“One is all I asked for.”
“Let’s get this over with,” she said, before pushing impatiently past me, her shoulder clipping mine.
I turned on the spot and followed her out of the break room. We bumped into the young woman who had been backstage when I came through the curtain. She looked nervously from me to Laura, and then held out a shot glass full of pale gold liquid. The smell suggested it was tequila.
Laura accepted the shot from her friend, threw it back like it was water, and kept on marching straight ahead down the hall. I shared a glance with her friend as I passed, and I could feel her eyes on my back as I fell into step behind Laura.
She took me down a couple hallways before we emerged into the main banquet room through one of the emergency exit doors. The chit chat was louder now than it had been before. It was like everyone had settled into their social cliques and had found their happy places. I was sure the unlimited supply of liquor was helping with that, too.
Laura didn’t stop for anything until she got to the bar. She raised her hand and the bartender immediately took her order. I called to him for a rum and coke. While he mixed our drinks, Laura put her back to the bar and looked around the room. I couldn’t read her neutral expression, but I thought I saw a glimmer of pride in her dark eyes.
“This is an impressive event you’ve put on,” I said. “Something like this would take a lot of planning. And when you have guests as wealthy as these—there are risks.”
“Oh, believe me. I know. Some of these people are terribly demanding.”
“I’d love to know which ones.”
She gave me a sidelong look and the corner of her mouth twitched. “Of course you would, Max. But I’m not going to be the girl who is all over the magazines for trash talking donors at her own event.”
“Fair point.”
The bartender handed us our drinks. Laura sipped hers—the drink special in the champagne flute, of course—and I took her to my table. Mr. Beveridge’s spot was empty, so she pulled out his chair and sat down. She looked everywhere but at me. Her endless scrutiny of the room and her guests was admirable. She wanted to guarantee that each of these people would come back next year and happily bring their money, and I could tell by her calculated gaze that she was looking for areas of improvement.
“May I make a suggestion for next year?” I said.
She glanced at me and looked me in the eye. Finally, she replied. “What?”
“After your speech you should let people know you are still accepting donations. Have a table set up. I was thinking over there, like a couple feet from the bar.”
“But it gets so crowded there.”
“Indeed. And, when people are waiting for their drinks to be made, they might just get hit with a second wave of generosity or a desire to impress someone nearby and give your foundation more money.”
She lifted her champagne flute to her reddish plum lips and took a sip. It was hard not to stare at her full bottom lip pressed to the glass, or the bead of condensation that fell from the glass to her chest, where it winked like a siren at me, beckoning me to look down at her cleavage. When she put the glass down she said, “That idea is not half bad.”
“I know. That’s why I offered it.”
“Any other brilliant suggestions?”
I shrugged. “If one hits me you’ll be the first to know.”
She smiled. Actually smiled. I liked the way her dimples appeared. I hadn’t forgotten she had them and I’d been hoping to see them again since I followed her backstage.
“You must hate this,” Laura said, suddenly.
I arched an eyebrow.
She waved an arm around the room. “This. The snowflakes, the expensive gowns, the Christmas music, the drink,” she lifted up her glass again. “Do you still hate the holidays as much as you used to?”
“Yes,” I said. I didn’t tell her I hated them even more now. That would mean I’d have to tell her about my mom.
She nodded and ran a finger along the rim of her glass. “I figured as much. You never were a fan of the whole thing. What did you used to call it?”
“The debt holiday.”
“Yes,” she said, smiling again. “I remember now.”
I leaned back in my chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Enough about me. I want to talk about you. About all of this. When did you start your foundation?”
“Not long after college. It’s only been in the last five years that we’ve gained some real traction. Once I pulled this event off for the first time, everything changed. I have real money behind me to help these kids. And, if all goes well, I’ll be opening a children’s home five years from now.”
“I heard. That’s really admirable, Laura.”
“Thank you. But I don’t do it for the credit. Someone needs to give these kids a chance and I have the tools to do that.”
“You’ve always looked out for the underdog, so none of this surprises me.”
She paused and looked down at her hands on the table. “Thank you.”
I was glad she heard the compliment in my words. I drained the remnants of my rum and coke before asking, “So, are any of these kids you work with over the age of sixteen?”
“Plenty of them. Why?”
“I have an idea.”
“Yes?”
I drummed my fingers on the table and uncrossed my legs, stretching them out in front of me. How I wished I could have taken my tie off and opened more buttons on my shirt. I wasn’t made for this confining sort of attire. “I have five open positions at my company right now. They’re held for interns, but we haven’t started the process of bringing anyone on board yet. How would you feel about picking five kids to come work for me? I’d pay them, of course. Entry level salary.”
Laura’s wide eyed expression was more than a little satisfying. Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to string her words together.
I chuckled. “They’d have some experience on their resume afterward. And, possibly, have the opportunity to stay within my company and move up. At the very least they’ll have my reference.”
“At the least?” she asked, incredulously, leaning forward now. “A reference from someone like you is a huge advantage.”
I shrugged. I knew that.
“Max. Thank you. This is such a good idea.”
“I think so, too,” I said, swirling the ice cubes around in my glass.
Everyone benefited from this situation. Laura’s kids got some relevant work experiences and would have a chance to earn some money. Laura would be thrilled to see them learn and grow and gain access to tools that would get their foot in the door of the business and tech industry. And I would win, too.
I’d have an easy way to stay in touch with the beautiful girl in the sapphire gown.
Chapter 10
Laura
I studied Max’s profile as he looked around the room. His jaw was as sharp and square as I remembered. It was covered in black stubble that disappeared down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. He was probably the scruffiest looking man here, and it worked well for him.
Not that I would ever let him know I was thinking that.
The top two buttons of his white shirt were open and his black tie was a little loose. The way he had one arm draped over the back of his chair, his hand dangling and showing off his sleek Rolex was intoxicating. His body language gave off a sensual devil-may-care vibe, and I loathed myself for falling for it.
My body was tense. Every muscle strained as my insides ached for him to touch me. To put his hand on my knee, my shoulder, my jaw. I wanted to know if his touch was still the same as it used to. Or, perhaps, I wanted to know if he could still make me feel the way he used to.
Max Miller had ruined all other men for me, and he had no idea.
He turned his attention back to me. His green eyes flicked to my empty glass. “I know you said only one drink, but can I interest you in a second? You can sit. I’ll go to the bar.”
I should say no. I should say unequivocally no. But I found myself nodding.
Max smiled, picked up our glasses, and stood. I watched his back as he walked away. Even his walk was hot. His strides were long and confident, and the way he moved between people reminded me of the physical shape he was in. He was very self-aware and always had been.
I swept a couple of loose strands of hair off my forehead and peered up at the branches of the centerpiece above my head. The crystals winked at me as someone pulled out a chair on my other side.
I smiled as a bald man with an impressive moustache and beard leaned forward on the table. “Good evening, Miss Wessex.”
“Mr. Beveridge,” I smiled, twisting around to face him more directly. “How are you doing? I hope you’re having a nice time.”
“It is always a nice time at your event, my dear. The drinks are stiff, the food exquisite, and the women even more so.”
I swallowed my inward groan.
“You know,” he said, “you have the face and body for success in my industry if you were ever interested in trying something new.”
“Oh, well that is very kind of you, Mr. Beveridge, but my calling is definitely not on the movie screen.”
“I understand,” he said, nodding. “You are doing much more for the city here, I suppose. I respect that. You are a good woman, Miss Wessex.”
“Please. Call me Laura.”
“Laura,” he smiled, and lifted his wine glass. I didn’t have a drink so I just smiled back. He sipped his wine, smacked his lips, and set the glass back down atop the white table cloth. “I see you were speaking with Max Miller.”
“Yes.”
“He’s a good man to have in your corner. At least that’s the rumor this evening. I must have heard his name a dozen times on my way back from the bar.”
“We’ve known each other since college, actually,” I said, hoping that providing some concrete answers would get him to lay off. I knew this tactic. It was the long work around before he got to his point.
“Did you now?”
“Yes. We were good friends.”
Mr. Beveridge chuckled. “I suspect a man like him is ill equipped to just be friends with a woman like you.”
I was about to retort when his eyes slipped past me, and someone took a seat on my other side. Another champagne Christmas cocktail was placed in front of me and I smiled over at Max, who was watching Mr. Beveridge. “How’s your night going?” he asked.
Mr. Beveridge smiled at me. “Better now that I’ve had a chance to speak with our lovely host. But, I must move along. There are people who want to talk about filming at one of my properties. You two kids pace yourselves. The night is young.”
After he left I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Why are the rich always so weird?”
Max laughed. It was a hearty, deep, altogether glorious sound. “Beats me. I’ve been wondering the same thing for a long time. I’ve also come to the conclusion that I must be as eccentric in my own way. But I can’t quite seem to figure out what my thing is.”
“Your thing?”
“You know. That thing that makes me weird. Any ideas?”
Things that could make him weird. By all standards Max Miller was far from weird. He was a player, sure, but that came with the good looks and brooding personality. He was a hard worker, a dreamer, and a man with values he would never compromise. I’d admired a lot of those things about him years ago when we were dating. He made me feel special and safe, and that was all I wanted in a relationship.
But, when our paths started going in different directions, jealousy became an issue. He didn’t trust me, and I couldn’t be with someone who was suspicious of me when I was doing nothing wrong. Nothing besides making friends and networking, which was essential for someone committed to a cause like I was. Even then my goal had been to put a roof over the heads of children. To put food in their bellies. To give them a safe place to go where there was someone there to hug them if that was what they needed.
The Max sitting in front of me was a lot different from the young man I’d been with back then. He was still arrogant as hell, and still wore that ‘I’m too cool to be here’ demeanor I’d grown used to as a nineteen year old girl. ‘Grown used to’ being code for ‘fell for.’ I fell hard for his bad boy attitude.
But now he was composed and softer spoken. He took his time rather than answering impulsively. He considered, calculated, and analyzed his situation before reacting. The Max I’d known had been the sort of guy to jump into the fire head first and worry about the implications later.
Or have someone else worry about them for him.
No. This Max was different. He’d changed, somehow. But he was still the same guy. He had to be. Nobody could change that much. If he was somehow trying to convince me that he was a brand new man, I wasn’t buying it.
I shook my head, considering the question he’d asked me. What was it that made him weird? “I’m sure it’s just a combination of all your qualities, Max.”
“I’m not sure how to take that.”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head over it,” I mused.
Max laughed again. “I’ve missed you, Laura Wessex.”
I think he regretted the admission as soon as he’d made it, because he blinked rapidly and then took a big sip of his drink. I did the same as heat crept up my cheeks, and I didn’t dare tell him that I’d missed him, too.
Because I hadn’t.
Not really.
He switched gears smoothly. “You can come into my office on Monday morning if you’d like. You know, to scope the place out and make sure it’s a good fit.”
“I would appreciate that.”
“It’s a date then.”
I gave him a flat look.
Max laughed and held his hands up. “A business date, Laura. An appointment, meeting, conference, consultation—call it whatever you like. Just turn that glare somewhere else.”
I smiled and tried to ignore the heat in my cheeks. I blamed it on the alcohol and then decidedly took another sip of my cocktail. “I’m looking forward to getting an insider peek at the work life of Max Miller. Famous billionaire, apparently. How did I not know that little detail?”
He shrugged. “Seems like you’ve been pretty busy. You know, what with helping the homeless children in the city and all.”
“A little busy,” I giggled. Ugh—immediately I hated that I giggled like a school girl. I shut myself up by taking another drink.
“I’m proud of you, Laura.”
“Thank you.”
“You had this vision even all those years ago, and you went for it. Hell, you blew it out of the water. Look at this place. Your influence has been huge. I can only imagine how many kids you’ve made a positive impact on.”
“We each have a responsibility to help others. And some of us have to work harder to make up for those who would rather bury their heads in the sand and live in denial of the desperate plight of those around them.”
Max cocked his head to the side. “Are you calling me out?”
“Hardly,” I said hurriedly. “Not at all. You gave my foundation ten million dollars tonight, Max. You have no idea how far that will go. Or how much that will accelerate my plans to build a children’s home. I’ll be able to reach so many more kids.”
“I’m glad.”
“Me too.”
Max leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. He took up space confidently, the way men do, and I matched him by assuming the same position. He smirked. “What went wrong between us all those years ago?”
“Seriously?” I asked.
He nodded. “Seriously. I never really understood.”
I sighed and considered his question. What was the best way to approach something like this? I never imagined there would be a chance that he misunderstood why I’d left him. “We were—two really different people, Max. I don’t think it ever could have worked between us. We had certain things going for us, sure—”
“Like the sex.”
I swallowed. “Yes. But interrupting me and saying things like that might have been one of the contributing factors as to why we weren’t compatible.”
“Ah,” he said, looking a little surprised.
“Things ended the way they should have. Look at us. We both carried on and made something of ourselves. It could have gone a lot worse.”
“Yeah. I could be earning a cop’s salary.”
I shook my head. “Ass.”
Max laughed, suddenly looking wistful. “We had fun though.”
I looked into those green eyes trimmed with hazel and gold. “Yeah. We did.”
He swallowed the rest of his rum and coke as I watched him. Then he looked around and suddenly seemed disinterested in the whole affair. The dresses. The dancing. The lure of more drinks at the bar. It had lost all appeal and now he was looking for the next thing—something he used to do when we were young, too. When he tired of something he moved on without blinking.
Impulsive.
He looked back at me as I neared the end of my drink. “You know, if you’d like to get away from all this for a little while, I’ve booked the penthouse suite here in the hotel for the night.”
Oh no.
“There’s a Jacuzzi,” he added.
I shook my head and put my drink down. How had I not seen this coming? He’d set the conversation up for this. “No, Max. Sorry. Not interested.”
“I was just—”
I held up a hand. “I don’t care. I still have a lot to do tonight. I’ll see you on Monday morning. Nine o’clock.” Picking up my drink and my clutch, I got to my feet and walked off—without looking back. Part of me hoped he was gaping after me, but chances were high he was already picking out another pretty girl in the crowd to invite upstairs.
A girl who would have no reservations and wouldn’t say no to billionaire extraordinaire Max Miller.
I needed to find Ella. Then she and I needed to find more shots.
Brand New Man Page 6