once upon a romance 08 - making a splash

by Laurie LeClair

  “Max!” The kid threw his arms around him, nearly upending the box.

  “Is that for me or the treats?” He choked up, realizing it meant a great deal to have this kid like him. God, Joey had gotten him right in that soft spot in the middle of his chest. Right where his mother seemed to reside.

  “Both.” He pulled back and gave him a toothy grin while rubbing his hands together.

  “Good answer.” He glanced around, trying to shake off his disconcerting, growing feelings for this family. So why was he here again? “Your mom home?”

  “Nope.”

  “Gigi?”

  He slapped a hand to his forehead. “Of course.”

  “Joey, honey, let the nice man in. Max,” she said, giving him a quick hug. “So glad you’re back. Now, what did you bring us today?”

  Max waved a hand to her and back at himself. “You and me have to have a talk. The door thing.” He tried to scowl, but she laughed at him.

  “He’s six going on seven. Who can stop him?” She shrugged helplessly.

  Sighing, Max figured there would have to be a class coming up on Door Opening 101. For the both of them.

  She ushered him in and he smiled at the open French doors.

  “Shall we?”

  “Our favorite place. Annabelle spoiled us.”

  I wish she’d spoil me. He groaned inwardly at that thought. It was one thing running into her at the sports bar the first night but another thing now that he was practically chasing her down. He’d never cared about a girl that much before. That bothered him. Big time.

  “I’ll get the plates,” Gigi offered.

  “The good ones.” Joey rushed to lead Max to the back.

  “Ice tea, Max?”

  “Make it a tall glass of milk, please.”

  “Me, too, Gigi.” He pulled out a chair for Max and patted it. “Next to me.”

  “No peeking,” Max warned, gingerly placing the box on the table. He took his seat and the kid dragged over a chair. The scraping sound rent the air. “You being good?”

  His downcast face shot a dart of pain through Max. He swallowed hard.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Mom,” he whispered. “Worries about me.”

  Make that a dagger to the heart. “Moms do that. It’s their job.”

  “I’m different.”

  “You don’t say. How?” He wondered what troubled the little boy.

  “My cape.”

  “It’s pretty neat. I wish I had one when I was growing up.”

  “It’s real, you know.”

  “Superman?” What could he be talking about?

  “The powers. My dad said so.”

  Max nearly choked. He coughed to clear his throat. “Well, it must be true then.”

  “You believe me, don’t you?” His earnest look and soulful pleading eyes tore a chunk of his heart away.

  “Why wouldn’t I? You’ve never lied to me before, have you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then, that’s good enough for me.” Who the heck was he to mess up this kid’s dream?

  “Max Whitfield.” Annabelle’s voice, low and steady, hummed with clogged emotion.

  With dread dogging him, Max slowly turned to see her in the doorway. “Irish, nice to see you again.” He forced cheer into the greeting. She looked so adorable, even when she was mad at him. “We’re celebrating your big job today. Cake, anyone?”

  She hissed.

  He recoiled. Trouble!

  ***

  Thankfully, Annabelle hadn’t thrown him out. Her restraint must have been due to Joey. Or the chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and dollops of peanut butter frosting along the edges, he guessed. A hit all around!

  He had to bring one home to his brothers and Paige soon.

  Max stood in the center of Joey’s room, having gotten a personal invite, and looked around. The walls were covered in posters of superheroes. “Hey, I remember him. Adam West, the original Batman, right next to that last one. And who could forget Christopher Reeve as Superman? Spidy. Iron Man. Avengers… You’ve got quite the collection, my friend.”

  “Gigi helped me put them up.” He sat on the floor, pulling out a box of toys.

  The Superman comforter, sheet set, and pillowcase covered the small twin bed. “She make those, too. Like the cape.”

  “My birthday gift from last year.” He nodded and grinned from ear to ear.

  “I am impressed.” Max’s gaze fell to the top of the boy’s dresser. His throat seized up. He hadn’t asked, but had assumed the worse since Gigi was around. There, sitting next to the now encased signed football from Jay, stood a picture frame. Coughing, he said, “That…your dad?”

  Joey reached out a hand and Max brought it to him. The kid gingerly touched the picture. “Me and my dad,” he corrected, grazing his fingertips over the man in the military uniform holding the small boy.

  “You look like him. The eyes and smile.” Max swallowed hard, having taken a look when he picked it up.

  “Think so?”

  “Yeah. But you did get a few freckles from your mom, too. Nice combo, if you ask me.”

  “Max?”

  A knot began to form at the tone in the kid’s voice.

  “Do you think my dad is still here watching over me?”

  “Of course.” His knees shook and he grabbed the chair from the kid’s desk nearby, plopping down on it. He’d often question his older brothers and mom about the same thing. Memories stirred, ones he’d rather not revisit.

  “My mom…” He shook his head, while fidgeting with the frame and then gently placing it beside him. “She doesn’t talk about him much.”

  “What about Gigi?” Max dragged in a breath, feeling an invisible band wrap around his chest and squeeze.

  “Yeah, Gigi tells me stories about when he was growing up.”

  “I wish I’d had that.” Longing slammed into him.

  “Huh?” Joey looked up, his eyes wide and questioning. “What do you mean?”

  Max tore the words out of himself. “I lost my dad, too.” God, it still hurt sometimes, especially now looking into the kid’s eyes. He focused on the toy Joey now held instead, a small replica of Superman.

  “Really? I’ve never met anyone else before whose dad died.”

  “I was five. He tried to help during a holdup.” Max censored his words, unable to determine how much a six-year-old could handle. “He saved other people and me.”

  “You were there?”

  “Yes.” Pain echoed in that one word. “He was my hero even before that, but from that day on, it just proved to everyone else what I already knew.”

  “Max, that’s exactly what I think about my dad! You get it!” Relief laced his tone and he let out a great, big gusty sigh. “Finally!” He threw up his hands and dropped them to his side.

  It brought a reluctant smile to Max.

  “He’s not here anymore, so I got to be the hero. For my mom. For Gigi, too.”

  Shock raced through Max. Joey just didn’t describe himself; he’d revealed Max to the core. “I’ve been trying to do that for my brothers, too. Like someone had to fill that role.”

  “Me, too, Max!”

  “My dad always said, ‘you treat people well, you do good things, you make a difference where you can, protect the ones you love the most, and you end up the hero of your own life.’” His father’s words reverberated in his mind and heart, burning bright. Max lived his life by that code.

  Joey leaned back and lay down on the floor. “Phew!” He gazed up at the ceiling, saying, “Daddy, he’s one of us. I found someone just like us.”

  Panic burst in Max’s chest. No, do not let this kid put that on me! I am not stepping in. I am not getting caught up with feeling responsible for his happiness. Then he sank like a lost man stepping into quicksand; realization grabbed him and sucked him in.

  Max didn’t have a choice; his heart was already way more involved than he’d thought.


  Turning away from this boy, his grandmother, and especially his mom was not an option any longer.

  But she didn’t seem like she wanted him hanging around.

  What would Annabelle say or do?

  Chapter 16

  Annabelle clamped her eyes shut, but the tears rolled out of the corners of her eyes anyway. Standing outside of Joey’s room, she’d overheard Max and her son.

  Max! Her heart ached for him. He’d lost his own father so young.

  He’d been there. What a horrible thing to happen to a little boy. But look at him now. He seemed well-adjusted and open to life.

  Unlike her.

  There was hope for her Joey, though. Max gave her that hope.

  In letting Max in her little circle of family, she’d unknowingly discovered the reason her quiet child had clung to his fantasy world. Max had put it all in perspective. Joey wanted to be her hero.

  Leaning against the wall, she dropped her head back. Footsteps sounded and she figured it was Max by the heaviness of them. He was at her side and she turned to look at him.

  His face appeared white and pasty. A grimness stood out around his mouth.

  Now, looking away, she slowly slid down the wall until her butt hit the hard wood floor with a thud. Annabelle brought her knees up and hugged them.

  He made his way in front of her and squatted down, so he was at eye level. Reaching out, he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and then he brushed a fast falling tear off her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

  That soft warm touch felt like he’d reached down in her heart and left an imprint there. Where were her stone barriers when she needed them? Poof! Gone!

  “Irish,” he whispered, and then pressed a kiss against her forehead.

  With trembling fingers, she touched his firm jawline. “I’m so sorry what happened to you, Max,” she said in a low voice, hoping her son couldn’t hear them.

  He took her hand and kissed her palm. “Me, too.” His rough voice filled with heart-clenching emotion. “I’m going now. But I’ll be back.” He waved a hand between them. “You and me have some private talking to do.”

  Fear nibbled at her. It wasn’t a warning or a threat, just a simple statement. However, it scared the bejesus out of her.

  How could one silly splash by a puddle turn her tightly controlled, pre-planned life upside down?

  ***

  Annabelle O’Connor smoothed her dark blue slacks as she hit the entrance of King’s Department Store.

  “Beautiful morning, isn’t it, miss?” the doorman, Benny, asked.

  “Or should we say, top of the morning to ya?” She grinned, feeling goofy and lighthearted at the thought she was about to receive the biggest contract of her career.

  “That it be, lass.” He tipped his hat at her.

  They both chuckled.

  She touched her hair, hoping there were no wayward pieces sticking up, and barely took two steps before Peg, with her famous clipboard clutched to her side, rushed to her and nearly scooped her up in a quick, squishy embrace. Letting go, she stood back and exclaimed, “Holy Batman and Robin, don’t you clean up nice!”

  Again with the superheroes? “Anything’s better than those other times we met.”

  “I’ll say.” She snagged Annabelle by the elbow and steered her toward the elevator. “Got the plans?”

  Annabelle lifted the small portfolio. “In here.” It had taken days to come up with the detailed design.

  Peg checked an item off the list. “Budget? Product list? Quantities? Price? ETC?” She went down the items.

  “ET what?”

  “Estimated Time Of Completion, of course,” Peg chided, rushing her along as they just made it to the elevator, hopped in, and the doors shut behind them. Reaching out, Peg pressed the floor number.

  “Wow! Are you always so fast, Peg?”

  “Efficient, honey. That’s my middle name.”

  “Okay, if you say so.” She shot the woman a grin.

  “Now you’re talking my language.” She scribbled on her paper. “So, that Max blip, no problemo, right?”

  Swallowing hard, she shrugged. “Nope.” But it did still rankle a little. Pushy! She could use the extra jobs and money, but she’d like to be in charge of her own life and business. Making decisions on her own without interference. She knew what was best for her and Joey. No one else did, not even Max.

  “’Cause, Boss 1 and Boss 3 wouldn’t let a little thing like that get in their way. Only the best for King’s. Right now, that means you.”

  A dash of pride swept through her. “Thanks.”

  “No biggie. Oh, and by the way, Boss 1, Charlie, she liked you before, you know, when she barfed her guts out at the grand opening and you helped her out.”

  “First impression? Me with the mud as my accessories?”

  Peg snorted. “Good one.”

  The door dinged open and Peg ushered her out.

  “Okeydokey.” Peg escorted her through the double glass doors and down the hall. “Danger Will Robinson.”

  “Huh?” At the door to the conference room, Peg allowed her to go through first.

  “Just saying.”

  Annabelle shot the woman a frown and then walked in.

  “Irish,” Max said as he rose from a nearby chair.

  She froze in her tracks. “What the hey?” Her knees grew weak. God, he was right there, only a few feet away. Her breath hitched.

  “Yep, knew something something was going on with your two,” Peg said.

  “That’s why you tried to warn me.” It sank in now why Peg had brought up Max at all.

  “You got ten, Max, before the bosses show up for the meeting.” Peg nudged her forward and closed the door behind them.

  “So generous,” he said, nodding to the departed assistant.

  “What’s the deal, Whitfield? Why are you here at all?” It was her meeting, not his. A little fire began to burn in her core. Was he trying to take over?

  “I’m representing you.”

  “Who says? And why would I need anyone to rep me?” The nerve of him!

  “Legal lingo.” He held up paperwork she assumed were contracts.

  “I didn’t hire you. And aren’t you a student and not a full-fledged attorney?” High-handed! She didn’t need him butting in. Her anger pushed away her jitters being near him. Well, almost.

  He grabbed his chest, that nice wide one. “Hurts. Wounded. I’m not even a student. Just a law school dropout now.” He held up his hand. “But I’m a whiz at this stuff. I take care of Jay’s contracts all the time.”

  “Go help him.” Marching to the table, she yanked out a chair and then plopped down.

  “No charge.” He settled in the chair next to hers.

  “Max,” she said between gritted teeth. He’s too near. “I don’t need you.” Underneath, she knew it wasn’t just about the documents. How could she push him away and out of her life when all she wanted to do was kiss him again?

  Leaning closer, he searched her gaze. “I say you do.”

  “You’re wrong.” But her eyes landed on his nice firm lips and she swallowed hard.

  “Prove it.”

  “No.”

  “But you want to.” He dropped his voice.

  The slow, steady hum in her veins ratcheted up to a nice heady buzz. “You’re not my type.”

  “I think you lie.”

  The slight smugness should have set her off; however, it spun her in a web of longing. “Do tell? You an expert or something?” Snark. Could it shield her from him?

  “Oh, I study people. Have been for years now. It’s all preparing me for my future occupation.”

  “Private…dick?” She smiled sweetly.

  He laughed. “You are good, Irish.” His voice was low and husky now, wrapping around her.

  It sent thrills through Annabelle. “So you’re not a first class dick?”

  “Or prick, either,” he challenged right back. “No, Annabelle O’Connor, I’m neit
her. Not that kind of guy. I’m not going to bully you or use you and toss you aside. I’m not going to hurt Joey or Gigi and especially not you. Trust me.”

  She sucked in a sharp, painful breath. How did he know? How could he see things she didn’t even admit to herself? “The last person I trusted to keep his word didn’t make it home alive. No, he put his life on the line to rush into a burning building and save a family who didn’t give a damn about him or the mission he was on. They had just tried to take him and his troops out. But, he couldn’t turn away from the need to rescue them from the flames. In helping them, he forgot about how he turned his back on what his own family needed—for him to come home to them.”

  Max whistled softly. “Quite a guy. But, you’re wrong, Annabelle. I believe he thought he was invincible. That nothing could touch him. Unfortunately, he was wrong.”

  “Superhero again?”

  “Maybe he felt he had to prove something. Or maybe that was who he was and it was ingrained in him.”

  That did ring in her head even before Joey’s recent fixation. Joseph wanted to make something of his life, for him and Gigi. He tried to overcompensate for the father who walked out on them when he was just a kid. Now, his own son didn’t have a father. How sad!

  Reaching out, Max touched her chin and gently lifted it so she could meet his stare. “I think he was a lucky guy to have you. Maybe he knew it, maybe he didn’t.” He traced her lower lip.

  The pad of his thumb feathered along her skin. Thoughts scattered. Sensation throbbed. Want followed, sharp and hard. Annabelle sucked in a quick breath.

  “You feel it, too.”

  “Peg was right. This is dangerous.”

  “How so?”

  “I don’t want to feel anything for you, Max.” But you do, her mind screamed. I’m scared. It just makes me weak and vulnerable. And exposed to getting hurt again.

  With one last long look that made her ache from her head to her toes, Max pulled away. “Your call,” he said in a cool voice, yet she noted how his hands shook when he gathered the documents and placed them in front of her.

  The black lettering was a blur. Max shoved back his chair and rose. Going to leave, he halted and came back to her, dropping a tender kiss on her forehead.