Carina frowned. “The chef doesn’t have the final say in that—we do. Is this a first occurrence?”

He winced. “No. It’s happened a few times over the last month.”

She leaned back in her chair and studied him. Tapped her pencil against the edge of the desk. “When suppliers run late, we can’t make our pastries. That’s a serious problem.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I wanted to come in person and tell you what’s going on.” He cleared his throat. “My son has been driving the truck and I started him in the business. He did well for a while, he just graduated college, but lately he got involved in the wrong crowd and—” Robin broke off, then pushed on. “He’s been on drugs. Stealing money. Not doing the deliveries. I assumed everything was fine and never checked.”

Her eyes softened with sympathy. She longed to reach out and take the poor man’s hand, who was obviously hurting over his son. “I’m very sorry. What are you going to do?”

“He checked into rehab. He won’t work for me again, I promise you. I’m asking to give me a pass on this and let me continue with the Newburgh location. My company has a solid reputation and I don’t want to lose La Dolce Maggie as an account.”

Carina skimmed the reports and noted the history with Robin’s Organics. No real problems until a few weeks ago. As the man waited for her decision, she dimly noted what Max and Julietta would do in this situation. They’d be empathetic but professional. Probably ask for a discount for the mistakes. Most definitely make their displeasure known. But she wasn’t either of them, and her gut told her Robin had been put through enough without her busting his balls.

“I’m going to need to guarantee my chef there that he will encounter no more late deliveries. Can you promise me this?”

“Yes. I’ve already hired someone new that I can completely trust. There will be no further mistakes.”

“Understood. I will take care of this, and we’ll start with a clean slate.”

Relief flickered over his face. His eye gave a final twitch as he rose to shake her hand. “Thank you, Carina. I really appreciate this.”

“You’re welcome. Good luck with your son. I know your heart is probably broken, but I’m sure you’ll do everything possible to make sure he comes out okay. Having family to count on is half the battle.”

He nodded jerkily and left the office.

She sighed, her heart aching for the man. Bringing children into the world was such a risk of love. She gave him credit for his courage and honesty.

Another hour passed as she updated spreadsheets and waited for Max.

He strode into the office, obviously in a temper. Not that his smooth looks betrayed a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his pressed iron-gray suit. His purple tie was perfectly knotted and never askew. But his features were tight with displeasure, and his eyes snapped blue fire as he dumped his briefcase on the desk.

“We have big problems. I need a meeting with Robin’s Organics.”

Uh-oh.

Carina rose from his chair, walked in front of the desk, and leaned against it. She kept her voice smooth and controlled. “Robin already came to see me.”

Max jerked his head up. “What are you talking about? When?”

“He came while you were at the waterfront. He’s been late with his deliveries over the past weeks and he was afraid he’d lose our account. I had a long talk with him and we fixed it. There should be no further issues.”

A muscle worked in his jaw. The musky scent of his aftershave hit her. “I just listened to an endless tirade from our pastry chef who insisted I dump this account. What was his excuse?”

“His son has been giving him problems and they’re short-staffed.”

Max lifted one brow in scorn. “How is that my problem? Did you threaten him? Get us a discounted price for his screwups?”

Temper bit her nerves. “I didn’t feel that was necessary, Max. He’s been working for us for years and we’ve never had previous problems. We all go through personal problems, and relationships in business are the foundation. Giving him a lecture or insisting we get a deal wasn’t the right move this time.”

His fuse was getting shorter. He cursed and raked his fingers through his hair. Carina hated the way the waves just fell back in perfect form. Was he even human? How can such a living, breathing Sex God be created in such form? The memory of his hands lifting her up and slamming her against the wall caused tummy flutters and a throbbing wetness demanding satisfaction. She concentrated on his hard-assed behavior instead.

“Relationships are important, but suppliers respect strength. If you let him get away with this once, he’ll know it can be repeated. Once again, you’re being too soft. You need to man up and take the heat.”

Her fists clenched at his condescending tone. “Man up?” she asked softly. “This has nothing to do with being soft—it has to do with building trust. He trusts us to give him this free pass, and that inspires loyalty and a desire to never let us down again. Business 101, Max. Maybe you need to take a refresher course.”

He took a few steps until they were face-to-face. Her breath came in shallow pants and she tamped down on the swirling array of emotions ready to explode. The hell if she’d lose her temper in front of him in the office. It was time he realized who he was dealing with.

“Maybe you need to tell our chef to forget about the fig tarts for his party tonight. How about that?”

She rose on tiptoes and flung her head up. “Maybe you can man up and tell him we make the final decisions at La Dolce Maggie. He’s a temperamental asshole and always has been.”

His lips twisted in a snarl. “He makes outstanding food.”

“He makes up for his height issues by being mean and making ridiculous demands. You’re just coddling him.”

He reached out and grabbed her upper arms. His face was so close to hers she saw the wicked curve to his lower lip, the sexy stubble clinging to his jaw, and the burn in his blue eyes. “I’m the boss, and I make the final decisions.”

“Too bad you’re not making the right ones.”

His breath rushed hot over her mouth. Her lips parted. Those fingers bit deep into her arms as he struggled with his temper. “You’re getting a little mouthy for someone who’s supposed to be in training.”

Desire slammed into her hard and fast. Her nipples pushed against the sheer silk of her blouse and begged for the naughty bite of his teeth. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “So make me shut up.”

He hesitated for a moment. Spit out a curse.

And slammed his mouth over hers.

The kiss was hot and fast and demanding. His tongue surged between her lips and thrust deep while he lifted her up and set her on top of the desk. She opened wider for him and clung to his shoulders. Her skirt rode up high on her thighs and she scooted toward the edge to part her legs wider. He caught her frantic motions, pushed the material up to her waist, grabbed her ankles, and wrapped them around him.

Carina fell into the kiss as an array of sensations dampened her panties and made her crazy for more. He devoured her mouth like a starving predator intent on destroying his prey whole. His hand squeezed the sensitive flesh behind her knee, then slid up toward her white lace panties. He caught her moan and nipped at her lower lip, bathing the swollen flesh with his tongue. “I need to touch you,” he rasped out. “I need—”

“Do it. Do it now.”

His fingers slipped under the elastic and slid home. She moaned and arched under the fierce plunge, digging her stiletto heels deep into his back. His thumb flicked her swollen clit and rubbed against the silky edge in a wild tease. She pulled on his hair, opened her legs farther, and slipped toward orgasm.

The intercom buzzed. “Max, your two o’clock is here.”

His mouth ripped from hers. She fought to keep from dragging him back to finish the job, but the staggered look on his face made her release him. His fingers left her aching and empty, and the scent of her arousal clung to the air. Her breath came ragged and uneven as she slid off the desk, pulled down her skirt and smoothed back her blouse. Then faced him.

“Christ, what the hell am I doing? I didn’t mean that.”

The front of his pants bulged in obvious contradiction. Sick of him denying the hot-blooded attraction, she cocked her head and pointedly dropped her gaze. “Seems like you meant it to me.”

“Carina—”

“Forget it, Max. Go to your meeting. I’ll see you later.”

Not able to stomach more of his apologies and guilt, she walked out of the office. Oh, yeah, it was definitely on. He’d kissed her twice now, and obviously wanted more. She just needed to convince him to take the shot. Somehow, she needed to get him alone on neutral territory to finish what they started.

* * *

A few nights later, Carina set down the bold blue china on the table. Thank God it was the end of the week. Ever since her second encounter with Max, he seemed intent on proving he’d made a mistake that would never be repeated. A real boost for the feminine ego, she mocked inwardly.

She turned and caught the massive shadow of black currently perched on the head chair. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and made a tsking sound.

“Dante, you know the rules. Off the chair.” The monster cat gave her a bored look and licked his paw. She used the tone animals always responded to. “I mean it. Off. Now.”

Dante flicked his tail, lifted his head, and gave a warning hiss.

Maggie’s voice cut through the room. “Dante, lose the attitude.” The cat lifted his head and jumped down. With a disgusted glance, he headed toward Maggie for a quick rub against her leg and a purr.