Seduce Me (10 page)

If only she didn’t like him so much.

If ever there was a scenario that guaranteed doom and heartbreak, seeing Max Dorset again nailed it.

* * *

T
HE
COCKTAIL
PARTY
was at Parlor in SoHo. The club had such an exorbitant price tag for members that most people in the city couldn’t even dream of belonging. Notorious for its privacy policies and its celebrities, it also made a statement about Beckingham & Quail. Elliot Beckingham was a sought-after fixer, rumored to have gotten some major players out of career-ending trouble.

The attorneys who worked there were definitely ruthless. Smart as hell, too. They made big money, but they dedicated more of their lives to the firm than even Max was comfortable with.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t consider joining their team. This last case had proven he could be as ruthless as the best of them. After his talk with Stella, the thought bothered him more than it should have, though. Research was his specialty, he reminded himself, and he was persistent, painstaking and creative. If they seriously wanted him in the courtroom, they’d have to pay him a hell of a lot more for the privilege.

After passing the guest-list gauntlet, he walked into a black-and-white world. The space was huge, and the decor as moody as a Fritz Lang alley. Waiters carrying hors d’oeuvres and Champagne wandered through a very elegant crowd. He didn’t recognize anyone, not yet.

While Stella went off to talk him up elsewhere, he made his way to the bar and ordered a glass of Shiraz. The cellars here were rated five stars, and he wasn’t disappointed. He lingered, looking at the paparazzi photos blown up on the walls, the minimalist decor, which made the people the brightest things in the room.

Natalie would have liked this. The atmosphere felt charged, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the negative-ion levels had been pumped up and the sound of conversations muted. Music played softly in the background. Bessie Smith.

“Mr. Dorset.”

Max recognized the voice. Elliot Beckingham himself. The man was impeccably dressed. His signature white hair gleamed in the unique lighting, but his smile seemed too friendly to belong to a man with his reputation.

They shook hands while Beckingham gave him a once-over Max wouldn’t soon forget.

“Rumor has it that Latham’s win is covered in your fingerprints.”

“Not completely. There were plenty of us on the case.”

“There’s no need to be modest in here, Max. You’re familiar with our client list?”

“Of course.”

“Tell me something,” he said, looking suitably curious, though Max doubted the man ever asked a question without already knowing the answer. “This last case put you in the courtroom more than usual, didn’t it?”

Nodding, Max kept his expression neutral. Stella had warned him, but he hadn’t expected to get to this particular topic so soon.

“How did you feel about that?”

“I was fine with it. Although the partners came to feel I was more valuable researching precedents.”

“I heard from a colleague that you did quite well in front of the judge.”

“I’m not afraid of the courtroom, and I’m a reliable trial advocate. But I’m a firm believer in exploiting one’s strengths. That case wasn’t won in the courtroom, sir. It was my research that tipped the scales.”

The man laughed. “All right. Excellent. A healthy ego is important in this business.” He studied Max for another long moment. “I understand what you’re saying. But we look for people who do well in many areas. The jury liked you. So did the judge. And meeting you, I can see why. You’re a very engaging man.”

Max smiled. Dammit, Stella had used that “total package” label the first day he’d met her. She’d been right to press him about it. There was no getting around the fact that he’d have to deal with the issue.

Beckingham put a beefy hand on Max’s shoulder. “Make yourself comfortable. Mingle. Ask questions. Don’t worry. Everyone who works for me will be straight with you. We expect a lot from our people. And the benefits are commensurate.”

Max nodded. “I’ll do that,” he said. “I’ll be sure not to hold back.”

“Good man.” After a friendly nod, Beckingham walked straight over to a great-looking woman in a killer black dress. Most likely to give her a similar spiel.

Except the woman was now looking at Max, so maybe she was already part of their team. Kind of young, under thirty, so she could be a second-or third-year associate. He wondered if she’d just been asked to keep an eye on him. Or to play escort. He wouldn’t mind that. Information gathering could go both ways.

He glanced around and caught Stella watching him. Oh, she was good. He couldn’t help but wonder if the two men she was chatting with were also her clients.

“Max Dorset?”

He turned to the blonde in the black dress. “Yes,” he said, accepting her offered hand.

“I’m Heidi Dunn. A third-year with Beckingham & Quail. How about having a drink with me?”

Now came the part of the evening where he’d hear the firm’s unbiased high praises, then find out what he could expect from “commensurate benefits” and a noteworthy wage. It might look like a party, but there was nothing festive going on.

“Sure,” he said, smiling. “Lead the way.”

With her big green eyes and mile-long legs, Heidi was a knockout. She’d be great company for a while.

He still wished Natalie had come with him.

10

A
WHOLE
W
EDNESDAY
off, and instead of reveling in crossing off items on her to-do list, Natalie was moping. She hadn’t heard a word from Max since Monday and doubted she would. He’d probably kissed her out of some automatic reflex and had been kicking himself ever since.

Also, there was her mother.

God, the woman knew exactly which button to push to get under Natalie’s skin. Last night was supposed to have been a nice dinner to play catch-up with each other. Solomon had cooked, which meant the food had been divine, but her mother had sipped too much wine and had plenty to say about Natalie breaking up with Oliver.

With her iced tea prepared, Natalie went back to her room to finish putting away her washed clothes. Her days off were supposed to be prime getting-stuff-done time, especially for a list maker like herself. Dry cleaning, grocery shopping, taking a box of clothes to the charity shop, researching a different ISP... The list was prodigious, but that was mostly because she didn’t do idle very well. Reading and watching movies weren’t being idle, but those were treats, after doing all the things. Sometimes when one of her days off fell on Wednesdays, she went to a matinee at the theater. But that was out because she’d been a slug yesterday and hadn’t accomplished anything. So today she was being punished.

She opened her underwear drawer and put away the hand-washed La Perla bra and thong she’d spent too much money on. She’d had Max Zimm’s cell number since Monday. Had she called him? No. It wasn’t because of his looks. He was...okay-looking. Dark hair, a little chubby, a nice smile. She’d have been happy to call him if she’d gotten his real card first. But she hadn’t spoken to Mr. Zimm because she was an idiot. All she had to do was pick up the phone, go on a date and then, hopefully, she’d stop thinking about the other Max. It pissed her off that she kept expecting Max Dorset to call. She shouldn’t have any expectations. They only caused her more grief.

With a sigh, she pushed the drawer back in, thinking about that singular moment when she’d first met him. And then, right after she’d discovered the printing mistake, she’d nearly made a clean getaway. But he’d touched her, and her life had been irrevocably ruined.

Okay, not ruined. At least not her whole life. Not even most of her life. But it still made her sad and confused. That curbside kiss kept grating against her like sand in an oyster, polishing a pearl of doubt.

Her spicy cold tea made things a tiny bit better. Cake would have helped, but she’d have to go grocery shopping for that to happen. And seriously, there was no excuse for her to buy a whole cake just because she’d been enigmatically kissed.

Her eyes closed as she remembered the way the noise of the city had faded to insignificance as he’d nudged her lips farther apart.

The doorbell made her jump and spill her tea. Probably someone selling something. Or a friend of Fred’s. When it rang again, she made her way across the kitchen and down the stairs, getting ready to point out the no-soliciting sign she’d put up next to the doorbell where anyone with eyes could see it.

It was Max. Her Max. Standing on her doorstep, holding a bouquet of yellow carnations. He held them out to her like a kid offering an apple to a teacher. “In the language of flowers, these are supposed to say, ‘forgive me,’ but then I wasn’t sure you’d know that, so I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch since running off on Monday evening.”

“I see,” she said, although whoever told him about the language of flowers hadn’t done their homework. Yellow carnations actually signified rejection, which she would never tell him, and how was she supposed to turn him away
now?
“I suppose I should put them in water.”

He nodded, but hesitated until she said, “Well, come on in.”

Making a sound that wasn’t quite a throat clearing, he entered her home for the second time. Dressed casually in worn jeans and a tight-fitting gray T-shirt, he was clearly nervous. Upstairs in the kitchen, she reached for a vase in the cupboard above the fridge.

Max moved in close and easily beat her to the Wedgwood crystal that had belonged to her grandmother.

He handed it to her, along with a tentative grin. “I was going to tell you I hadn’t called because it’s been an insane couple days, which would be accurate but not very truthful. I know I left on a weird note.”

She stepped over to the sink, where she’d be able to think more clearly and focus on the flowers, not the way his muscles bunched under that tee. “Weird is a good description. Especially since we’d originally agreed not to see each other again.”

“You’re right.” His voice had lowered, which made the kitchen seem smaller and her heart beat faster. “I owe you an apology and an explanation, if you’re willing to hear it.”

The water rose as she held her answer, not 100 percent certain she wanted to pick up the dance where they’d left off. If the two days since that weird kiss had shown her anything, it was her vulnerability that was on the line when it came to Max. Despite their independent goals, their chemistry was volatile and could ignite at the smallest spark. It didn’t help matters that he was maddeningly wonderful to talk to. Not daring to look at him, she put the vase on the counter and brought out her scissors to trim the stems. “The flowers already apologized,” she said. “So why don’t you stick to the explanation?”

“Okay. Good. Uh, you know most of it. Seeing
M
the other night honestly did spark my interest. I stopped by Omnibus on a whim, but I’d thought about pursuing something more with you.” He spoke fast, as if he’d rehearsed the lines, but then he stopped. Cold.

The snick of the scissors was stupidly loud.

“A friendship. I mean, I hoped we could be friends, even though I wouldn’t be a particularly good one, especially after I go back to work. But I like you. So I...went for it.”

The flutter in her stomach had started when she’d opened the front door, but it had blossomed into something of an issue. She placed a stem in the water, then another. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t kiss my friends like...that.”

His inhale was sharp behind her. It was tempting to turn around, but she held her ground.

“It wasn’t part of the plan.”

“I imagine not. Especially with your companion waiting right there.”

“Shit,” he mumbled and his sneaker squeaked on the linoleum. “I should probably have led with the fact that the woman in the car is an executive recruiter. I think I mentioned headhunters have been calling. Anyway, I’ve been working with Stella, but there is absolutely nothing going on between us.”

Her sense of relief was immediate. She turned to find him standing close to her table, his fingers stuffed into his jeans pockets. “Either way, it’s none of my business,” she said, shrugging and looking away. “How did cocktails go?”

“Good, I think. It was flattering and nerve-racking. It felt as if everyone had been assigned a couple of questions so they could put all my answers together in some equation after I left.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“Not really. I think I was just nervous. I’ve been to parties like that, but I’ve never been the primary focus. Stella was there to make sure things went smoothly. She’s very good, but I kept wishing—” He stopped. She didn’t miss the look of alarm that crossed his face before he quickly neutralized it with a smile and an absent glance at the carnations.

Oh, she imagined he was a pretty damn good lawyer. She was curious about what he had been about to say and thought about waiting him out. But she took pity and asked, “Did you come away with any impressions of what it would be like to work for the firm?”

He shrugged. “Only that they’d want me to be in the courtroom more than I’ve ever been, while still doing the research. Which would mean putting in more hours than ever. But they’re a big firm and they get really meaty cases, and that’s difficult to ignore.”

“You like them tough, eh?”

“Oh, yeah. Tell me it’s unwinnable, and I’m all over it.”

“It sounds like there’s a great deal to consider before you can make a decision.”

“Building equity in my own future is my main motivation. But you’re right. There are a number of factors involved. The firm’s prestige, the methods for assigning work, the level of responsibility. This is just the beginning. It’s sort of like rush week. I won’t know what fraternity I’ll end up with, but I want to visit as many as I reasonably can.”

She realized she was smiling, and that her grin had nothing to do with the words he said. In fact, she dialed it down a notch because the topic of his future was serious. She just liked when he looked so relaxed. His hands weren’t trapped anymore, his body language spoke of his easy confidence and he was somehow much nearer than he’d been a moment ago.

“What about you?” he asked. “You looked like you were ready to tear into me when you opened the door.”

“I thought you were trying to sell me something. Actually, I kind of wanted to take on a salesman. I had dinner with my mother and her boyfriend last night. Normally, she’s great, and I enjoy myself.”

“But...?” Max asked.

Natalie turned away, picked up the filled vase and walked into her living room. Like all the other rooms, it wasn’t large, but it did have the highest ceiling in the house, as well as a working fireplace. She put the flowers on the mantel, rearranging a couple of pictures and a pair of silver candleholders. “She’s not pleased I broke up with my ex.”

“Ex...boyfriend? Husband?”

Facing Max again, she wiped her hands on her jeans. “Boyfriend. She’d hoped for husband. I didn’t dare tell her it was his proposal that made me end it. She’d have had a stroke.”

He lost the smile and looked confused. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned her ex. “I thought you wanted to get married?”

“Not to him. That would have been settling, and I simply won’t do that again. Not where it counts.”

Max glanced at his shoes, probably trying to hide his embarrassment. She hadn’t meant to sound that sharp. He looked up again. “Now I get why you’re so determined to get married.”

“Because of my mom? No, it’s not that. I want to get married for me, not her. As much as I love my work, I also want kids. And no offense, but I hate dating.”

“None taken. For what it’s worth, I’d never have guessed. You made the whole thing easy, even with the screwed-up trading card.”

And there was the problem. For whatever reason, it was easy with Max. Irresistibly easy. “Can I get you something to drink? I’m afraid the cheesecake is long gone, but I’ve got some walnut bread that goes great with coffee.”

“Thanks, but actually...” He closed one eye and tilted his head, looking at her intently for a long moment. When he straightened, he asked, “Do you have plans for the rest of the day?”

“Nothing impressive.”

“How would you like to accompany me on a small adventure?”

She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “What?”

“Seriously. I think you’d have a good time, and it would lift your mood. Mine, too.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll tell you if you insist, although it would be a better surprise.” Closing the distance between them, he took hold of both her shoulders. “I promise, it’ll be fun. Nothing fancy. You’re already dressed for it. And it’s not too far.”

“That’s crazy.”

His eyes were particularly green against the gray of his shirt and the cream of her wall. “Yeah. But safe, too. Nothing that would make you uncomfortable.”

The heat of his hands and the closeness of his body made her thoughts dart around like goldfish. She looked at his eager gaze, at the grin that she was already addicted to. “What the hell,” she said. “Why not?”

“Excellent,” he said, leaning in just before he let go of her and spun halfway around.

She wasn’t convinced he’d meant to do that, but the offer of friendship was still the only one on the table. If she were smart, she’d let any other ideas go right now. Actually, if she were smart, she’d send Tall, Dark and Dangerous on his way.

“Maybe we could talk about
M
as we go? To Chelsea. We can catch a taxi on Houston.”

“Will there be an opportunity to talk about the movie once we’re at our mystery destination?”

He pursed his lips and looked up. “Not really.”

“So, Chelsea by subway?”

There came the grin again. “Perfect.”

* * *

T
HE
SUBWAY
LET
them out about a block from his surprise location. There wasn’t a way to make it appear from behind a cloak or anything, so Max decided he’d let the sounds give away the secret.

The ride over had been great. The city was as bustling as ever, considering it was a gorgeous spring day, but the bubble of conversation they created tamed the madness and wasn’t difficult to maintain.

Natalie was exactly as he’d imagined, only better. She knew so much about Fritz Lang, the 1930s in film and political history, and the German influence on American directors. It was easy to ask questions, and she beamed when he asked something particularly astute. He hadn’t felt that good since he’d gotten his scores on the LSAT.

He’d almost let it—having Natalie as a friend—drop. The day after the awkward kiss, he’d put off calling her because he hadn’t known what to say. He still wasn’t sure what had happened. It wasn’t as if she was the only woman he’d ever have sex with again. Although, considering his date last night...

Gabbie had been as gorgeous as promised, but their night had limped along. She didn’t want to eat more than a few pieces of sushi, and although she’d said she liked the Museum of Modern Art Russian exhibit, he’d caught her eyes wandering too many times to be an accident. Then she’d suggested a club, which was louder than hell and full of her friends, and by midnight he gave up trying. She’d walked him outside, and they’d parted amicably.

Paula wasn’t even upset. She’d just said she’d keep working on it, and that was fine with Max.

But he didn’t want to think about last night while he could watch Natalie fill in the blanks about where they were headed. The music from the carousel was the giveaway, and damned if he hadn’t known she’d get a kick out of the middle-school carnival.