"You?" Max Collins stood over her and shook his head. "It's like a bad dream."
"You're telling me." Lisa replied eyeing the shoe and wondering if it was completely ruined. "I just bought these sandals."
He looked handsome even when frowning and in a ridiculous lime green shirt.
Lisa dropped her head back to the dirt. Oh God, the perp was the landscaper.
Once inside her office, Lisa watched through the window as Max and his men began repairs on the area she'd damaged. It turned out that the tree was the least of the destruction. She'd slid through twenty feet of newly laid sod, a flowerbed and several Japanese Holly bushes. "What the hell are Japanese Holly bushes anyway?" She mumbled and sipped on her Diet Dr. Pepper.
Her boss had called a meeting as soon as his wife left and declared that only Angel could drive the personnel transporter. Lisa would have to either walk or drive her own car if she needed to go to the warehouse. Lisa fought the urge to roll her eyes at remembering Angel's swollen chest and smug look.
At least the cart had minimal damage. The tree took the brunt of the hit, followed by the grass and bushes. Thankfully, Max had come to her rescue and told Mr. Wells that he'd come up with a repayment agreement for the replacements with her.
Outside her window, the object of her thoughts walked from the company truck carrying a flat of some sort of plants. By the way his biceps bulged his load was heavy. Her eyes locked on the vicinity his face. She could not make out an expression since he wore a ball cap low on his brow that shielded his features. His strong jawline drew her attention, and then her gaze slid to his wide shoulders and well-shaped arms. His olive skin was covered in perspiration. If he owned the company, then why was he out there working like the rest of his crew? She looked to the name on the truck. Maybe it was his father's business and he was just a worker for the company.
"Lisa?" Bernie, one of her coworkers, walked in. He flew past her desk to look out the window. His mouth formed an "O" and he blinked several times. "Good Lord, look at your wonderful view." Her friend perched on the end of her desk. "I need to work closely with you this week."
"Bernie you can't camp out in here," Lisa hissed, her gaze shifting from him to the doorway and back. "I'm already in hot water with Mr. Wells today."
"I heard," Bernie replied not moving. "I hear that yummy foreman is going to put you to work." His eyes never left the window. "If you need help, I'm in." He lifted his right hand over his head. "I want that one over there… the redhead. He can landscape my personal yard."
"Ewww" Lisa said, not able to keep from laughing. "You're crazy. I'm sure Max Collins will give me a bill for several hundred dollars, which I don't have by the way, then threaten to sue me if I don't pay him." She let out a sigh. "Our girls' trip to the beach may have to be cancelled."
"I'm going to the beach too. It's not a girls' trip." Bernie said standing and grabbing a pen and paper from her desk.
Mr. Wells' secretary, Aoni walked in. The woman was as evil incarnate as she was beautiful. Of Indian decent, she had perfect glossy black hair and a body that Lisa would give her right leg for. Aoni seemed to live just to torture her.
"Mr. Wells wishes me to discuss the matter of your accident this morning. Do you plan to go to the clinic to see about your injury? If so, an accident report will have to be done." She held some forms in front of Lisa and she pretended to read them. Lisa knew Aoni well enough to know that she probably memorized every word on them, before coming to her and Angel's office.
Aoni lowered the papers. "According to company policy, you should have completed the report within minutes of your accident."
"Good thing I didn't lose my right hand. It would have been a bitch to type with a stump." Lisa took the forms and glanced at them. The only words she read were "Workmans’ Compensation."
Aoni narrowed her eyes at Bernie and tapped her foot. He held up the pen in his hand. "We were working on something when you interrupted so..." He shrugged and turned to look out the window.
Lisa bit back the urge to smile. Bernie could get away with much more than her. As an engineer, he was above Aoni's level of torture.
"Well, what are you planning to do?" The secretary turned her attention back to Lisa, who was now looking at her leg. The cut had already begun to scab.
"I'm not going to the clinic." At Aoni's lowering of shoulders and exhale of relief, she added. "But, just in case I change my mind, maybe we should complete the forms. If I was to develop gangrene or something overnight, heaven forbid, I wouldn't want you to be in breach of company policy."
Aoni huffed and clenched her jaw. "Very well, complete these. I'll start on the rest of the package." She grumbled and dropped a stack of papers on Lisa's desk. "Complete the report and explain the occurrence in extensive detail."
She turned to walk away but Lisa's next words stopped her. "These forms are supposed to be completed by either my supervisor or the HR rep. Being that my supervisor is Mr. Wells and you are the HR Rep, I believe this is your department."
"I don't have time for this," Aoni barked and snatched the papers out of Lisa's hand. She shuffled through them and dropped two sheets back on her desk. "It's all online." She huffed and stepped to the doorway.
"I'm leaving in an hour." Lisa attempted a look of despondency. "I think I will stop at the clinic. Just the thought of gangrene made my leg throb."
Aoni stalked away.
”Tsk, tsk, tsk”, Bernie said as he lowered the pen and paper to her desk. "She's going to get back at you for this one."
"I know but look at her." They both watched Aoni sink into her chair and begin to type, her fingers flying over the keys shouldered hunched. "She's going to have a stroke if she holds on to all that tension."
"Are you really going to the clinic?"
"Nah, I'll wait until five and tell her I changed my mind."
They snickered and turned back to look out the window.
Chapter Three
Max waited until he saw his father get out his Cadillac, before climbing out of the Jeep. His old man stopped and waited for him, the look on his face like a marble statue, completely unreadable.
"He's going to do some time. It's not going to be a slap on the wrist like before." His father's words made Max's gut clench. Was his dad blaming him for what happened to Dean?
"It was a thousand dollars, I don't know if that qualifies for a long time Dad." He kept his words and expression flat, not sure what to expect.
"Yeah, well, it's time he learns. If you keep messing with a rabid dog, it’s gonna eventually bite you in the ass." His father, a retired detective kept his body in shape, at fifty, he seemed much younger. In jeans and a striped polo shirt he appeared relaxed, except for the tight jaw and alert eyes. "Let's go talk to the judge."
They entered the small courthouse, several of the deputies on duty as well as the county clerk acknowledged his father with either raised hands or handshakes. A slight man in a suit rose from where he sat upon spotting them. With his briefcase tucked against his side, he made his way to them.
"Mr. Collins," the lawyer shook his father's hand. His eyes darted to Max who stuck out his hand.
"Maxwell Collins, I'm Dean's brother."
"He's in the back room. Won't talk to me, said he'd rather wait until you arrived." The lawyer told his father. "I told him we didn't have much time, as his preliminary hearing is in less than thirty minutes."
They hurried into a small room where Dean sat at a metal table with a deputy at his back. The deputy's eyes connected with his father's and the men exchanged cop-to-cop looks. Max looked to Dean who deliberately ignored him.
The attorney began speaking of probabilities and what needed to be said and done while Dean fidgeted under his father's scrutiny.
Max studied his brother. He'd not shaved in what looked like days and his hair was a tangled mess. He pulled a comb out of his back pocket and slid it across the table to his brother without speaking. Dean rolled his eyes but picked it up a
nd combed his hair, then threw it back at him.
"Alright Dean." His father spoke, his eyes never leaving his brother's face. "If the judge grants bond, how do you intend to pay for it?"
Dean winced, "I don't know. I guess I can sell my bike."
"Sell it Max." When their father said the words, both brothers' eyes widened. That motorcycle was Dean's pride and joy. Not to mention only form of transportation.
"What?" Dean's voice was brimmed with restrained anger. "I can't sell my bike. It's one of a kind."
"Would you prefer to stay in jail until your court date?” his father asked with one eyebrow arched. "With the money from the sale, you can bail out and repay the money you stole."
"Fuck." Dean didn't bother to apologize to his father, but rounded his shoulders in defeat.
"You'll repay your brother by working for him." Their father continued. "Max, I want you to dock half his pay every week, until he's repaid you in full for all the loans. That's it, nothing more from this family for you Dean. I'm going to speak to the judge, but I'm not going to defend you in any way. I'll ask him to be fair and ignore the fact that you are my son." Matthew Collins stood to his full height and bent at the waist until he was eye to eye with his youngest son. "This is the last time Dean. I'm done." He turned on his heel and walked out leaving the brothers and the lawyer watching his broad back depart.
"Well, it's time to go in." The lawyer seemed nervous to be left alone with them. He eyed the deputy and walked out behind their father.
Max looked at his brother. In spite of the circumstances, he hated to see him so defeated. "I’m sorry. I'll find a good buyer for the bike."
Dean only nodded. "It's not your fault. I'm an idiot. Thanks."
The cold beer helped Max relax after a trying couple of days. His brother was released on one thousand dollars bail. It was a low amount, probably due to the fact that the judge was their uncle. His court date was set in four weeks, along with the demand that Dean repay the money by that day. Dean would join Max's work force on Monday morning. Max wondered how long it would take before he and his brother would end up rolling around on the lawn with fists flying. They always butted heads. They were both stubborn and hot-tempered especially with each other.
There had already been several offers for the motorcycle, thanks to Dean's great workmanship. There would be more than enough left after paying the bond money back to his dad and the money he owed to his ex-boss who demanded double the money that was taken, for his breach of trust. Although the judge deemed only one thousand was due, the attorney informed them that it would show Dean's repentance if he paid what the man demanded.
Max's cell phone's ring tone, a rap song sounded. I just had sex...I just had sex, repeated and he cringed. Tina always changed his ringtones as a prank. He'd stopped by the hospital earlier and she'd sent him to get her some chips. He should have known she was up to something.
Max answered without reading the display.
"Max this is Lisa. I'm calling about the damage repayment."
He'd forgotten about that. "Err...yes. Payment. How about we discuss it over dinner. I have a payment in mind, not money per say, but something more personal in nature."
"Oh…. ummm…well…. okay."
There was a knock on the door. He thought it was probably Dean coming to talk him out of selling the motorcycle. "Look I've got to go. How about, seven o'clock, tomorrow night at my place? Is that all right? "
"I...yeah…that should be okay. Should I bring anything? Dessert maybe? Is that what you have in mind?"
"There's someone at the door. Dessert, sure." He hung up and then dialed her back. At her brisk hello, he opened the door to find Dean with a backpack. "I forgot to give you my address."
He rattled off his address and ended the call.
"Hey Bro." Dean sauntered in. Max followed him into the kitchen where his brother rummaged through the fridge, getting a beer and pulled out lunchmeat and cheese placing them onto the counter. "I hate jail," Dean muttered. "I need to take a hot shower, drink a beer and then take another shower." Dean shuddered and popped open a beer drinking the entire contents without putting it down.
"I'll make my sandwich after I take my first shower." He started down the hallway.
"You don't live here," Max told him following behind Dean who was already shucking off clothing and dropping them on the floor. "What the hell are you doing?"
Wearing only his boxers, Dean turned to Max and gave him a lazy smile. "My girlfriend kicked me out. I'll only be here for a couple days. I’m moving in with Alex on Sunday."
Alexandra was Dean's one loyal friend. In Max's opinion she should be set up for sainthood. "Alex always takes you in. Always there for you. Why don't you just open your eyes and marry her."
"No way," Dean stripped off his boxers and turned on the shower. "Alex is my best friend. Actually, she’s my only friend. If I sleep with her, I'll be friendless when I mess around on her. Get me a clean towel will ya?" Dean sneezed and his eyes widened. "That damn cat is here isn't it?"
Max could only stare at his brother as he climbed under the water stream. "I said marry her, not sleep with her. You're not right." He left and went back to the front room not bothering to get Dean a towel. He'd have to find it on his own.
*****
Lisa stared at her cell phone, which now lay on the tabletop. Did she understand Max right?
She had to be mistaken. There was no way he just proposed that she sleep with him as payment for the landscaping damage. No....she must have misunderstood. What about the dessert comment? When she'd insinuated she was dessert, he'd said yes. "Oh. My. God." She said out loud at her cat, a huge yellow tabby that gave her a concerned look. "What is the matter with me Biggie that I am actually considering it?" The cat closed his eyes ignoring her. "I couldn't possibly do that."
"Could I?"
She went to her closet and studied her choices for the next day. "I need to go to the mall. Not because I'm seeing Max tomorrow, of course." Biggie's bored expression made her fidget under his scrutiny. "It's just that… well… one should dress for success at work. Right?"
"Meow." Biggie was not much of a talker.
She turned to the TV to see a woman on the screen creeping through a darkened house, in her shaking hand she held up a knife. "What an idiot, she's so going to die." Lisa sat on the edge of her bed, eyes glued to the screen. "Don't look for the bad guy. Run in the opposite direction." Both she and the woman screamed when the bad guy jumped out behind the woman and grabbed her around the neck. Biggie hissed and ran, while Lisa covered her face with her hands. Her cell phone rang and Lisa yelped before giggling.
Max's bungalow was in the older part of town that was currently going through a metamorphosis. Smart boutiques, coffee houses and locally owned restaurants stood in what used to be an abandoned section of Central Avenue. When she turned down his street the once dilapidated houses now sported fresh coats of paint and pristine yards. She pulled up to the address and was impressed by the stucco one story dwelling. The lawn was a vivid green. A tall tree with wide branches shaded the front walkway. The yard was small but well maintained. There was a water feature with plants that beckoned one to sit on one of the two cement benches that flanked the gurgling pond.
Lisa held a bag that contained only one item. A can of whipped cream. Her purse, which was strapped across her body, bounced on her thigh as she walked toward the front door. The sounds of her heels click-clacking on the stone walkway echoed the beats of her heart. “It is just dinner,” she told herself. Sure it was dinner with a gorgeous man who might be expecting sex as payment for destroyed landscaping. But, other than that, there was no reason whatsoever to be nervous.
When the right moment arose, she already had her speech planned. With a can of whipped cream in hand, she'd pretend to go along with sex as payment. She'd give him the whipped cream and tell him to get undressed. She’d tell him to put whipped cream on each place he wanted her to kiss. While he did that
, she would bolt. It was a perfect plan for the jerk.
The door opened before she could knock, Max looked her over and she smiled up at him. She wore a yellow sundress with matching patent leather flats. She knew the outfit showed off her curvy figure. His gaze lingered on the bag she held in her hand. "Come on in. Hope you like Italian."
The aromas that hit her transported her straight to Italy. Oregano, basil and tomato complementing the garlic, onion and what she was pretty sure was fresh baked bread.
"What can I do to help?" she went to the fridge and placed the whipped cream bag on a shelf.
"You can pour some wine," he told her stirring a pot. "I hope you like Chianti."
Lisa could only nod, watching the hunk move around his bright modern, obviously recently remodeled kitchen with ease. He opened the oven and pulled out a baking sheet with small-knotted breads and set them on the counter to cool.
She poured the wine into the two goblets he'd left on the counter, while he drained penne pasta.
"How did you learn to cook?"
A crooked smile lifted his lips and she sighed. "When I was in college, I used to work at Olive Garden, as a chef. I learned a lot."
They talked about their odd jobs during college and the time went fast. She learned he'd majored in horticulture and owned Collin's Landscaping.
While cleaning up after eating, Lisa confessed that he had made the best dinner she'd ever eaten on a date. Max shook his head. "I doubt that."
"No really." Admittedly, she'd never enjoyed a first date as much. He was easy to talk to, incredibly handsome and was an amazing cook to boot. If it wasn't for the detail of him expecting her to prostitute herself, it would have been the perfect first date.
Max neared her and Lisa refused to back down. She had to stick to her plan. "You brought dessert?" His eyes lingered on her lips and without thinking she licked them. He smiled and moved closer until they almost touched. "I find you intriguing Miss Pasqualone."
Concealed Carry Page 2
