Who Gets To Marry Max?. Neesa Hart
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ignored her. “Of course it will. If you call someone to pack a bag for you, Charlie can swing by your place, get your stuff, then stop at Philip’s on the way here to let him know your plans have changed.”
“That’s not—” She drew a deep breath. “I’m not staying.”
“He can be here by midnight if I call him now.”
“I hadn’t planned to work all weekend.” Sidney said.
That stopped him. “You had plans?”
Plans like fighting her way through her accounts, and trying, somehow, to dig her way out of the mess her tax accountant had left her holding. Plans like taking care of her uncle. Still, they were her plans, and while Max might have succeeded in taking over the lives of his family, her life was her own. “Yes. I do.”
“Hell. Can you cancel them?”
“Maybe I don’t want to. And why is this so important to you, anyway?”
“I just want you here to take care of things, Sidney.”
Something about that didn’t ring quite true. She frowned at him. “I know you’ll miss Philip, but—”
“I’m not trying to be a jerk about this, you know.”
“Really?” She raised a knowing eyebrow.
He stared at her. She pictured him rummaging through his mental bag of tricks for a new strategy. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he said softly. “What am I paying you for this? Four, five thousand for the weekend?”
She gritted her teeth. “There hasn’t been time to discuss the terms of the contract. Philip got sick this afternoon.”
“Did you already have an event for this weekend?”
“That’s not—”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you have to cancel it?”
“I spread my staff out, and brought on some extra people. We’re fine.”
His low whistle parted her hair. “I hope you’re charging me a premium for this. How much overtime are you shelling out this weekend?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure the bill hurts when you pay it.”
“I doubt it. Look.” He covered her hand where she still had her finger on the phone. “Whatever you’re planning to bill me, I’ll double it if you stay.”
“Why?”
He stared at her for several breathless seconds. “Because I’ve got a lot riding on this weekend and it’ll make me feel better if you’re here.”
“For a man with a renowned sense of business acumen, paying twice my fee for a little personal security seems a little rash.”
He shrugged. “Don’t let it get out. The stock market might crash.”
Not even a hint of humor showed in his expression. Sidney searched his face for some indication, even a flicker of evidence that he wasn’t absolutely serious. Finding none, she released a careful breath. “Are you going to let me out of the pantry—or do you plan to hold me hostage in here until I agree?”
“Will it work?”
“I can be kind of stubborn.”
“So Philip tells me.”
“I really feel like I should check on him tomorrow.”
“If I send someone over there tonight to make sure he’s okay, can’t you go in the morning?”
“I’d have to drive all the way down there and back in time for lunch.”
“I’ll go with you. I’ll drive you.” She started to shake her head. His fingers tightened on her hand. “I want to.”
The quiet insistence chipped away at her resolve. “You have guests.”
“So?”
The question shouldn’t have surprised her. Social niceties generally eluded him. “If this weekend is as important as you say, you should be here to entertain them.”
“My guests expect to sleep until eleven-thirty, then take advantage of my pool, my tennis courts and my bar. If we leave early, I’ll be back for the important stuff. No one will miss me.”
There was something profoundly sad in that statement. Max had everything money could buy, and none of the things that mattered. Not for the first time, Sidney wondered how, and why, he’d surrounded himself with such superficial people. When Max entered a room, he immediately took up all the available space. Dynamic and compelling, he left a vacuum in his wake. Anyone who failed to notice was a self-absorbed fool. Deliberately, she dropped her voice to a whisper. “You aren’t going to give up, are you?”
“I rarely do.”
“So I’ve heard.”
He tilted his head to one side. “Say yes, Sidney.”
She hesitated. Why, oh why, did he have this effect on her? What was it the man did that made her want to simply melt into the floor? She’d seen him less than ten times since she’d come to live with her uncle Philip, and every time, he had the same, unnerving effect on her. “Max—”
He held her gaze with intense scrutiny. “Say yes.”
It was that boyish charm that did her in. It had never ceased to amaze her that people found Max Loden irascible and ruthless when she found him so irresistible. “Are you sure you can get someone to stay with uncle Philip tonight?”
He squeezed her hand. “Not a problem. I’ve got a full staff of people in the city who love Philip. In fact, I’ll get Gertie to go over there with some chicken soup. Unless I miss my guess, she’s got a soft spot for your uncle.”
“He likes her, too.” Her uncle spoke often and warmly of the older woman who took care of Max’s New York penthouse.
“See? Problem solved. Do you want Charlie to pick up your stuff?”
“Yes, no—oh, I don’t know. This is too complicated. I can’t think this fast. I like to plan things more than five minutes in advance.”
“It doesn’t have to be complicated. Just let me take care of everything.”
Just like he always did, she thought. Max Loden, general manager of the universe, caretaker of the downtrodden. She thought of all the reasons she shouldn’t—even prepared a quick list in her mind—but as she prepared to tell him no, he trailed the tip of his index finger along the back of her hand. “Sidney,” he said, his voice a rumbling whisper that set off a fluttering of butterflies in her belly. “I thought you were a customer service fanatic.”
She was going to lose, she realized. He was going to captivate her, just like he did everyone else. “I am,” she blurted, more to herself than to him.
If he sensed her inner turmoil, he ignored it—or rather, capitalized on it. “Then make the customer happy.” His thumb found the pulse in her wrist. “Make me happy, Sidney.”
She could no more resist that pleading tone in his voice than she could fly to the moon. Waging silent war with the warning bells in her head, she hesitated for long seconds, then nodded. Max’s gaze flared with satisfaction as he brushed her hand from the phone and again punched the numbers. With a few efficient words, he set the wheels in motion to take over her life—or her weekend, at least.
When he pressed the receiver into her hand a few seconds later, she couldn’t meet his gaze as she explained the change in plans to her uncle. He seemed relieved. She frowned at the sound of his racking cough. “Uncle Philip, are you sure you’re going to be all right?”
“Fine,