Читать книгу Who Gets To Marry Max? - Neesa Hart - Страница 13

“I don’t know, Philip,” Gertie said as she discarded the king of hearts. “If Sidney finds out what you’re up to, she’ll strangle you.”

Philip Grant picked up the king and added it to his hand. “She’ll never suspect. Besides, Max needs her.” He discarded the three of spades.

Sam Mitchell, Max’s groundskeeper, pulled a card from the draw stack. “That’s for sure. Last month, I was scared to death he was going to give in and marry the Barlow woman—” He snapped his fingers. “What’s her name?”

“Constance,” Elena Garcia, who kept the exotic plants blooming in Max’s greenhouse, said with disdain.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “Constance—as in constantly annoying. She’s taken on becoming the answer to ‘Who Gets To Marry Max?’ as a personal project.” He tapped his blunt fingers on his fanned cards. “Can you imagine life with her running Max’s house?”

Elena clucked her tongue. “I tell you one thing, if he brings home that Barlow woman, I’m going to quit.”

Gertie grunted. “You’re not the only one. The minute he hints there might be a wedding, I’m giving him my resignation.”

“You, and all the rest of us,” Sam agreed, tossing the five of hearts onto the discard pile. “Except maybe Philip. What would it take to make you leave Max, Philip?”

“I don’t know,” he said blandly. “Are you going to take that card, Elena?”

Elena gave him a dry look. “Don’t think you’re going to distract me. You may think you’re going to force Max and Sidney together, but what will you do if your plan backfires? Greg Loden isn’t exactly oblivious to Sidney’s obvious charms, you know?”

Sam nodded. “That’s true. And with Max breathing down his brother’s neck about an engagement to Miss Fitzwater, I suspect Greg’ll be looking for some diversion this weekend.”

“He won’t find it with Sidney,” Philip assured them. “I’ve already told her what Max is expecting from Greg. She’ll see that it happens.”

“He’s a charmer, that one,” Gertie mused. “I’ve seen him turn heads before.”

“Not Sidney’s. She’s immune to him.”

“But not to Max,” Elena prompted.

Philip shook his head. “Sidney and Max—” he searched for the right word “—communicate.” He glanced at Elena. “If you’re not going to take that card, I am.”

She clucked her tongue as she reached for the card. “You can’t expect to win every game, Philip.”

While she studied her hand, Philip decided not to ask what she meant by that. Instead, he wondered how Max and Sidney were faring at the estate. He’d seen Max grow from a lonely young boy, who gracefully bore the pressures of the world on his shoulders, to an even lonelier man whose friends and family expected him to solve all their problems. Isolated in a tower of emotional distance, Max Loden was in serious danger of losing his heart. To hear some tell it, he was already past saving. Philip didn’t believe it.

Elena dropped a card onto the discard pile. Gertie reached for it. “No matter what you say, Philip, if Sidney finds out you’re not really sick, she’ll kill you for this.”

Philip suppressed a smile. Long ago, he’d given up trying to understand the strange connection between his niece and his employer. But of one thing he was certain: Max needed rescuing. Always the savior, always the one his family relied on in a crisis, always the hero, Max had learned to depend on no one—for support, for help, or even for love. While Sidney, his brave, talented, headstrong niece, had learned to keep the world at arm’s length. Hurt one time too many, Sidney allowed no one to penetrate her inner world.

As Gertie studied her cards, Philip considered the niece he loved like a daughter, and the employer he considered a close friend. Only Philip had breached their collective defenses. And while he didn’t begin to understand why he’d been blessed with such a role, he took the responsibility seriously. They needed each other. And since the two of them were too thickheaded to know it, he had no choice but to take matters into his own hands.

Gertie discarded the jack of diamonds. Philip picked it up with a feeling of satisfaction. Eventually, he reasoned, Max and Sidney would understand that he was acting in their best interest and forgive him for meddling. He discarded, then set his cards down on the table. “Gin.”

Sam grumbled as he began tabulating the score. “One day, I’m going to figure out how you manage to cheat.”

Elena dropped her cards to the table with a sigh of disgust. “He marks the cards. He has to. Nobody has his luck.”

As Philip piled the cards into a neat stack, the phone rang. Gertie frowned as she reached for the receiver. “Well, let’s hope his luck is holding. Sidney already called once this morning. I hope she’s not suspicious.”

“She’s not,” Philip assured her.

“Hello?” Gertie answered the phone. Philip carefully watched her expression change from polite inquiry to unabashed delight. She covered the receiver with her hand. “It’s Mary Beth,” she said, identifying the young woman who’d called last night with news of Max’s third-floor rendezvous with Sidney. “She says Max is teaching Bailey how to dive this morning.”

Philip lifted an eyebrow—an affectation he’d passed on to his employer. “There’s nothing unusual about that. Max is very fond of his niece.”

Gertie asked Mary Beth a few more questions, then hung up. “Nothing unusual,” she told the small group, satisfaction evident in her tone, “except that Sidney is watching, and Max is watching her watch him.”

SIDNEY WAS still questioning her sanity as she methodically made her way around Max’s pool, discreetly checking on his guests. Drinks were filled, towels replaced. At a waved command to one of her staff, an ashtray materialized near the elbow of Raymond Lort. Momentarily satisfied, she continued to scan the scene, looking for flaws and, more consciously, trying to ignore the way Max looked sitting on the edge of the pool, patiently teaching one of his nieces how to dive.

She still wasn’t sure what had possessed her to agree to stay at the estate for the weekend. She should have known what prolonged exposure to the man was going to do to her. She’d slept poorly last night, and, as much as she’d like to believe her restless slumber owed itself to the strange bed, she knew better. She’d been consumed with thoughts of the way Max had looked at her when he’d delivered that final announcement in his office. “I’m counting on it,” he’d said, and her stomach had started dancing the Macarena.

The odd feeling had continued through the evening’s festivities, and left her feeling unsettled when Greg Loden had cornered her near a secluded area of the terrace.

“Sidney,” he’d said, his voice a little too controlled. “How are you?”

She had searched his expression for signs of inebriation, but other than unnaturally bright eyes, he seemed in control. “I’m fine, Mr. Loden. How are you?”

With his elegantly casual shrug, the one she’d long ago summed up as his philosophy on life, he’d explained that Max was annoyed that he’d continued to drag his feet on his engagement to Lauren Fitzwater. “You know Max,” Greg had told her, “he thinks what’s good for business is good for the family.”

Sidney frowned. “You don’t think your brother is pushing you simply because he wants the business merger with Fitzwater, do you?”

“No. He’s pushing me because he thinks Lauren can have a positive influence on my more, er, autarkic tendencies.”

“Is that a nice way of saying libertine?”

To her relief, he had laughed, and the strange tension shattered. “No, it’s a Harvard economics major’s way of saying I enjoy the benefits of being a Loden without bearing much of the responsibility.” He shrugged again. “Max likes running the business. He wouldn’t consider relinquishing control to any of us.”

Thoughtfully, Sidney studied Greg’s handsome features. “Have you asked him?”

Greg shook his head as he finished his glass of champagne. “No need. What Max wants is to see all of us safely settled in nice, stable marriages. Natalie and Colleen succumbed without a fight. I like to give Max a challenge every now and then.” He leaned closer to her and dropped his voice several decibels. “It builds character, you know?” He’d raised his hand, then, to cup her shoulder. “And speaking of characters, why have you been hiding from us, Sidney? I miss having you around here.”

His fingers slid over the fabric of her jacket. Sidney took a careful step away. “I work for a living, Greg.”

His amused laugh carried on the night breeze. “Unlike me, you mean?”

She shook her head. “No. I just mean that I have a lot of responsibilities with my business. I don’t have as much time to visit with Uncle Philip as I used to.”

Greg’s hazel eyes searched her face. “Do you have time for other things?”

She sensed the suggestive undertone in the question, and carefully headed it off. “Not really.” She set her water glass down with a decisive clink. “It’s been nice talking with you, Greg, but I think I should call it a night. The party’s winding down, and Max seems to think I might be needed early tomorrow morning. He’s probably right.”

“Ah, Max,” Greg said. “He’s always right, isn’t he?”

Sidney chose not to answer. “Good night, Greg.”

He had hesitated, then gave her a brief nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Now, as Sidney glanced around the pool deck, she carefully considered the note she’d received from Max that morning requesting her presence. How much, she had to wonder, did he know about her conversation with his brother, and how much would he want to know? She pushed aside the unsettling thought and told herself, for the umpteenth time that morning, to get a grip. It wasn’t working. When she’d spoken to her uncle, he’d assured her that he was much better—so much better that he’d encouraged her not to make the trip out to see him that morning. Reluctantly, if not gracefully, Sidney had agreed.

Fool, fool, fool, she now thought as she looked at Max. She could have used the break, and the chance to think things over. Clad in black swim trunks, he looked—she searched for the word Kelly had used the night before—dishy. That was it. Kelly had informed her that Max’s advertising gurus used the word to describe the Max doll and his supposed effect on the female doll population. At the time, Sidney had thought the word a corny advertising gimmick. Now, she merely found it inadequate.

Max Loden wasn’t merely dishy, he was devastating. Well, he was devastating her, anyway. Except for the barely veiled looks of Constance Barlow, the same woman Sidney had observed clinging to Max’s arm during last night’s party, no one else at poolside seemed to realize they were in the presence of Adonis.

Suddenly, as if he sensed her scrutiny, Max turned to meet her gaze. Embarrassed that he’d caught her watching him, she struggled not to look away. He watched her for long seconds, then tilted his head in an invitation to join him.

Sidney glanced around the deck once more, before she threaded her way through the clutter of lounge chairs to stand near Max’s shoulder. “Did you need something?” she asked him.

“Watch me, Uncle Max,” his seven-year-old niece urged.

“I’m watching, Bailey,” he assured her. He remained steadily focused as the child bent nearly in two, then tumbled into the water. She surfaced with a broad grin. “Did I get it right?”

Max nodded. “Absolutely. You can work on keeping your feet pointed if you want to go in with less splash. Otherwise, it’s perfect.”

“Does splash count?”

“Only in the Olympics.”

“Good divers don’t splash?”

Max shook his head. “Nope.”

“Okay. I’ll try.” Bailey swam toward him. “But can I try the diving board even if I splash?”

“You have to ask your mother.”

Bailey frowned. “She won’t let me.”

Max plucked her from the pool and seated her on the deck next to him. “I’ll tell her I taught you how to dive. Then you can ask her.”

He earned a toothless grin. “Thanks, Uncle Max.” The child turned inquisitive eyes to Sidney. “Who is that lady?”

Max still didn’t look at her. “A friend of mine.”

“A good friend?”

He paused. “Yes.”

Bailey studied her. “I’m Bailey.”

Sidney smiled. “I’m Sidney.”

Bailey watched her with open curiosity. “How come you aren’t wearing a swimsuit?”

“Because I’m not here to swim. I’m here to work.”

“Oh. Like Uncle Max.”

“He’s swimming,” Sidney pointed out.

Bailey jumped up and reached for a towel. “Only for me. He promised to teach me how to dive so I could use the diving board. He woulda worked instead if he hadn’t promised.”

As Bailey vigorously dried her mop of red curls, Max finally turned to look at Sidney. His eyes gleamed in the morning light—like a predator’s, she thought. “Good morning,” he said quietly.

“Good morning.” She plucked a piece of paper from her trouser pocket. “I got your note. You wanted to see me about something?”

“It wasn’t a summons.”

“It sounded like it.”

Max frowned. “I didn’t mean—”

“Uncle Max?” Bailey tapped him on the shoulder.

His frown deepened before he looked at his niece. “What, Sprout?”

“When are you gonna tell Mama?”

“This morning.”

Bailey’s gaze slid to Sidney. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he said.

“You might get distracted.”

Max rolled his eyes. “I will not get distracted.”

Bailey continued looking at Sidney. “Uncle Greg would.”

“I’m not your uncle Greg.”

“No.” Bailey shook her head, then shrugged. “I want to dive off the board this afternoon. I told Kristina we would.”

“This morning,” Max said again, giving his niece a gentle shove. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay.”

“Now say goodbye.”

Bailey grinned at Sidney. “Nice to meet you, Sidney.”

Max ruffled her curls. “It’s Miss Grant.”

“But she said—”

“It’s Miss Grant.”

Sidney held up a hand, “Max, really—”

He shook his head. “Bailey?”

Bailey capitulated. “Nice to meet you, Miss Grant.”

Max and Sidney watched as the child hurried off across the deck. “She’s a great kid,” Sidney said.

“Natalie is a great mother.” Max pinned her with his gaze. “How was your night?”

The question couldn’t possibly be as provocative as it sounded. “Fine. You?”

He shrugged, then surged to his feet. Sidney forced herself not to take a step backward as he stood dripping and imposing above her. “It was fine. I wanted to ask you about your plans for this evening. Can you take a break?”

She visually scanned the deck. “Everything seems to be under control. Your guests are apparently content. Except maybe Mr. Lort. He looks a little the worse for wear.”

His mouth twitched at the corner. “Yeah, well, if I’d spent the night with Alice Northrup-Bowles, I’d look that way, too.”

Sidney ruthlessly pushed aside an image of Constance Barlow, wearing a sparkling designer dress, clinging to Max’s tuxedo-clad arm, looking like a “do” example in Town and Country Magazine.

Max snatched a towel from a nearby lounge chair, then slung it casually around his shoulders. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “Let me change, and I’ll meet you in my office in five minutes. Will that be okay?”

She deliberately ignored the warning bells in her head. More time alone with Max. Great. At this rate, she’d be a basket case by noon. The man raised her body heat into the red zone. “That’ll be fine.”

AS SIDNEY waited for Max to join her in his third-story office, she replayed her conversation with Greg Loden in her head. She couldn’t put her finger on why the incident had disturbed her so much. Philip had told her, often and in detail, the stories of Greg’s misdeeds. It seemed Max was constantly bailing him out of one scrape or another. Generally, the younger Loden brother stayed out of serious trouble. To her knowledge, he’d had no encounters with the law. He’d managed to dredge up some negative publicity a time or two—generally related to his affinity for fast women and fast cars—but, according to Philip, Greg Loden was a decent enough character who lacked any serious direction in life.

Lauren Fitzwater, on the other hand, came from old money and an even older family tradition. Since Greg had begun dating her, he’d calmed down considerably, and it was certainly easy to see why Max felt the relationship was good for his younger brother. Still, the tension between the two men bothered Sidney for reasons she didn’t begin to understand. Worse, she felt somehow trapped in the middle.

“Good morning.” Max strode into the room wearing khaki trousers and a denim shirt that somehow looked elegant. Philip’s scrupulous care of his wardrobe, no doubt. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

Sidney shook her head. “No problem. You’re the boss.”

He frowned at her as he seated himself behind his desk. “I wish you’d quit saying that.”

She blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“I don’t consider you my employee, you know. I consider you—” he paused, “my partner.”

Her stomach started its lurching rhythm again. “I see.”

“I doubt it.” He shook his head. “I’ll explain later. Right now, I want to talk to you about tonight. Greg is waffling.”

She blinked at the rapid change in topic. “What?”

“I spoke with him this morning. He’s having second thoughts about his engagement to Lauren.”

Sidney considered the information relative to last night’s conversation. “He’s an adult, Max. He can make his own choices.”

“He needs her.”

“Max….” She hesitated. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe Greg needs some purpose in his life?”

“Of course. That’s why I want him to marry Lauren. She’s good for him. She’s stable.”

“And she’s Edward Fitzwater’s daughter.”

“What the hell does that mean?” His voice had dropped to a deceptively quiet level.

“Are you absolutely certain that Lauren’s, ah, familial credentials don’t have something to do with why you’re pushing Greg so hard?”

He bit off a curse. “That was a rotten thing to say, Sidney. You may not have the highest opinion of me, but what kind of bastard do you think I am?”

His vehemence took her back. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

He ignored her. “It’s got nothing to do with Edward Fitzwater. The man would be a fool to merge with anyone else. He dotes on Lauren, it’s true, and her engagement to Greg will make the deal easier for him to swallow, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. He’s overfinanced and undercapitalized. If he doesn’t merge with me, then someone else will take him over. He left himself vulnerable to this.”

“And the vultures are circling?”

“Yes.”

“Then if the merger is a foregone conclusion, why push so hard for the engagement?”

“I told you. Greg needs Lauren. It’s that simple.”

With a sad smile, Sidney leaned forward in her chair to place a hand on his desk. “There’s nothing simple about relationships, Max.”

He looked down at her hand, stared at it for long seconds. She sensed a struggle in him. “No, I don’t suppose there is.”

“If you push Greg into a corner, he’ll fight you.”

He visibly tensed. “If he does, I’ll win.”

“Probably. But if the price is alienating your brother, is it worth it?”

“It’s the right thing for Greg’s future. In time, he’ll understand that.”

“Max—”

He surged out of his chair, rounded the desk, and towered over her. She had to tilt her head back to hold his gaze. His expression looked harder than usual. “I realize this probably sounds ruthless to you, but I’ve spent my life taking care of my family.” He raked a hand over his face. “Sometimes, that means I have to decide what I think is best and make sure it happens. And I’m good at it.”

“And do you always get what you want?”

He studied her for long seconds, that same unnerving gleam in his eyes. Then he carefully took her hand in his larger one. In less than a millisecond, the center of his focus had shifted from his brother’s engagement to rest squarely on her. She sensed it as surely as she had sensed the tension thrumming through him last night. “As of today,” he said quietly, “I’m batting a thousand.”

Having the full force of that indomitable concentration directed at her sent goosebumps skittering along her flesh. Anticipatory goosebumps, she realized as she forced herself not to look away. “Max, I—”

He turned her hand to study her palm. “In fact, I think we should just clear this up right now. It’s been on my mind since last night.”

“It has?”

He nodded. “Very much so. And unless I’m completely off my game, you’ve been thinking about it too.”

“We’re not talking about Greg and Lauren anymore. Are we?”

“No.”

Sidney shivered. “I didn’t think so.”

“I’ve been told that I lack a certain, ah, finesse in situations like this.”

“Really?”

“Yes. But it’s like a business venture—once I know what I want, I don’t see any point in hedging about it.”

“Wastes time.”

“Precisely.” His fingers tightened on her hand. “So do you know why I really asked you to stay out at the estate for the weekend?”

Her brain short-circuited. He didn’t give her a chance to recover. “I want you, Sidney.”

The soft declaration made her ears ring. Her fingers quivered in his warm grasp.

“And you want me.”

Sidney pulled in a ragged breath. “Max—”

He squeezed her hand. “Don’t you?”

“I—”

“Look, I’m not trying to rush you. I know small talk generally eludes me.”

“You could say that.”

“I wouldn’t have told you last night—I should have told you last night, but I was afraid you’d leave. I wanted you here. With me.”

Sidney concentrated on breathing normally. “It wouldn’t work. We’re too different.”

“I thought so, too.” He cast a swift glance at the door. “For a long time, I thought so. But I changed my mind.”

“If that gets out,” she managed to quip, “it could cause the value of the dollar to plunge in the foreign currency markets.”

His soft chuckle rumbled along her nerve endings. “You have an overinflated sense of my importance, I assure you.”

“As long as we’re laying our cards on the table, is this a good time for me to tell you that you scare me to death?”

His eyebrows rose. “I’d never hurt you, Sidney.”

“I know that. That’s not what I mean.”

“Explain it to me.”

She searched for words. “I guess—I don’t want to feel like another corporate takeover.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

She pulled her hand from his. “It’s hard to explain. After Carter—after my divorce—I swore I’d never do that to myself again.”

“Are you comparing me to your ex-husband?” His tone had turned flat—and sounded somehow more dangerous.

“No.” She shook her head. “No, you’re nothing like Carter. He was weak and selfish, and I was a fool to marry him.”

“Sidney—”

“Don’t say it,” she said with a slight smile. “There’s no point in arguing with me. What kind of idiot gets involved with a jerk like that?”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

She inwardly cringed. He could never understand the flood of self-condemnation that had engulfed her when her marriage dissolved. Max didn’t make colossal mistakes. It was beyond his scope of experience. “Whatever. The point is, I had a really hard time putting myself back together after he—after it was over.”

“I know.” His gray eyes studied her. “Philip told me.”

“He tells you a lot, doesn’t he?”

“He loves you.”

“I know he does.” She managed a slight smile. “He loves you, too.”

With incredibly gentle fingers, Max tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Sidney, no more stalling.” He seated himself on the edge of his desk. “Talk to me.”

“I’m afraid of what might happen to me if I get involved with you,” she admitted.

“I’ll take care of you.”

“Oh, Max. Don’t you see? I don’t want you to take care of me. I’ve just started to feel like I’m pretty good at taking care of myself. I’m not ready to turn the job over to someone else.”

That made him frown. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know. It’s not you. It’s me.” She couldn’t hold his gaze any longer. “This is all moving a little fast for me.”

“I’ve known you for ten years.”

She laughed a little. “You’ve barely spoken to me, and now, suddenly, you want…” She couldn’t continue.

“It’s not sudden. I’ve wanted you for a long time, but things were never right for us.”

Her gaze flew to his. “Max—”

“It’s true.” He leaned closer. “It’s complicated, and I’m not sure I understand it. I’m not very good at explaining myself. I don’t have to do it very often.”

“I don’t think—”

He cut her off. “We’re going to be together all weekend.” His gaze narrowed. “If I have my way, really together. I want you to understand that. I don’t want to play games.”

“I’m feeling overwhelmed.”

“I tend to have that effect on people.” With his fingertips he gently traced the curve of her eyebrows. The touch made her shiver. “I decided last night that I’m tired of waiting. I’d prefer to know exactly where I stand with you.”

She was drowning in the intoxicating sensation of his clean scent filling her head and his warmth wrapping her in a sensory cocoon. “Max, please.”

“Please what?” His voice had dropped to a seductive whisper. “Please stop? Please don’t stop?”

She shook her head, trying to clear it. “I don’t know.”

His lips turned into a beautiful smile that stole her breath and made her heart skip a beat. “Don’t worry.” He reached for her hand, then raised it to press a kiss to her wrist. “I’ve waited this long, and I may not like it, but I can wait a little longer. I can wait until you’re ready.”

Sidney drew a steadying breath.

“A few more hours won’t kill me.”

“Hours?” she choked out.

His smile widened. “Did I happen to mention that in addition to ‘Mad Max,’ my adversaries call me ‘Max the Relentless?”’

“I’d heard that.”

He tipped his head so his mouth was a hairbreadth from hers. “You’re about to experience it firsthand.”

Her knees almost buckled. “I might not survive.”

He pressed a swift kiss to her lips. “Don’t worry,” he said again. “You won’t get hurt. I promise.”

Her lips burned from the slight contact, but the words penetrated the fog in her brain to leave her with an uneasy feeling. “You can’t guarantee that.”

He evidently decided to ignore her protest. He shrugged. “I’ll let you make the choice, Sidney. Just don’t wait too long to make it.”

Or, she thought, you’ll make it for me.