Jayne Ann Krentz, author of more than fifty New York Times bestsellers, expertly blends rich sensuality dangerous twists, and electrifying suspense in Grand Passion . What happens when Mr. Right is all wrong? Cleopatra Robbins has imagined the moment when she’ll meet the man of her dreams. But when Max Fortune strides into the Robbins’ Nest Inn, a devastating sensation sweeps through her. She knows it’s him . And he’s all wrong! Head of the giant Curzon Hotel chain, a cynical man with a passion for rare works of art, Max is looking for five priceless paintings left to him by his mentor, Jason Curzon. With one long look at Cleo Robbins, Max knows he’s gazing on a masterpiece…and for the first time in his life, the solitary and powerful executive is overcome with the strangest desire for that wonderful institution called home . But despite their mutual attraction, Max suspects Cleo of hiding something—and by the time he realizes her secrets have nothing to do with the lost treasures, it may be too late to save her from the danger rising out of her past. "Romantic Times" There is no finer exponent of contemporary romance.... Sandra Brown Krentz at her best...with the snappy dialogue that has become her trademark and a cast of characters you want to know personally. The author of over fifty consecutive New York Times bestsellers, Jayne Ann Krentz writes romantic suspense in three different worlds: Contemporary (as Jayne Ann Krentz), historical (as Amanda Quick), and futuristic/paranormal (as Jayne Castle). There are over 30 million copies of her books in print. She earned a BA in history from the University of California, Santa Cruz and went on to obtain a Master’s degree in library science from San Jose State University in California. Before she began writing full time she worked as a librarian in both academic and corporate libraries. She is married and lives with her husband, Frank, in Seattle, Washington. Jayne loves to hear from her readers and can be found at Facebook.com/JayneAnnKrentz. Chapter One It had taken Max Fortune nearly a month to locate Jason Curzon's mistress. Now that he had found her, he didn't know what to make of her. Cleopatra Robbins was definitely not the sort of woman he had been expecting to find. Max stood quietly near the roaring fire and surveyed the chaos that filled the cozy lobby of the Robbins' Nest Inn. In spite of her evocative first name, Ms. Robbins certainly did not look like a sultry charmer who made her living by seducing wealthy men old enough to be her grandfather. She looked exactly like what she purported to be: a cheerfully harried innkeeper trying to deal with a flood of new arrivals. Max glanced at the series of insipid seascapes hanging on the walls as he listened to the hubbub going on around him. He smiled with faint derision. It was obvious that Cleopatra Robbins was not only not a typical seductress, she was not much of a connoisseur of art. Anyone who would hang those bland views of storm-tossed seas would be incapable of appreciating the five Amos Luttrell paintings that had been left in her care. It was just as well she preferred the seascapes, because Max intended to take the Luttrells from her. They belonged to him. They constituted his inheritance from Jason Curzon, and Max had every intention of claiming them. He was prepared to use whatever tactics were necessary to recover the legacy. Having to fight for what was his would be nothing new for Max. Since the age of six, he had done battle for everything he had ever wanted in life. Sometimes he lost, but more often he won. Max rested both hands on the intricately carved hawk that formed the grip of his cane. With an effort of will that was second nature to him, he ignored the persistent ache in his leg. The old wound was acting up again tonight, bringing back memories he had no intention of indulging. He concentrated instead on Cleopatra Robbins as she bustled about behind the front desk. Max remembered that Jason had called her Cleo. The nickname suited her much better than the more dramatic Cleopatra. Trust Jason to choose a mistress who did not fit the stereotype. But, then, Jason had always had a gift for looking beneath the surface. He'd had the discerning eye of an intuitive collector, a man who trusted his own instincts rather than the opinion of others. The stunning array of paintings he had bequeathed to his favorite art museum in Seattle bore testimony to his unerring taste. But the five Amos Luttrells had formed the centerpiece of his collection. Curzon had owned close to two hundred paintings at the time of his death. As far as Max knew, Cleopatra Robbins was the only mistress Jason had ever collected. An unexpected sense of wrongness rippled through Max as he tried to envision the woman behind the desk in bed with Jason Curzon. Jason was the closest thing Max had ever had to a father. He told himself he should have been glad that the old man had had some fe