in other places."

Max gave Ashley a huge grin. "Call me Max." He glanced at Bree. "I've told her that there are no obvious differences between Chance and everywhere else. There's nothing in the topography or geology to explain why Chance is different. But I'm happy to help however I can."

Bree saw something else in Ashley's eyes besides the clear adoration for Max. Intelligence. The woman was clearly fully into everything Max said, and although Bree wasn't stupid enough to not notice the attraction, Ashley clearly shared his weather pa.s.sion.

She was shocked, completely, by the emotion that flooded through her. Not because she didn't know what it was. She just wasn't used to feeling it.

Jealousy. Pure, unadulterated jealousy.

"There must be a hundred people interested in all this," Bree said. "I didn't know you were giving personal interviews to everyone."

Max finally looked away from Ashley to Bree. "There are a lot of people interested," he agreed. "But these are students at the university in the state where it keeps happening. And they don't just want to do a story. They're trying to figure out how to improve our warnings, and see if there's anything we can do to reduce the impact of the storms."

"Oklahoma and Kansas both have him on their faculty," Ashley said. "We just can't believe you're willing to work with us."

Yes, Bree knew that Max was on faculty at the universities in Oklahoma and Kansas.

She'd just never really thought of that as heroic. Or hot.

But she was suddenly looking at Max through Ashley's eyes and thinking . . . there was something kind of s.e.xy about it. In a hot-nerd-college-professor kind of way.

Hot nerd. That, surprisingly, fit Max better than she'd realized. He'd always been active and athletic, but he'd loved reading and studying and experimenting, too. He'd been one of the top students in their cla.s.s. If it hadn't been for Kit and Dillon, Max might have been the valedictorian.

Yeah, that was kind of s.e.xy.

As was the way his face lit up when talking about the group of students coming to town to study weather with him.

"This is your state," Max said to Ashley. "And you all showed the most enthusiasm."

"So you're not Ashley's professor?" Bree clarified.

He smiled. "No, but she and her team will get credit for the work they're going to do here. I often host students in fieldwork. I'm a resource to the departments and to projects like the one Ashley and her team are doing. The University of Nebraska agreed to make me an adjunct professor for this particular study."

"He's amazing," Ashley said. Then she blushed as if she hadn't meant to say that. "His blog is-"

"I've read his blog," Bree interrupted.

"You have?" Max asked, clearly surprised.

She nodded. "Yeah, I have. I even understood the big words," she added drily.

Okay, she had needed to Google a couple of the words. He didn't need to know that. She'd understood and even been impressed with his articles. However, she wasn't going to admit that reading through his posts and articles had been okay, but that she much preferred storm chasing with him and having him explain things to her in person. She could practically see his head growing already from Ashley's clear admiration.

So Bree had a hard time sitting still and paying attention for long periods of time. So what? That didn't make her unintelligent. In fact, her mom had had her tested for ADHD, and the results had come back normal, with above-average intelligence. The school psychologist had explained that gifted kids sometimes had a hard time staying engaged in the regular cla.s.sroom environment because the pacing was too slow for them, and Bree was simply looking for more stimulation. So there.

And so what if Ashley hung on every word Max said and thought he was the greatest thing since the invention of Nutella? Bree thought Max was great, too. She wanted to take him home and do all kinds of dirty things to him.

Maybe not for twenty-four hours straight, but . . .

Ashley laughed at something Max said that Bree had tuned out, and she thought, Okay, I could totally do twenty-four hours.

"How old are you, Ashley?" Bree asked. She shot a look at Max. Ashley was too young for him. He shouldn't be flirting with her.

"Twenty-four."

Bree blinked at the other woman. "You're twenty-four?"

Ashley nodded.

Okay, so she wasn't that young. Max would be twenty-nine next month.

"And you're still in college?" Bree asked. Max had been annoyed by how many times Bree had changed her mind in college. Looked like Ashley had done the same.

"Well, I'm in my master's program," Ashley said.

Master's program. Right. A master's program in something that Max loved even more than he loved . . . anything.

Bree sighed. "That's great," she told Ashley. She couldn't personally imagine studying something for five or six years, but she got that a lot of people did it. "What's the plan for the day, then?" she asked.

Ruth hadn't said anything about Max teaching a bunch of students today. Then again, Ruth had said, "He was heading to the square to meet up with Jake," and Bree had taken off out of the coffee shop.

"We're spending the next twenty-four hours with Mr. Grady-I mean, Max," Ashley said with a smile up at him. "He's going to teach us everything he knows about Chance and the storms."

Twenty-four hours.

So Max had gotten a woman to agree to do something with him for twenty-four hours straight, after all.

Bree was sure that wasn't ever a problem for him. Except with her.

She felt a tightness pull across her chest and into her throat. Why couldn't she just chill out and concentrate on something? Why couldn't she just do twenty-four hours of something because it was something Max liked? Would that really kill her? Especially if they were naked?

"Well, I happen to know that Max is free for the next twenty-four hours," Bree said, her eyes on his.

He just lifted an eyebrow. "What I have in mind might actually take longer than that, now that I think about it," he said.

Bree didn't know if he was talking about the plans with the students or if he was talking to her about the no-kinky-s.e.x thing, but it didn't matter. Bottom line was that he was making the point that he needed more, whether it was from her or from Ashley, than Bree gave.

She gave him a nod to show that she got it. "I might hang out for a while. Maybe I can learn something," she said. "But you know I can't last twenty-four hours."

Something flickered in his eyes, but he nodded to that. "Yeah, I know."

For some reason, that made the tightness in her chest pull hard. d.a.m.n. They were acknowledging something that they both knew. It wasn't a big revelation that Bree liked lots of variety and activity. But at that moment it felt like she'd failed a really big test.

"Hey, Ashley," Bree said. "Have you ever been skydiving?"

Ashley's eyes got huge and round. "Um, no. Why?"

"Just wondering if that was a meteorology thing or something, because Max loves it."

"Really?" Ashley looked up at Max. "I'd be petrified. I'd need someone with me the whole time. Holding my hand."

But Max was looking at Bree.

Bree gave him a tight smile. Maybe Ashley could talk about weather for twenty-four hours straight, maybe she'd even do the naked-all-day thing with Max for twenty-some hours-that thought made Bree's chest ache even more-but Max liked the adrenaline-rich craziness, too. She would always be the one who got that side of him best. She would always be the one he'd first seen the Grand Canyon with. She would always be the one who'd talked him into going a little higher and ending up on the mountain peak with the most breathtaking view either of them had ever seen. She would always be the one who'd talked him into going another hundred miles on their first motorcycle ride and introduced him to the best waffles of his life at a hole-in-the-wall diner they stumbled upon.

She would always be the one who pushed him to go farther, faster, and harder with the big payoffs.

He should know by now that he was missing out by not going along with how Bree wanted to do things. Like handcuffs and whipped cream for, like, six hours straight.