Max
Tara Crescent
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
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MAX
Boyfriend by the Hour
A Note from Tara
About Tara Crescent
Also by Tara Crescent
Text copyright © 2016 Tara Crescent
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
MAX was previously published as Simply Casual.
My editor Jim takes the comma-filled words that emerge from my keyboard and shapes it into a story worth reading. As always, my undying gratitude.
Additional thanks for Miranda’s laser-sharp eyes.
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Boyfriend by the Hour
This steamy, romantic story contains a dominant hero who’s pretending to be an escort, and a sassy heroine who’s given up on real relationships.
Sadie:
I can’t believe I have the hots for an escort.
Cole Mitchell is ripped, bearded, sexy and dominant. When he moves next door to me, I find it impossible to resist sampling the wares.
But Cole’s not a one-woman kind of guy, and I won’t share.
Cole:
She thinks I’m an escort. I’m not.
I thought I’d do anything to sleep with Sadie. Then I realized I want more. I want Sadie. Forever.
I’m not the escort she thinks I am.
Now, I just have to make sure she never finds out.
MAX
Synopsis
Max:
Rule #1: Never hook up with a woman who is looking for a relationship.
Rule #2: Always do breakups in a public space.
I have a reputation.
I’m a player. Three dates and I’m out.
I don’t do commitment. My idea of a romantic evening involves making a woman cry out in toe-curling, window-shattering pleasure.
Until I meet Charlie.
She’s beautiful. She’s funny and she’s feisty.
And she’s put me straight in the friend-zone.
I shouldn’t care, but with Charlie? I’m playing for keeps.
1
Max
I should never have broken Rule Number One. Don’t hook up with a woman who is looking for a relationship.
In my defense, I didn’t know Abby was looking for a boyfriend. We met in a bar. I’d just finished a set. She bought me a drink and asked if I was doing something later that night. “Hopefully, you,” I said, and despite the horrible pickup line, we ended the evening at her place.
So far, so good, right? Wrong.
Three dates later, Abby wants to be in a relationship. She’s asked me if I have plans for the Labor Day weekend. She’s hinted that she’d like to meet my parents. The other night, she came over and watched a romantic comedy on my couch.
It’s time for Abby to go. Call me an asshole if you must, but I don’t make romantic weekend plans. I don’t take women home to meet the family, and my apartment will forever remain a Jennifer Aniston-free zone.
Which brings me to Rule Number Two. Always do breakups in a public space. It’s much easier and cleaner that way.
Opposite me, Abby’s eyes brim with tears. “But we had a connection, Max,” she wails. “My psychic even said you were the one.”
Oh for fuck’s sake. Insert eye-roll. “You have a psychic that you take relationship advice from?”
Heads swivel to look at me. Shit. That came out louder than I intended. The blonde sitting at the table next to me looks up, and at the bar, Joe frowns in my direction and gives me his patented ‘don’t cause a scene, asshole’ glare.
Causing a scene is the last thing I want to do. I’m a big fan of uncomplicated. “Abby,” I say, holding up my hands in a placating gesture. “Come on, I’ve been honest with you from the start. I’m not looking for anything serious. You want casual sex? I’m your guy. But that’s all I’m interested in.”
“Why?” she sniffs. “Don’t you want a family, kids?”
“No.” My reply is instantaneous. My primary focus right now is getting my small baking business off the ground. Even if I wanted one, I don’t have time for a relationship.
Abby glares at me and her voice rises to a pitch. “You’re just not giving me a chance.”
Clingy women make me want to run. The blonde looks amused, but Joe’s still scowling. “Abby,” I repeat gently, resisting my urge to flee, and wishing that Joe would swing by with another beer, “I’m really sorry.”
“Fine,” she snarls, pushing her chair back with a loud scrape, and rising to her feet. “I’m out of here.” She pivots on her heels and starts to flounce out, then she swings back and fixes me with an accusing look. “It’s all fun and games for you, isn’t it? One day, things are going to be different. You’re going to fall in love, Max, and I only wish I could be there to see the train wreck.”
She exits in a snit, and I lean back in my seat and drain the pint in front of me. The blonde’s still looking at me. “What are you looking at?” I snap. “You want to tell me what a horrible person I am too? Fine. Knock yourself out.”
She chuckles. “Max, right?” she asks. “I don’t think you’re a horrible person.” She gets to her feet, her brown eyes twinkling with amusement. “But your breaking-up skills could use a lot of work.” Her lips quirk up. “Hopefully, you have other talents.”
Wait a second - who is this woman?
She walks over to the bar, and tosses a twenty on the counter. “See you next week, Joe?” she says. “Oh, and hey, buy Max a beer for me, will you? He’s having a rough night.”
Joe takes a look at my face and laughs out aloud. “Sure thing, Charlie.”
She turns to leave and I finally react, scrambling to my feet and joining her at the bar. “You’re not going to stay?”
“Oh no, Max. You’re not my type.”
Once she’s gone, I turn to Joe. “Who was that?” I ask him, a bit dazed from the encounter.
Joe pushes a beer in front of me. “That’s Charlie Campbell. She’s a regular as well. Uses the bar for the same reason as you do.”
“As a public venue to break up with someone?”
“Exactly.” Joe smirks at me. “Charlie and you, you guys are like two peas in a pod. I should have introduced you to each other much earlier.”
“Dude,” I protest, settling myself on the barstool and taking a deep swig of my drink. “I’m nothing like that woman. I’m not cocky and arrogant.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Max? Of course you are.” He grins. “This is going to be so much fun.”
2
Charlie
In general, I’ve good taste in guys.
Not so Richard. So far, I’ve gone out with him three times. In that brief period, he’s insulted me, every waiter who’s served us, all the wineries in Argentina and right now, he’s on a rant about Joe’s bar. Insult me all you want, but when you start on Joe? Crossing a line.
All I want is a restful evening. One of my current cases is a nightmare. Single mom breaks up a fight between her kid and some rich teenager, and the teenager’s parents have her arrested for assault. It should have been an easy dismissal, but the kid’s parents are determined to drag R
enee through the mud. And if I can’t win this case, Renee faces six years in jail, and her kid gets shunted into the foster care system. The whole thing is awful.
“Richard,” I lean forward, interrupting a monologue about Malbec. I’ve made up my mind - I don’t have time for this bullshit. Life is too short to spend with boorish men. “Listen, I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
His face turns red. “What?”
“I said, I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
Right then, Max walks into the bar, and I feel my face break out into a smile. Every time I’ve thought about our encounter three weeks ago, I’ve had to grin. Yeah, I was a little ballsy with him, but I couldn’t resist. Max is tattooed, bearded and ripped, and he just oozes charm and self-assurance. He was practically begging me to mess with him.
“You’re breaking up with me?” Richard’s voice rises, and his face takes on an unpleasant scowl. “Are you fucking kidding me? Runaway Charlie Campbell. They warned me about you, and rather than listen, I gave you a chance.”
Gee thanks, asshole. Max’s chatting with Joe, the two of them laughing about something. Two dimples flash on his cheeks when he smiles. Seriously adorable. It takes effort to tear my gaze away from him and back to Richard.
“Let’s not make a scene, okay?”
“Fuck you, bitch,” he snaps. “Don’t tell me what to do.” His fingers dig into my upper arm. “You think you can just waltz in and out of people’s lives without consequences?”
“Umm, yes, I do?” I try to shake free of his grip, but he’s stronger than me. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Richard, but we live in a free country, which means that after three dates, if I decide I don’t want a fourth, I’ve the right to say no.”
“You fucking cunt.” His voice is a low snarl, and there’s hatred in his eyes. He pulls me toward him. “You are going to regret this.”
Oh my god, this guy is unravelling at the idea that I’m breaking up with him. He’s some kind of investment banker - I guess women usually don’t say no to him? Yikes. Right now, he’s projecting sexual predator, and I’m really, really glad that I’ve always ended relationships in the relative safety of Joe’s bar.
“Let me go, Richard.” I’m proud at how calm I sound.
“Or what?”
“Or you’ll be sorry, asshole,” a cool voice cuts in. Max is at my side, looming threateningly over Richard. “I believe the lady told you to let her go.” His hands are clenched into fists at his side. “If I were you, I’d listen.”
Richard takes one look at Max and reconsiders his stand, releasing my arm without further comment. Max’s eyes fall to my reddened skin. “Are you okay, Charlie?” he asks, his voice gentle.
I nod silently. Now that the moment has passed, I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. “I’m fine.”
“I’m escorting you out of here.” Max turns to face Richard, his expression hard and his voice layered with rage. “And I’m warning you. You ever come within three feet of this woman again, and you’ll regret it.”
* * *
My hands are still shaking as I settle at the bar. Joe’s over in an instant. “That didn’t look pleasant,” he says, his casual words not quite hiding the real concern in his tone. “Who’s the jerk?”
“He works in the building next to mine,” I say tonelessly, gulping down the scotch Joe’s placed in front of me. “We kept running into each other at the Korean noodle place in the lobby. Damn it, I’ll have to find a new bibimbap place.” I frown into my drink. “Asshole.”
“Indeed.” Max comes back in and takes a seat next to me. His gaze runs over me, and he notices the tremble in my fingers that I can’t quite conceal. “Your date’s a prick, Charlie.”
I laugh shakily. “You won’t hear any argument from me there,” I agree. “I guess he thought that if he bought me three dinners, I was obligated to put out.”
Max frowns. “Does the guy know where you live? Does he have a key to your place?”
“No.” My mood improves as I see another opportunity to tease Max. “Do you give women keys to your place after three dates?” I can’t help grinning at him. “I didn’t think of you as the commitment-seeking type.”
Joe, who’s listening to our conversation, snorts at that. “Max give a girl a key to his place?” He rolls his eyes. “This guy? Three dates is Max’s limit.”
“Seriously?”
“Let me guess, Charlie,” Max challenges lightly, those dimples flashing into view. “You’re searching for your soulmate, right?”
Not even a little. I ignore the question directed at me. “So what happens after the third date? You can’t get it up?”
Joe bursts out laughing. Max tries to look wounded, but he can’t maintain a straight face for very long. “I thought you were on my side,” he grumbles to Joe, before turning to me with a wry grin. “I assure you, Charlie, I’ve never had any complaints.”
He’s so cute. Okay, cute’s not a great way to describe a grown man, but he’s got a Chris Pratt vibe going on. Add in those dimples, and he’s irresistible.
And as tempting as it is to snack on this piece of man-candy, I resist. I love this bar and I love Joe. I’ve been coming here at least once a week for the better part of a year and a half. This has become a place of sanctuary to me. Max is clearly friends with Joe, and is probably a regular here as well. You know what they say - you don’t shit where you eat.
I change the topic. “Thank you for coming to my rescue. How did you know I was in trouble?”
His eyes twinkle. “The last time you were here, Charlie,” he drawls, “you told me that my break-up skills needed work.” His lips compress with mirth. “I was watching you, hoping to pick up a tip or two.”
I flip him off, but the gesture has no heat. “Let me buy you a drink,” he continues. “And Charlie,” he looks at me with a wicked glint in his eyes, “you are most definitely my type.”
He’s rescued me from Richard and now he’s flirting with me. My insides liquefy as I contemplate the idea of his big hands running all over my body, squeezing my breasts, snaking lower to find my heat…
Stop that, Charlie.
“Max,” I shake my head sternly, “I’m not going to start something with you. Neither of us do relationships, so when we implode, we’d have to determine who gets custody of Joe’s bar.”
“Me.” He doesn’t try to deny that we’ll implode. “I went to high school with Joe.”
“And I’ve been coming here for the last eighteen months.”
“Stop fighting, you two,” Joe instructs, moving back to us after serving a couple of customers. “If you want to avoid a clusterfuck, don’t sleep together. Surely, even for the two of you, that’s possible.”
“Of course it is,” we both say at the same time, then we grin at each other. Max cocks his head to one side and sticks his hand out. “Friends?”
My libido mutters a protest, and I ignore it ruthlessly. Sex isn’t necessary, and having a bar to call home is a lot more important. I put my hand in his, ignoring how good his touch feels, ignoring the shock of desire that travels up from the point of contact through my entire body. “Friends.”
3
Max
Charlie’s blonde hair curls around her face, and her brown eyes sparkle with enthusiasm behind her glasses. She’s wearing some kind of black dress that hugs every curve of her body. She looks absolutely amazing, like a very naughty librarian, and she’s completely off-limits.
Joe’s brought us a fresh round of drinks. “So what do you do, Max?” Charlie asks.
“I’m a baker.”
“And he’s in a band,” Joe interjects unhelpfully.
I frown in Joe’s direction. “Dude, don’t you have customers to wait on?”
“Of course I do. I’m sacrificing my tips to make sure you kids don’t do anything stupid. I can tell the signs. Charlie’s leaning forward and Max, you have that look in your eye. If I leave you two alone, w
ho knows what could happen?”
Charlie looks abashed and sits back in her seat. “You cook for a living and you’re in a band?” She rolls her eyes. “That’s not a level playing field, Max. How are women supposed to resist that?”
“It’s not my cake they come for, honey.” I wink at her. “It’s my buns they’re interested in.”
She groans at the pun. “What kind of band are you in?”
“It’s a little bit folk, and a little bit rock and roll. We play covers, mostly.”
The bar’s getting busier now. A trio of guys make their way to our little corner and take seats next to Charlie, checking her out pretty blatantly in the process. It surprises me how irritated I feel. “What about you, Charlie? What do you do?”
“I’m a lawyer.”
My lips twitch. “Of course you are.”
“What the heck is that supposed to mean?” Her voice sharpens with annoyance.
I hide my grin. “You’re a bit of a ball-buster, Charlie Campbell,” I tell her. “It stands to reason you’d be a lawyer. I bet you’re a spitfire in the courtroom.”
“I really am,” she smirks, before adding, “I’m a public defender.”
“Are you really?” I look at her with admiration. “Most lawyers chase the money.”
“I don’t blame them,” she says candidly. “If I had law school debt, I might have chosen the private sector route myself. But I was lucky enough to get a scholarship, so it was an easy choice to make.”
Max Page 1
