Sinner and Saint

Chapter Nine

Eight months later...

Cobalt Bay, California

"Kady! Just the girl I wanted to see!"

"Oh, darn. He's not in his birthday suit," Sidney murmured with a giggle as he waved someone over to our table. He was on his third manhattan, me on my sixth margarita, and we've only been here half an hour.

I grinned as a beaming Max sauntered over, arms outstretched, a bottle of beer in one hand.

Yes, he was regrettably dressed because while Max Croft didn't press my buttons, he was a fine specimen of a man. But he was clearly having a good time.

I mean, what's not to enjoy? A huge, luxury super yacht full of booze, food, entertainment, and high society's biggest party animals. No, not the classy, shiny types who look smart and fundraise to end world hunger. This is Max's rougher, less polished circle. Hence, why Sidney and I were feeling right at home.

"Happy birthday, Maxie!" I greeted loudly, opening my arms to give him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

He laughed when I rubbed off the small smudge of lip gloss I'd left on his face, clapped me on the back like we were dudes, and then reached out to give Sidney's hand a forceful, manly shake.

"Thanks guys, for joining my little party," he said as he settled himself between mine and Sidney's bar stools, an arm on our shoulders. "It's always so much more fun when I actually know the people attending it."

"Maybe shrink the guest list next time," I said, tipping back my drink. "Just a couple dozen people, you know? Maybe a boat that's not quite the size of a city block."

"But I can't, Kady, because that's how I make new friends," Max answered dramatically.

"Speaking of friends, are any of your old ones showing up?" Sidney asked and I had to kick him lightly on the shin under the table. Since I ran off that night from the bar to meet up with Stellan, he'd known something was up. Since I couldn't exactly articulate mine and Stellan's relationship in my own head, I haven't given him much detail. But he's pretty sure we're hooking up and sometimes, he feels like torturing me with it.

"Sebastian's in Madrid, I think," Max said, looking around. "And Oliver should be around here somewhere. Stellan might or might not make it. Depends on whether his flight got delayed."

Stellan was supposed to fly back from Montreal late this afternoon but winterland Canada was experiencing some heavy snow early in the season and his flight was delayed. I told him to rest up and I was going to see him tomorrow but he insisted he was going to try to make Max's party.

"Why are you solo?" I asked. "Don't tell me you're starting a new resolution as you turn a year older."

Max laughed and shook his head. "I'm not, though that would make you happy, wouldn't it? I sometimes think I do it just for the sheer joy of hearing you cut me down for being a manwhore."

I scoffed. "You do it simply for the perks of being one. I think your birthday stunt next year should be to sleep with the number of women equalling your age in years all in one night. And if you can't, you scale back on the women you sleep with that year by the same number."

"And if I actually pull it off in one night?" Max asked, puffing out his chest like it wasn't already the size of headboard.

"Then your dick is made of steel and should probably be put away in a nice glass box at a museum somewhere for women to admire and for men to envy," I said, causing Max to wince and Sidney to choke a little on his drink. I shrugged. "What? At least it won't do any more damage."