“Vivi!” the younger brother said.
She had a hard time focusing on Chris when Max glanced away from the computer and saw her. Slowly he stood. After a second, as if understanding a lady had entered, Chris followed his brother’s lead and popped up out of his seat.
Max didn’t notice or comment. His gaze ran over Vivi as he took her in. He studied her intently, possessively, as if trying to get some clue if she was okay or not.
He planted his hands on the desk, and instantly she thought of how he had touched her, his palm skimming over her skin, and she felt heat rush through her.
“I hear you got caught in the rain,” Chris said.
Max and Vivi stared at each other.
“Just got a little wet,” she managed.
Chris glanced back and forth between the two, then cleared his throat. “I dropped Max’s car off, and now I’m waiting for Pat and the girls to pick me up.”
“Great,” she said, barely hearing as she walked to Max’s desk, the entire time his gaze never leaving her.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, a wealth of genuine concern in his voice.
“Great,” she repeated, her heart pounding as it always did when he was near. A lock of dark hair had fallen forward on his forehead, and her fingers itched to push it back. An excuse to touch him. She clasped her hands behind her back. “In fact, I’m better than great. I wondered if you had the newspaper. I figured I better read the bad news for myself.”
But before Max could respond, a picture of a house on his computer screen caught her eye. It was small, and clearly needed work.
“What’s that?” She focused on the screen that displayed exactly the kind of house she had wanted. Not an impressive stone weather tower or a penthouse with stunning views. Rather a home that needed attention and love.
Chris chuckled. “It’s a listing on University Avenue that a banker friend of ours wants Max to take over. It’s a true dog and no one wants it.”
“Including me,” Max stated. He glanced back at his brother. “I don’t appreciate Andy sending you over here trying to change my mind. I already told him no.”
Chris shrugged just as a horn sounded in the drive. He pushed up from his chair. “I know, but he said it was important. I thought I’d give it a try. Listen, that’ll be Pat. After the movie we’ll drop off the girls.”
The brothers shook hands, before Chris hugged Vivi in a way that made Max grumble. But Vivi hardly noticed. Her mind raced as she stared over his shoulder at the computer screen—at the old, decrepit house that no one wanted.
Once Chris had left, Vivi started to pace.
“Vivienne, what’s wrong?” Max asked.
She whirled to a stop in front of him, taking in his large form, the dark hair, and his contrasting blue eyes. The nose that would have been too perfect if at some time it hadn’t been broken. And today she could see the deep worry that lined his forehead.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she practically sang. “In fact, everything’s wonderful! I’ve come up with a plan to fix my problems.”
His expression turned leery. “Oh, no. Not more of your fixing.”
Vivi didn’t respond. Her mind churned with that heady sense of purpose. Pieces fell together like dominoes tipping over—as if the answer had been there all along. “I have a plan for the new, improved Vivi Stansfield. No more fantasy. No more pampered princess pretending that everything will be okay.” She stopped abruptly, her eyes going wide as something else occurred to her. “It’s a three-part plan!”
“Vivienne, what are you talking about?”
“First, I need a raise.”
His dark brows slammed together. “I already pay you more than the average nanny.”
“I’m hardly your average nanny. I want double.” She hesitated, summoned up her most serious expression, then added, “Or I walk.”
When his face grew murderous, she knew she had pushed her luck. “Fine. I’m willing to negotiate. Get back to me with a counteroffer.”
“Counteroffer?” He looked at her as if she had lost her mind, but she forged ahead undaunted.
“Second, let me sell that house.”
“You don’t have a real estate license,” he stated, his voice rising. Not a great sign, but Vivi had come too far to retreat now.
“But you have one,” she clarified. “Let me do the work, then you can officially close the deal. We’ll split the commission.”
“That’s against the law.”
She waved the words away. “You can’t tell me there aren’t hundreds of real estate agents who have assistants who do most of the work. Let me show the property, hold the open houses, write the classified ads.”
“The answer is no.”
Frustration shot through her, but she held it back. “I bet you’re worried about my ability to keep your house in order and get the girls to all the places they need to be while I’m doing it. Believe me, I’m a master of multitasking. Remember?”
She could tell he didn’t and with good reason, since it hadn’t proved to be her strong suit. But she’d never really tried. “Don’t you see, this is a win-win situation, Max. You have a banker friend who wants a favor. I’m willing to facilitate the process. That’s it! I’ll be the facilitator. I’ll do the footwork—nothing illegal in that. You’ll close the deal.”
He eyed her with menace.
“Please, Max.” She tried to swallow the panic that tried to bubble up through her determination. “I need this,” she whispered.
Drawing a deep breath, he sighed, then stood and came around the desk. “I’ll think about it.”
They stared at each other, their bodies suddenly so close that she had to tilt her head to look him in the eye. She felt the heat of him instantly, could smell the scent of him. “Good enough,” she offered, having to clear her throat. “You can get back to me on that, too.”
She remembered the third and final point to her impromptu plan and suddenly thought better of it. She had already pushed her luck, so she started to leave. But he took her hand, stopping her.
Leaning back against the hard edge of the desk, he tugged her close until she ended up very nearly between his knees.
“You said there were three parts.”
Vivi grimaced. “Did I?”
She felt vulnerable in a way that only this man had the ability to make her feel. When she had launched into her spiel, she had felt modern and empowered. She had also felt the foolish need to fix more than her financial situation. She wanted to fix herself. Now, in hindsight, the third part seemed like a really bad idea.
Then she chastised herself for being weak-willed. She was twenty-six years old and every man—okay, all two of them—who she’d been intimate with had turned her away. Grady told her she didn’t know how to tangle with him in life or in bed. Then she had been naked and willing with Max, and something had caused him to set her aside. She wanted to be real. She wanted to understand what made men turn to putty in a woman’s hands.
She wanted the men in her life to stop leaving her.
And before she could think better of it, she blurted, “I want you to teach me about real life—about sex.”
Confusion drew his face into hard lines, then understanding surfaced. Instantly heat mixed with desire. His gaze dropped to her mouth. But just as suddenly he stood and stepped away from her.
Vivi plunged ahead, her heart pounding so hard that she felt light-headed. “No obligations, no strings attached. I want to learn. You have the ability to teach.”
“What the hell?” he burst out. A vein popped out on his forehead, and that jaw of his really started to work. “I am not some . . . some . . . sex tutor.”
“You make it sound so clinical. I was thinking more of a friend helping out a friend. Just like the nanny thing. I needed a job, you needed someone to take care of the girls. We all win. But I’m still strapped with all this Grady baggage of bad sex that makes me wonder . . . well, I wonder what I’m doing wrong.”
&nb
sp; His eyes went glacial. “You’ve had sex with Grady?”
“And you’re from what planet? Of course I’ve had sex with Grady. I’m twenty-six years old. What did you expect? Besides, who are you to talk when it’s a well-known fact that you sleep with most anything in a skirt?”
“I do not.”
“Oh, right. You’re discriminating.” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m discriminating, too. I’ve chosen you.”
His mouth fell open.
Vivi had never thought of Max Landry as a man at a loss for words, but just then she could see that she had left him speechless.
“I’ve had enough,” he said finally. “I think you should go to your room and tomorrow we’ll pretend this conversation never happened.”
Based on his expression of sheer murderous incredulity, she could tell that he wasn’t going to give in on this one.
“Fine.” She shrugged, refusing to be embarrassed. “But, one, I will not forget the raise; two, I still want to sell that house; and three, just remember that you were the one who told me to go out and find myself.”
Max didn’t have a lot of regrets in his life. But in the long two weeks since Vivienne Stansfield presented her three-part plan, his list of regrets had grown by the hour.
Sitting back in the plush leather of his home office chair, Max took a slow sip of an eighteen-year-old single-malt scotch as the sun faded in the distance. Not a man to drink early, often, or by himself, the crystal glass filled with amber liquid was proof enough of just how far Vivienne Stansfield had pushed him toward the edge.
He had envisioned this house he had completed eight months ago as a place that would provide a true home and foundation for his family. But for the most part, his brothers and sisters were scattered all over town with families of their own.
Max felt proud of their achievements, wanted only what was best for each of them—was proud of the independent individuals they had become. But he didn’t like how Vivienne forced him to see that he hardly knew his brothers and sisters anymore.
Vivi, as everyone called her, with her rosebud lips. As long as he lived he was certain he’d never forget her going down on him. Neither would he forget rolling around in the mud as if they were no better than sex-crazed teenagers. Wouldn’t the press have liked to get ahold of that one?
Yes, damn it, he wanted her. He wanted her with an intensity that made him feel as if he were burning up from the inside out. Now Vivienne Stansfield promised to change her life. And she seemed determined that he change his, too.
Vivienne had drummed up respectable clothes and had started keeping a schedule with the precision of a military drill sergeant. She had always been caring— even he couldn’t deny that. But now she had added an upright exterior and irreproachable behavior. She was fast becoming everything a man could want in a woman.
Perfect, proper. And boring as hell. Damn, he missed those sequins.
Every time Max saw her now he expected her to have replaced the feathers with a whistle around her neck. But there was no whistle, just a clipboard on the utility room wall where she kept an assortment of lists and schedules, menus and helpful articles she had run across during the day. If there was a self-help book out there that dealt with becoming a responsible, contributing individual, Vivienne found it.
Which reminded him of her three-part plan.
Max grimaced over the fact that he knew it was only a matter of time before he gave in and increased her salary. Every ounce of hard-as-nails businessman softened the minute he took in the little slip of a woman with lively gray eyes.
He started to smile over the fact that Vivienne really did want to sell the old house on University. But any hint of a smile flattened into a hard, jaw-ticking glower at the thought of the third part of her plan. What had he been thinking when he told her he wouldn’t teach her about sex? Not that it should have been a regret. Was it so wrong to have done the gentlemanly thing and said no?
Hell, he should be getting some kind of award for turning her down, especially when all he could think about was spreading her sweet thighs and licking her until she came.
Unfortunately, he was wrong on all counts.
The telephone rang, but before he could answer one of the girls got it. Seconds later, footsteps raced down the upstairs hallway. “Is Vivi back from the grocery store?” Lila called out. “Some guy is on the phone for her.”
Max pressed his fingers to his temples. Ever since the article had run in the newspaper, Vivienne had been swamped with attention—mainly from men who had learned that she was no longer engaged. To think she thought she was undesirable. With or without money, there was something about Vivienne that made her a prize to men.
“Tell him she’s not here.”
“Who’s not here?” Vivienne chimed as she sailed into his office from the kitchen.
As always when he saw her, his body reacted with a primal urge to bend her over his hard mahogany desk and take her—then wrap her in his arms and never let her go. Which in turn made him curse and take another sip of his scotch. He did not want a wife. Not now. Hell, he hadn’t finished raising his first family yet.
“Groceries done,” she announced, clipboard in hand, long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, her new uniform of white polo shirt with a white sweater tied around her shoulders and crisply pressed khaki pants clinging to her curves.
“Glad to hear it,” he muttered over a very distinct sexual frustration.
Vivienne smiled like a nursery school teacher. “Now, now, Mr. Landry. No reason to be grumpy when it’s Friday and a surprisingly warm November day.”
He easily could have strangled her for being so cheerful while he couldn’t seem to get part three of her three-part plan out of his head. Nights, days. He had become obsessed. And another woman wouldn’t do. He’d tried.
For half a second, he nearly damned every ounce of good sense he possessed and stripped the damned khakis and ponytail holder free. Thankfully Lila came in behind her.
“Where’s Nicki?” he asked.
“She’s around.”
Probably hiding, he mused to himself.
Nicki still didn’t like Vivienne, but something had softened her hard stance toward the nanny. No one would call them friends by a long shot, but now Nicki spent more time avoiding Vivienne than coming up with bitingly mean things to say to her.
Vivienne, on the other hand, had become more determined than ever to win over the teen. Like a car wreck in slow motion, it was painful to watch. Vivienne trying so hard, Nicki avoiding her like the plague. But Max could see Vivienne’s confident smile, as if deep down she knew she would win what had become a battle of wills.
“Lila,” Vivienne said, “I got your favorite Fruit Roll-Ups.”
“Oh, thanks!”
The minute the eleven-year-old dashed out, Vivienne said, “We need to talk.”
Here it came. More of the ultimatums. More of the sex talk. He’d had enough. He decided then and there to give in. He was tired of doing the right thing. Let her twist his arm. Let her do what she wanted with him. His body responded with anticipation.
Vivienne cleared her throat and clutched her clipboard to her chest. “Since Pat isn’t picking up the girls until tomorrow morning, maybe you could spend some time with them.”
Max could only stare. “You want to talk about the girls?”
“What did you think?”
He stood and walked toward her. Vivi didn’t seem to notice that he wasn’t interested in talking about his sisters.
“They need your attention, Max. Nicki especially.”
Since his father disappeared and his mother died, his life had been consumed by making a living, supporting the family, and providing guidance. He’d always been the one to make the hard decisions—and to keep them together. That was his job. And he had done it.
“Things are just fine around here,” he said, stopping in front of her. It wasn’t until he pulled the clipboard away that her eyes went wide.
/> “Max?” Her voice wobbled. “What are you doing?”
“I’m tired of talking.”
“Oh.” Her pulse fluttered in her neck and her lips parted, before suddenly she shook herself. “I mean, too bad.” She pulled propriety and professionalism up around her like a wet suit on a diver. “I’m here to discuss Nicki. She loves you, but she’s scared to death of you and covers it up with belligerence.”
He curled a single loose tendril around his finger. He could make out the faint outline of her breasts beneath her cotton shirt, and when she noticed him looking, her nipples pulled into buds. His mouth went dry and his cock tightened. There was so much he could teach her, that he wanted to teach her.
“Max, really.”
His hand trailed back, tracing the delicate shell of her ear. “Really, what?”
“She really needs you.”
Something in her voice snagged in his mind, and he studied her. For a second she looked incredibly sad, even hurt. But just as quickly, he watched as she pushed it away.
“Everyone needs to know they’re loved,” she said. “Like it or not, a young girl learns how she can expect to be treated by a man from how her father—or her father figure—treats her.” She willed him with her eyes to do the right thing. “Let Nicki know that you think she’s special, Max. Every girl deserves that.”
Chapter Eighteen
It was six-thirty in the evening, the sun already down, when Vivi raced out of Max’s office, her heart hammering as she hurried upstairs to her bedroom. She knew she was the one who had started them on this crazy sexual path with her infamous plan. But the way he had looked at her, the passion, the desire, had made her feel tiny and vulnerable.
The intensity had been there from the beginning. But this was different, as if she had unleashed something more powerful than either of them. She would have cursed her stupidity if she hadn’t been running so late.
Even though Pat wasn’t picking up the girls until morning, Vivi still had Friday nights off. Not that she ever really had anything to do on nights off, but this was the beginning of the new, improved Vivi and things were going to change.
The Wedding Diaries Page 17
