Who Gets to Marry Max?
Page 5
She still wasn’t sure what had possessed her to agree to stay at the estate for the weekend. She should have known what prolonged exposure to the man was going to do to her. She’d slept poorly last night, and, as much as she’d like to believe her restless slumber owed itself to the strange bed, she knew better. She’d been consumed with thoughts of the way Max had looked at her when he’d delivered that final announcement in his office. “I’m counting on it,” he’d said, and her stomach had started dancing the Macarena.
The odd feeling had continued through the evening’s festivities, and left her feeling unsettled when Greg Loden had cornered her near a secluded area of the terrace.
“Sidney,” he’d said, his voice a little too controlled. “How are you?”
She had searched his expression for signs of inebriation, but other than unnaturally bright eyes, he seemed in control. “I’m fine, Mr. Loden. How are you?”
With his elegantly casual shrug, the one she’d long ago summed up as his philosophy on life, he’d explained that Max was annoyed that he’d continued to drag his feet on his engagement to Lauren Fitzwater. “You know Max,” Greg had told her, “he thinks what’s good for business is good for the family.”
Sidney frowned. “You don’t think your brother is pushing you simply because he wants the business merger with Fitzwater, do you?”
“No. He’s pushing me because he thinks Lauren can have a positive influence on my more, er, autarkic tendencies.”
“Is that a nice way of saying libertine?”
To her relief, he had laughed, and the strange tension shattered. “No, it’s a Harvard economics major’s way of saying I enjoy the benefits of being a Loden without bearing much of the responsibility.” He shrugged again. “Max likes running the business. He wouldn’t consider relinquishing control to any of us.”
Thoughtfully, Sidney studied Greg’s handsome features. “Have you asked him?”
Greg shook his head as he finished his glass of champagne. “No need. What Max wants is to see all of us safely settled in nice, stable marriages. Natalie and Colleen succumbed without a fight. I like to give Max a challenge every now and then.” He leaned closer to her and dropped his voice several decibels. “It builds character, you know?” He’d raised his hand, then, to cup her shoulder. “And speaking of characters, why have you been hiding from us, Sidney? I miss having you around here.”
His fingers slid over the fabric of her jacket. Sidney took a careful step away. “I work for a living, Greg.”
His amused laugh carried on the night breeze. “Unlike me, you mean?”
She shook her head. “No. I just mean that I have a lot of responsibilities with my business. I don’t have as much time to visit with Uncle Philip as I used to.”
Greg’s hazel eyes searched her face. “Do you have time for other things?”
She sensed the suggestive undertone in the question, and carefully headed it off. “Not really.” She set her water glass down with a decisive clink. “It’s been nice talking with you, Greg, but I think I should call it a night. The party’s winding down, and Max seems to think I might be needed early tomorrow morning. He’s probably right.”
“Ah, Max,” Greg said. “He’s always right, isn’t he?”
Sidney chose not to answer. “Good night, Greg.”
He had hesitated, then gave her a brief nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Now, as Sidney glanced around the pool deck, she carefully considered the note she’d received from Max that morning requesting her presence. How much, she had to wonder, did he know about her conversation with his brother, and how much would he want to know? She pushed aside the unsettling thought and told herself, for the umpteenth time that morning, to get a grip. It wasn’t working. When she’d spoken to her uncle, he’d assured her that he was much better—so much better that he’d encouraged her not to make the trip out to see him that morning. Reluctantly, if not gracefully, Sidney had agreed.
Fool, fool, fool, she now thought as she looked at Max. She could have used the break, and the chance to think things over. Clad in black swim trunks, he looked—she searched for the word Kelly had used the night before—dishy. That was it. Kelly had informed her that Max’s advertising gurus used the word to describe the Max doll and his supposed effect on the female doll population. At the time, Sidney had thought the word a corny advertising gimmick. Now, she merely found it inadequate.
Max Loden wasn’t merely dishy, he was devastating. Well, he was devastating her, anyway. Except for the barely veiled looks of Constance Barlow, the same woman Sidney had observed clinging to Max’s arm during last night’s party, no one else at poolside seemed to realize they were in the presence of Adonis.
Suddenly, as if he sensed her scrutiny, Max turned to meet her gaze. Embarrassed that he’d caught her watching him, she struggled not to look away. He watched her for long seconds, then tilted his head in an invitation to join him.
Sidney glanced around the deck once more, before she threaded her way through the clutter of lounge chairs to stand near Max’s shoulder. “Did you need something?” she asked him.
“Watch me, Uncle Max,” his seven-year-old niece urged.
“I’m watching, Bailey,” he assured her. He remained steadily focused as the child bent nearly in two, then tumbled into the water. She surfaced with a broad grin. “Did I get it right?”
Max nodded. “Absolutely. You can work on keeping your feet pointed if you want to go in with less splash. Otherwise, it’s perfect.”
“Does splash count?”
“Only in the Olympics.”
“Good divers don’t splash?”
Max shook his head. “Nope.”
“Okay. I’ll try.” Bailey swam toward him. “But can I try the diving board even if I splash?”
“You have to ask your mother.”
Bailey frowned. “She won’t let me.”
Max plucked her from the pool and seated her on the deck next to him. “I’ll tell her I taught you how to dive. Then you can ask her.”
He earned a toothless grin. “Thanks, Uncle Max.” The child turned inquisitive eyes to Sidney. “Who is that lady?”
Max still didn’t look at her. “A friend of mine.”
“A good friend?”
He paused. “Yes.”
Bailey studied her. “I’m Bailey.”
Sidney smiled. “I’m Sidney.”
Bailey watched her with open curiosity. “How come you aren’t wearing a swimsuit?”
“Because I’m not here to swim. I’m here to work.”
“Oh. Like Uncle Max.”
“He’s swimming,” Sidney pointed out.
Bailey jumped up and reached for a towel. “Only for me. He promised to teach me how to dive so I could use the diving board. He woulda worked instead if he hadn’t promised.”
As Bailey vigorously dried her mop of red curls, Max finally turned to look at Sidney. His eyes gleamed in the morning light—like a predator’s, she thought. “Good morning,” he said quietly.
“Good morning.” She plucked a piece of paper from her trouser pocket. “I got your note. You wanted to see me about something?”
“It wasn’t a summons.”
“It sounded like it.”
Max frowned. “I didn’t mean—”
“Uncle Max?” Bailey tapped him on the shoulder.
His frown deepened before he looked at his niece. “What, Sprout?”
“When are you gonna tell Mama?”
“This morning.”
Bailey’s gaze slid to Sidney. “Promise?”
“I promise,” he said.
“You might get distracted.”
Max rolled his eyes. “I will not get distracted.”
Bailey continued looking at Sidney. “Uncle Greg would.”
“I’m not your uncle Greg.”
“No.” Bailey shook her head, then shrugged. “I want to dive off the board this afternoon. I told Kristina we would.”
“Okay.”
“Now say goodbye.”
Bailey grinned at Sidney. “Nice to meet you, Sidney.”
Max ruffled her curls. “It’s Miss Grant.”
“But she said—”
“It’s Miss Grant.”
Sidney held up a hand, “Max, really—”
He shook his head. “Bailey?”
Bailey capitulated. “Nice to meet you, Miss Grant.”
Max and Sidney watched as the child hurried off across the deck. “She’s a great kid,” Sidney said.
“Natalie is a great mother.” Max pinned her with his gaze. “How was your night?”
The question couldn’t possibly be as provocative as it sounded. “Fine. You?”
He shrugged, then surged to his feet. Sidney forced herself not to take a step backward as he stood dripping and imposing above her. “It was fine. I wanted to ask you about your plans for this evening. Can you take a break?”
She visually scanned the deck. “Everything seems to be under control. Your guests are apparently content. Except maybe Mr. Lort. He looks a little the worse for wear.”
His mouth twitched at the corner. “Yeah, well, if I’d spent the night with Alice Northrup-Bowles, I’d look that way, too.”
Sidney ruthlessly pushed aside an image of Constance Barlow, wearing a sparkling designer dress, clinging to Max’s tuxedo-clad arm, looking like a “do” example in Town and Country Magazine.
Max snatched a towel from a nearby lounge chair, then slung it casually around his shoulders. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “Let me change, and I’ll meet you in my office in five minutes. Will that be okay?”
She deliberately ignored the warning bells in her head. More time alone with Max. Great. At this rate, she’d be a basket case by noon. The man raised her body heat into the red zone. “That’ll be fine.”
AS SIDNEY waited for Max to join her in his third-story office, she replayed her conversation with Greg Loden in her head. She couldn’t put her finger on why the incident had disturbed her so much. Philip had told her, often and in detail, the stories of Greg’s misdeeds. It seemed Max was constantly bailing him out of one scrape or another. Generally, the younger Loden brother stayed out of serious trouble. To her knowledge, he’d had no encounters with the law. He’d managed to dredge up some negative publicity a time or two—generally related to his affinity for fast women and fast cars—but, according to Philip, Greg Loden was a decent enough character who lacked any serious direction in life.
Lauren Fitzwater, on the other hand, came from old money and an even older family tradition. Since Greg had begun dating her, he’d calmed down considerably, and it was certainly easy to see why Max felt the relationship was good for his younger brother. Still, the tension between the two men bothered Sidney for reasons she didn’t begin to understand. Worse, she felt somehow trapped in the middle.
“Good morning.” Max strode into the room wearing khaki trousers and a denim shirt that somehow looked elegant. Philip’s scrupulous care of his wardrobe, no doubt. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”
Sidney shook her head. “No problem. You’re the boss.”
He frowned at her as he seated himself behind his desk. “I wish you’d quit saying that.”
She blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“I don’t consider you my employee, you know. I consider you—” he paused, “my partner.”
Her stomach started its lurching rhythm again. “I see.”
“I doubt it.” He shook his head. “I’ll explain later. Right now, I want to talk to you about tonight. Greg is waffling.”
She blinked at the rapid change in topic. “What?”
“I spoke with him this morning. He’s having second thoughts about his engagement to Lauren.”
Sidney considered the information relative to last night’s conversation. “He’s an adult, Max. He can make his own choices.”
“He needs her.”
“Max….” She hesitated. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe Greg needs some purpose in his life?”
“Of course. That’s why I want him to marry Lauren. She’s good for him. She’s stable.”
“And she’s Edward Fitzwater’s daughter.”
“What the hell does that mean?” His voice had dropped to a deceptively quiet level.
“Are you absolutely certain that Lauren’s, ah, familial credentials don’t have something to do with why you’re pushing Greg so hard?”
He bit off a curse. “That was a rotten thing to say, Sidney. You may not have the highest opinion of me, but what kind of bastard do you think I am?”
His vehemence took her back. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
He ignored her. “It’s got nothing to do with Edward Fitzwater. The man would be a fool to merge with anyone else. He dotes on Lauren, it’s true, and her engagement to Greg will make the deal easier for him to swallow, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. He’s overfinanced and undercapitalized. If he doesn’t merge with me, then someone else will take him over. He left himself vulnerable to this.”
“And the vultures are circling?”
“Yes.”
“Then if the merger is a foregone conclusion, why push so hard for the engagement?”
“I told you. Greg needs Lauren. It’s that simple.”
With a sad smile, Sidney leaned forward in her chair to place a hand on his desk. “There’s nothing simple about relationships, Max.”
He looked down at her hand, stared at it for long seconds. She sensed a struggle in him. “No, I don’t suppose there is.”
“If you push Greg into a corner, he’ll fight you.”
He visibly tensed. “If he does, I’ll win.”
“Probably. But if the price is alienating your brother, is it worth it?”
“It’s the right thing for Greg’s future. In time, he’ll understand that.”
“Max—”
He surged out of his chair, rounded the desk, and towered over her. She had to tilt her head back to hold his gaze. His expression looked harder than usual. “I realize this probably sounds ruthless to you, but I’ve spent my life taking care of my family.” He raked a hand over his face. “Sometimes, that means I have to decide what I think is best and make sure it happens. And I’m good at it.”
“And do you always get what you want?”
He studied her for long seconds, that same unnerving gleam in his eyes. Then he carefully took her hand in his larger one. In less than a millisecond, the center of his focus had shifted from his brother’s engagement to rest squarely on her. She sensed it as surely as she had sensed the tension thrumming through him last night. “As of today,” he said quietly, “I’m batting a thousand.”
Having the full force of that indomitable concentration directed at her sent goosebumps skittering along her flesh. Anticipatory goosebumps, she realized as she forced herself not to look away. “Max, I—”
He turned her hand to study her palm. “In fact, I think we should just clear this up right now. It’s been on my mind since last night.”
“It has?”
He nodded. “Very much so. And unless I’m completely off my game, you’ve been thinking about it too.”
“We’re not talking about Greg and Lauren anymore. Are we?”
“No.”
Sidney shivered. “I didn’t think so.”
“I’ve been told that I lack a certain, ah, finesse in situations like this.”
“Really?”
“Yes. But it’s like a business venture—once I know what I want, I don’t see any point in hedging about it.”
“Wastes time.”
“Precisely.” His fingers tightened on her hand. “So do you know why I really asked you to stay out at the estate for the weekend?”
Her brain short-circuited. He didn’t give her a chance to recover. “I want you, Sidney.”<
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The soft declaration made her ears ring. Her fingers quivered in his warm grasp.
“And you want me.”
Sidney pulled in a ragged breath. “Max—”
He squeezed her hand. “Don’t you?”
“I—”
“Look, I’m not trying to rush you. I know small talk generally eludes me.”
“You could say that.”
“I wouldn’t have told you last night—I should have told you last night, but I was afraid you’d leave. I wanted you here. With me.”
Sidney concentrated on breathing normally. “It wouldn’t work. We’re too different.”
“I thought so, too.” He cast a swift glance at the door. “For a long time, I thought so. But I changed my mind.”
“If that gets out,” she managed to quip, “it could cause the value of the dollar to plunge in the foreign currency markets.”
His soft chuckle rumbled along her nerve endings. “You have an overinflated sense of my importance, I assure you.”
“As long as we’re laying our cards on the table, is this a good time for me to tell you that you scare me to death?”
His eyebrows rose. “I’d never hurt you, Sidney.”
“I know that. That’s not what I mean.”
“Explain it to me.”
She searched for words. “I guess—I don’t want to feel like another corporate takeover.”
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
She pulled her hand from his. “It’s hard to explain. After Carter—after my divorce—I swore I’d never do that to myself again.”
“Are you comparing me to your ex-husband?” His tone had turned flat—and sounded somehow more dangerous.
“No.” She shook her head. “No, you’re nothing like Carter. He was weak and selfish, and I was a fool to marry him.”
“Sidney—”
“Don’t say it,” she said with a slight smile. “There’s no point in arguing with me. What kind of idiot gets involved with a jerk like that?”