"Don't do it," Max warned.

Joey came out from behind one of the marble pillars and put his hands up in frustration. "Come on, Breanne. I just want to talk to you."

"Put the vase down," Max ordered.

"Gladly," Breanne said and she tossed it, make that hurled it, aiming for the top of Joey's head. But Breanne was one of those girly-girl types, and she missed her target by more than a foot.

Max grasped Kari by the waist and pulled her out of harm's way before the vase hit the ground. Tiny bits of pottery sprayed everywhere. When they appeared to be out of immediate danger, Max stepped back, but only slightly since he liked the way she felt in his arms. At first he thought Kari was crying until he peered downward and saw that she was laughing instead. Except no sound was coming out, not much anyway, just a cute little squeaky nasal whine.

Her eyes watered as she fought for control. "I'm sorry," she said, "but did you see the look on your face when she threw that vase. Oh, my goodness..." She wiped at her eyes.

Max frowned. "I liked that vase."

Her hand came to rest on her chest as she caught her breath. Lucky hand.

"Okay," she said. "I think I'm fine now. You can step away."

Max hadn't thought the woman was capable of smiling let alone laughing, but he also didn't think she'd show up this morning, so what did he know? Here she was in his house, getting yelled at by a kid who could barely keep his pants on, dodging vases, and being tackled by a six-foot-two, two hundred and twenty pound linebacker, and she was laughing.

He stared at her for a moment longer, fascinated by her expressive green eyes and a smile so bright he found himself smiling back at her.

A door slammed upstairs, pulling him out of what he considered to be a weird sort of trance. They heard Joey pounding on the door upstairs, pleading for Breanne to let him into her room so he could talk to her. They both looked toward the balcony overlooking the foyer. Max realized he was still standing way too close to the woman who hated his guts, breathing in the sweet, soapy smell of her shiny clean hair, and enjoying it.

"Is that Joey's baby she's carrying?"

"You didn't think it was mine, did-"

The guilty look on her face said it all. "You thought she was...we were...that I..." He snorted. "That's my little sister, for God's sake."

"How was I supposed to know?"

Upstairs, Joey's pounding became more intense.

"Are you going to help your sister?"

He pondered the question for a moment before he said, "I'll give the kid fifteen minutes before I drag him out by the scruff of his neck."

Appearing satisfied, Kari ducked under his arm and headed for the kitchen, tiptoeing around pieces of vase as she went.

Max followed her, his gaze falling to the steady sway of her backside as she walked.

"Why is Breanne so upset with him?" She looked over her shoulder in time to catch him staring at her backside. "Oh, puhleeze."

"I thought women liked it when a guy appreciated a woman's assets. No pun intended."

"That's ridiculous. Who told you that?"

He couldn't remember. "If it bothers you so much, I won't look again."

"I would appreciate it if you didn't."

"Fine. To answer your question," he went on, eager to change the subject, although hell would have to freeze over before he'd stop looking at her assets, "Breanne is upset because Joey told her he wasn't ready for kids." He shrugged. "If you ask me, if it's not one thing, it's another. Women are always mad at their men about something."

Kari turned on him, her eyes looking all squinty again.

He had to go and open his big mouth.

"All the women I know," she said, "usually have good reason to be angry with their men."

The tone of her voice told him he was batting zero.

"What about you?" he asked. "Do you have a good reason to be angry?"

Throwing up her hands as if he were a lost cause, she headed for the kitchen sink where she busied herself with washing her hands. "I'm not angry at anyone."

He watched her scrub a little too hard between her fingers before she grabbed a towel to dry her hands. "Could have fooled me."

"I told you," she said, whipping about and staring him down, "that I made a mistake. It wasn't you."

He didn't believe it for a minute, but he decided to play along. "Okay, it wasn't me, but somebody sure got your goat. What did the idiot do to set you on fire like that?"

She dropped the towel on the counter. "Do you really want to know?"

Judging by the sudden shift in tone, he wasn't sure anymore, but he still found himself nodding like a fool. Anything was better than listening to a lecture on saturated fats versus unsaturated fats.

She inhaled as she peered into his eyes, which only served to make him nervous.

"The idiot," she began. "I mean the man I mistook you for...opened me up to a whole new world. He made me feel things I'd never felt in my entire life...like a butterfly cracking open its cocoon and discovering it has wings, beautiful wings that will take it places she never imagined, only to be snuffed out before take off...zapped like a moth who finally reaches the light after a long, windy flight in the dark."

"Ouch."

"Yeah," she said. "He was the biggest, dumbest jerk I've ever met, and I fell for him hook, line, and sinker." She hooked her purse over her shoulder. "Come on. It's time to show you how to shop for groceries."

Wow. She was good, he thought, as he followed her out of the kitchen. The way she looked at him while she'd told her moth story had made shivers run up his spine.

Max shook his head finally convinced that the jerk wasn't him. Any man who caused a woman that much heartache needed to be penalized for unsportsmanlike conduct.

CHAPTER 3.

Max grabbed the keys to his car and asked Kari to wait while he took care of some unfinished business. Two minutes later, he ushered Joey down the stairs and told the young man that his fifteen minutes were up.

"She won't talk to me," Joey said when they reached the landing where Kari was waiting.

"Did you tell Breanne that you were wrong and that you are thrilled she's going to have your baby?" Max wanted to know.

The blank look on Joey's face told them he'd done nothing of the sort.

"I'm twenty-five years old," Joey pointed out. "We're too young to start a family. How would I support a kid when Breanne and I can hardly support ourselves?"

Max gritted his teeth. "Maybe you should have thought of that before you had unprotected sex with my sister."

"I took all the necessary precautions."

"Are you telling me Breanne planned this pregnancy without your consent?"

"I'm not sure what I'm telling you, except that maybe you should talk to your sister before you jump to conclusions."

Broken pottery crunched beneath Joey's feet as he walked across the foyer and headed out the door.

Max shoved all ten fingers through his hair. He looked at Kari. "Today has proven to be...interesting."

"I hope Joey and your sister can work things out," Kari said, hoping the awkward moment would quickly pass since she felt as if she were intruding on a very private family moment.

"Yeah, well, who knows?" Max asked. "Any man who would desert the mother of his child in her time of need is no man at all."

She nodded her agreement. And boy, did she agree. In fact now might be a good time to tell him everything, just lay it all on the line and see what Max had to say for himself, but she didn't know where to start. And what would telling him do to her relationship with her daughter? Besides, he'd had his chance. She'd gone to see him the very day she found out she was pregnant, but he wasn't home, so she left a letter with his mother...a letter telling Max that she was pregnant. Two months later, she sent a letter in the mail. She also sent a letter along with a picture of his daughter to the Condors' franchise. But Max never contacted her. He made it very clear that he didn't want to be a part of his daughter's life.

Max followed her outside, shut the front door and locked it, then headed down the steps just as Joey's red truck disappeared through the gate at the bottom of the driveway.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

She turned to face him. "Do what?"

"Shop for food?"

She arched an eyebrow. "We're going to the grocery store. We're not jumping out of a plane."

He shrugged. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

She laughed.

"In case you haven't noticed," he said, "I'm a celebrity of sorts."

This time she snorted. "And?"

She headed toward her jeep but he gestured toward his car, which was just as well since the interior of her car was filled with appointment books, papers, and magazines.

He opened the passenger door to his red convertible Porsche and waited for her to climb in. After they were both buckled in he turned on the ignition. "I'm single," he said in answer to her question.

She stared at him for a moment as she tried to decipher whether or not he was serious. "And you resemble a Greek God," she said with a chuckle. "Is that what you're going to tell me next?"

"No, but now that you mentioned it..."

She burst out laughing. The man was the E in egotistical.

"Glad you're so easily amused by my misery."

She lowered her voice in an attempt to imitate him. "I'm a rich man who happens to be a pro-athlete, a celebrity of sorts. I am also single and attractive, if I do say so myself."

"You're the one who said I resembled a Greek God. But that doesn't matter." He drove through the gate then merged onto the main road. "I was only trying to make a point. Any rich, single male celebrity who tries to go to the grocery store in Beverly Hills is asking for trouble."

"I'm sure it must be very taxing for you, shooing away one lady after another. Don't worry, Max, I'll take care of everything."

He smiled. "Fine, but I only mentioned it because I was worried about you. I usually have my groceries delivered."

She smiled at the conceited man. He may be crazy gorgeous, but what sort of shallow, foolhardy woman would want a man so vain he couldn't handle going to the grocery store?

Thirty minutes later, standing in the produce section of the grocery store, Kari took hold of a cucumber and held it out like a sword, ready to use it the next time a cute blonde or tall brunette, or anyone for that matter, came up to Max and interrupted her discussion on shopping smart.

Who did these people think they were anyhow? At this rate, they would never get out of the grocery store before dark.

"Half the battle of healthy eating," she continued, ignoring the I-told-you-so expression on his face, "is having a variety of nutritious foods on hand so that when the mood to snack hits you, you've got the right foods to-"

"OH MY GOD! It's Max Dutton! Shelby, you were right," the woman shouted across the produce section. "It's him. It's Mad Max."

The woman wasn't the least bit shy. She walked right up to Max and stood so close her breasts brushed against him as her gaze roamed over his face. "You're even better looking in person than on television," she said. "CBS should give you your own show. I mean a few minutes of rambling on about some stupid defensive play you made just isn't long enough."

The woman took a step back, her gaze falling lower until she appeared to be looking at the tips of his lustrous brown Ferragamo shoes. The woman's gaze slowly wandered upward again, locking in on his crotch. Then the woman shook her head, making her red hair swing. "I can't believe I'm standing here talking to you."

The redhead had more curves than Lombardi Street, and she was eating him alive with her eyes.

"I hate to ruin your fun," Kari cut in, using the cucumber to emphasize her point, "but Mr. Dutton isn't here to chat or give out autographs. He's here to shop for food. Nobody seems to care if he dies an early death because he doesn't know that artichokes provide potassium and folic acid, or that cabbage is a good source of vitamin C. If this man doesn't learn to eat right, he's never going to know that fats are not created equal, or that heart-smart eating requires a diet rich in lean proteins, fresh fruit and vegetables, which means he'll lose his job, and the next time you watch the Los Angeles Condors play, he won't be there because he'll be dead."

The redhead looked at her friend before she let out a huff and marched off.

"Impressive," Max said.

"Thanks. I guess I owe you an apology."

He pushed the cart toward the mounds of lettuce. "No worries."

"No. I really am sorry. I had no idea."

A little man with a camera strapped around his neck popped up in the aisle between the bananas and the cantaloupes and began taking pictures. Bulbs flashed, one after another, blinding her.

Kari held up a Fuji apple, ready to throw it at the man, but Max took the fruit from her hand and put it back with all the other apples. "Come on," he said, leaving the cart behind and grabbing her arm. "Let's get out of here."

The cameraman stayed on their heels, following them through the produce section, up the cereal aisle, and outside into the parking lot.

Customers stopped to watch her and Max run for their lives, or at least for the car.