"It doesn't," she said. "I am only surprised that you feel that way, too."
"You will take the job then?" he asked, quoting a fee that was triple the norm.
"That's bribery," she said with a nervous laugh. "You make it difficult to say no."
"As I said, that word does not exist for me."
"There must be a catch somewhere?"
"Catch?"
"Strings," she explained. "A problem."
"There is one. Small but possibly troublesome."
He paused but for once she did not leap to fill the silence. He had enough ammunition as it was.
"I cannot stay in New York while we work."
"That's definitely a problem."
"Not insurmountable."
"You can fly in for your lessons," she said. "We can schedule two intensive sessions per week."
"I want daily classes."
"You'll be jet-lagged. Too tired to work."
"That leaves one alternative," he said, his tone triumphant. "You'll live with me."
Chapter Eleven
"I own an island off the Florida Keys," he continued as if he'd said nothing out of the ordinary. "Your every need will be provided for."
"How generous," she drawled, an edge of sarcasm in her voice, "but I have no intention of living with you."
"If it is propriety that concerns you, my home is quite large. Your privacy is assured."
"It's not propriety that concerns me; it's business. I do have one to run."
"I realize that." He stood up, towering over her. "However, you have a light calendar between now and New Year's and an extraordinarily capable staff to deal with it."
"You do your homework," she conceded. "I'm impressed." I'm also scared out of my wits. Longing to meet a strong man and actually dealing with one were two very different things.
From their first ambush meeting by the pool, to the surprise Thanksgiving feast, to this sudden appearance on her office doorstep, Max had shown nothing but a single-minded determination to sweep her into his life.
It wasn't as if everything he said didn't make total sense because it did. His need for privacy, the importance of communication skills, the question of timing were all well thought out reasons for the high-intensity training he sought. He was willing to pay Madison Dynamics--and pay handsomely--for the inconvenience of whisking its founder off to his Florida mansion.
On the surface the proposal seemed to be as perfect as Max Steel looked, but it was what simmered beneath the surface that gave her pause. The sound of his voice, the look in his sleepy green eyes, the whole impressive package kindled a fire in her blood that not even the fierce Maui sunshine had been able to ignite.
Instinct, primal and deeply female, told her it was the same for Max Steel. She could still remember the spicy scent of his skin; the fierce heat of his touch.
A delicious electricity filled the air between them.
"You worry about your business." His voice reached into her thoughts.
"Yes." The truth was too volatile, too dangerous.
Too tempting.
"You need time to think."
"Definitely." Time to think if just once in her life she could leap into the unknown and take a chance on something other than work.
"Forty-eight hours," he said. "Close of business Wednesday."
"That's not very much time. I don't know if--"
"I do not have the time to waste. We could be at work by Thursday morning."
He sat on the edge of her desk and she jumped as her hand brushed against the hard muscle of his thigh.
Her pulse points leaped and she had the notion that she was barely treading water.
There was nothing subtle about his power over her. She had already allowed him to take liberties she would have shot another man down for even considering. The moment he sat down next to her in Maui and removed her sunglasses to see her eyes, she had felt as if he'd taken possession of her.
If she said yes to him, she was saying yes to much more than a job.
Sensuality--dark and demanding and so long denied--had awakened inside her and she wondered how long she could live with him, no matter how large the estate, and deny the fact that he was responsible.
"Close of business Wednesday," she said at last. "You'll have your answer then." She pushed back her chair and stood up. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going home."
"My car is outside. I'll take you."
She thought of the impossibility of flagging a taxi on a rainy Monday evening in New York City.
"I'd appreciate it."
"Dinner first?"
"I'm still jetlagged," she said, grabbing her coat and bag. "I'll pop something into the microwave and get a good night's sleep."
"Tomorrow then." He followed her into the reception area. "Seven p.m."
He moved closer and she caught the tantalizing scent of soap and spice.
"Subtle pressure?" she asked, shutting the light. "No, Kelly," he said. "Nothing subtle about it."
"Thanks for the warning," she said lightly as she turned off the lights. "I'll be prepared."
"It won't matter." His voice was a caress in the darkness. "In the end it won't matter at all."
#
Trouble.
Ryder O'Neal eased the Rolls to a stop at a traffic light and took another look in the rear view mirror.
Definitely trouble.
Kelly Madison sat primly against one door and Max sat against the other but they might as well have been wrapped in each others' arms for all the difference it made.
They talked quietly about Manhattan traffic and the problems inherent in city living and when Max mentioned their dinner date for the next evening, Ryder wanted to slam his fist into the steering wheel.
The net was closing in around Sean Ryan and his daughter and they had maybe all of forty-eight hours to get her out of New York and to the Florida compound before the other side made up its mind to use her as an example.
So what was Max doing talking about penthouse views of Central Park instead of making arrangements with Madison Dynamics?
He'd gone nuts, that's what, pushed over the edge by a beautiful woman.
Ryder should know; he'd been there not too many years ago when he fell in love with Joanna and nearly blew his own mission.
And that's exactly what he told Max after they left Kelly safely at her apartment.
"Wednesday morning," he said through gritted teeth. "Deliver her by Wednesday morning."
Max, who looked altogether too content in the back seat of the limo, met his eyes in the mirror. "You said Wednesday night."
"Now I'm saying Wednesday morning."
"She may not go for it."
"She'll go for it," Ryder said. "You, old pal, are going to see to that."
"What if she says no?"
"Doesn't matter," Ryder said, pulling away from the curb. "One way or the other, she's going."
Taking her by force came a distant second to the smoother operation PAX had in mind, but no matter how you cut it, it beat the alternative hands down.
Max mumbled something unpleasant that Ryder chose to ignore.
Sorry, pal, he thought as he headed toward the west side. You can't always get what you want.
With PAX, you got what they needed.
#
Maybe it was the rain.
Max stared out at traffic moving slowly down Fifth Avenue. Red tail lights from a fleet of Benzes were reflected over and over in a score of puddles, looking almost holidayesque against the relentless grime of the city.
Ryder's suite was next door and after an hour long lecture on exactly what PAX expected from Maximilian Steel, he'd retired to call his wife Joanna who was visiting friends in London.
Max was left alone with a bottle of bourbon and the notion that somehow he had to get out of this.
The more O'Neal had talked, the more it seemed to Max that there had never been anything beyond this bizarre non-existence as the imaginary Max Steel.
Somewhere out there, lost and unlamented in the wilds of New Jersey, was Max Brody and when this was all over he was going to have to find him again.
A yellow cab, headlights cutting a swath in the darkness, rolled to a stop in front of the apartment building across the street and he watched mesmerized as a young couple emerged, so obviously in love that it hurt him to watch.
But he didn't turn away.
The girl was young, no more than seventeen; her date, maybe a year or two past that. If he shaved every other day it was a triumph of hope over hormones.
The cab waited, engine running, a steady stream of grey smoke visible in the cold night air. At the front door the kids stood together beneath the awning while the doorman discreetly looked off down the avenue.
Not Max.
He stood there in the window, downing bourbon, and watched them say goodnight.
He felt every kiss, every look. He heard every whisper made in the rain as if they were meant for him alone.
He'd never been nineteen--not really. At nineteen he'd been doing his second tour in the desert, huddled in a canvas tent with sand storms beating against the flaps while he wondered when he was going to die.
No one held his hand.
No one looked deeply into his eyes.
The only whispers he'd heard were bought from the Saigon bar girls and forgotten by morning.
Max Brody never had much of a chance.
Maximilian Steel, however, was another story. The world was spread at his feet.
Private jets.
Tailor-made clothes.
Rolls Royce limos as commonplace as Fords and Chevys.
Everything a woman like Kelly Madison needed--everything she deserved.
For a little bit longer it would all be his and there would be a chance for him to find happiness--if not happily ever after--with a woman like her.
Kelly Madison would have been an impossible dream for Max Brody. Women like that didn't live in Millstone, New Jersey. They didn't drink Bud from a can or go bowling or live anywhere near men who got their hands dirty for a living.
Thanks to PAX he could see what his life might have been if an afternoon in the Mekong Delta had never happened.
The Kelly Madisons of this world were made for men like Maximilian Steel and, for a little while longer, the dream was possible.
Sooner or later the roller coaster would slow down long enough for them to kick him out and he'd find himself back in Millstone with a broken down Cessna and some memories to keep him warm.
But, one thing was certain: Max Brody intended to enjoy the ride for as long as it lasted.
Chapter Twelve
"You're an hour late and you look exhausted," Natalie Stryker said the next morning. She waggled her eyebrows comically. "Did the beauteous Mr. Steel keep you up all night?"
"I kept me up late." Kelly hung her coat in the closet and headed toward her office with her assistant close behind.
"Sounds interesting." Natalie took her usual seat by Kelly's desk.
"It was interesting." She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down. "I read every last word on Maximilian Steel." She took a sip, winced, then swallowed anyway. "People, Time, U. S. News and World Report, and a half column in the Wall Street Journal."
"So what do you think?"
"I'm impressed. Puzzled, but impressed."
"Wonder boy parlays inheritance into real estate fortune. Nothing too puzzling about that," Natalie observed.
"It doesn't strike you as odd that all the articles about him appeared in the same week?"
Natalie shrugged. "So he has a good press agent. That's not exactly unheard of in this town." She stopped and looked at Kelly with renewed interest. "What's going on anyway? Did he finally tell you what this business deal is all about?"
Kelly took a deep breath and plunged in. "He's asked me to accompany him to Florida for a month of intensive training in public speaking."
"And?"
"And nothing. That's it."
"I don't believe it."
"Sorry to disappoint you, Nat, but it's business we're talking about. One month in Florida, starting this Thursday."
"Now I definitely don't believe it."
"Whether you believe it or not, I want you to do something for me, Nat."
"You want me to spend a month in Florida with Max Steel." The older woman feigned a swoon. "It's a dirty job, but somebody has to do it."
Kelly ignored her friend's good-natured teasing. "I want you to spend the morning in the New York Public Library photocopying everything in print on our friend Mr. Steel."
"I love this," said Natalie. "I feel like Mildred in Remington Steel." She laughed. "Quite a coincidence. Do you think they're related?"
"There are no coincidences, Mildred. Don't you know that? It's all part of some dastardly grand plan."
Natalie stood up and smoothed her woolen skirt. "And what'll you be up to while I'm poring over some dusty newspapers?"
Kelly reached for her Rolodex and flipped to B for Brazil. "Calling in a few favors."
#
By four o'clock that afternoon Kelly had read everything available on Maximilian Steel and still knew nothing at all about the man.
Oh, she could recite the names of his parents, his prep schools and his first dog, but she didn't have the foggiest notion what made him tick.
The stories were long on facts and short on analysis but they did all seemed to be in agreement on one thing: Steel was rarely seen in public and certainly never heard.
Her call to Carlos at the Brazilian Embassy confirmed the fact that Steel maintained dual Brazilian and American citizenship and kept homes in both countries. While Carlos had never met Steel himself, he knew three attaches who'd met the man at Steel's famous New Year's Eve party in Rio and come away impressed.
Talk around the Embassy was that come the first of the year, Steel would launch a major campaign to snatch some prime Manhattan real estate out from under Donald Trump's nose.
Except for the rumor that he froze when it came to speaking in public, the man was perfect.
Everything Steel had told her checked out down to the smallest detail.
Professionally, taking on this assignment would be the coup of a lifetime.
Personally, it was something else again.
If she went with him, there was no doubt where their relationship would lead. That dark sensuality he stirred inside her blood could only be satisfied in his arms.
In the light of day she didn't know if she could handle an affair with a man like Steel. He struck her as the type who exacted a price for everything he did and she knew the price for being with him would be a piece of her heart.
#
At five-thirty Natalie locked the office door then parked herself smack in the middle of Kelly's office to kibbutz while she got ready for dinner.
"Leave your hair down," Natalie said as Kelly wielded her curling iron. "Men like Steel love that feminine look."
"Have you been reading Eileen's copy of Glamour again, Nat?"
"I don't need my daughter's how-to magazines to know that, Kelly. That bit of advice is old as Eve. If you were plain like the rest of us ordinary mortals, you'd know the tricks of the trade."
Kelly tossed a hairclip at her and continued curling her hair. Beauty was a double-edged sword but that wasn't something people wanted to hear.
"How do we look for December?" she asked as she began to reapply her makeup for the evening.
"Busy but manageable. You, however, are all clear."
She arched a brow. "A relatively new development, I take it?"
"I believe in thinking ahead," said Natalie.
Kelly, who'd been thinking ahead since she was eight years old, reached for her mascara. "I'll keep that in mind."
"We'll never know you're gone," Natalie continued.
"Thanks, friend."
"If anything comes up there's always the phone."
"Something else to keep in
mind."
"A chance like this comes along only once in a lifetime."
"I know," Kelly said. "Why do you think I'm so scared?"
Kelly was still scared an hour later when she slipped into her favorite black wool dress and heard Max's voice in the anteroom followed by Natalie's girlish giggle and the sound of the office door closing behind her assistant.
"Make yourself comfortable," she called out, safe on her side of the heavy oak door. "I'll be ready in a minute."
"Take your time," he said in that smoky voice of his.
"Easy for you to say," she mumbled, turning away.
She could take all of twenty-four hours and then her time would be up.
#
The elevator slid closed and began the ascent to the twenty-second floor where Madison Dynamics had its offices.
Sean wiped his palms on his pant legs then drew in a succession of deep breaths to steady his nerves. It was the first time in weeks he'd been alone. They'd even taking to posting a heavy-jawed guard outside the bathroom door when he shaved.
He laughed without mirth. They were probably afraid he'd cut his throat and be done with it but he was too much of a coward to even take the easy way out.
Each step of the way he'd played right into their hands. Predictable. Perversely reliable when all his life he'd been anything but. Even at that rat-infested hotel on Times Square, they'd been lingering just beyond the roach-covered walls, listening, plotting, watching his golden-haired child try to resurrect her father from the dead.
The sad part was he knew he couldn't have stopped them even if they'd raised a knife and tried to cut her beautiful heart out right before his eyes. He'd been too drunk, too sick, too weak to do anything but dream of better days...
Monday's rain had given way to Tuesday's sleet and on the way into New York City from the beach house he'd prayed for the random patch of ice that would send the stretch Caddy screaming into the cement center divider.
This time John Wayne wasn't going to come riding over the ridge with a band of white-hatted cowboys and drive the desperadoes out of town.
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