Rockin' the Boss (2 page)

“They’re thinking of hiring me?” He
wasn’t smiling, but his eyes certainly were.

Is
he playing with me?
“Yes, they are.
Quite seriously, in fact.
You were their first choice. I’d be willing to pursue this with you, if you’re
interested.”

“Of course I am.”

Then, the server arrived with lunch
and, as Max
promised,
the food was greasy and
delicious.
As I ate, my mind whirled with ideas. “Why don’t you drop by
my place for dinner this evening? We can chat in further detail.”

“I would love to come dine with you.
When should I arrive?” A slight smirk teased the corners of his mouth.

Discreetly, I leaned forward and
breathed in his scent. The combination of aftershave, cologne, and man was
intoxicating. I swallowed hard and tried to ignore the burning sensations that
ran through my body.
“What about seven o’clock?”

“That sounds fine.” He sat back in
his chair.
His low, throaty laugh made me shiver as he caught me
watching him intently.
“I look forward to it.”

After an appropriate amount of time,
our waitress brought the check. Immediately I went for it, but Max got there
first, handing the girl more than enough cash to cover the meal.
“Allow
me,” he grinned.

He stood and offered his hand,
helping me out of my seat. We walked to the exit without saying a word, his
palm pressed against the small of my back. Out of the corner of my eye, I
caught him staring down at me again. He opened the door, and I felt his body
brush beside mine as we strolled out into the piercing, afternoon sun.

* * * *

As I made my way to the front door,
I checked the full-length mirror one last time. Looking back, my reflection
revealed a deep purple, silk Versace blouse and black pants.
My God Ashleigh, you’re pathetic! You don’t
need to start a relationship with this man, regardless how long it’s been or
how much you want to. Why? Number one, he’s your client. And number two, he’s
way younger than you.

The desk downstairs knew to expect
Max. I lived in a luxury, high-rise condo, the same building where part-time
Atlanta resident Elton John and his partner resided. As I opened the door, I
almost swooned. Max looked like one of those male models on a romance novel
cover, only better. Dressed in black slacks and a gray shirt, he had his dark
hair mussed up in style. Basically, he
reeked
sex.

“Come on in Max, you’re right on
time.”

He sauntered into the living room
and headed straight for the floor-to-ceiling windows. Towering over six feet
tall, with broad shoulders and back, muscular hips, and long legs, he had the
best-looking rear end I’d ever seen on a man. Lord knows, he’d been asked
countless of times to make TV commercials or model for print ads. However, I
knew he had no interest in them and rolled his eyes at the mere mention of
either. Entertaining on stage, in front of a crowd, was his life.

“Every time I see this place, the
more I love it,” he murmured as he turned to face me, bringing me back to
reality.

“I know there are a couple of units
available. If you’re interested, I can put in a good word for you.”

“Hmmm, I might need to give that
serious thought.”

“May I get you something to drink?”

“Cabernet, if you have some.”

The rich, sensual lilt in his voice
made my body tremble all over.
It’s
amazing what this man can do to me.
I walked over to the sideboard I
used as a bar and reached for two glasses. “Would you like to choose one for
us?” I gestured toward the unopened bottles.

Max studied all three selections
before deciding on one. He used the counter top corkscrew to pull the cork free
effortlessly. Then, he picked up one of the Riedel O cabernet glasses, filled
one with the rich liquid, and handed it to me. His long fingers touched my slim
ones. He gazed at me from hooded eyes.
My
God,
he’s flirting with me.

“Come. Let’s sit awhile before
dinner and chat.” I walked into the living room and sat in one of the chenille,
wingback chairs. Max followed and lowered himself down onto the buttery soft,
beige leather sofa and took a sip of his wine before he placed the glass on a
side table.

“Have you given any thought to what
we talked about earlier?” I eyed him for any subtle body language.

“Yes, I have. I believe you and I
need to discreetly make a trip to Vegas and check everything out. I’d like to
do it soon, before they ask us.”

“Those were my thoughts exactly. I’ll
go ahead and set it up.”

“Yes, please do,” he answered.

I caught him checking me out again.
His gaze lustfully lingered on my breasts, his pupils smoldering.
Earth to Ashleigh!
I quickly tried to
focus my attention elsewhere, anywhere that would keep my mind off his eyes. “Why
don’t you join me while I finish getting things ready for dinner?”

He followed me into the kitchen and
watched as I carefully filled two plates with a shrimp and scallop risotto. The
smell of the red, yellow and green peppers that flavored the dish permeated the
room.

“Would you mind getting the salad
and dressing out of the refrigerator for me, please?” Taking the plates to the
large, mahogany dining table, I carefully set them down. Max followed, placing
the requested items in the center. I motioned for him to sit as I uncovered the
Italian bread and poured us both another serving of wine.

“So, Max, you were born in Manhattan
but raised in the U.K.?” I took a bite of the risotto.

The corners of his mouth twitched
like they had earlier in the day. This time he did not smile. “Yes, Father is
Scottish American, my mother Irish. I spent a great deal of my childhood in
boarding schools. I attended St. Andrews in Scotland but dropped out senior
year and started playing in the clubs in London. Rebellion, I suppose.”

“Fortunately for us, your rebellion
turned out to be quite successful.” I watched him for some kind of reaction. He
continued to eat in silence for a couple of minutes, as though he needed time
to consider his response.

He smiled and placed his fork down,
settling back in his chair.
The two of us eyed each other, and I wondered what was
coming.
“Now, let me see how well I’ve done my homework. Your father
is French, and your mother American. She comes from old money, as does your father.”

“Bravo! You’re well-versed, and I
plead the fifth to everything!” I grinned at him, his brown eyes laughing.

Then, his voice and demeanor took a
more serious tone. “Then there was your marriage to Richard and his sudden
death.”

I carefully placed my fork back on
the plate and stared at him, shocked that he would bring up Richard. We had
been together for close to fifteen years. It had been obvious to everyone
except me that he had married me exclusively for the money and connections that
my family brought. What he had not expected was Papa insisting on a prenuptial
agreement.

Richard made the best of the
knowledge that he would get nothing if he ever chose to leave. As soon as we
married, sex was non-existent between us. He had a steady stream of mistresses
and thought little of parading them in front of me. The agency had been his
idea, as he had loved the lifestyle and fame it brought. His life had ended as
he had lived—hard, fast, and mysterious.

I took a bite of salad and did not
react immediately. “I was surprised when you moved to Atlanta.” As I changed
the subject, my tone made it clear to Max that Richard was an issue I did not
wish to discuss.

“I wanted to be closer to the new
team you put together. Manhattan can be so over-rated and expensive. California
I love, but it’s even further away. But I do like the climate and the
opportunities. Atlanta intrigued me. What made
you
move here?” The sides of his mouth curled up as though he
already knew the answer.

What’s
he up to?
“Atlanta is special. My mother’s from the area, and I spent
a lot of time here growing up.”

“Ah-ha!” he boomed, as he grinned at
me. “Now I know why your parent’s named you Ashleigh. It's so Atlanta, so
Southern, so
Gone with the Wind
.”

“Better than the alternative I
suppose.”

“What would that be?”

“My father wanted to name me Coco
after Coco Chanel, which might have worked in France, but here I don’t know. At
least fun can be had with Ashleigh. You know, the
Gone with the Wind
melodrama.” I replied as we left the table and
headed into the living room. “Would you like coffee, Max, or perhaps something
stronger?”

“A brandy sounds great, love,” his
accent thicker than earlier.

The change did not go unnoticed as I
left to fetch the liquor.
I returned with two snifters and handed one to him. He
seated himself back on the sofa as I walked around to a chair where I could
gaze at him from a safe distance.

“I thought
,
if you are in agreement, we’d stay at a condo that belongs to a girlfriend of
mine. She travels extensively. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to let us use
her place.”

“That sounds fine. When do you want
to leave?” His deep brown stare roamed over my body, a grin curving his
luscious lips.

I shifted in my seat, trying
desperately not to notice.
“Day after tomorrow suit you?”

Chapter
Two

“Ashleigh…” Max called out to me. He
must have noticed I seemed to be somewhere else. He appeared to be aware of the
attraction between the two of us and more than interested in pursuing it.

“Yes, I’m sorry, what were you
saying? The idea of this venue has my head spinning with ideas.”

“I was saying how I love your plane,
much nicer than flying commercial.” Max chuckled, his eyes dancing with
amusement as I looked at him out of the corner of my eye.

“One of
the perks of having family money.
The plane is part of my father’s
fleet. I simply lease one from him, let his firm worry about all the
maintenance and such, and I receive a bill once a month.”

“So you were able to get in touch
with your girlfriend? We’re staying at her place?”
I couldn’t
help but notice how he looked me up and down from where he sat.

“Yes, she’s in Hong Kong and was
happy to accommodate. I think we’ll be able to move around much more discreetly
this way.” I glanced over at him and forced myself to look away as I shivered,
naughty thoughts filling my head at the idea of being alone together for an
extended period of time.

Upon arrival, we took a taxi to our
home for the next few days. I immersed myself as I checked my iPhone for
messages. I turned toward Max and noticed out of the corner of my eye that he
was doing the same.

“I imagine your girlfriends aren’t
happy when you leave town without them,” I prodded to get some sort of a rise
out of him.

He grinned in my direction as he
glanced up from his cell. “I’m not involved with anyone, Ashleigh.” He was
still smiling as the cab stopped in front of our building. Holding the door
open, he extended his hand to assist me out.

As we entered the apartment, I threw
my oversized, Louis Vuitton bag on a chair in the living room and walked toward
him.
“Let
me show you to your room.” We walked down the hall, and I opened the door to
the guest room. “I hope this will be okay.”

“It’s fine,” he replied. I caught
him eyeing the feminine decor. “I think I’ll freshen up after that long flight.”

“Okay. I’m going to call the office
and check in.” I smiled and tried to walk away seductively.

A short time later, Max reappeared,
clad in jeans and a T-shirt. Still wearing the clothes I had on when we left
Atlanta, I sat in front of the sliding glass door leading outside to a small
deck. I didn’t hear him as he entered, but detected the marriage of his
aftershave and cologne.

“You decided not to change?” he
inquired, moving in my direction.

The hairs on my arms stood on end at
his close proximity.
“Oh, no, I guess I lost track of time.” I picked up a glass
of sparkling water garnished with a lime slice. “The fridge is stocked with
beer if you want one.”

“Thanks, I think I will.” He turned
and walked back toward the kitchen. I couldn’t help but watch him as he sauntered
off.

The ring of my phone interrupted the
personal fantasy I was having at that moment. I glanced down to see
who
was on the other end.
“I need to take this. It’s Lisa.”

He nodded and sat back in his chair,
beer in hand.

Lisa was an energetic young gal I
brought in from the Hollywood office when Richard died. After he passed away, I
was completely blindsided by what transpired. Except for Max and a few other
clients, the majority jumped ship. Richard’s management style, or lack of it,
had all but run the company into the ground. No one wanted to work under me,
afraid of the untested widow. Within the first month, I had closed all the
agency offices except for Atlanta.