Читать книгу Who Gets To Marry Max? - Neesa Hart - Страница 11

When Philip Grant recovered from the flu, Max decided two hours later, he would kill him. He stood in his study where he scanned the assembled guests on his terrace. The only light in this third-story room he used as a refuge came from the festive lanterns and mini-lights Sidney’s staff had strung through the trees. Dark clouds blotted out the crescent moon.

Which, he thought in a burst of grim humor, seemed wildly appropriate. The clouds of his temper had begun gathering earlier that day. His mood had rapidly progressed from foul to rotten. Greg, who had trouble committing to wearing the same tie all day, was predictably balking at the idea of betrothing himself to Lauren Fitzwater. Never mind that Greg had made certain promises—promises that Lauren had every reason to believe would lead to marriage. Greg was experiencing a very predictable bout of jitters. Max had been prepared for that. Max liked to think he was prepared for just about everything.

He had assured Greg, and meant it, that Lauren was the best thing in his life. Max’s desire to see Greg settled went far beyond the simplicity of a multimillion dollar corporate takeover.

Everyone needed stability.

Max should know. He’d spent his whole life without any. Stability, he’d learned, was the remedy for loneliness. So he’d strengthened his brother’s resolve, and considered it all part of a day’s work.

And while Greg’s burst of misgivings had proved mildly irritating, the beginning of his descent into hell hadn’t happened until later. His gaze narrowed and found Alice Northrup-Bowles downing a glass of champagne as she flirted with Max’s senior vice president. Damn the shrew. Her presence alone was enough to rattle him.

And then there was Sidney Grant. Sidney with her wise, intelligent eyes and that cocky little smile that made him want to kiss it right off her full mouth. What the hell was Philip thinking?

The old man was too shrewd, Max realized, not to know that his employer’s interest in his niece ran deeper than common courtesy. While Max had never told Philip the story, the evening years ago when he’d discovered Sidney in his parents’ library had left an indelible mark on him. He didn’t know why, and had long since given up trying to figure it out. He’d found her holding a dust rag in one hand, weeping over the broken remains of a porcelain figurine. She’d looked so desolate. Something in the bend of her shoulders, her tear-filled eyes, had struck a note in Max that had never stopped ringing.

The encounter hadn’t lasted long. Less than five minutes as he recalled, but he’d walked into that room, with no earthly idea why he felt moved to comfort her. And in the end, she’d comforted him. She’d told him how her twice-divorced mother had remarried again, had decided that Sidney’s presence in her home would make it too difficult for her new stepchildren to accept her as their mother. Philip asked his younger sister to send Sidney to him. Sidney’s mother had needed little prompting. She’d put her fifteen-year-old daughter on a bus the following afternoon.

Max remembered his sense of horror as her story unfolded. Even his parents, who had always remained slightly detached from their children’s activities, wouldn’t have contemplated anything so unspeakable. Sidney had mopped her eyes as she’d told him the tale, then apologized for burdening him with it. She’d started crying, she’d said, and that was how she’d broken the figurine. She was on her way to find her uncle Philip to report the incident.

Max had shaken his head, handed her his handkerchief, and assured her he’d handle everything. She needn’t worry about the broken figure. “I’ll take care of it,” he’d told her. At her wide-eyed look, he’d explained, “That’s what I do.”

Sidney had looked at him with that expressive gaze and said, “You always take care of everyone, don’t you?” At his startled look, she’d managed a slight chuckle that had seared its way through his nervous system. “Uncle Philip told me.”

He vaguely remembered coughing. “I see.”

Sidney tilted her head to one side. “So if you take care of everyone else, who takes care of you?” He’d stared at her, stunned. At his silence, Sidney had looked at him with that probing look that reminded him so much of her uncle. “Everyone needs someone to take care of them,” she’d whispered. “Even you.”

Her declaration had zeroed in on the secret part of himself he kept firmly hidden in a vault of self-control. Sidney’s softly uttered words had thrown open the curtains of his heart and sent light streaming through the window of his soul. He’d had to struggle to restore the internal security system that kept his emotions firmly in their fortress.

Without allowing himself to consider the reasons, Max had changed his plans that night, and taken his date shopping at Tiffany’s so he could replace the figurine. The incident with Sidney had rattled him more than he’d thought it should. He still wasn’t precisely sure why she’d managed to get to him like that, but he knew that in the handful of times he’d seen her thereafter, he’d felt inexplicably connected to her—as if something mysterious and irrevocable had bonded them together.

He’d made a point, over the next few years, to follow Sidney ’s life through Philip’s reports. With a few phone calls, he’d ensured she had the scholarship money she needed to attend college. She’d graduated summa cum laude, and he’d had nothing at all to do with that. He’d roundly cursed the philandering, weak-spined bastard she’d married soon thereafter, and silently cheered the guts it had taken for her to divorce him. Carter Silas had done a tap dance on Sidney’s confidence that would have unraveled most people, but Sidney had impressed the hell out of Max with the courage she’d shown in standing up to him.

Later, he’d learned, she hadn’t even begun to impress him. Though Sidney knew nothing of Max’s interest, he’d made it his business—compelled at first by the surge of protectiveness he’d felt when he first met her, and later by an odd fascination with wanting to know what she’d accomplish next.

Unknown to Philip, Carter Silas had done more than abuse Sidney’s self-esteem. On a snowy February night, Carter had drained their mutual accounts, embezzled a quarter of a million dollars from the brokerage firm where he worked, then left Sidney holding the legal bag while he fled town with his twenty-one-year-old mistress. Max had sent his accountant and his lawyers to Sidney’s aid, and hired a private detective to get incriminating pictures of her husband. Max had made absolutely sure that Sidney’s lawyers had everything they needed to nail the weasel, but, in the end, Sidney had done most of the fighting on her own. Thanks to Max, her lawyers had shaken the bastard down for enough of a settlement to ensure that Sidney was comfortable. Though the embezzlement charges had never been proven, Silas had floundered for several years until Max finally decided he wasn’t worth the bother.

When Sidney had started her temp agency, an effort Philip hinted had taken all the courage Sidney had left, Max had again placed private phone calls. His business associates had suddenly found themselves in desperate need of temporary staff. Sidney had charmed them all with her skill and poise, and he still received Christmas cards thanking him for recommending her to them.

Philip had never asked why Max had taken such a personal interest in his niece, and Max hadn’t offered an explanation. If he had his way, neither Philip nor Sidney would ever know that those few seconds in the library, when she’d looked at him with those sad, sympathetic eyes and earnestly asked who took care of him, had opened an aching chasm in his soul that had never healed. No one he cared about, he’d vowed, as long as he had power to stop it, would ever feel as alone as he had at that moment.

Now, she barely resembled the slightly bedraggled, self-conscious girl in his father’s library. Her dark hair, thick and luxuriant, framed an expressive face dominated by a pair of intelligent hazel eyes. He’d always liked the way she looked at him. No one else looked at him quite that way—as if she understood some secret part of him that remained hidden to the rest of the world.

And, if he were honest, his thoughts generally ran a more primitive course. With little or no effort, he found himself imagining just how Sidney’s eyes would look if he were making love to her. They’d grow misty, he knew, and the color would darken. Emerald green and intense, full of fire and need, they’d steal his breath.

He hadn’t bothered to question why he’d insisted she stay for the weekend. There were dozens of practical reasons for the decision, but Max knew none of them explained the knot of hunger that had been steadily growing in his gut since he’d found her in his kitchen that afternoon. His desire to have her on his property had little, if anything, to do with keeping her off the road at a late hour, or his worries about his guests.

He wanted her.

Like a blow to the head, the knowledge had hit him squarely when he’d seen her standing there in the midst of well-ordered chaos. He wanted her.

Hell, he’d probably wanted her for years. Why he hadn’t recognized it before, he had no idea. Maybe it was the impossibility of the whole thing. Sidney Grant, and everything she deserved in life, was as out of reach to him as a normal family in a little house with a dog, a picket fence and a two-car garage. So far out of reach, in fact, that he’d never even allowed himself to contemplate what it would be like to have her in his life.

Until today. Until he’d seen her wearing a ridiculously seductive tuxedo and commanding a small army. A surge of adrenaline had raked him, and he recognized it instantly. It was the same feeling he got when he looked at a stock report and saw the future; the same feeling that overcame him when he analyzed a financial statement and knew the hidden potential of a buried asset or an underutilized resource; the same feeling, he mused, that drove him to gamble millions of dollars on what seemed like bad odds. And with customary dispatch, he’d listened to his gut feeling and not to his head.

With a carefully executed strategy, he’d ensured that he’d have her undivided attention for the next several days. He had her safely in his sphere, where he could watch and listen. He could examine the tension in his gut and sift through the messages screaming through his brain. For three days, he could concentrate on nothing but the hungry need he felt each time he looked at Sidney Grant.

The thought brought a wry smile to his lips. If the heaviness he’d felt in his lower body since earlier that day was any indication, he didn’t even need to look at her to feel the effects of her sway over him. He’d retreated here, to his third-story office, to clear his head. It hadn’t worked. Evidently, thinking about Sidney worked just as well as watching her. If he survived this weekend, he decided, he’d satisfy several of his more pressing curiosities, and see if this feeling had the kind of payoff he expected.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

At the sound of Sidney’s voice, Max felt need pour through his veins like lava. He turned from the window to find her watching him with the same quiet intensity she’d had long ago in his parent’s library. His fingers flexed at his sides as he struggled for equilibrium. Easy, he warned himself. Don’t overwhelm her. “Hello, Sidney. What brings you up here?”

She held a bottle and two glasses in her hand. “Philip mentioned that if you disappeared up here during the party, you’d probably want this.” She set the bottle on his desk.

“Philip thinks of everything,” he said quietly, wondering if Philip had thought of the consequences of sending Sidney to him.

“He does.” She hesitated. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just wanted to deliver this. If there’s nothing else you want, I need to get back downstairs.”

“Do you?” He glanced at the terrace again. “Your staff certainly seem to have everything under control.”

She offered him that slight smile, the one that drew his attention straight to her mouth and kept it there. “They do. But it’s a large party. Someone has to see to the details.”

He wasn’t ready for her to leave yet. He was never, he’d long ago admitted, ready for Sidney to leave him. “Do they know where to find you?”

She searched his expression. “Yes.”

With a wave of his hand, he indicated the leather chair across from his desk. “Then sit. You’ve been on your feet all afternoon.” At her surprised look, he managed a slight smile. “And don’t ask me how I know.”

“You’re omniscient?” she quipped.

He shook his head at that. “Hardly. But Philip tells me you’re maniacal about quality service. I understand what that means. If I were in your place, I’d have checked everything twice, then checked it again.”

Surprise flickered in her gaze, but she eased into the chair. “I can spare a few minutes, I guess.”

“Thank you.” Max studied her for several tension-filled seconds. Her eyes, he admitted with some chagrin, weren’t the only things about her that had him struggling for breath. The tailored lines of her uniform did nothing to disguise a lithe figure and the kind of curves designed to catch a man’s attention. It skimmed her body in all kinds of interesting ways, yet managed through some tailoring miracle to still appear subdued. After fifteen seconds in her presence, he’d felt his fingers tingling with the urge to thrust one hand into her hair, and snake the other around her waist so he could feel the imprint of her curves against his body.

Sidney began to fidget under his intense stare. She cleared her throat. “I wanted to thank you again for sending Gertie to take care of Philip,” she finally said.

“Don’t mention it. I was glad to.”

“He’ll like having her there.”

“I hope so.” He watched the uneasiness that played across her face. She looked nervous, and, unless he missed his guess, a little heated. It made him feel better to think she was as aware as he of the strange electricity between them.

She shifted uncertainly. “Was there something you wanted?”

You, he wanted to say, just to gauge her reaction. “Philip,” he said instead. “I wanted to ask you how much Philip told you about the guest list for this weekend.”

A slight smile played at her full lips. “You wanted to strangle him, you mean?”

“Maybe.”

She nodded. “I think yes. He suggested that you might be feeling a bit, ah, perturbed by now.”

“So he knew that Raymond Lort was bringing Alice Northrup-Bowles as his guest?”

“Yes.”

“But he didn’t care to enlighten me.”

“I suppose not.”

“Why the hell not?”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t care to speculate.”

He narrowed his gaze. “But you knew.”

“I knew she’d be here.”

“Did you know it would make me furious?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t tell me either.”

She brushed her palm over her jacket sleeve. “I didn’t feel—”

“Damn Philip. He should have told me.”

“He seemed to feel you’d rescind Mr. Lort’s invitation if you knew he intended to bring Ms. Nothrup-Bowles.”

“I would have. The bastard. Lort knows exactly how I feel about that woman.”

“Uncle Philip felt the crisis could be easily avoided without forcing you to offend Mr. Lort.”

Philip would, he thought, his temper kicking up another degree. “I don’t give a damn about offending Raymond Lort. Alice is a scheming, conniving leech who happens to make my sister Natalie feel miserable. Alice has a genius for making Natalie forget that she’s an exceptionally talented, remarkably gifted woman. Worse, Alice enjoys it.” His gaze narrowed. He uttered a dark curse. “And it enrages me.”

Sidney visibly stilled. She appeared to be gathering her calm. Slowly, she pushed herself out of her chair, then brushed past him to stand at the window. “Look.” Pointing, she drew his attention back to the terrace. “I’d like you to notice that my assistant has your sister fully occupied in solving a crisis which will, no doubt, save your party from certain ruin.”

She indicated a darkened corner of the terrace. “Natalie’s husband, Paul, is busily distracting Edward Fitzwater’s attention from your brother’s obvious nervousness, thereby ensuring that Miss Northrup-Bowles has absolutely no chance of attracting Paul’s notice.” She pointed to the dance floor where Greg and Lauren were enjoying a few moments together. “And Miss Fitzwater is being given every opportunity to wrestle the expected proposal from your brother.”

Even as she said it, a waiter intercepted one of Greg’s former girlfriends with a canapé-laden tray. The woman stopped, sampled the confection, then accepted an invitation to dance from one of Max’s vice presidents. Max’s gaze flicked over the party as he repressed the urge to pull Sidney into his arms. Too soon, he reminded himself. Patience was key. “Nicely done,” he murmured.

Her eyes twinkled when she looked at him. “I’m very good at what I do.”

The statement sent heat skittering along his skin as he wondered, inevitably, just how good she was at other things. “Really?” he said, lifting an eyebrow.

He knew from her expression that she sensed the shift in the conversation. She backed up a step. “Max, is something wrong?”

Max exhaled a deep breath and leaned back against his desk. He had more riding on this weekend than she could possibly know. Philip had understood. And Max had to believe that Philip wouldn’t have sent Sidney to him if he didn’t think she could help him. It wasn’t Philip’s fault that Max was having trouble picturing Sidney as his ally when the thoughts he was having weren’t nearly so tame. Much as he’d like to concentrate all his energy on her, he couldn’t afford the risk. There was too much at stake. “Sidney, look,” he began. “I don’t know how much Philip told you about this party, but it’s extremely important.”

She nodded. “Because of the merger with Fitzwater.”

He tipped his head toward the window. “Since your staff obviously have my guests completely under control, why don’t you sit down and let me explain.” He poured himself a drink. “Want one?” he asked.

She shook her head as she hurried around the desk. “No, thank you.” Sidney dropped back into the leather chair. “I don’t drink on the job.”

“You brought two glasses.”

“I thought you might have a guest.”

He shook his head. “Not up here. I don’t entertain guests in this room.” He met her gaze, waited to see if she recognized the significance of the statement. Awareness flickered in her gaze. Satisfied, he waved the bottle at her. “Will it change your mind if I tell you this is iced tea?”

Sidney’s eyebrows lifted.

“It’s a quirk of mine,” Max continued. “I don’t drink on the job either.”

“Aren’t you always on the job?”

He gave her a knowing look. “That’s why I keep tea instead of bourbon in my decanters.” He poured her a glass. “I’m surprised Philip didn’t tell you.”

“He told me everything he thought I needed to know to help make this a successful weekend for you. He doesn’t tell me your personal business.”

Max pondered that. Philip had told him certain details about Sidney’s life, it was true, but when he thought about it, he really knew very little about her personal habits and preferences. He nodded. “I’m sure he doesn’t. That’s one of the reasons I like him.”

“Uncle Philip is very professional, and he cares for you. You’re lucky to have him.”

“I know I am. Smart people surround themselves with smart people who are strong where they aren’t. I’m sure you’ve learned that in business.”

She nodded. “That’s why Kelly’s in charge of client relations, and I stick to making chocolates.”

Max’s gaze narrowed. There was something significant in the statement, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He’d never been particularly gifted at reading the nuances of conversation. Especially not from the female of the species. “Something like that,” he admitted.

Shifting slightly in the chair, Sidney waved a hand in the general direction of the party. “The more you tell me, the more I can help you.”

A smile played at the corner of his mouth. She was, indeed, Philip’s niece. Philip Grant’s personal motto was: Knowledge Is Ammunition. “That’s probably true. Are you sure you’re willing to help me?”

She looked surprised. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Against your better judgment?”

“No, of course not.”

“How did your staff feel when you told them they’d be working for ‘Mad Max?”’

Her lips pressed together in a tight line. “They were pleased.”

“I’ll bet.”

“You pay very well. They were pleased.”

Max shrugged. In a burst of restless energy, he slipped open the buttons of his double-breasted tuxedo jacket, then dropped into his desk chair. “Did you tell them I’m prone to fits of brooding and unmanageable temper and that most of my acquaintances are scared to death of me?”

“No.” There was firm resolution in her voice. “I did not. I don’t indulge in spreading rumors.”

Had her expression been any less serious, he might have laughed. She meant it, he realized, and the thought warmed him as little else could. “No, I don’t suppose you do.”

Sidney watched him for long seconds, then settled back in her chair. “So what else is riding on this besides a merger with Edward Fitzwater?”

Max exhaled. “Just about everything,” he told her. “I’m concerned about Greg.”

In the next few minutes, Max carefully explained to her how much he wanted his brother’s relationship with Lauren Fitzwater to progress. Yes, he admitted, the merger represented a significant gain for Loden Enterprises, but his true concern was for his brother’s welfare. Greg needed stability in his life, and Lauren would give it to him. If Philip were there, Max knew, he would have done whatever he could to ensure that Greg’s engagement came off without a hitch—Alice Northrup-Bowles notwithstanding.

When he finished his long explanation, he gave Sidney a cautious look. “Sorry. That’s probably more than you bargained for.”

“Actually, it’s what I expected.” Sidney tilted her head to one side in a manner painfully reminiscent of that night in the library. “Max, can I ask you something?”

He sensed danger, but deliberately dismissed it. “Sure.” He glanced out the window again.

“Why are you so sure this is right for your brother?”

His hand tightened on his glass. “Family is important to everyone, Sidney.”

“By family, you mean marriage.”

“For Greg I do.”

“Don’t you think that’s up to him to decide?”

“I know my brother. I know exactly what he needs.” He didn’t bother to explain that the same instincts that drove him in business told him that his brother’s life had reached a crucial turning point. A few more years, and Greg the immature young man was going to become their father—bitter, broke and completely alone.

“I see.”

He didn’t think he imagined the doubt in her tone and it annoyed him. He turned to face her. “Look, I’ve spent the last ten years taking care of my brother and my two sisters. Sometimes, I’m in a better position to know what’s best for them. In Greg’s case, he has trouble committing himself. If he can find a way to screw this up, he will.”

“Do you think he’ll make Lauren happy?”

“Yes.”

She frowned again. “Will he cheat on her?”

Max studied her for a few seconds, cursing the man who’d put that pained look in her eyes. Evidently, the memories of her first marriage still stung. She knew firsthand just how devastating infidelity could be. “No. He won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I wouldn’t let him.” His voice held a note of iron resolve, the same tone he used when he made reckless business decisions and dared his staff to question him.

“You couldn’t stop—”

Max shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. I mean Greg knows that no one in this family would tolerate it if he cheated on his spouse. We’re not that kind of people, Sidney. He’d have hell to pay if he decided to wander, and Greg’s not extremely fond of paying consequences.”

She studied him. “That’s an interesting theory.”

He wasn’t going to argue with her. She couldn’t possibly understand. “It’s the way I do things.”

As if she sensed the challenge in the words, she gave him a short nod. “I understand.”

“Then we’re clear on that?”

“Absolutely. I’m here for you.”

The slight emphasis nearly undid him. Could she even suspect the effect she was having on him? He searched her expression and found it stubbornly unreadable. Setting his glass on the desk, he leaned toward her. She smelled like chocolate. He found it more arousing than any designer perfume.

Carefully holding her gaze he said, “I’m counting on it.”

FROM THE adjacent room, one of Max’s maids, who’d spent an hour on the phone with Philip Grant earlier that evening, smiled as she flicked the lamp on and off three times. She watched her contact, the young bartender near the fountain, for a response. He glanced around, then carefully selected a champagne glass to polish with a soft, white cloth. Understanding the message, the maid nodded to the other young woman in the room before she headed off to intercept Max’s sister Colleen, who was at that moment, according to the bartender, on her way to find Max in his third-story office. Philip had made it quite clear that Sidney and Max weren’t to be interrupted.

The other woman, one of Max’s chauffeurs, picked up the telephone to place a call to Philip Grant. The senior butler had asked for complete information on the weekend’s events. He would, no doubt, find this bit of news especially intriguing.