- -
- 100%
- +
Max eyed the waitress serving the couple at a table about ten feet from them. “My imagination isn’t equal to the task of thinking of someone like her in sexless terms,” he said.
Jessie turned to follow his gaze and found herself staring at a tall blonde wearing slim black pants that highlighted her long, slender legs and a white blouse that fitted snuggly over her well-developed breasts.
As Jessie watched, the woman turned slightly and aimed a dazzling white smile at the man at the next table. Not only was the woman built like a Playboy centerfold, but she was gorgeous, too.
“I see the problem.” Jessie tried to get a handle on her own feeling of inferiority in the face of such blatant feminine perfection.
“Is that what you envision your future wife looking like?” Jessie asked.
Max took a second look at the waitress, his eyes lingering on the sexy pout of her collagen-enhanced lips. He tried to imagine her holding a wiggling toddler in her arms and failed utterly. She’d probably be too afraid the kid would mess up her hair. Even worse, she’d undoubtedly object to spoiling her figure by having a baby in the first place.
“Not particularly,” he said. “Besides, beautiful women tend to be very high maintenance. Over the long haul that would get real old real fast. And marriage is for the long haul.”
“You wouldn’t know it to look at the divorce statistics these days. Half of all marriages fail.”
Max studied the somber shadows in her eyes, wondering what had put them there. Could she have been married herself and gone through a messy divorce?
“Look at the bright side. That means that half of all marriages are a success,” he said.
Jessie grinned at him, and Max had the oddest feeling that he’d just stepped out of the shadows into brilliant sunlight.
“Let me guess,” she said. “You’re one of those people who see the glass half full instead of half empty?”
“No, I’m one of those people who immediately starts negotiating for water rights so I don’t have to worry.”
Jessie’s grin dissolved into a chuckle. “Practicality is so much more appealing.”
“Not to everyone,” he muttered, remembering his last girlfriend’s numerous complaints about his lack of romantic gestures. “Some women infinitely prefer the romantic approach.”
“But what’s romantic varies depending on whom you’re talking to. Personally, I think a man who can provide the necessities of life is very romantic, but then, I’m willing to admit that I have a practical bent of mind. You just need to find a woman who thinks like you do.”
“You don’t believe in opposites attracting?” Max asked.
Pain speared through her as she remembered her mother’s many lovers. “Take it from one who has been there, it’s much too risky. Offbeat habits that seem endearing at the beginning can become major stumbling blocks later on.”
“I’ll have the Dijon chicken with a tossed salad, house dressing on the side, and a glass of white wine,” Jessie said, changing the subject as the waitress approached their table.
Surreptitiously Jessie studied the waitress’s perfect features, searching for a flaw. She couldn’t find one. If anything the woman looked better up close than she did from a distance.
Jessie tensed as the woman addressed Max by name.
“I’m so honored to meet you, Mr. Sheridan.” The woman gave him an adoring look that made Jessie want to gag. “I’ve seen your picture in the paper many times, but I never thought I’d get to meet you in person.” She gave a throaty laugh that Jessie would have been willing to bet she practiced three times a day in front of a mirror.
Jessie ignored such blatant behavior in favor of watching how Max responded to the woman. To her surprise he didn’t react. At least, not outwardly. He simply nodded as if to acknowledge her words, and proceeded to order.
Undaunted by his reserved manner, the waitress continued to flirt with him. Almost as if she couldn’t believe that he wasn’t captivated by her looks.
When she finally left, Jessie said, “Well done.”
He shot her a sharp glance and said, “What do you mean?”
“I mean how you resisted the impulse to respond to her blatant come-on while with another woman, even if that woman is simply a business colleague.”
Max’s smile held a cynical edge that chilled Jessie. “It wasn’t hard. She wasn’t flirting with me. She was flirting with my money.”
Jessie frowned. “What makes you say that?”
“She knew my name,” he said flatly. “In my position you learn to recognize the obvious hangers-on. It saves a lot of trouble in the long run.”
“I guess. So how do you tell if someone likes you for yourself?”
“I don’t. That’s why I need you to listen in on my prospective wife’s conversations for me. Hopefully, your input will give me a better idea of what a woman really thinks about me.”
The bleak expression that suddenly darkened his eyes to navy tore at her heart. For a second he had looked so alone. So terribly alone. As if he didn’t have a friend in the world. Which was ridiculous, she told herself. Max was a fascinating man. He probably had lots of friends, and despite what he obviously believed, she didn’t have the slightest doubt that he’d attract women in droves even if he didn’t have a dime to his name. He’d simply attract a different type of woman. Women who, in her opinion, were probably worth a whole lot more than the fortune hunters after him now.
She leaned back in the seat as the young man who’d been tending bar brought them their drinks, gave them a harried smile and hurried back to the bar.
Jessie sipped the excellent white wine and then asked, “What about religion?”
Max eyed her narrowly. “You can’t be a religious fanatic, because you’re drinking alcohol.”
“My religious beliefs are irrelevant. Yours aren’t. Do you have any religious requirements in a wife?”
Max thought about it for a moment and then said, “No specific requirements, but children need the stability of going to church on Sunday.”
“No, children need the stability to being taken to church on Sunday,” Jessie corrected him. “What’s more, if you’re going to join a church, you’d better be prepared to live up to the teaching of whatever denomination you choose, because nothing will mess kids up quicker than being exposed to hypocrisy.”
Max blinked at her acerbic tone. “That caveat sounds very personal. What happened? Did your parents let you down?”
“No,” Jessie said, telling herself that it wasn’t exactly a lie. Her mother’s behavior had been absolutely predictable. She’d make promise after promise. Big promises such as she’d quit drinking, and little promises such as she’d come to Jessie’s school’s open house. And her mother had broken every one of them. Without fail.
To Jessie’s relief the waitress arrived with their salads, distracting Max. She was going to have to be careful to keep a tight rein on her responses, she realized. Max was a very astute man. She didn’t want him curious about her background. If he were to find out just how bad it was, he might decide she wasn’t the right person for the job of steering him through the tricky shoals of his courtship. A feeling of panic swelled in her at the thought of Max firing her. But only because she really wanted the bonus he’d promised, she assured herself. To say nothing of the fact that she was looking forward to making some very useful business contacts. The social circles Max was going to take her into should be teeming with potential clients.
As Jessie ate, she surreptitiously watched Max. To her relief, he had perfect table manners. She wouldn’t have to teach him the basics like she tended to have to do with a lot of the new college hires in her workshops.
“What’s the verdict?” Max asked as he set his napkin down.
“Verdict?” Jessie repeated.
“You’ve been watching me like a hawk through the entire meal. Did I pass muster?”
“Yes.” Jessie saw no reason to lie about what she’d been doing. “Have you attended many formal dinners?”
“No. I avoid them like the plague.”
“Then you probably haven’t been exposed to things like fish forks and the like. We’ll go over fancy place settings and exotic silverware to make sure you have them down pat before you get in too deep with the country-club set.”
“We,” he corrected. “Don’t forget, you’re coming along as my on-scene consultant.”
Jessie felt an odd mixture of anticipation and foreboding swirl through her. “I haven’t forgotten,” she said.
“Do you want dessert?” he asked.
“No, thanks. We don’t have time. Since one of the things I stress to the kids is the absolute necessity of being on time for a job, it would hardly look good if I were to show up late.”
“All right.” Max pulled his pager out of his pocket, pushed the button and then gestured toward the waitress, who was keeping them under surveillance.
The woman arrived at their table so fast it was a wonder she didn’t leave skid marks on the floor, Jessie thought acidly.
“May I have the check?” Max asked her.
“Certainly, Mr. Sheridan.” With a sultry smile the woman handed him a small leather folder containing the bill and left.
Max opened it, looked it over and then dropped several bills on it.
Jessie’s eyes narrowed as she noticed the white piece of paper on the side opposite the bill. It appeared to have a name and phone number written on it. The waitress’s? A flash of rage sizzled through Jessie. How dare that blasted woman try to pick up Max while he was with another woman?
“Coming?” Max said as he got to his feet, trying not to let his annoyance show at the way Jessie kept retreating into her thoughts.
Jessie hurriedly got to her feet and followed him out of the restaurant, inordinately glad that he had left the paper with the waitress’s name and number on the table.
Fred and the Mercedes were double-parked at the curb, and Jessie quickly climbed into the backseat.
“Evening, Fred,” she greeted the taciturn driver.
“Evening, Ms.,” he said absently as his eyes continuously swept the area around the car.
“I feel like someone should yell lights, camera, action,” she muttered.
“Fred takes security very seriously,” Max said.
“Damn right I do,” Fred said flatly as he pulled out into traffic. “Where to?”
“Jessie?”
Jessie gave him the address of the youth club.
“Not the best neighborhood,” Fred said in obvious disapproval.
“Not the worst, either,” Jessie said.
“We’ll be fine, Fred,” Max said. “Don’t worry.”
Jessie shot a quick look at Max out of the corner of her eye, her gaze lingering on the firm line of his lips, and longing welled through her.
Max might be fine, but she was beginning to have serious doubts about herself.
Chapter Three
“If I had money, I sure as hell wouldn’t want no job.”
“I see.” Max studied the short, thin teenager sprawled in the chair in front of him.
“And I tell you, man, it ain’t all that much money to start with.” Luis shoved his fingers through his overlong black hair. “Nobody pays much over the minimum.”
“Somehow, I’m not surprised,” Max said dryly.
He glanced over his shoulder at Jessie, who was sitting in the back of the room, watching the interview with a serene expression. She gave him an encouraging smile that inexplicably warmed him.
“Luis,” Jessie said, “you should never, ever tell a prospective employer that you only want a job for the money.”
Luis gave her a disbelieving look. “Nobody’s dumb enough to believe that I’m working for the fun of it, Jessie.”
“I know, but it’s just one of those things that you don’t say,” she continued with the same unflagging patience she’d shown all evening.
She’d make a great mother, Max thought idly. She’d never lose her air of calm competence no matter how annoying her kids got. Her kids wouldn’t have to learn to duck flying fists the way he had.
“It’s like when your girlfriend asks you if you think she’s gained weight,” Jessie said. “You wouldn’t be stupid enough to say yes, would you, even if it’s obvious she has?”
Luis scowled as he considered her words. “Guess not,” he muttered. Clearly it was a comparison he could relate to.
“If I ain’t supposed to tell the truth, Jessie, what kind of lie do I tell ’em?” Luis finally asked.
“Whatever half-truth works to get your foot in the door,” Max said.
“Max Sheridan!” Jessie yelped. “You can’t tell him that.”
“Wrong. I not only can, I just did.”
“But that’s dishonest,” she said.
“No, that’s the way the game is played. The only caveat, and it’s an important one, is never claim to be able to do something you can’t do or to have credentials you don’t have. Sooner or later an outright lie will trip you out, and then your credibility will be in the toilet.”
“I do whatever I gotta,” Luis said.
“Why do you want a job so much?” Max asked, and then wished he hadn’t. He most definitely didn’t want to get any more involved with Jessie’s strays. He’d already wasted most of an evening when he could have been focusing on his own concerns. He stole a quick sideways glance at Jessie to find her studying Luis with a worried expression on her face. Max frowned. He didn’t want her thinking about anything but finding him a wife.
“To buy food. My ma was operated on ’cause a couple of her arteries was blocked, but she can’t go back to work for months yet. The company she works for says she’s gotta be outta work for six months before she can get disability, and the government takes months and months to get welfare. And what’s m’little brothers supposed to eat till then….” Luis gulped as if trying to slow down the torrent of words pouring out of him. “I went to the food pantry over at the church, and they gave me some stuff, but they said they ain’t got enough for everybody who needs it. What they did give me ain’t nothing like what that nurse said Ma was supposed to be eating.”
Max winced as he saw the stark fear that momentarily peeped out from behind Luis’s tough-guy facade. He didn’t bother to ask where Luis’s father was. He knew the statistics.
For a moment Max remembered how he’d felt at seventeen, scared and defiant with no place to go and no one to turn to for help. But at least he hadn’t been responsible for anyone else.
“Then my friend Stuts told me ’bout how Jessie was having this thing tonight, so I came.”
“What kind of skills do you have?” Max asked.
“Whatcha mean?”
“What can you do that an employer would be willing to pay you money for?” Max rephrased.
“I do anything. Ain’t particular. Just don’t want to get caught,” Luis said.
“Come by my office first thing tomorrow morning and we’ll fix you up with something.” Max heard the words emerge from his mouth with a feeling of disbelief.
“Really, man?” Luis eyed him with hope heavily tinged with suspicion.
“Really.” Max squashed his doubts with a monumental effort. Hiring one of Jessie’s social misfits wouldn’t be that big a deal, he told himself. Human Resources would find him something to do in a quiet corner, and Max would never hear from or about him again.
Max reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet. He took out a business card, jotted a note to his Human Resources manager on it and then handed it and a folded hundred-dollar bill to Luis.
“The money is an advance on your salary,” Max told him. “It will be deducted from your first paycheck. Take the card to Human Resources, and they’ll find you a job.”
Luis snatched up the card and the bill almost as if he was afraid that Max might try to take it back. Jumping to his feet, he backed toward the door. “Thanks, man. Thanks, Jessie.” He ducked his head as if embarrassed and then bolted through the door.
“Why did you do that?” she asked uncertainly. “You didn’t offer a job to the other kids you interviewed and without a doubt, Luis is the most hopeless one of the lot.”
“Maybe he’s got hidden qualities.” Max rubbed the back of his neck, not wanting to admit that he’d done it because, for an instant, he’d seen his own youthful self in Luis’s panicked eyes. If Jessie thought he was a soft touch, she’d be after him to employ more of her lame ducks.
He watched as Jessie headed to the desk in the front of the room to get her notes. She had the most graceful walk, he thought. As if she were moving to music that only she could hear.
“How often do you volunteer down here?” he asked, using words to try to quell his instinctive reaction to her. “Most of the kids seem to know you by name.”
“I’m here three to four times a week. Mostly I tutor in the after-school program for the younger kids. There’s never enough money to pay for staff.
“Tell me, where do you visualize Luis fitting into your organization?” she asked.
“Fortunately, that’s not my problem. It’s for Human Resources. But I’m warning you right now, whether or not he keeps the job is up to him.”
Jessie grimaced. “I hope Luis is up to the challenge. He doesn’t have much experience to call on, and he certainly doesn’t have any role models at home.”
“If Luis wants to keep the job, he’ll learn fast. If he doesn’t, he won’t, and he’ll be history,” Max said flatly. “I’m willing to give him a hand up, but I won’t give him a handout.”
Jessie studied Max’s eyes, looking for signs of softness, but she couldn’t find any. He appeared to mean exactly what he said. But he had given Luis that hundred-dollar bill, and he had to know that there was a good chance he’d never see either Luis or his hundred dollars again. So Max couldn’t be as hard as he was trying to appear. He had to have a softer side. He just kept it very well hidden.
“Are we done here?” Max’s voice broke into her thoughts.
“Yes. Luis was the last.”
Pulling his pager out of his pocket, Max summoned Fred and then took her arm, steering her toward the center’s front entrance.
Jessie felt the warmth from his fingers through the thin material of the jacket she was wearing, and she shivered. What was it about this man’s touch that affected her so? she wondered uneasily.
“What time should I pick you up tomorrow morning?” Max’s deep voice broke into her muddled thoughts.
“Tomorrow?” she repeated blankly.
Max looked down into her confused features, feeling a flash of annoyance at her preoccupied expression. For what he was paying her she would damn well keep her attention firmly focused on him.
“We’re scheduled to acquire my casual wardrobe and then to inspect the townhouse I own.”
“That’s right. The one you don’t know the address of.”
“Didn’t. My lawyer sent a key and the location over to my office late this afternoon.”
“Good,” Jessie said. “Where shall I meet you?”
“I’ll pick you up at your apartment. Say, ten o’clock?”
“Ten is fine,” Jessie said as she followed him out of the youth center. By tomorrow she should have regained her sense of equilibrium and would be able to view Max Sheridan as just one more client. At least, she certainly hoped so.
Jessie’s first sight of Max as she emerged from her apartment building the following morning shattered her hopes. He was wearing a pair of worn black jeans that molded his flat hips and muscular thighs like a second skin. After one covetous glance that sent her body temperature skyrocketing, Jessie jerked her gaze up past the black T-shirt stretched across his broad chest to land on his face.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.