Chapter Two

      Jessie tensed, automatically checking the kitchen clock when she heard the entrance buzzer sound. Exactly six o’clock. It had to be Max. Anticipation poured through her, jerking her to her feet.

      Hastily she shoved her feet into her black slingbacks, wincing slightly as the fashionable shoes pinched her toes. Someday she was going to have enough money to retire somewhere peaceful and rural where she’d never wear anything but comfortable walking shoes again.

      As she grabbed her purse off the counter, the pale-pink letter lying there caught her eye. Why had her mother written? Was she hoping to con Jessie into paying for her liquor? A surge of anger coursed through her as she remembered how her mother used to steal her babysitting money to buy alcohol. She’d been there and done that and she wasn’t going back. Not ever again.

      All she had to do was to stand firm, she told herself as she got into the elevator and punched the button for the lobby. Once her mother realized that she wouldn’t allow herself to be used, she’d go away. At least, Jessie sure hoped she would.

      The elevator came to its usual jerky stop on the ground floor, and Jessie stepped out. Her breath caught in her lungs as she caught sight of Max standing on the street outside. Even through the thick plate glass of the door she could see the impatient glitter in his blue eyes. As if he had worlds to conquer, and she was delaying him.

      Max watched Jessie cross the small lobby toward him. Her face was composed and remote as if her mind was far away, occupied with more important things that having dinner with him. For some reason her preoccupation annoyed him. He wanted to swing her up in his arms, find the nearest bed and make love to her until she lost that infuriating aura of self-control that she radiated.

      And the fact that he knew he couldn’t act on his sexual attraction for her only made it worse. Maybe what they said about forbidden fruit really was true, he thought wryly. Maybe it really did taste sweeter.

      Hopefully his reaction to Jessie Martinelli would fade as quickly as it had appeared. It was much too intense not to burn itself out relatively quickly. All he had to do was to keep his mind firmly focused on what she could do to help him achieve his goals.

      Praying the excitement she felt wasn’t visible in her face, Jessie pushed open the street door and stepped out into the warm summer evening.

      “Hi,” she said, trying her best to sound impersonally pleasant.

      Max gave her a brisk nod and said, “I’ve got reservations for six-fifteen at a restaurant not too far from here. I brought the car since taxi service can be chancy at this time of night.”

      Jessie glanced at the shiny black Mercedes parked at the curb. Its dark, impenetrable windows added to its air of aloofness. The car fit him perfectly. Both were elegant, solidly built and expensive, with an underlying power that could squash the unwary.

      “You get points for being on time.” She hoped that focusing on the reason why they were together would dampen the excessive pleasure she felt in his company.

      “Don’t tell me. Promptness really is a virtue?”

      “It’s also becoming very rare,” she said.

      “I refuse to waste my time waiting for people to show up, so I extend the same courtesy to others.”

      “A commendable attitude,” she murmured, surprised at his words. Most of the high-powered businessmen she worked with saw nothing wrong with keeping small-business people like herself waiting indefinitely to see them.

      “I’m glad you approve,” he said dryly.

      Taking her arm, he headed toward the car and opened the rear door. Hurriedly she climbed into the car and scooted across the leather seat to make room for Max.

      “Jessie, this is Fred. Fred, Ms. Martinelli,” Max said, introducing his driver.

      “Evening, Ms. Martinelli.” Fred pulled into traffic with a deft turn of the powerful car’s steering wheel.

      “Good evening, Fred,” Jessie said, wondering how long Fred had worked for Max and how well he knew him. This job had one interesting side benefit. She had the perfect excuse to ask all kinds of questions that normally would be considered none of her business.

      Unfortunately, the most burning question she had was one Max couldn’t answer, and that was why she reacted to him like he was the embodiment of her every masculine fantasy when her mind knew perfectly well he wasn’t. Her fantasies had always been about lean, debonair, sophisticated men. Maybe it was a result of her passion for vintage black-and-white movies, but from the time she’d been old enough to understand what sexual attraction was all about, her physical ideal had been men like Cary Grant or Sir Laurence Olivier. Sometimes she had the feeling that she’d been born out of time. She would have been much happier back in the twenties.

      “I have reservations at a restaurant called Saretts. Have you been there before?” Max asked, curious about where her dates normally took her. If this were a real date, he’d take her to a five-star restaurant for dinner. Followed by a Broadway show and afterward he’d…

      “No, I’ve never heard of it,” Jessie said. “Which is hardly surprising. Sometimes I think New York is wall-to-wall restaurants.”

      Did that mean that she ate at a lot of them? Max wondered. And if she did, did she go with someone? A male someone?

      “I intend to monopolize your time over the next six weeks or so. I hope no one will be upset.”

      “No.” To his annoyance Jessie deflected his question without telling him anything. No could mean anything. It could mean that she was involved with someone who was willing to put up with her heavy workload. Or it could mean that she wasn’t involved with anyone on a personal level at the moment. Max felt an intense surge of frustration engulf him at his lack of any real personal information about her. Sam had rhapsodized for twenty minutes about her competence, her trustworthiness, her ethics and her solid record for results, but at no time in the conversation had he said anything about her personal life other than the fact that she had never done anything that would leave her open to blackmail.

      “Here we are, sir,” Fred announced as he pulled up in front of the restaurant.

      He could slip in a few personal questions over dinner, Max decided. He’d never found it particularly hard to get a woman talking. In fact, usually he couldn’t get them to shut up.

      “I’ll page you when I want to be picked up, Fred,” Max said as the driver opened his door. Outside, he waited while Jessie got out, then took her arm and began walking.

      “Is Fred the modern-day equivalent of an old family retainer?” Jessie asked.

      “No. There is nothing old-fashioned about Fred. He comes from a security firm that specializes in drivers who know how to kill in unarmed combat.”

      Jessie stopped dead on the sidewalk and stared at him in shock. “He what?”