Read Meet Your Mate (A Good Riders Romance Book 1) for Free Online

word.” She had the
childish impulse to put her fingers to her lips and pretend to turn a key.
    “If I hear any rumors,” he warned,
“I’ll know where they came from.”
    “Not me,” she said.
    “Or me,” Roger added.
    “Damn!” Max clapped a hand to his
forehead. “How did I forget a giant like you was sitting there recording all
this?”
    “Nah, except for that toast, I quit
recording when the entrée arrived. Footage of people chewing is never
attractive.”
    Except for Max. He chews rather
well. Clearly, his superior chewing ability was lost on Roger. She
concentrated on making sure she didn’t give voice to that opinion.
    “Plus,” Max said, “ you hate
to miss a meal, even for the sake of your art.”
    “That, too.” Roger finished off his
second steak and swiped his napkin across his mouth. “Especially when the
station’s paying. Do we have time for dessert?”
    “Do we?  It’s—It’s—” Annabel
squinted to focus on the blurry hands of the diamond-encrusted watch Carl had
given her on their wedding day. She didn’t remember the numbers being this tiny
before. Bringing her wrist closer to her eyes, she then pushed it farther away,
certain she could see better with a different angle and better lighting.
    Where had the time gone? Between
eating, drinking, and conversation, they now lagged way behind schedule.
    “We’re late!  If we leave now,
we might make the symphony at intermission.” Lurching to her feet, she grabbed
hold of Max’s arm as she toppled into his lap. His arms slid around her waist
and he pulled her close. Annabel longed to stay where she was, to see what
would happen next, but the look of interest in his eyes sent her head spinning.
Confused, she jumped up. “Come on! We have to hurry.”

    Max sat beside Annabel front and center
in the darkened Music Hall with something she’d call “Wagnerian” booming about
them. The music didn’t suck too badly after all. It boomed and reverberated at
a pulsing and relentless volume. The musicians suffused the notes with more
power and emotion than Max would have expected a stage full of stuffed shirts
to produce.
    On the way over, he’d nearly run a
red light at Annabel’s urging. The only interruption to her concern about
missing the first half of the program was her speculation about what music
would be presented in the second. He’d pushed the speed limit and imagined her
trim body naked just to keep his eyes from glazing over with boredom.
    If someone had asked for his
opinion on classical music earlier tonight, he would have assumed they meant
classic rock or early Elvis. This richness, this invigorating experience that
filled the air around Max and set his pulse pounding existed beyond his normal
musical boundaries.
    The closest he’d ever come to being
carried away by music before was in the living room back home in Nashville when
his dad played guitar and harmonized with Max’s two sisters. That always got to
him, but in a different way.
    The orchestra moved into a rousing
piece that he recognized from an old Coppola movie. Annabel leaned against him
and he turned to share the bit of cinematic trivia with her. Her head landed on
his shoulder. Her long eyelashes shadowed her cheeks, her lips parted slightly.
    She’d fallen asleep!
    Too much champagne, apparently.
Maybe he should have monitored her intake. But, hey. He was nobody’s father,
she wasn’t getting behind the wheel of a car, and she was definitely old enough
to know her own limit.
    He’d noticed and encouraged the way
she’d loosened up after the first glass, but he hadn’t realized how tipsy she’d
gotten until she’d giggled over the third refill. It turned out that a giggling
and tipsy Annabel charmed his socks off.
    The excited flush of her cheeks,
the tendrils of hair escaping their pins and curling playfully along her jaw,
the gleam of hope in her eyes as they discussed the award, all had him
wondering what other surprises she concealed