Kitabı oku: «Flirting With the Boss», sayfa 2

She dragged a finger through the condensation on her water glass, then met his gaze. “And I’m concerned about my family.”

“What about them?”

“My mother and sister work at Caine Chocolate.”

“Are they in management, too?”

She shook her head. “A college degree is a requirement, and I’m the first in the family to get one. Your grandfather created the position of manager of specialty and seasonal items just for me. He told me the idea came to him out of the blue on my birthday—” She stopped because she was blathering like an idiot.

“When?” Max asked.

“On my birthday. It’s February twenty-ninth.”

“Leap year?”

She nodded. “Jordan and Rachel, my two best friends, were born the same day. Because of the unusual date, our families kept in touch. Since we only have a birthday once every four years, we celebrate together. This year it was in New Orleans.”

“And that’s when my grandfather came up with the idea?”

“Yes,” she said, an odd feeling raising goose bumps on her arms. That was the night they’d recovered the tacky brass lamp, à la Aladdin. The grateful shop owner dressed like a gypsy, had insisted they each rub the lamp and make a wish. Hers had been money and power—not that she was going to share that with Max. He’d think she was crazy.

“Mr. Caine waited to announce my promotion until I had my degree in my hot little hand.” Had her wish been granted with the promotion? No, that was too weird.

Max looked at her. “After doing the math, it occurs to me that it took you a while to get that important piece of paper. I know you’re brighter than the average bear. I have to ask—what took you so long?”

“I had to work full time to pay for college and help out at home. That tends to slow down the process. But I’m determined to make up for lost time.”

“Well your promotion is a good start.” He took a sip of beer. “But I always suspected you were determined enough to take over the world.”

There would never be a better time to ask. “Are you back to take over the company for your grandfather?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Obviously he isn’t getting any younger. His health is fragile. You haven’t been back until now. I just wondered if—”

“The buzzards were circling?” he interrupted, a muscle contracting in his cheek.

“Actually—yes.”

“No.” He met her gaze. “I don’t want or need Caine Chocolate. You have more ties to the company than me. In fact, I could ask you the same thing. Do you have your eye on taking it over?”

“There are a lot of people more qualified than me.”

“But you’re the one who’s making up for lost time.” His eyes narrowed.

“If the opportunity presented itself, I wouldn’t turn it down. But I respect the fact that it’s a family-owned company. If you want to fill in some blanks, there’s one.”

“Okay. But I don’t understand why you’re so hostile.”

It was too much to hope he hadn’t noticed. Normally, she was able to hide her feelings. In fact, she was feeling bad about all the one-liners she’d lobbed his way. And why had she done it? A lot of years had passed since they’d talked and she’d developed a crush on him. Was that enough reason for her grudge? Was she that weird?

Or was it because he’d been her first crush? As hard as she’d tried, she hadn’t been able to forget him, probably because he had been her first. So to speak. The second time she’d let herself care about a man, her bad choice had made her life more difficult than it had to be. But Max had been her first personal experience in the curse of the Gallagher women. He was the first to show her men leave.

And it didn’t bother her anymore that he’d left her. It was the cavalier way he’d completely turned his back on his grandfather that fried her grits. “You think I’m hostile?”

“Come on, Ash. I’m a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.”

“Okay. You want to know why? I’ll tell you. It’s your behavior.”

“Excuse me, but I haven’t seen you for ten years. What do you know about my behavior?”

“I know you walked away without looking back.”

“Has anyone ever told you there are two sides to every story?”

“I’m aware of that. Let me point out that adversity doesn’t build character, it reveals it. Your behavior revealed that when there’s a bump in the road, you’re the kind of person who walks away and never comes back. Instead of trying to work things out.”

“There was nothing to work out.”

Anger ballooned inside her. “If that’s true, why did he hire a detective to find you? Why did he follow your career and save every scrap of information he came across about you?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

“No, I don’t. Because actions speak louder than words,” she said. “The way he repeatedly contacted you about coming back. How profoundly hurt he was when you ignored his seventieth birthday party. He knew you received the invitation, by the way.”

“I was working.”

“That’s not good enough. And you didn’t bother to RSVP. You didn’t even contact him and lie about why you wouldn’t be there. You just ignored him.”

He folded his arms over his chest. “Did it ever occur to you it was kinder that way?”

“No,” she said, and her voice shook.

His gaze narrowed as he studied her. “Are we only talking about the fact that I haven’t been back to see my grandfather?”

“Not entirely.” Not if she was honest.

“Okay. Then you need to give me a little more information.”

“How about the fact that you stood me up?”

“What?” He frowned. “When?”

Oh, swell. He didn’t even remember. Could this get worse? “Never mind. It’s not important. Let’s drop it.”

“Let’s not. You’re ticked off about something. Put it all on the table so I can defend myself.”

She took a deep breath. “Before you left town, I was grounded for a month. The deal was I went from summer school to the chocolate factory so my mother could keep an eye on me while she was at work.”

“I remember.”

“You went out of your way to talk to me. Every day at lunch.” The anticipation of seeing him had been the main reason she’d gotten up every morning during that time. “You even promised me a post-punishment meal, somewhere other than the company cafeteria.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.” Why hadn’t she just agreed that her hostility was all about his grandfather? In this case, honesty was not the best policy. “We had a date…I mean we’d agreed on a place and time to meet. You didn’t show up. A couple days later it was all over town that you’d left.”

He leaned toward her and rested his forearms on the table. “It slipped my mind. I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” Sorry that the memory could still bother her even a little.

“Did it ever occur to you that I might have had a good reason for leaving?”

“No. I was fourteen.”

“And now you’re twenty-four. A grown-up. Isn’t it possible something came up that took precedence over the plans I made with you?”

She looked at him, remembering. She’d waited hours on her front porch for him to pick her up as promised. Every time the phone had rung, she’d raced inside to see if it was him. But it never was. What was so important that he couldn’t even call to let her know he wouldn’t be there? It took a long time for her to grow up enough to see that she’d been nothing but a sappy dreamer, and he’d duped the dope. And now it didn’t matter.

“Sure, it’s possible,” she said.

“Your sincerity is underwhelming.” A muscle contracted in his jaw. “So I have to conclude that either you blow things out of all reasonable proportion. Or—”

She knew she was going to regret asking. “Or what?”

“I’m paying for what another guy did to you. Just a shot in the dark,” he said shrugging.

And that was another shot too darn close to the mark, she thought. “You’re not paying for anything. Speaking of which,” she said, “what do I owe you for dinner?”

He put a credit card on the check and signaled the waiter. “Nothing. Better late than never. Consider it your post-punishment meal.”

“Thank you.” She stood up. “I have to go now.”

She walked through the restaurant not much caring whether or not he followed. It was irritating to realize he could be right. Her animosity just might be out of proportion to his crime. Her inner child could be throwing an unwarranted melodramatic tantrum. So the best solution was to give her inner child a timeout.

She drew in a deep cleansing breath when the evening air hit her. The sun had set and a breeze cooled her cheeks. Behind her she heard the door to the restaurant whisper open. The hair at her nape prickled, and she knew Max stood there.

He stopped beside her, holding his suit jacket by one finger after slinging it over his shoulder. “I’ll take you back to your car.”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

When she reached out to open the car door, his hand brushed hers as he grabbed the handle and let her inside. Why did he have to be a gentleman? Worse, why did she have to feel warmth and that tingle from his slight touch?

She wanted him to be bad to the bone. She needed him to have a sleazy rap sheet she could add to. So far, all she had on him was standing her up, leaving without saying goodbye and ignoring his grandfather. That was unforgivable. She couldn’t understand why he’d rebuffed the older man’s attempts to patch up their relationship. And seeing the soul-deep hurt on the face of the kindly man who’d been like a father to her made her angry.

They drove in silence to the company parking lot and Ashley directed him to her small compact in the far corner. He stopped the BMW beside it.

“Ashley?”

She opened the door. “What?”

“Are you going to look for him?”

She didn’t need to ask who he meant. “Do you think it’s necessary?”

“I think the sheriff is probably right that he’ll turn up when he’s ready.”

“But?” she asked, feeling he had more to say.

“I’m action-oriented. If there’s a problem, I fix it.”

“So what are you saying?”

He raked a hand through his hair. “I guess I’m saying that it’s getting late. The professionals need to do their thing. But if there’s no news by morning, I’m going to look again on my own.”

She turned her head and met his gaze in the harsh overhead light. She thought she saw a flicker of something in the depths of his blue eyes. “You’re concerned about him, aren’t you?”

“Of course not.”

“You’re trying to pretend you don’t care.”

“That takes too much energy,” he denied. “After I see him, I’m gone. The sooner he’s found, the better.”

“Okay.” She slid out of the car, then rested her hand on the door to slam it. Hesitating, she caught her top lip between her teeth.

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” he said, stating the obvious.

“Yes it is. Why?”

“If you’re not doing anything, would you help me look for him?”

“Why?” she asked again.

“Because you know him. And I have a feeling you’re going to do it anyway. We could pool our resources. Two heads are better than one.” He smiled suddenly, and she felt the power of it all the way to her toes. “I’m staying at the estate.”

“Thanks for the breaking news.”

“If I don’t call to let you know he’s turned up, meet me there.”

Against her better judgment she said, “Okay.”

Chapter Three

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.

“Max, stop.”

Ashley hurried to catch up with him, and she wondered why she was bothering. Obviously he was behaving true to character. But she couldn’t forget the haunted look on Max’s face when he’d said he hadn’t come home, just back to town. And when he’d bristled at his grandfather calling him “son,” it reminded her that he’d lost his parents. She didn’t even want to think about how that would feel. And then he’d been exiled from the only family he had left. She couldn’t let him leave like this.

“Please stop, Max. My legs are really short and I can’t keep up.”

He didn’t even turn around so she increased her pace. Why couldn’t she just let him go? Was it because Max had been there for her during a rough spot in her life? Was that the reason she felt compelled to do something about the rift between the stubborn Caine men? Although she didn’t have a clue what that something might be, right now she just needed to make him stop. Because if Max left, she was sure he would never come back again. Later she would think about why the idea of that bothered her enough to send her racing after him like this.