by Neesa Hart
Sidney began to fidget under his intense stare. She cleared her throat. “I wanted to thank you again for sending Gertie to take care of Philip,” she finally said.
“Don’t mention it. I was glad to.”
“He’ll like having her there.”
“I hope so.” He watched the uneasiness that played across her face. She looked nervous, and, unless he missed his guess, a little heated. It made him feel better to think she was as aware as he of the strange electricity between them.
She shifted uncertainly. “Was there something you wanted?”
You, he wanted to say, just to gauge her reaction. “Philip,” he said instead. “I wanted to ask you how much Philip told you about the guest list for this weekend.”
A slight smile played at her full lips. “You wanted to strangle him, you mean?”
“Maybe.”
She nodded. “I think yes. He suggested that you might be feeling a bit, ah, perturbed by now.”
“So he knew that Raymond Lort was bringing Alice Northrup-Bowles as his guest?”
“Yes.”
“But he didn’t care to enlighten me.”
“I suppose not.”
“Why the hell not?”
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t care to speculate.”
He narrowed his gaze. “But you knew.”
“I knew she’d be here.”
“Did you know it would make me furious?”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t tell me either.”
She brushed her palm over her jacket sleeve. “I didn’t feel—”
“Damn Philip. He should have told me.”
“He seemed to feel you’d rescind Mr. Lort’s invitation if you knew he intended to bring Ms. Nothrup-Bowles.”
“I would have. The bastard. Lort knows exactly how I feel about that woman.”
“Uncle Philip felt the crisis could be easily avoided without forcing you to offend Mr. Lort.”
Philip would, he thought, his temper kicking up another degree. “I don’t give a damn about offending Raymond Lort. Alice is a scheming, conniving leech who happens to make my sister Natalie feel miserable. Alice has a genius for making Natalie forget that she’s an exceptionally talented, remarkably gifted woman. Worse, Alice enjoys it.” His gaze narrowed. He uttered a dark curse. “And it enrages me.”
Sidney visibly stilled. She appeared to be gathering her calm. Slowly, she pushed herself out of her chair, then brushed past him to stand at the window. “Look.” Pointing, she drew his attention back to the terrace. “I’d like you to notice that my assistant has your sister fully occupied in solving a crisis which will, no doubt, save your party from certain ruin.”
She indicated a darkened corner of the terrace. “Natalie’s husband, Paul, is busily distracting Edward Fitzwater’s attention from your brother’s obvious nervousness, thereby ensuring that Miss Northrup-Bowles has absolutely no chance of attracting Paul’s notice.” She pointed to the dance floor where Greg and Lauren were enjoying a few moments together. “And Miss Fitzwater is being given every opportunity to wrestle the expected proposal from your brother.”
Even as she said it, a waiter intercepted one of Greg’s former girlfriends with a canapé-laden tray. The woman stopped, sampled the confection, then accepted an invitation to dance from one of Max’s vice presidents. Max’s gaze flicked over the party as he repressed the urge to pull Sidney into his arms. Too soon, he reminded himself. Patience was key. “Nicely done,” he murmured.
Her eyes twinkled when she looked at him. “I’m very good at what I do.”
The statement sent heat skittering along his skin as he wondered, inevitably, just how good she was at other things. “Really?” he said, lifting an eyebrow.
He knew from her expression that she sensed the shift in the conversation. She backed up a step. “Max, is something wrong?”
Max exhaled a deep breath and leaned back against his desk. He had more riding on this weekend than she could possibly know. Philip had understood. And Max had to believe that Philip wouldn’t have sent Sidney to him if he didn’t think she could help him. It wasn’t Philip’s fault that Max was having trouble picturing Sidney as his ally when the thoughts he was having weren’t nearly so tame. Much as he’d like to concentrate all his energy on her, he couldn’t afford the risk. There was too much at stake. “Sidney, look,” he began. “I don’t know how much Philip told you about this party, but it’s extremely important.”
She nodded. “Because of the merger with Fitzwater.”
He tipped his head toward the window. “Since your staff obviously have my guests completely under control, why don’t you sit down and let me explain.” He poured himself a drink. “Want one?” he asked.
She shook her head as she hurried around the desk. “No, thank you.” Sidney dropped back into the leather chair. “I don’t drink on the job.”
“You brought two glasses.”
“I thought you might have a guest.”
He shook his head. “Not up here. I don’t entertain guests in this room.” He met her gaze, waited to see if she recognized the significance of the statement. Awareness flickered in her gaze. Satisfied, he waved the bottle at her. “Will it change your mind if I tell you this is iced tea?”
Sidney’s eyebrows lifted.
“It’s a quirk of mine,” Max continued. “I don’t drink on the job either.”
“Aren’t you always on the job?”
He gave her a knowing look. “That’s why I keep tea instead of bourbon in my decanters.” He poured her a glass. “I’m surprised Philip didn’t tell you.”
“He told me everything he thought I needed to know to help make this a successful weekend for you. He doesn’t tell me your personal business.”
Max pondered that. Philip had told him certain details about Sidney’s life, it was true, but when he thought about it, he really knew very little about her personal habits and preferences. He nodded. “I’m sure he doesn’t. That’s one of the reasons I like him.”
“Uncle Philip is very professional, and he cares for you. You’re lucky to have him.”
“I know I am. Smart people surround themselves with smart people who are strong where they aren’t. I’m sure you’ve learned that in business.”
She nodded. “That’s why Kelly’s in charge of client relations, and I stick to making chocolates.”
Max’s gaze narrowed. There was something significant in the statement, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He’d never been particularly gifted at reading the nuances of conversation. Especially not from the female of the species. “Something like that,” he admitted.
Shifting slightly in the chair, Sidney waved a hand in the general direction of the party. “The more you tell me, the more I can help you.”
A smile played at the corner of his mouth. She was, indeed, Philip’s niece. Philip Grant’s personal motto was: Knowledge Is Ammunition. “That’s probably true. Are you sure you’re willing to help me?”
She looked surprised. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Against your better judgment?”
“No, of course not.”
“How did your staff feel when you told them they’d be working for ‘Mad Max?”’
Her lips pressed together in a tight line. “They were pleased.”
“I’ll bet.”
“You pay very well. They were pleased.”
Max shrugged. In a burst of restless energy, he slipped open the buttons of his double-breasted tuxedo jacket, then dropped into his desk chair. “Did you tell them I’m prone to fits of brooding and unmanageable temper and that most of my acquaintances are scared to death of me?”
“No.” There was firm resolution in her voice. “I did not. I don’t indulge in spreading rumors.”
Had her expression been any less serious, he might have laughed. She meant it, he realized, and the thought warmed him as little else could. “No, I don’t suppose you do.”
Sidney wat
ched him for long seconds, then settled back in her chair. “So what else is riding on this besides a merger with Edward Fitzwater?”
Max exhaled. “Just about everything,” he told her. “I’m concerned about Greg.”
In the next few minutes, Max carefully explained to her how much he wanted his brother’s relationship with Lauren Fitzwater to progress. Yes, he admitted, the merger represented a significant gain for Loden Enterprises, but his true concern was for his brother’s welfare. Greg needed stability in his life, and Lauren would give it to him. If Philip were there, Max knew, he would have done whatever he could to ensure that Greg’s engagement came off without a hitch—Alice Northrup-Bowles notwithstanding.
When he finished his long explanation, he gave Sidney a cautious look. “Sorry. That’s probably more than you bargained for.”
“Actually, it’s what I expected.” Sidney tilted her head to one side in a manner painfully reminiscent of that night in the library. “Max, can I ask you something?”
He sensed danger, but deliberately dismissed it. “Sure.” He glanced out the window again.
“Why are you so sure this is right for your brother?”
His hand tightened on his glass. “Family is important to everyone, Sidney.”
“By family, you mean marriage.”
“For Greg I do.”
“Don’t you think that’s up to him to decide?”
“I know my brother. I know exactly what he needs.” He didn’t bother to explain that the same instincts that drove him in business told him that his brother’s life had reached a crucial turning point. A few more years, and Greg the immature young man was going to become their father—bitter, broke and completely alone.
“I see.”
He didn’t think he imagined the doubt in her tone and it annoyed him. He turned to face her. “Look, I’ve spent the last ten years taking care of my brother and my two sisters. Sometimes, I’m in a better position to know what’s best for them. In Greg’s case, he has trouble committing himself. If he can find a way to screw this up, he will.”
“Do you think he’ll make Lauren happy?”
“Yes.”
She frowned again. “Will he cheat on her?”
Max studied her for a few seconds, cursing the man who’d put that pained look in her eyes. Evidently, the memories of her first marriage still stung. She knew firsthand just how devastating infidelity could be. “No. He won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I wouldn’t let him.” His voice held a note of iron resolve, the same tone he used when he made reckless business decisions and dared his staff to question him.
“You couldn’t stop—”
Max shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. I mean Greg knows that no one in this family would tolerate it if he cheated on his spouse. We’re not that kind of people, Sidney. He’d have hell to pay if he decided to wander, and Greg’s not extremely fond of paying consequences.”
She studied him. “That’s an interesting theory.”
He wasn’t going to argue with her. She couldn’t possibly understand. “It’s the way I do things.”
As if she sensed the challenge in the words, she gave him a short nod. “I understand.”
“Then we’re clear on that?”
“Absolutely. I’m here for you.”
The slight emphasis nearly undid him. Could she even suspect the effect she was having on him? He searched her expression and found it stubbornly unreadable. Setting his glass on the desk, he leaned toward her. She smelled like chocolate. He found it more arousing than any designer perfume.
Carefully holding her gaze he said, “I’m counting on it.”
FROM THE adjacent room, one of Max’s maids, who’d spent an hour on the phone with Philip Grant earlier that evening, smiled as she flicked the lamp on and off three times. She watched her contact, the young bartender near the fountain, for a response. He glanced around, then carefully selected a champagne glass to polish with a soft, white cloth. Understanding the message, the maid nodded to the other young woman in the room before she headed off to intercept Max’s sister Colleen, who was at that moment, according to the bartender, on her way to find Max in his third-story office. Philip had made it quite clear that Sidney and Max weren’t to be interrupted.
The other woman, one of Max’s chauffeurs, picked up the telephone to place a call to Philip Grant. The senior butler had asked for complete information on the weekend’s events. He would, no doubt, find this bit of news especially intriguing.
Chapter Three
“I don’t know, Philip,” Gertie said as she discarded the king of hearts. “If Sidney finds out what you’re up to, she’ll strangle you.”
Philip Grant picked up the king and added it to his hand. “She’ll never suspect. Besides, Max needs her.” He discarded the three of spades.
Sam Mitchell, Max’s groundskeeper, pulled a card from the draw stack. “That’s for sure. Last month, I was scared to death he was going to give in and marry the Barlow woman—” He snapped his fingers. “What’s her name?”
“Constance,” Elena Garcia, who kept the exotic plants blooming in Max’s greenhouse, said with disdain.
“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “Constance—as in constantly annoying. She’s taken on becoming the answer to ‘Who Gets To Marry Max?’ as a personal project.” He tapped his blunt fingers on his fanned cards. “Can you imagine life with her running Max’s house?”
Elena clucked her tongue. “I tell you one thing, if he brings home that Barlow woman, I’m going to quit.”
Gertie grunted. “You’re not the only one. The minute he hints there might be a wedding, I’m giving him my resignation.”
“You, and all the rest of us,” Sam agreed, tossing the five of hearts onto the discard pile. “Except maybe Philip. What would it take to make you leave Max, Philip?”
“I don’t know,” he said blandly. “Are you going to take that card, Elena?”
Elena gave him a dry look. “Don’t think you’re going to distract me. You may think you’re going to force Max and Sidney together, but what will you do if your plan backfires? Greg Loden isn’t exactly oblivious to Sidney’s obvious charms, you know?”
Sam nodded. “That’s true. And with Max breathing down his brother’s neck about an engagement to Miss Fitzwater, I suspect Greg’ll be looking for some diversion this weekend.”
“He won’t find it with Sidney,” Philip assured them. “I’ve already told her what Max is expecting from Greg. She’ll see that it happens.”
“He’s a charmer, that one,” Gertie mused. “I’ve seen him turn heads before.”
“Not Sidney’s. She’s immune to him.”
“But not to Max,” Elena prompted.
Philip shook his head. “Sidney and Max—” he searched for the right word “—communicate.” He glanced at Elena. “If you’re not going to take that card, I am.”
She clucked her tongue as she reached for the card. “You can’t expect to win every game, Philip.”
While she studied her hand, Philip decided not to ask what she meant by that. Instead, he wondered how Max and Sidney were faring at the estate. He’d seen Max grow from a lonely young boy, who gracefully bore the pressures of the world on his shoulders, to an even lonelier man whose friends and family expected him to solve all their problems. Isolated in a tower of emotional distance, Max Loden was in serious danger of losing his heart. To hear some tell it, he was already past saving. Philip didn’t believe it.
Elena dropped a card onto the discard pile. Gertie reached for it. “No matter what you say, Philip, if Sidney finds out you’re not really sick, she’ll kill you for this.”
Philip suppressed a smile. Long ago, he’d given up trying to understand the strange connection between his niece and his employer. But of one thing he was certain: Max needed rescuing. Always the savior, always the one his family relied on in a crisis, always the hero, Max had learned to depend on no one—for suppo
rt, for help, or even for love. While Sidney, his brave, talented, headstrong niece, had learned to keep the world at arm’s length. Hurt one time too many, Sidney allowed no one to penetrate her inner world.
As Gertie studied her cards, Philip considered the niece he loved like a daughter, and the employer he considered a close friend. Only Philip had breached their collective defenses. And while he didn’t begin to understand why he’d been blessed with such a role, he took the responsibility seriously. They needed each other. And since the two of them were too thickheaded to know it, he had no choice but to take matters into his own hands.
Gertie discarded the jack of diamonds. Philip picked it up with a feeling of satisfaction. Eventually, he reasoned, Max and Sidney would understand that he was acting in their best interest and forgive him for meddling. He discarded, then set his cards down on the table. “Gin.”
Sam grumbled as he began tabulating the score. “One day, I’m going to figure out how you manage to cheat.”
Elena dropped her cards to the table with a sigh of disgust. “He marks the cards. He has to. Nobody has his luck.”
As Philip piled the cards into a neat stack, the phone rang. Gertie frowned as she reached for the receiver. “Well, let’s hope his luck is holding. Sidney already called once this morning. I hope she’s not suspicious.”
“She’s not,” Philip assured her.
“Hello?” Gertie answered the phone. Philip carefully watched her expression change from polite inquiry to unabashed delight. She covered the receiver with her hand. “It’s Mary Beth,” she said, identifying the young woman who’d called last night with news of Max’s third-floor rendezvous with Sidney. “She says Max is teaching Bailey how to dive this morning.”
Philip lifted an eyebrow—an affectation he’d passed on to his employer. “There’s nothing unusual about that. Max is very fond of his niece.”
Gertie asked Mary Beth a few more questions, then hung up. “Nothing unusual,” she told the small group, satisfaction evident in her tone, “except that Sidney is watching, and Max is watching her watch him.”
SIDNEY WAS still questioning her sanity as she methodically made her way around Max’s pool, discreetly checking on his guests. Drinks were filled, towels replaced. At a waved command to one of her staff, an ashtray materialized near the elbow of Raymond Lort. Momentarily satisfied, she continued to scan the scene, looking for flaws and, more consciously, trying to ignore the way Max looked sitting on the edge of the pool, patiently teaching one of his nieces how to dive.
