by Kay Lyons
Silence. The older maid was usually near his grandmother, so Max set off to find the women somewhere in the six-thousand-square-foot home. A search of the second floor produced no one, and since the third-floor rooms were now guest rooms, he took the stairs to the lower level, thinking maybe they hadn't heard him let himself inside.
He moved through the house with purposeful strides, trying hard to distance himself from the anger and tension riding him. When he'd called to check on his grandmother, she'd mentioned her decision to sell items given to her by his grandfather over the years. The news had been such a shock that he'd changed the location of a business deal in the works to Wilmington and hopped a plane from New York. The move had angered his potential buyer because of the last-minute change in plans, but it couldn't be helped.
Someone had to check on his grandmother, and that someone was him unless he wanted to alert his family and potentially have his greedy relatives descending on her. He wanted to check things out first. See what had caused the sudden decision and if there was something he could do to help.
Max stalked to the back of the house. A sharp gasp drew his attention to a blond woman on the other side of the room… taking photos? "Who are you? What are you doing?"
She blinked at him, the hand that had flown to her chest in her fright from his arrival drawing his attention as he noted the lack of ring. He moved toward her, taking in a beautiful face and figure. "Give me that."
"What? No."
"Hand it over. Now."
"Will you just— Hey, hands off! Who are you?"
Max stopped and stared down into the woman's brown eyes, noting the flecks of gold and dark green in the unusual sienna-colored depths. He deftly plucked the phone from her hand and turned the screen to see it.
"That's mine!"
The last photo was a smudged image of her hand probably taken when he'd caught her snooping and startled her, but the ones before that were of his grandmother's things. So she was the one behind this mess? "What do you hope to gain from this?"
The woman crossed her arms over her ample front and tilted her head to one side. "Well, I suppose the goal is doing my job," she said, her tone laden with barely veiled sarcasm. "My name is Holland Cohen. Who are you and why—"
She attempted to snatch the phone from his hand but he held it out of her reach.
"—are you stealing my phone?"
"What job?"
"How about you answer my questions first? I told you my name. Do you have one?"
He narrowed his gaze on her even more. Did she really not recognize him? It wasn't a matter of vanity or ego, but there were few people who didn't these days. "Maximilian Bane. Violet is my grandmother."
"Oh."
She blinked but other than that she didn't show any signs of recognizing him as anything except a relative.
"Well, nice to meet you, I suppose. Now will you please give me my phone before you crush it?"
Her added I suppose drew a huff of laughter from him. For the first time, he realized he gripped her phone to the point of pain, the edges of the protective case digging into his fingers and hand like a knife. He relaxed his grip but didn't hand it over to her just yet. "You work for my grandmother?"
He knew what Nan had told him over the phone, but he wanted to get Holland Cohen's take on things since it was obvious his grandmother hadn't warned her of his potential arrival.
"Yes. I mean, no, but yes."
When he waited for her to continue, she inhaled as though drawing on some secret source of patience.
"I work for a company Mrs. Bane hired. Due to our confidentiality terms, if you want more information than that, you'll have to ask her yourself. My phone. Please." She held out her palm and waited.
"What's the name of the company?"
She gave him the name and he tucked the information back for later. He would investigate both Holland Cohen and her company before the evening was over. Until then… "Where is my grandmother?"
"Someone called to inform her of a medical emergency involving a friend. Sally accompanied Violet to the hospital."
"And she just left you here?"
The woman straightened to her full height, which still left her about six inches short of his six feet two. Her squared shoulders and lifted chin told him he'd struck a nerve.
"My credentials are exemplary, I can assure you. And they include a thorough background check. You can inquire about them with my boss if you like."
Her eyes glittered with her upset that he would question her morals, and he found himself drawn to the way the golden flecks in her brown eyes darkened to molten glass. "I mean no offense. I simply don't want someone taking advantage of my grandmother."
"Well, on that, we can agree."
Max held her gaze a long moment before he forced himself to break eye contact to look around the room. Why sell anything? The room, the house, was fine. Were all women so materialistic that they had to change decor every year? His mother, his ex-girlfriend… They both demanded the latest fashions and furnishings, no matter the cost or the waste.
Max turned on his heel and headed across the room to the lower-level kitchen. "I'm hungry. Have you eaten?"
"Really?"
He glared at her from across the room, wishing he could shake off the bad mood he was in. "Look, Ms. Cohen, I'm sorry for yelling at you. My grandmother mentioned her plans last night when I called and it created a great deal of concern."
"Apology accepted," she said simply, warily.
"So why is my grandmother wanting to sell her things? Time to redecorate?"
Holland joined him in the kitchen area but kept the island bar between her and his bad mood.
"Like I said, you'll have to ask her for more information. I only told you what I did so you wouldn't call the police and have me arrested for trespassing. I'm sure your grandmother will explain things when she returns."
Not the answer he wanted considering it meant babysitting his grandmother's guest. "I see. Well, then until then, it's just you and me, Ms. Cohen."
Violet's grandson belonged on a magazine cover. Tall, dark, and handsome, Maximilian Bane wore faded jeans and a black pullover that emphasized his black hair and the slightest bit of silver sparkling in the depths.
He'd startled her earlier, appearing out of nowhere in soft, silent boots that probably cost the earth but appeared to be favorites given their worn state. A sexy bit of scruff lined his chin and jawline, and she wondered if he always wore a beard or if it was due to whatever stress had put the shadows under his forest-green eyes.
While he searched the fridge to ward off his hunger, she continued her perusal and tried to slow her racing heart. The man had long, lean fingers, clean nails, but as she watched him brace his weight against the marble countertop and lean low to peer into the cabinets to continue his search, she noted his hands looked to be those of a man used to manual labor, a definite surprise considering his last name. Based on the photos of the family she'd seen online last night, she wouldn't have guessed the Bane men to be the hands-on type. "The fridge upstairs is better stocked, I believe," she said when he frowned.
"So I've gathered."
His green-eyed gaze locked on hers and a tingle shot through her. Holland frowned and shifted her weight. Surely she'd imagined that, right?
Because as far as she knew, that only happened in romance novels—or to her sisters. Carolina had told her, when Silas first kissed her, he'd curled her toes. Were curling toes and tingles anywhere close to the same thing?
You're obviously overworked if you think a man barking at you is sexy in any way.
"Care to join me?"
She blinked to awareness and found he'd noticed her watching him. To avoid his gaze, she glanced at her watch and noted the time. "I hope everything is okay with Violet's friend. I got the impression it was quite serious."
"How long have they been gone?"
"They left around two." Not long after she had arrived.
"I'll ca
ll Sally and check on things if they haven't returned in another hour or so."
He cared for her. That much was apparent in his tone and the frustrated way he stated the fact. "She seems pretty spry. And her mental state is something everyone hopes to have at her age."
He lifted his hands and ran them over his head as though to relieve tension.
"The family has been trying to get her to move back to Virginia for years but she won't hear of it."
Holland turned toward the windows and the view of the IC and the Atlantic beyond. "Can you blame her? Getting older is hard enough, but for someone as sharp as your grandmother appears, I don't imagine she likes having people ordering her around like a child."
His gaze sharpened on her once again and Holland bit her lower lip. Keep the comments to yourself, Holl. Do your job, go home. The hired help doesn't have an opinion, remember?
But would she have a job after Max talked to his grandmother? Or would he change her mind and insist on breaking the contract? She might not have wanted the job in the beginning, but Violet was such a sweet woman that Holland wanted to do what she could to help.
She inhaled and sighed. Until Violet tempered her grandson's questions, Holland had a feeling her work was done for the day. No use moving ahead if the job ended as quickly as it had fallen into her lap.
The pool beckoned, but would she be able to enjoy it while Maximilian Bane was in the house? "While you find your dinner, I'll run upstairs and get one of my cards. Maybe then you'll see that I'm legit."
"You're staying here?"
"Your grandmother insisted on it. But it isn't an unusual request," she hastened to add.
His dark eyebrows pulled into a low frown.
"The card can wait. How about we both go find some dinner? I'm sure Sally has something prepared upstairs. She always does."
Maximilian moved around the island separating them and held out his hand to indicate she should go before him. Holland figured it was his way of keeping an eye on her, making sure she didn't disappear with one of the family heirlooms he was apparently so worried about.
She felt awkward walking upstairs beside Violet's grandson, but once at the top, she stepped away and let him take the lead as they headed toward the kitchen.
"I dropped my bag in the blue room when I looked for Nan and Sally, but I didn't realize you were staying here. I can move it if that's the room you're in."
"Um. It is, actually. Violet said it has the best views of the sunrise. I can pack up and—"
"No. Anything better than a dirt floor is fine."
She laughed but the sound emerged sounding awkward and tense. Like he'd ever slept on a dirt floor.
Or… had he? There was something in his expression. Maybe he wasn't the rich pretty boy she'd first thought based on his name?
Holland worried her lower lip between her teeth, unsure of what she should do given the turn of events. Violet would no doubt rather spend time with her grandson, not have a stranger in her home. Should she leave? "She, um, didn't mention you were visiting when she asked me to stay."
"I hadn't planned on it. I called her last night because I was in New York on business, but when she mentioned selling the family silver, I thought it best to come check on things."
"Well, I'm sure she won't mind a visit, regardless of the reason. She's mentioned her family a lot. She misses them… you." Yeah, remember that part about keeping your thoughts and Violet's reasons to yourself?
Max—could she call him that?—turned toward the fridge once they reached the kitchen and opened the door.
"Success. Sally must have been working on it when they got the call. Looks like baked Parmesan chicken, salad, and some kind of veggies. A feast."
The sound of the elevator doors opening filled the area, and Violet and Sally soon appeared. Both women looked exhausted, but Violet especially so.
"Max! Oh, what a wonderful surprise. It's so good to see you."
Max moved toward his grandmother, towering over her when he gently grasped her hands in his.
"It's good to see you, too, Nan." He kissed Violet's cheek. "How are you?"
Violet's hand trembled as she patted her grandson's cheek. "Not a good day to ask, my love. Margaret didn't make it. She passed a little while ago after a stroke this morning."
Margaret? The woman Holland had listed and sold jewelry for. Margaret had attended the ladies’ luncheon as well. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Bane." Loss was hard, but harder still when the person was there, smiling and happy, days earlier.
"Violet, my dear. I told you, I don't stand on formality."
Max slid his arm around Violet's shoulders and clasped her to his side as though lending her strength.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Nan."
The woman's eyes filled with tears that quickly trickled down her cheeks before she lifted a wadded and already damp tissue to dab them away.
"It's something we must all prepare for one day," Violet said. "Sally's going to help me to my room. I'm sorry, children, but I want to lie down. Please eat and visit and enjoy yourselves. Holland, we will begin tomorrow."
"Whatever you like," Holland said quickly.
"I'll be back shortly to get dinner ready," Sally told them.
"No rush," Max said to the woman while lowering his head to kiss the top of his grandmother's head.
Holland watched, heart breaking, as the housekeeper walked slowly at Violet's side toward the hall that led toward the master suite. The difference between Violet yesterday and now was agonizing. Gone was the vibrant, determined woman full of grit and sass, and in her place was someone very aware of every moment and struggling with the depths of loss.
"Margaret and Nan have been friends a long time. Her first friend when my grandparents moved here."
Holland struggled to speak over the lump in her throat. "I think I should go home. Come back tomorrow."
"No. She would be upset if you left and blame me. Let her rest. When she wakes up, she'll need the distraction of you in the house. I'll give her some time before I bring up her decision to consign the items."
Max met her gaze and gave her a grim smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Holland, I'll be in and out working on the business deal that brought me to the States, and I'm sure she would enjoy your company. It's the weekend. Don't change your plans just yet. Please."
Maybe if he hadn't said please. But he did say it and, with him staring at her the way that he did, the request left her nodding. "Okay. I'll stay the weekend."
She just wasn't sure if she had agreed because of the job she might no longer have, Violet's need for companionship, or her curiosity about Maximilian Bane but… she was staying.
Chapter 3
"Five daughters on a military base surrounded by soldiers. It's a wonder your father is sane," Max said, staring across the dinner table into Holland's beautiful brown eyes.
Sally had returned from getting his grandmother settled and delivered dinner shortly thereafter. And even though he'd only just met Holland Cohen, she'd quickly proven herself to be a woman worth a second look. Behind the blond hair and sienna-colored eyes was a sharp mind and confidence born of someone well educated and traveled.
"It wasn't a problem until Ireland and I discovered boys with accents," Holland said, smiling as she lifted her glass to her lips. "Then we had an entire base of big brothers who knew the colonel would have their hides if they saw us out and about where we weren't supposed to be."
He settled himself deeper into the dining chair and laced his fingers over his full stomach as he chuckled. "Your childhood sounds fun."
"It was. So many kids hated being a military brat but we always had each other. Moving was just another adventure and new place to explore."
"How many countries?"
"How many have I been to? I've never sat down and counted. That's more Carolina's thing."
"The house sitter?"
Holland nodded. "You've got a good memory. Yes, the house sitter. She's th
e youngest and our parents settled in Carolina Cove around the time she was old enough to do all the stuff we older girls did. She feels like she's missed out on that and is determined to make up for it, so she has a map on her wall of places she wants to go."
"And what about you? Where would you like to go that you haven't traveled?"
"Oh, tough question."
He liked the way her lips curled at the corners. How her eyes sparkled with intent as she pondered her response.
"Well, there are places I'd like to go back to because they were so beautiful. Switzerland, for one. Austria. Pretty much any beach along the equator because of that sugar-white sand. And I've never been to Iceland but I'm told it's beautiful. What about you? Where would you love to go?"
"It's been a while since I've taken a vacation. I'm not sure."
"But you travel a lot?"
"I've done more than my share."
"You know, you've mentioned business a few times but I don't actually know what you do."
He liked that she didn't know. "I create start-ups, mostly." He was deliberately vague, but in a world where an internet search would provide more than she'd ever want to know about him, he didn't feel the need to tout his successes.
"What else?"
"What do you mean?"
"You don't get those hands from sitting behind a computer screen," she said, her head tilted to one side. "You do some pretty intense physical labor, and I'm guessing whatever it is, it's a labor of love."
Shock rolled through him at the astuteness of her observation and he stilled.
"My grandfather calls them workingman's hands. He always said they were a badge of honor."
Honor. Labor of love. At the start, the work had been a punishment given to him by his father when his privileged life had started to spiral out of control, but over time, things had changed. And so had he. "I'm not always locked away in a boardroom or behind a computer screen."
She had more questions. He could see it in her eyes. But she seemed content for the moment.