Читать книгу Flirting With the Boss - Teresa Southwick, Teresa Southwick - Страница 9

The next morning, Ashley parked her little car in front of the Caines’ impressive English Tudor-style house. Her heart pounded and she told herself it was all about her surroundings and not the prospect of seeing Max Caine’s smile. She hadn’t heard from him and that meant there’d been no word from the senior Mr. Caine. Concern trickled through her though she told herself there was no cause for it.

After sliding out of the car, she stared at the brick-lined steps leading to the double mahogany doors with beveled leaded glass ovals in the center of each.

“Motivation for higher education,” she mumbled.

Ten years ago she’d been grounded for nearly flunking her first year in high school. She’d taken summer classes to repeat algebra and history. Every day on the way into town, her mother had driven her past the Caine estate and told her she could have a house like this if she worked hard and went to college. The visual aid was seriously effective in convincing Ashley to put her nose to the educational grindstone.

If not for her unfortunate brain seizure in her senior year, aka falling in love, at this moment she’d be well on her way to achieving her goals. Romance had convinced her never to give up anything for a man.

She rang the doorbell and waited. Several moments later her ring was answered. Max stood there in worn jeans that fit his lean waist, hips and thighs like a second skin and a biceps-hugging black T-shirt that made him look every inch the rebel she remembered. His exploits were legendary. Especially the cherry bomb in the gym bathroom, climbing in Rita Mae Whitmire’s bedroom window while her father stood guard on the front porch, and letting the air out of Sheriff Kent’s tires.

She swallowed. “Good morning.”

“Hi. Come on in,” he said, opening the door wider for her to precede him into the house.

“Any news on Mr. Caine?”

He shut the door and met her gaze. “I just got off the phone with the sheriff and he had nothing new to report. There have been no Bentley Caine sightings.”

She let out the breath she’d been holding. “Okay. So what do we do?”

“Have you had breakfast?”

“I didn’t have time—”

“Follow me,” he said.

“But shouldn’t we get to work looking for your grandfather?”

“We will. But I can get more searching out of you if you’re fed. It won’t take long.”

“I’m fine. I never eat—” She stopped when it sank in that he was ignoring her and she was talking to his retreating back. A nice one it was, too—broad shoulders, narrowing to a trim waist and a fine example of why women go gaga over a man’s rear end.

She looked around as she went after him. Surprisingly, the inside of her dream house wasn’t flashy, but homey and comfortable. And big, big, big. The family room, with its high-volume ceiling, featured a large area rug over the wood floor where a beige semicircular corner group sat in front of an imposing floor-to-fourteen-foot-ceiling river rock fireplace. The dining area was filled with an oak ball-and-claw-foot table, ten chairs and a matching buffet grandly holding a space against the wall.

The kitchen was large, really large. An island in the center had beige and black-flecked granite tops that coordinated with the rest of the counters. The refrigerator had a false front that matched the cupboard doors. A combined oven and microwave, with a gas cooktop beside it, were tucked seamlessly into the expanse.

“I’ve only seen the house from the outside,” she said. “The inside is pretty incredible, too.”

He glanced around. “I suppose.”

“How could you leave it?”

One of his eyebrows lifted questioningly. “I believe you know why.”

“I know what you told me, but I still don’t understand why. Families fight. They work it out.”

“Some don’t.”

“My family struggled with a budget for as long as I can remember. You were born to this and walked away. I just don’t get it.”

He took a mug from the cupboard and poured coffee into it, then handed it to her. “Milk or sugar?”

“Black’s fine. Are you going to answer my question?”

“Why did I walk away?” He leaned against the counter and folded his arms over his broad, muscular chest. “Some things are more important than four walls, no matter how much square footage and luxury those walls encompass.”

“Such as?”

“Loyalty and integrity.”

Interesting choice of words. She remembered a younger, still cynical, and every bit as sexy version of this man who’d befriended a geeky, hostile teenage girl. Now, high-profile magazines often showed his chiseled features in photos with beautiful, powerful female executives on his arm. Which one was the real Max Caine?

“Loyalty?” she said, then sipped her coffee. “Your grandfather kept tabs on you. He told me when you got your master’s degree. He shared news of the successes of your consulting business. And he told me he contacted you to try and mend fences.”

She found that callous and unfeeling, at odds with the young man who’d given the time of day to a nerdy fourteen-year-old. And if he did, in fact, have the emotions of an ice cube, why was he back now? Was he telling the truth when he’d said he would only be there long enough to see his grandfather, then catch the first plane out?

“When someone takes a shot at you, it’s not especially bright to give them another opportunity,” he said.

A shot at him? What was he talking about? That implied he felt wronged. But— No. She wasn’t going to do this. She refused to waste any more energy on Max. Since he’d turned up in her office yesterday, she’d spent way too much time analyzing his motivations. And that made her cranky, curious and cautious in equal parts.

“Okay. Obviously we’re going to have to agree to disagree. The sooner we start looking for your grandfather, the better,” she said. “If you insist on feeding me breakfast first, let’s get it over with.”

“What would you like?” he asked, his voice dropping to give the words the improper tone of double entendre.

Her heart skipped and she was annoyed at her involuntary response to him. “Are you going to call the butler to whip something up?” she said, struggling to keep her own voice from slipping into breathlessness.

She wasn’t used to this give-and-take between the sexes. Until last night’s dinner with Max, it had been a very long time since she’d been alone with a good-looking man. Her focus on school to the exclusion of almost everything else might have been too narrow. All those college classes hadn’t prepared her for social situations. But she suspected a plethora of social awareness still wouldn’t have prepared her to deal with Max Caine.

“Actually,” he said. “I’m pretty good at whipping up a few things.”

She’d just bet he was. Flirtation. Seduction. Surrender. “Toast would be fine,” she said. “And quick.”

“I’ll throw in some scrambled eggs. It won’t take long, then we can get down to business.”

As Max quickly and efficiently rustled up the appropriate ingredients and cooking utensils, Ashley watched him work. The island between them gave her the illusion of a safe personal space.

Until seeing Max again, she’d thought time and maturity had put into perspective the magnified disillusionment of a fourteen-year-old girl. She was a grown woman who still felt the pull of his magnetism all the way to her toes. It was impossible for her to ignore the way his muscles rippled beneath the snug, soft fabric of his T-shirt. Her stomach contracted at the sight of his sleeves tightening around his biceps with every movement of the spatula.

She blew out a discreet breath when he finished and set a plate of eggs and toast on the island in front of her. Holding out his hand, he indicated she should sit on one of the bar stools there.

He refilled the mug he’d been using and joined her, resting his forearms on the counter. “Obviously Bentley’s important to you. Enough for you to give up your day off.”

She scooped up a forkful of fluffy egg and slid it into her mouth. After chewing for several moments she said, “Like I said, he’s always been there for me. He’s been like a father.”

“The father you never had?”

She didn’t remember telling him that. “Why would you assume? Are you filling in the blanks again?”

“Something like that.”

“It’s even more than that,” she said, not confirming or denying the truth of his words. “Mr. Caine has done a lot for me. How can I abandon him when he might need help?”

He studied her for several moments, then nodded. “Okay. I guess we have to agree that we’ll never fully understand each other’s motivation. And move on.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He grabbed a piece of paper she hadn’t noticed on the counter. “Speaking of plans, I’ve been thinking about the best way to go about this search. Someone needs to be here in case he shows up. Chip is going to—”

“Chip?”

“The butler,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning up. He obviously realized that the name was completely at odds with the profession of gentleman’s gentleman. “He’s going to man the phone. Call hospitals and other places I’ve instructed him to contact. You and I will do the mobile portion of the search.” He put the paper flat on the countertop and turned it so she could see it. “I’ve done a spreadsheet of places to look for him and the most efficient way to accomplish the task. I need you to look it over, think about any place I might have neglected to put down.”

She bit into her toast and chewed. “I’m impressed.”

“Okay.” One corner of his mouth tilted up. “Why?”

“You’ve obviously spent a lot of time and energy on this. A spreadsheet, for goodness’ sake. Is that characteristic of a man who doesn’t care?”

“I live for spreadsheets. Logic and organization are what I do. Don’t read anything into it.”

“No? Isn’t there the tiniest possibility that you’re here to reestablish a relationship with your grandfather?”

He huffed out a breath. “Nope.”

“Really?” She studied him. “There’s not even a slight chance that you might need family after all?”

“I don’t need anything from anyone, especially my grandfather.”

“Okay.” She finished off the other piece of toast, admitting to herself she felt better after eating.

“I’m only here because I’m between consulting jobs and have some time on my hands. And you called.”

Max rested his elbows on the counter and leaned forward, observing her without a word. He’d wondered if his attraction to Ashley would evaporate. He got his answer when his gaze zeroed in on her, focusing on her mouth, the full softness of her lower lip and the tantalizing curves of the upper. Intensity simmered through him along with a heat that couldn’t be explained by the summer weather. It picked up speed and power as it ricocheted through him like a fireball. He wanted to kiss her. Throw caution to the wind and give into temptation. See if she was as soft and tantalizing as she looked.

“How many square feet did you say these four walls encompass?” she asked.

He blinked and met her gaze. “I don’t believe I said. But if memory serves, about seven thousand.”

“Not enough,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“I said time’s up.” She rested her fork on the empty plate. “We have to get out there and find Mr. Caine.”

Footsteps, slow and heavy, sounded on the wood floor behind her. “I didn’t know I was lost.”

Max straightened and stared over Ashley’s head. His heart pounded as the years melted away and he became an uncertain boy facing his stern, unyielding guardian. Bentley Caine looked older, his face thinner and more creased than Max remembered. Had he shrunk? His memories were of a man as tall as a tree and twice as hard.

“Hello, Bentley,” he said, forcing a casual tone.

Ashley slid off her stool and hurried over to him. “Are you all right, Mr. Caine?”

“I’m fine,” he answered. “I’m surprised to see you, Max.”

“Are you?”

Max thought the old man’s voice was different. Time had stolen some of the vigor from his normally booming tones. His grandfather’s hair was pure white now, not the salt-and-pepper shade he remembered. Bentley Caine had aged. There was a time when Max had thought nothing could touch the tough old man, not even the hands of time. At least his blue eyes still snapped with attitude.

“Yes. I thought it would be a waste of Ashley’s time to call and ask you to come home.”

“Not home,” Max retorted. The old man had made it clear a decade ago this estate had never been his home. “I came back to town.”

Bentley walked across the room and stopped on the other side of the island. He smiled. “It’s good to see you, son.”

“I’m not your son.” He put his hands on his hips. “Where the hell have you been?”

“We’ve been so worried,” Ashley added.

Max didn’t look at her. “When I got to the hospital they told me you walked out.”

“That I did.” He sniffed. “Coffee smells good. Any left?”

Max poured him a cup and set it on the other side of the island where his grandfather had taken a seat.

The old man took a cautious sip of the steaming liquid. “Not as good as The Fast Lane, but it’ll do.” He smiled at Ashley, who stood beside him. “I stopped in there this morning and Sam Fisher said the two of you were looking for me yesterday. I came home as soon as I knew you were here.”

“Why did you leave the hospital?” Ashley rested an elbow on the island as she studied him.

“‘Angels of mercy’ my backside. They’re a bunch of damned idiots,” he grumbled. “Kept telling me to rest then woke me up every fifteen minutes to poke, prod, or pour something down my throat. How’s an old man supposed to get any rest under those conditions?”

“Where have you been?” Max demanded. “Why didn’t you come home?”

“Went to a hotel where no one could find me. I didn’t want to be bothered.” A gleam crept into his eyes. “Although if I’d known you were here…”

Ashley sat on the bar stool beside his grandfather’s. “I’m glad you’re all right, Mr. C. But the doctor said you have to take it easy.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Bentley said. “Got a company to run and folks depending on me. I have to get back to work before things fall apart.”

“You can’t,” she protested. “It’s against doctor’s orders. You need to take it easy and get your strength back.”

The gleam mutated into a crafty expression. “I’ll stay home.”

“Good,” Ashley said, smiling at him.

Max braced himself. Bentley Caine was a sly fox. He wasn’t the only one who’d kept up on news. Ashley had said the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree, but she was wrong. Max wasn’t anything like him.

Bentley took another sip of his coffee, then set the mug down. “I’ll take the time to rest before going back to work if my grandson will agree to run the business while I do.”

Max stiffened. That was a classic Bentley move—getting his way and looking like a saint. He should have seen it coming and blamed Ashley for his mental lapse. She’d fogged up his radar. His senses had blurred when he couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth and his mind wouldn’t let go of the urge to kiss her. In her orange and yellow sundress with skimpy straps and all that red hair, she reminded him of a firecracker waiting for the right spark to set it off.

Max had been off balance when his grandfather had walked in. The crafty devil had seen an opportunity and taken it. “Ten years ago you didn’t trust me to sweep the floors. Why would you want me to run the company now?”

“Because you’re a Caine.”

“I was a Caine when you accused me of stealing the family chocolate recipe and selling it to our competitors.”

Ashley’s gasp of surprise told him she hadn’t known the whole story. But he tore his gaze from her surprised face and looked at the old man. Hurt, disillusionment and anger crashed over Max like waves egged on by a storm. He hated that it felt too much as it had ten years ago.

Bentley sighed and shook his head. “By the time I found out who actually stole the formula, you’d left town.”

“Why didn’t you go see Max?” Ashley asked.

“It wouldn’t have done any good.” He smiled wanly, looking every one of his seventy-two years. “But now you’re back. We can—”

Max slammed his palm on the counter and savored the stinging that reverberated all the way up his arm to his shoulder. “There is no we. And I need to get my head examined for coming back here. If you’d been in the hospital like a normal cardiac patient, I’d have paid my respects and been on the first plane back to California. That was the plan. But you had to disappear.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Now that I’ve seen you, I can go back to the original plan. I’m going to catch the next plane out.”

“What will it take to get you to stay?” the old man asked.

He was about to say nothing could make him change his mind. Then Max made the mistake of looking in Ashley’s direction. Pity was painted all over her face. He hated that. At the same time, all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms. What was that all about?

He was a success in his own right, in spite of the old man telling him he wouldn’t amount to anything. It had taught him not to turn the other cheek or give someone another shot. He remembered his grandfather saying never show weakness, never admit you’re wrong. Max wondered if that was why he’d come back, to hear Bentley Caine admit he’d made a mistake.

“How about an apology?” he said.

His grandfather sat up straighter and folded his arms over his chest. “I’ve said all I’m going to say.”

“Me too,” Max snapped.

He turned on his heel and walked to the front door, opened it and went outside. He jogged down the steps and stomped away from the house. Behind him he heard footsteps crunching on the cement drive and increased his pace.