Max (The Casanova Club Book 12)

by Ali Parker

  Luxury shopping was not my forte.

  “Aha!” I cried victoriously when I laid hands on the velvet blazer I’d warned Max about. I held it up by the shoulders and pressed it to my front like I was the one who would be wearing it. “See? Very velvet. Very green.”

  Max sat on the sofa in his living room with a glass of wine in one hand. His other arm was draped casually over the back of the sofa, and he looked as put off by the blazer as I’d been when Holly first plucked it from the rack.

  “For the love of all that is good,” he breathed, “why?”

  Giggling, I extended the blazer so I could take another look at it. The thread, though hard to see because of how plush the velvet was, was a deep gold shade. It complemented the green nicely, but it was so pretentious. “It’s definitely not you,” I said. “But the buttons are nice. And the collar. And well, that’s about it.”

  Max chuckled and scratched at the ashy-blond stubble on his jaw. “It’s going back to the store.”

  “Good.” I dropped the blazer back into the bag from whence it came. Then I used my feet to shuffle it to the far side of the living room, where we’d already managed to create a pile of things that would not—and would never—take up residence in Max’s closet.

  It wasn’t that he was picky. He really wasn’t. He just had specific tastes. For starters, he had to be comfortable. That was non-negotiable. And if I were in his shoes and had the money he had, I would feel the same way. There was no reason he should ever feel uncomfortable because of a five-thousand-dollar jacket or a two-thousand-dollar pair of shoes. It was audacious to even think about it.

  He tended to opt for shades of blue and deeper toned green and burgundy. They all suited him nicely and, fortunately for me, made his eyes even more brilliant.

  I was enjoying the little fashion shows he would put on for me whenever he put on a new piece of clothing. The mood in the room had shifted as soon as Holly left, and not of her own volition.

  Max basically forced her out the door and told her he’d be calling her to return the items he didn’t want in the morning.

  She agreed.

  I guessed she still considered it a win. Even if he only kept a handful of things, in her eyes, it was still better than the clothes he owned now. Which, for the record, weren’t that bad. Sure, some of the stuff was a little plain and boring, and he had a rocking body that made me wonder why he didn’t attempt to wear slightly more modern-cut items, but at the end of the day, those kinds of things just didn’t matter.

  What did matter was what kind of man he was.

  And for the first time since arriving at his Silicon Valley mansion, I was starting to figure out who that was.

  Max crossed one leg over the other and rolled his finger as if to say “carry on.” He sipped more wine and pointed his chin at one of the other bags at my feet. “All right. What’s in that one?”

  I lifted the bag and set it on the sofa behind me. Then I pulled out the item sitting on top. It was a knit black sweater with a raised collar. The fabric was soft and light, so it wouldn’t be too heavy to wear to the office or around the house if he was the kind of guy who ran hot.

  Looking into his eyes definitely made me feel like he was. So I tried not to stare too deeply into their blue.

  “What do you think of this one?” I asked, holding it against myself and swaying my hips.

  He considered it with his head cocked to the side. I noticed how his eyes slid down over my legs and then back up. He made no effort to conceal that he’d just checked me out.

  “I think it would look cute on you,” he said.

  I giggled and internally cursed myself for doing so. This flirty laughter was going to get me into trouble if I didn’t reel it in. But it was so hard. He was dashingly charming. And I was chomping at the bit to find a shirt he liked enough to actually put on and forgo the T-shirt he had on now. Maybe I could finally get a look at what sort of masterpiece lay beneath his clothes.

  I had a sneaking suspicion he would have a body artists dreamed of.

  “I think the sleeves would be freakishly long on me.” I held the shirt out to him. “You should put this one on. It’s really nice. I think it would suit you.”

  “Do you now?”

  I nodded. “I do.”

  He rose from the sofa slowly. Then he set his wine glass down on the coffee table, moved forward, and plucked the sweater from my fingers. His eyes played a dangerous game and lingered on my lips for a moment before he looked down at the sweater. “Something tells me you might have picked this one out yourself, Piper?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  A dimple pressed into his left cheek as he considered me. A sexy little smirk. “For starters, it’s simple. No bells and whistles. Or gold thread,” he added knowingly.

  I giggled again. Pull it together, girl. “You might be onto something,” I admitted.

  He flashed me a full white smile before handing me back the sweater. As soon as I had it in my hands, he reached behind his head, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and pulled it off in one fluid movement that had the tendons in his forearm flexing and his triceps straining. I tried to keep my mouth closed as I gawked at his body.

  Max had more muscles than I would have known what to do with—more muscles than I knew even existed on the human body.

  And the real impressive part was that he didn’t look like an overdone roid junkie. He was proportioned. Every muscle looked like it had a purpose, like it had been honestly earned and was not only for cosmetic purposes. He was lean, cut, and smooth.

  So smooth.

  As soon as his muscles appeared, they were gone. The black sweater came down over his stomach, and I tried to cram my tongue back into my mouth as he pushed the sleeves up and faced me, holding his arms out.

  “Well?” he asked with an arched eyebrow. He proceeded to turn in a slow circle. Curse myself and my wandering eyes, but I checked out his ass. He didn’t catch me. “What do you think?”

  It took me a second to process that he was talking to me. I unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth while nodding like a fool. “Yes, I like it.”

  I like it a lot.

  His smile seemed even more white against the black, his eyes even more blue. “So it’s a keeper?”

  I nodded again. “Mhm. Definitely.”

  Damn him. He pulled the sweater off, took his time folding it, and set it on the sofa along with the two jackets he’d decided to keep and the button up that he’d put on over his T-shirt.

  We’d made our way through six bags, and he was only interested in keeping about five items. Nobody could accuse him of being materialistic. That was for sure.

  Max took his time putting his old shirt back on. Once he tugged it down over his navel, he nodded at me. “Did you buy yourself something?”

  My breath hitched. “Sorry?”

  “When you were with Holly. Did you get yourself something nice?”

  “Um. Sort of. I put it over there in one of the bags to send back with Holly tomorrow. She insisted I buy it, but it felt weird spending your money like that. It’s not like anything in any of those stores was particularly cheap, and I’m not used to spending more than fifty bucks on a dress.” My cheeks burned.

  “Show me.”

  “What?”

  “Show me what you bought.” Max wore a cocky little grin as he fell back down onto the sofa. He kicked his heels up onto his coffee table, crossed one ankle over the other, and sipped his wine like an English gentleman might in a swanky lounge somewhere in London.

  “Oh. No, it’s stupid. I don’t want it anyway. I should’ve just left it at the store.”

  “Piper,” he said. His tone was firm. Confident. And his eyes glittered with something I hadn’t seen in their depths before. Was he enjoying himself? It sure felt like it. And I couldn’t deny that I was having fun, too.

  Of course, the two glasses of wine we’d both had to help get us through this sorting process could be parti
ally to blame.

  I licked my lips.

  Then I walked over to the bag, lifted a couple of shirts out of the way, and pulled out the item I’d fallen in love with and Holly refused to leave behind: a ruby-red leather jacket.

  Max whistled.

  I held the jacket in front of my face in an effort to hide my cheeks, which I was sure were the exact same shade as the jacket.

  “Damn,” Max breathed. “Now that screams Piper James. Put it on.”

  Still blushing as furiously as a sixteen-year-old girl whose first crush just told her she was cute, I slid one arm into each sleeve, pulled my hair out from under the collar, and faced Max with a nervous flutter in my chest. “There,” I said decisively. “It was a nice idea but I’m never going to have an occasion to wear it and it’s just too much.”

  “Under no circumstances will you take that back to the store.”

  “But it was a lot of money—”

  “Do you think I’m a man who will feel the need to make up for the purchase in my budget?”

  I swallowed. He regarded me with calm confidence. “No,” I said. “No, I suppose not.”

  He got to his feet again. When he came toward me, he twirled a finger, inviting me to spin again. I did. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling as I did. The leather hugged me in all the right places. Detailed stitching on the sides gave it a tailored look. The gold zipper flashed in the light and matched those that dangled from the sleeves and pockets. It dripped with luxury and class, and I felt like a million bucks in it.

  Max reached out and pulled at the collar before pushing it smooth. His eyes danced with light when they flicked up to mine. “It was made for you.”

  “Thank you,” I said softly.

  “I suppose we’ll have to find something for you to wear it to.”

  “I think I might wear it to bed.”

  Max threw his head back and laughed. The sound bounced off the walls and rang in my ears and made me brim over with my own joyous laughter. Suddenly—finally—things between us felt easy.

  Chapter 10

  Max

  I arrived at the office later than usual on Wednesday morning.

  It didn’t go unnoticed.

  The first person to say something was our new receptionist. She cocked her head to the side, and her eyes flicked to her computer monitor, where I knew she was likely checking the time. Then she shot me a knowing smile and a wink. “The benefits of being the boss, right?”

  “You can say that again,” I said, passing her desk and waving as I made my way down the hall toward my office.

  I’d spent the morning with Piper.

  After our rendezvous through the new clothes last night, it seemed as if we’d both turned over a new leaf. She was warm and welcoming, and when I came downstairs to fix myself breakfast this morning, she was already there with a freshly poured pot of coffee and eggs simmering in a pan on the stove.

  Anyone who was there would have understood why it was so hard for me to leave on time.

  She’d been wearing a pair of exercise shorts that cut off at mid-thigh, a black tank top, and because she knew it would make me laugh, her new red leather jacket.

  She seemed oblivious to the fact that her morning workout clothes under the leather jacket made it hard for me to breathe. Add that to her messy bedhead and sleep-heavy eyelids and I was a goner.

  Just thinking about it now made my pants a little tight.

  Shawn caught up with me when I reached my office. He was out of breath, as per usual, red in the face, and a bit sweaty. He leaned over to brace himself on his knees as he grinned sheepishly up at me from under his blond curls. “Good morning, Max.” He still said my name like it didn’t quite fit in his mouth. But at least he was saying it and was no longer calling me sir. “I didn’t know you’d arrived.”

  “Yes, sorry to keep you waiting. I had prior engagements that cut into my morning longer than I expected.”

  Prior engagements, I scoffed at myself. The only prior engagement I’d had was drooling over Piper as she cooked me eggs and asked me about my day. Stringing enough words together to give her a coherent answer while shamelessly admiring her ass in those tight spandex shorts had been a tall order. I still wasn’t sure if I’d made any sense or if I’d merely made a bunch of grunting noises.

  The girl had no clue what she did to me. She thought she looked foolish walking around in her jacket. She’d said she just couldn’t help herself and she wanted to wear it. That she’d never owned something she loved so much.

  She apologized for looking silly.

  “Max?”

  “Sorry?” I blinked at Shawn, who had straightened up and was staring expectantly at me. Apparently, he’d asked me a question that had flown right over my head. “Sorry, Shawn. I missed what you said.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he looked down at my shirt. “Is that new?”

  “This?” I pinched the collar of the thin black pullover I’d put on for Piper last night. Shawn nodded. “No, not new. It was in the back of my closet.”

  Shawn frowned. “All right. I just… never mind. You have conference calls this morning. I had to bump your first two up to this afternoon after lunch. You missed them. But it wasn’t a problem. Don’t worry. Also, there’s a conference room lunch in meeting room B at noon. You missed your time slot to respond to emails this morning. I’ll see if I can shuffle them around or get an intern to sort through everything for you.”

  “Thank you, Shawn. As always, your assistance is a lifesaver.”

  Shawn beamed at me. “Thank you, sir. I mean Max.”

  I clapped him on the shoulder. “Well done.”

  The rest of my day passed exactly how Shawn had told me it would. I saw to my conference calls prior to lunch, overindulged in the Indian food supplied during the lunch meeting, returned to conference calls, and managed to finish up my workday shortly before four o’clock.

  As I was leaving the office, Shawn reappeared. He had a sneaky way of showing up from around corners when I least expected. He reminded me that I had nearly three hundred unread emails sitting in my inbox.

  The heels of his sneakers landed softly on the floors as he followed me down the hall. “I had an intern sort through and mark the things of high importance,” Shawn said. “It should only take you an hour. Where… where are you going?”

  “Home.”

  “But—”

  “Sorry, Shawn. Duty calls. I told you this month would be a sparse one.”

  “But your emails.”

  “Will still be there tomorrow morning when I get here.”

  “Morning or afternoon?” Shawn called after me. He’d stopped walking.

  I laughed and waved over my shoulder. “Good one.”

  I pulled into my driveway just after five. The sun had already dipped down below the horizon. Darkness was closing in, but the sky was still aglow with soft shades of purples and pinks. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the moon, a pale sliver cut through the canvas of night, hung over my house like a loyal companion.

  I was eager to get inside and see Piper.

  With any luck, she’d still be walking around the house in her skin-tight black outfit and little leather jacket.

  Or just the jacket.

  I shook my head to clear my lustful thoughts as I slid my key in the lock.

  Dwelling on such things would only lead to disaster. She and I were barely a week in, and all I could think about was her. I’d thought, briefly, that this process wasn’t going to work. I’d let the fear settle too deep into my heart, and it had taken over and almost spoiled everything before she and I even had a chance to hit it off.

  Now that we’d torn the wall down that I’d built up between us, everything felt bright and shiny and new again. There was hope.

  This thing might actually work.

  Piper might actually be the girl I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with. Sure, there was still a little fear over a thought as all consuming as that, b
ut there was also excitement. I wanted someone to share my life with. Someone to come home to, to hold, to love, to spoil.

  Piper might very well be that someone.

  I pushed the front door open and was greeted with music. Loud music. Piper’s voice accompanied the vocals of Elton John flowing through the living-room speakers. I smiled to myself as I locked up behind me and began making my way across the foyer toward the back of the house.

  I found her in the kitchen.

  Her back was to me. She was singing at the top of her lungs and bouncing along to the music as she chopped vegetables. A good portion of my counters were covered in food: potatoes, broccoli, carrots, cauliflower, peppers of all colors, zucchini. There was a crockpot I didn’t know I even owned in one corner plugged into the wall. The kitchen smelled sweet and like hickory and maple.

  Piper wasn’t wearing her leather jacket, probably because she didn’t want to get it dirty while she cooked, but she was wearing spandex.

  Bless her soul.

  She wore skin-tight black leggings, a pair of white sneakers, and a white T-shirt that was cropped just above the waistband of her pants. The thinnest strip of bare skin peeked out between the fabrics, and I imagined running a finger along it.

  Piper leaned to the side and lifted the lid of the crockpot as the chorus kicked in. Her voice picked up. She had some good lungs on her and she could carry a tune. I always imagined marrying a woman who had a nice singing voice who would sing lullabies to our baby.

  I arched an eyebrow at my own domestic desires.

  Then I cleared my throat.

  Piper whirled around and let out an adorable yelp. Her big brown eyes were even bigger than usual, and her cheeks turned instantly pink. Then she pressed a hand to her chest and started laughing.

  I grinned. “You can sing.”

  “And you can be as stealthy as a cat.”

  Chuckling, I moved into the kitchen to check out what she had going in the crockpot. “Nah. You just couldn’t hear me over the sound of your own voice. And Elton’s, of course. What are you creating in here?”