She told him everything. She couldn't have stopped the flow of words if God Himself had appeared there in the back seat and ordered her to.
The endless parade of stepmothers who only wanted to be Hollywood wives.
The Christmases spent alone in an empty boarding school because Sean was too married/too broke/too damned drunk to bring his daughter home.
Even the story of her pathetic excuse of a marriage tumbled out at his feet.
"Then I finally realized the truth," she said, pulling her emotions back into line. "I was all I had. Sean was my father but not the father I needed. It was as simple as that."
"Sean was the family problem Thanksgiving night, wasn't he?"
She wiped her eyes with a fresh Kleenex. "Afraid so."
"Why do you do it, Kelly? Why keep picking up after him?"
If only she understood the answer to that.
"Because he's my father," she said. "Because I pity him." A long sigh echoed in the car. "Because I love him."
#
Max couldn't pinpoint exactly when it happened but sometime in that darkened limo, his heart began to thaw.
As Kelly talked, he saw the young girl she once was as clearly as if she stood before him, all long legs and blonde ponytail waving behind her.
The idea of treason was too abstract to reach him at any deeply emotional level. That kind of disregard for life existed on paper, tucked away in file cabinets in the bowels of the Pentagon, far removed from the day-to-day life of the average American.
Sean's disregard for his daughter, his own flesh and blood, was something else again. Her pain crawled inside Max and gnawed at his Arctic heart. He'd undressed the Masked Raider and stretched him out on the king size bed at the Russell while Kelly hung up her father's suit and tie. A thin rivulet of saliva seeped from the corner of Ryan's mouth, wetting the percale pillowcase beneath his head.
Not even the sight of painfully thin body in the plain cotton t-shirt and boxers--so far removed from the dashing man in the Italian suit--was enough to move Max to anything remotely near compassion.
He only felt anger. A dark, deep anger that rose up from some hidden place inside his heart and overpowered everything else. You fool, he thought as he tossed a blanket over the sleeping movie star. To have a daughter like that and not even care...
What Max wanted--what he needed--to do was pull her into his arms, tell her he'd take away the pain, promise her he'd be there for her always.
He had the power and the money to offer her the security she'd yearned for all these years. For the next four weeks, he could do anything at all.
Reaching across the back seat, he took her hand in his and, for the first time, wondered what would happen to him when this was finally over.
#
Too soon the limousine glided to a stop in front of Kelly's building.
"This certainly isn't the evening you had in mind." She pulled her hand away from his and reached into her bag for her keys. "I'm afraid Sean and I ruined your plans."
"There will be other dinners," he said, his voice unbearably tender. "New Jersey is still there on the other side of the river."
"Sean in New Jersey," she said with a bemused laugh. "Boggles the mind, doesn't it?"
"Many things do," he answered.
"You probably wish you had never offered me the assignment. I'm not exactly the hard-boiled professional you thought you were hiring."
"You're a talented woman with a kind heart. I consider that a plus."
She was quiet for a moment, gathering her defenses around her. "I'm running out of time, aren't I?"
He jerked as if burned and she looked up at him.
"Max? You did say I had only until tomorrow night to give you my decision, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did, but--"
She raised her hand to silence him. "I make terrible coffee," she said, her voice betraying a sudden, unexpected assault of nerves that not even her best techniques could mask. "If you like to live dangerously, you're welcome to come up. I--" Deep breaths, Madison. Get a hold of yourself. "I do have a few questions."
He pushed a button on the console and the divider panel whirred down. "Wait here," he said to the driver with the spiky hair. "I'll be upstairs with Ms. Madison."
The driver cast a quick speculative look then cut the engine.
That look followed her through the front door and into the lobby.
It's only coffee, she thought as the ancient elevator creaked and rattled its way to her top floor apartment. There was no reason why her heart should be pounding so crazily inside her chest.
So what if Steel knew more about her now than even her father or Natalie did?
What did it matter in the scheme of things that he'd seen her cry?
Did it make any difference at all that the touch of his hand on hers in the darkened limo had unleashed a flood of emotion that threatened to be her undoing?
Yes, she thought as they exited the elevator.
It mattered. It mattered more than she dared think about.
He stopped halfway down the hall to inspect some intricate woodworking.
"Fascinating, isn't it?" she asked. "I love these old buildings. They're the only things with character left in this city."
"I am surprised you do not have a security force. Most New York buildings these days do."
They continued down the hall then stopped at her door where she handed him her key.
"This building has been hit so many times, I think even the thieves are tired of it. Besides, I have triple locks on my doors, alarms on my windows and an endless loop cassette tape of a barking pit bull." In fact, last year her own apartment had been burgled three times within one month and she considered the law of averages to be on her side--at least for awhile.
He inserted the key then looked up at her. "All well and good," he said, "but it would be more effective if you remembered to lock the door when you left."
"What are you talking about?" She pushed him out of the way and tried the key herself. "I'm certain I locked it. Are you sure you didn't open it without realizing it?"
"Our cultures may be different but the principle of a locked door remains the same."
She'd admit she was tired that morning when she left for the office, but not so tired that she would forget something as elementary as locking the doors behind her.
Max pushed open the door and she switched on the light.
There in front of their eyes was the New Yorker's nightmare: a ransacked apartment.
"You know what, Maximilian Steel?" she asked, looking up at him. "I think I just made up my mind."
Goodbye, Manhattan.
Hello, sunny Florida.
Chapter Fourteen
Kelly had been kidding when she turned to Max in the doorway and said she'd go to Florida with him but, an hour later, she wasn't at all certain.
Break-ins were as common as winter colds in Manhattan and although she had already been through this same thing three times before, there was still something terrifying about the notion of being so vulnerable.
She stood there, frozen in place in the middle of her living room bemoaning the cracked china lamp upended near the piano and trying to ignore the sense of violation she felt, Steel picked up the telephone--careful to use a handkerchief to preserve fingerprints--and dialed 911.
Before she had a chance to think much less act, he checked the windows and doors and peered inside the closets to make certain the culprit wasn't lurking on the premises.
Only Harry, her overweight but happy tomcat, seemed unruffled. A native New Yorker, it would take more than break-in and entry to ruffle Harry's fur and he slept unperturbed on the foot of her bed.
After a few minutes her shock moved into anger, and Max grabbed her hand and took her from room to room, listing damages and checking for losses.
He even handled the police with ease and professionalism and she had to laugh at the very American lingo he used as easily as if he'd grown up on a steady diet of Dragne
t and Hawaii 5-0.
"I'll help you clean," he said after the two unenthusiastic detectives left and she fully expected him to wave a magic wand and conjure up a housecleaning service to whip her place back into shape.
She certainly never expected the gorgeous Maximilian Steel, genius-wonder-boy-multi-multi-millionaire, to roll up his Savile Row sleeves and clean up her trashed living room. "You don't have to do this," she said as he replaced lamps and made to right the bookcases lining the far wall. "I'll call my housekeeping service in the morning."
He motioned for her to grab the other end of the sofa and her heart gave a sudden, unexpected lurch.
"I don't think I can afford your hourly rate, Max." What effort it took to keep the deep yearning from her voice.
He looked up at her, those gold-flecked green eyes of his dark with emotion. His collar was open, his tie hung loose; the perfectly barbered hair, tousled and eminently touchable.
"Let me help you, Kelly." he said, rising and moving toward her. "Just once, give yourself over to being cared for."
Oh, what a trap you set, Mr. Steel, she thought as she moved into his arms.
A trap lined with silken promises that in her lifetime she'd never imagined possible for her.
In twenty-eight years of living she had never once felt the sense of security she felt in his presence. A ripple of liquid heat coursed through her body and she raised her eyes to meet his, her lips parting slightly in supplication. He moved closer, still not touching her, so close that she knew his breath was sweet from brandy and desire and she thought she could spend the rest of her life poised on the edge of wonder.
"We can leave for my island tomorrow afternoon," he said, that golden voice of his turning mere words into music. "Do you say yes, Kelly?"
"Yes," she said for the second time that night. "I say yes."
#
Max's oaths bounced off the walls of the suite an hour later.
"I can't believe it!" He drove his fist into the side of the wall. "What the hell were you trying to prove?"
Ryder O'Neal's eyes darted to the chip in the wall then back to Max. "I'll give it to you one more time, pal: We didn't do it."
"Gimme a break! Who else would break into her apartment and trash it?"
"This is New York, Max. Take your pick."
"Why don't you just admit it? You were forcing her hand."
"As much as I'd like to take credit for her decision, I can't."
Max's hand was killing him but there was no way he'd let O'Neal know it.
"You said you were going to take her by force if you had to," he said.
"Tomorrow," Ryder said, his tone patient and, to Max, patronizing. "I said I'd give you until tomorrow and I meant it." O'Neal's normal happy-go-lucky expression turned serious. "Tell me again what they took."
"Nothing." Max raked his hair off his forehead. "A pair of earrings Ryan gave her and a signed photo of the two of them with the last president."
"That doesn't tell you something?"
"It's an election year," Max shot back, "and I know PAX loves incumbents."
"You know damned well we're apolitical. It was probably some street punk looking for a quick fix."
"Right," said Max, his tone sarcastic. "But I still don't think a picture of the president in Levis will fence for much."
Ryder's expression was unreadable.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Max demanded.
"You really don't get it, do you? It wasn't PAX or a junkie who ransacked her flat; it was the other side yanking Sean's chain."
Kelly had been in danger--real danger. Up there in her apartment his only concern had been the inconvenience the break-in had caused her. His heart slammed into his rib cage as the truth hit him in the gut.
"Is that why so many of them were at Il Duce?"
The expression on O'Neal's face was priceless. "How did you know?"
"Instinct." He shrugged. "Besides, that red-haired woman had the look."
O'Neal's jaw dropped open. "The one at the corner booth?"
Max nodded. "Yeah. I'd bet you the Rolls that she was wired for sound."
"Lorena," O'Neal muttered. "Viktor's woman. Why in hell didn't I see that?"
"Someone important?" Max asked.
"Someone vital."
Beads of sweat broke out along Max's temple. "It's escalating, isn't it?"
O'Neal nodded. "Real quick."
"How far do you think they'll go to make a point?"
Ryder met his eyes. "As far as they have to."
Max leaned against the bookcase. "Then it's a good thing she said yes, isn't it?"
"Yeah, pal," Ryder said, "it's a damn good thing."
#
Insomnia was becoming a way of life for Max.
After he left Ryder, he went back to his suite of rooms and worked out hard for an hour in an attempt to exhaust himself enough to sleep.
Adrenaline, however, was a potent substance and he lay awake, staring at the ceiling and thinking how Kelly Madison had felt in his arms.
Warm and soft and womanly and so painfully, obviously vulnerable that the simple kiss they shared in her hallway had become more than he'd intended--and more than he'd ever expected.
A sizzling surge of desire blazed through him but even that was overshadowed by the violence of his need to shelter her.
Sean Ryan was lucky he was tucked away snug in his rented bed in that fleabag hotel near Times Square because at that moment Max could have killed the man and not suffered a twinge of remorse.
Max groaned and punched his pillow.
"Pull back, man," he muttered to the darkened room.
None of this was real and sure as his name was Max Brody, none of this was going to last.
A vision of Kelly, incandescent in his arms, rose before him and he knew that if he did one decent thing with his sorry, sorry life it would be to keep her from loving him.
#
"I can't believe I'm doing this to you again," Kelly said the next morning as she let Natalie into her apartment. "Especially so soon."
Natalie glanced at the huge black and white cat perched on the windowsill in the living room. "I don't think Harry is too thrilled at the prospect of living in Queens again."
"Harry will survive," Kelly said, leading Natalie into the kitchen. "Are you sure your family will?"
"If I can survive three kids in college and a husband who golfs, they can survive the world's fattest cat. I'm more concerned about you." She sat down at the white lacquer table near the French doors that led out onto the miniscule balcony. "So how bad was it?"
"Not bad at all." She carried two white china mugs over to the table and set them down. "They tipped over a few things and made a general mess of my living room, but they only took a pair of gold earrings and a signed picture of the president."
Natalie's booming laugh echoed in the quiet apartment. "Did I hear right?"
"You heard right. I was burgled by the kinkiest Republican thief in Manhattan." She took a sip of coffee, praying the caffeine jolt would revive her. "Is it any wonder I said yes to Steel's offer?"
Natalie emptied a package of Sweet 'n' Lo into her mug. "Honey, I met the man and, trust me, I know exactly why you said yes to his offer. My only question is, what took you so long?"
As Steel held her in his arms last night, Kelly had asked herself the same thing.
Natalie, however, didn't need to know everything.
They talked business for an hour, and Kelly listed possible problems Natalie might run up against in the next four weeks along with viable solutions for each of them.
Max had provided Kelly with a phone number for the Florida estate and she made certain she gave it to her assistant on three different pieces of paper.
"I even called it into the answering machine. It's unlisted, so hang onto it." She thought about scribbling it on a fourth piece of note paper but decided Natalie might be insulted. "If you need me for anything at all, don't hesitate."
/> Natalie folded the papers and tucked them into her wallet. "And if Sean calls?"
She didn't miss a beat. "Take a message."
She would leave some funds available to bail her father out of jail or pay his bar tab or fix whatever catastrophe might befall him between now and New Year's but she wouldn't cut her Florida trip short for him or anyone else.
Last night something inside Kelly had snapped. Sean and his graceless descent into drunkenness was difficult enough; having this vulnerability exposed before a man as invulnerable as Max Steel had been unbearable.
"I guess I'm really going," she said. "Can you believe it?"
"It's about time, honey," Natalie said, pocketing the slips of paper. "You have to think about your own happiness."
This time Kelly intended to do exactly that.
Whatever happened--and however long it lasted--she was going to throw caution to the winds and let her emotions lead her straight into the arms of Maximilian Steel.
Chapter Fifteen
A tanned and fit Alistair Chambers greeted Ryder at the door to his hotel suite at the Pierre.
"I daresay Holland and I were not expecting a welcoming committee upon our return or she'd be here at my side to greet you. In point of fact, she is--"
"Can the amenities," Ryder said, inviting himself inside. "I have a plane to catch at Kennedy in two hours and I need some help."
"PAX jets operate on your schedule, my boy, not the airport's."
"How did you know I was taking a company plane?"
Alistair lowered his elegant frame into a Louix XIV chair and lit a Gauloise. The cheerful facade fell away and were replaced by lines of worry. "I may be retired but that does not mean I'm no longer interested in what goes on."
Ryder paced the room. "How did Stanhope's and Colgan's widows take it?"
Alistair exhaled a plume of pungent smoke. "About as one would assume--with tremendous dignity and great pain."
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