by Louise Bay
He clearly wanted to be rid of me. And I got it. Just days after agreeing to keep things strictly professional, I was standing on a sidewalk with him and his daughter. And even though I wanted to leave, it hurt just a little that he was so keen for me to go.
Amanda’s face fell. “I don’t want to celebrate without her. If it hadn’t been for Harper, I wouldn’t have found my dress. Are you sure you can’t come? We’re going to my favorite place.”
I glanced at Max, whose gaze travelled between me and his daughter. The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he was trying to suppress a smile.
“I’m sure your dad wants to switch off from work and spend time with you—”
“Daaad,” Amanda said. “You want Harper to come, don’t you?”
Max ruffled his daughter’s hair and she quickly moved out of reach. He turned to me and gave me the biggest panty-melting smile I’d ever seen, his green eyes dancing against the New York sun, framed by almost too long lashes. “Harper, we’d love for you to come if you can spare the time. But don’t feel you have to give into my daughter’s whining. She’s far too used to getting her own way.”
Before the sensible side of me—the part enjoying this new middle ground—could run back downtown, I agreed.
“I suppose I should have asked before I said yes, but where are we celebrating?” I asked as we walked east.
“Serendipity,” Amanda replied. “It’s our place. We always come in on the train at the end of summer and celebrate going back to school.”
“From your mom’s?” I asked.
“From Connecticut. Sometimes my mom and Jason come, but sometimes we come in together. Do you remember that year Aunt Scarlett came as well?” she asked her dad. “She wanted to order one of everything because she couldn’t decide.”
“She did order one of everything,” Max said. “Which is pretty typical of my sister.”
“My mom and Jason moved to Europe so it’s just me and Dad now.” She turned back to her dad. “You love having me living with you all the time, don’t you?”
Max chuckled and glanced at me. “She’s driving me crazy.”
They lived together?
“I didn’t realize you lived in Connecticut,” I said. I was fascinated at how the King of Wall Street had a secret life away from Manhattan. I felt like an investigative journalist, putting little scraps of information together.
“Yeah, near Mom and Jason’s place. And Grandma and Grandpa King and Grand-Bob and Grand-Mary. And Scarlett.”
“Jesus. It makes us sound like we’re living in some kind of commune.” Max slung his arms around his daughter’s shoulder. “We just all live close. Amanda’s mother, Pandora, and I were in high school together, and it made sense after college to make sure we lived near each other. That way,” he said, turning to Amanda, “when your mother got sick of you, she could get a break and dump you with me.”
Amanda grinned and rolled her eyes, the explanation clearly something she was used to hearing.
“So the apartment is just a pied-à-terre?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. I used to stay in Manhattan all week and go back to the country on weekends, but now I’m only in town two nights a week.”
Amanda came to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk. “Oh my God. You’ll have to come out, Harper. The night of the dance. Will you help me get ready?”
I didn’t know what to say. I concentrated on trying not to look too shocked. I really liked Amanda and at every turn, Max kept surprising me. I wanted to encroach on their world a little longer, but I knew it was entirely inappropriate.
Max cocked his head, indicating she needed to keep walking. “Amanda. That’s enough. You can’t just assume people want to be monopolized by you.”
We resumed walking north towards Sixtieth. “Why not? Grandma says that I get all my charm from her and that God skipped a generation with you.”
I laughed and Max rolled his eyes.
Thankfully, Amanda’s attention had been diverted away from me. “Oh, I meant to say that I’ve decided I want to enter that piano competition next semester,” she said.
“I thought we checked a few months ago and you have gymnastics the night of the practice, or will the schedule change next semester?” Max asked.
He seemed to have an intricate knowledge of his daughter’s schedule, which if someone had told me yesterday, I would have thought it impossible. But as the day wore on, it was clear he was more involved in his daughter’s life than I’d given him credit for.
“Well, gymnastics is at six and then piano is at eight. So I think I can do both if we can get Marion to drive me.”
This was such a different version of Max King—warm, open, and relaxed. So far removed from the impatient, ruthless man who’d founded King & Associates, to the demanding, sexy man who worked my body as if it belonged to him. This Max King was a father and a family man.
Thunder cracked above us. “I told you it was going to rain,” Max said. “Come on.” He held his hand out for me and then, as if he remembered who we were to each other, withdrew it and nodded up Third Avenue as if we were nearly there instead of two blocks away.
We weren’t going to make it. Generous dots of rain began to color the ground.
“Come on, Harper,” Amanda called as she and Max started to run.
Amanda pointed at a flash of light above us and began to count, “One banana, two banana, three banana, four banana.” Thunder ended her countdown and Amanda squealed. “Quick, it’s nearly here.”
I ran behind them as we wove in between tourists and underneath umbrellas. As we arrived at Serendipity, the lightning flashed again and the rain began to fall more heavily. “Let’s get inside,” I said, and we piled into an already crowded entrance and waited to be seated.
“Do I look like a drowned rat, Dad?” Amanda asked, beaming up at her father. She was a beautiful girl who had inherited the large green eyes, olive skin, and near-black hair from her father.
Max chuckled. “A little bit.”
I wiped my under eyes, trying to remove the inevitable mascara leak. “I’m sure I look like Alice Cooper,” I said.
“You look very pretty, like from a movie or something,” Amanda said. “Doesn’t she, Dad?”
I shook my head and a soaked strand of hair plastered itself against my cheek. To my surprise, Max reached out and tucked it around my ear. Heat coursed through me and I wanted to reach for his hand, push my fingers through his. But instead I concentrated on the waitress behind Max, worried I’d lose control if I looked at him, maybe pull him into a kiss as I did that first night we were together.
He quickly turned back to Amanda and took her face in her hands. “Not as pretty as my drowned rat,” he replied.
“Gah. That’s why I’m never going to get a baby sister.” She twisted away from him. “You need to learn to give ladies compliments, or you’ll never get married.”
Married? I kept my eyes firmly on the restaurant, hoping my makeup hid the red in my cheeks. For the first time since leaving the dress store, I felt as if I shouldn’t be here. Our conversation in the laundry room came back to me. She wanted her dad to find someone. Was Amanda trying to set us up? She had to know that Max and I were … We weren’t involved like that, weren’t ever going to be involved like that.
Chapter Ten
Max
The day with Harper and Amanda had been far … easier than I expected. After finally getting on the train back to Connecticut, Amanda couldn’t stop talking about her dress and Harper and how much she liked her. And I hadn’t stopped her.
“We could invite Harper to dinner,” Amanda said as she set out the knives and forks on the counter in the kitchen.
“Maybe … at some point.” Would she like it here? Would she like me here? I wasn’t sure.
“Well it will be the dance soon anyway. Harper will come then for sure.”
I wasn’t sure Harper had actually accepted that invitation. But Amanda was happy and that was al
l I could wish for. The fact Harper had picked out a perfect dress didn’t hurt. I’d wondered if she’d secretly try something trashy, just to mess with me, get her own back for me being an asshole. I wouldn’t have blamed her but she hadn’t. She’d been bright and beautiful and all about Amanda. And I’d found myself wanting to extend our time together, keep her for a little bit longer.
“Who’s Harper,” my sister, Violet, asked. I smelled an interrogation brewing, and my instinct was to press pause on this situation and escape.
“I told you, the girl that works with dad who helped me pick out the dress.”
“I thought a friend of yours had gone shopping with you,” Violet said to Amanda, trying to catch my eye, but I deliberately busied myself with the salad.
“She is a friend of mine,” Amanda replied. “She lives in the same building in the city as dad.”
“And she works with your father?” Violet asked as she reached over the counter and took a chunk of cucumber and popped it in her mouth. I glanced at Amanda, who was nodding. “That seems like a strange coincidence.” She lowered her voice. “You see a pretty girl in the corridor of your building and offer her a job sharpening your pencils?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I replied and handed her the salad to put on the counter.
A bang on the door caused Amanda to squeal. “Scarlett!” My sisters were determined to overrun me tonight. Violet lived in Brooklyn, so we didn’t see her as often as Scarlett, but she still made an effort to come over once a month. I liked my sisters, but the fewer there were of them in a room at any one time, the better. I grabbed a bottle of Pinot Noir from the counter and uncorked it.
“Hey, asshole,” Scarlett said as she entered the family room.
“Nice to see you, too.” I handed her a glass of wine and kissed her on the cheek.
“I’m serious. Why didn’t you call me back?” Scarlett asked.
“When?” I asked. I didn’t remember getting a message.
“I left you a voicemail telling you about my friend April,” Scarlett said as she dropped her purse on the counter and took a stool. “She asked me to fix you two up, although God knows why.”
“I didn’t get the message.” Or maybe I’d only listened halfway through and deleted it before she could get to the bit about April. “Sorry.”
“So?” she asked.
“So what?” I asked, wanting her to change the subject. I turned back to the oven, taking out the lasagna the housekeeper had left. I never wanted to date my sisters’ friends. I was surprised they were still trying. My life was full to the brim.
“So will you take her out?” she asked as if I were stupid. To be fair, I was being deliberately obstructive. I just didn’t need my sisters interfering with my dating life. I was happy with things as they were.
“Looks like April may have competition,” Violet said. Scarlett shot her a look and Violet shrugged. “We’ve been talking a lot about Harper this evening. She’d definitely get Amanda’s seal of approval.”
I’d never had to concern myself with whether Amanda would like any of the women I’d been with. She’d never met any of them and that’s the way I liked it. It was simply coincidence Amanda had gotten to meet Harper.
Scarlett continued to chat on about April, which I could easily drown out. Harper was a little more difficult to bury. “April comes from a lovely family. She’s blonde, which I know you like.”
Did I like blondes? I wasn’t sure hair color was a deciding factor for me. Harper’s hair was chestnut brown, but had looked almost black in the rain. Images of her standing in the line for Serendipity flashed into my head. She’d looked gorgeous. Her cheeks pinked from running, her eyes bright blue. At one point she’d licked raindrops from her upper lip. It had only been Amanda’s presence that had stopped me from pushing her wet hair from her face, relishing her soft skin under my thumbs, and pressing my lips to hers. If it had been just the two of us, I would have dragged her back to the apartment and spent the afternoon naked and indulging myself in her instead of ice cream.
“What are you smiling about?” Violet asked me.
“I’m not smiling about anything.” I needed to shake these thoughts about Harper off. A taste of Harper was supposed to cure me. That had been my justification for fucking her the first time, the second time, and the third time. But seeing her today, relaxed, warm, and so focused on making sure Amanda was happy, had grown this buzz in my gut I had when she was around or when I thought about her. They laughed and talked together like old friends and listening to them in the changing rooms while I’d pretended to stay focused on my emails made me smile, made me feel good.
“Can I show them my dress?” Amanda asked.
“After dinner you can try it on.”
“Daddy bought me the most beautiful shoes to go with it. I’m not sure he would have, but Harper said she’d buy them if he didn’t.”
“I was always going to buy the shoes. Give me some credit. I know you can’t wear your sneakers.” Harper’s face had lit up when she’d seen the shoes. I’d wanted to ask for a pair in her size as well. Maybe I’d try to find her something similar. After all, I’d ruined her blouse.
“So I want to hear more about Harper,” Scarlett said. “How old is she? Is she pretty?”
Amanda took a spoonful of salad and stopped, thinking about the question.
“Come on, Amanda,” I said, trying to distract them away from this question. “Don’t get it all over the table.”
“My age?” Violet asked.
She nodded and dropped some salad on her plate. “I guess. Like, grown-up age. And she’s really pretty.”
They were right about that. She was very attractive.
“I’d say about twenty-five,” Scarlett said. “Gorgeous, too, and she just happens to work with Max.” I avoided Scarlett’s glances. But she was right, Harper was gorgeous. And smart. And great in bed.
“She’s one of my employees who happens to live in the building. Amanda begged her to go shopping with her. I’m sure it’s the last thing she wanted to do.”
“She enjoyed it,” Amanda said with total confidence. Because why wouldn’t a twenty-something enjoy going shopping with her boss and his kid? Harper had been exceptionally good about it. It had been nice to watch them together.
“Would she go out on a date with your dad, or is she too pretty for him?”
Amanda grinned. “Oh my God, that would be so awesome. And I know she doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
I pretended I wasn’t listening and took the salad spoons from Amanda and finished distributing the salad for everyone. Normally I’d have put an end to the conversation by now. I’d become good at deflecting around my dating life but this was slightly different. I found I liked the conversation about Harper—enjoyed Amanda’s reaction to her. And I didn’t mind them considering us as some kind of couple. Not that it would ever happen—we’d agreed it wouldn’t. It was just I didn’t mind it being a possibility in my family’s mind.
*
Monday I’d gotten into the office late. I’d been shopping for shoes for Harper. It had taken me too long to make the purchase, not knowing what I was doing and why. Now I was behind and grouchy and I still wasn’t decided on whether or not I’d actually give her the shoes. Next on my schedule was to follow up on the lunch invitation to Charles Jayne as Harper had suggested.
“Max, I have Margaret Hooper, Charles Jayne’s assistant, on the line for you,” Donna squawked from my speakerphone.
“Thank you.” I cleared my throat and pulled back my shoulders. Assistants had much more power than people realized, and I was sure Margaret held considerable sway with Charles Jayne.
I picked up the receiver. “Ms. Hooper, Max King of King & Associates here.” I could tell from her response, which was soft and helpful, that she was pleased I’d called her and not just asked Donna to call on my behalf. Harper had made a good suggestion. So now that Margaret was on our side, I needed to convince her to let me take Ch
arles to lunch.
“As you know, Mr. Jayne has asked me to come in to see him on the twenty-fourth. I don’t want to waste his time.”
“You’re right, he doesn’t have much time to do anything, so how can I help?” she asked.
“I want to make the presentation as focused and helpful as possible. Now of course this benefits me because I provide Mr. Jayne with what he most needs.”
“Indeed, Mr. King,” she replied, skepticism rising in her voice.
“Please, call me Max.”
I could hear her smile across Wall Street. “Okay, Max, what is it you want?”
“I want to create a win-win situation. If I understand what it is that Mr. Jayne is looking for then our presentation won’t be a waste of anyone’s time. He’s happy. I’m happy. If I can get lunch with Mr. Jayne—”
“The problem is he doesn’t have any lunch availability between now and the twenty-fourth. His schedule books up very quickly, unfortunately.” Her tone transitioned from friendly and open to clipped and concise. I wasn’t sure if she was being honest, or if I was being given the brush-off.
“I’d be very happy to come to the JD Stanley offices and bring lunch to Mr. Jayne, if that would help?” I suggested. “Alternatively, I’ll get a table booked at La Grenouille if that would suit him.”
“I’m sorry. If it were up to me, I’d love to find space. But I’m afraid it’s not.” That sounded like a brush-off. Otherwise she’d have said she’d let me know and checked with Charles Jayne.
“That’s such a shame.” I paused a second, considering my options. Was it worth trying to press a little more or did I risk backlash?
Maybe I should mention Harper’s name. I still wasn’t clear what the bad blood was between Harper and her father. It couldn’t just be about the fact she didn’t get offered a job when she graduated. She’d indicated things went bad between them before that.
Harper knew the reason we were going to give her a slot on the presenting team was because she was Charles Jayne’s daughter, right? So she understood to a certain extent she was being used. There’s no way I’d ordinarily have a junior researcher second chair a meeting like that. But at the same time, I’d discussed that with her, sought her approval before making any decisions.
