Unfinished Business

No one knew what had happened between her and Max in Gulf Shores. She figured if she kept it to herself, no one could criticize her for running away from her farce of a marriage and jumping into bed with a virtual stranger, and those amazing four days could remain untarnished in her memory. But she’d been wrong to start something with Max before she’d legally ended her marriage. And she’d paid the price.

“I was the expedient choice.” The word tasted bitter on her tongue. Why had it bothered her that she was merely a convenient business solution to Max? Had she really hoped he might still want her after she’d kept quiet about her marital status, and let him betray his vow never to get caught up in an affair?

Those days in Max’s arms had been magical. She hadn’t felt that safe since her father died. It was as if she and Max existed in a bubble of perfect happiness. Insulated from the world’s harsh reality.

Heaven.

Until Brody showed up with his threats and dragged her back to Mississippi.

“I hope you told him no.”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what exactly?” Her second in command frowned as if just now grasping the situation.

“It’s not like he left me any choice. I signed the lease for the new offices. We need this placement fee to move into them.”

“You agreed?”

“He backed me against a wall.” She leaned back in her chair, remembering too late that the ancient mechanism was broken. She threw her weight forward before the cursed thing tipped her ass over teakettle.

Devon oversaw her antics with troubled eyes. “I still don’t understand why he wants you personally. There are a dozen agencies that he could call.”

She hesitated. As much as she liked Devon, she wasn’t comfortable talking about her past. Five years ago, she’d been a very different person. Explaining how she knew Max meant she had to own up to the mistakes she’d made. Mistakes that haunted her.

“Once upon a time we knew each other,” she said.

“Knew …” Devon’s focus sharpened. “As in business associates? Friends?” His eyes narrowed. “You dated?”

As much as she hated talking about her past screwups, she decided to put her cards on the table. She owed Devon the truth. He’d been with her since the beginning and had labored as hard as she had to grow the agency. In fact, she was planning on making him a partner when they moved into the new offices.

If they moved.

“Not dated, exactly.” She played with her pen, spinning it in circles on her desk.

“You slept with him.”

“Yes.”

Rachel shifted her attention from the silver blur and caught Devon’s stunned expression. He looked so thunderstruck she was torn between laughter and outrage.

“Don’t look so surprised. I wasn’t always the uptight businesswoman I am now. There was a time when I was young and romantic.” And foolish.

“When?”

“A long weekend five years ago.”

Devon’s lips twitched.

“What?” she demanded.

“It’s just that Max is well-known for the volume of women he dates. I’m a little surprised he remembered you.”

“He probably wouldn’t have,” she muttered. The truth hit closer to her insecurities than she wanted to admit. The thought had often crossed her mind that she’d had a pretty brief interlude with Max. Since moving to Houston, she’d learned a lot about the man who’d swept her off her feet in a big way. She’d often wondered how she’d feel if she ran into him and he looked right through her without recognition. “Except he was pretty angry with me at the time.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t tell him I was married.”

Now Devon really goggled at her. “We’ve worked together four years and this is the first I’ve heard about that.”

Rachel rubbed her right thumb across the ring finger of her left hand. Even after four years, she recalled the touch of the gold band against her skin and remembered how wrong she’d been to ignore her instincts. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“It’s part of my past that I’d prefer not to talk about.” And in five more years, she’d be completely free. At least financially. She’d live with the emotional scars for the rest of her life.

“Not even if I tell you I’ll expire from curiosity if you don’t dish?”

“Not even,” Rachel said with a chuckle. She loved Devon’s flare for the dramatic. Having him around was good for her. Kept her from taking herself, or her problems, too seriously. She’d done that all too often in the past and turned molehills into mountains.

“Do you think Max is trying to start up with you again?”

From one unwelcome topic to another. “Hardly.”

“I don’t know.” Devon shot her an odd look, half surprised, half crafty. “Demanding you act as his assistant, even for a couple days, seems a little odd for a businessman with Max’s no-nonsense reputation.”

Rachel exhaled. “Well, there’s not much I can do at the moment. He’s set on having me there.” She grimaced. “Besides, you’ll do great without me. Lansing Employment Agency wouldn’t be anywhere near profitable without all your hard work.”

“Yes, yes, I’m wonderful but the success has been all yours. I’ve just been along for the ride.”

And what a ride it had been. When she’d first started the agency, she’d been waitressing on the weekends to make rent and put food on the table.

Today, providing things went right with Case Consolidated Holdings, they’d be moving into larger downtown Houston offices. That’s why she was willing to do whatever Max wanted of her to stay on his good side.

“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” Devon said, getting to his feet.

“I know exactly what I’m doing.” Her stomach gave a funny little flip as she said the words. Rachel shoved the sensation away. She was a professional. She would not allow her emotions to get all tangled up in Max again. The first time had left her with a battered heart. Letting it happen again might lead to serious breakage.

“You’re a first-rate bastard, you know that?”

Max Case looked away from the photo on his computer screen and smirked at his best friend. “I’ve been called that before.”

It was late Friday morning. He’d spent the last day and a half alternating between admiration for Rachel’s keen business mind and annoyance that he couldn’t stop imagining her writhing beneath him on his couch.

“I’ve been after Sikes to sell me that car for five years,” Jason Sinclair grumbled, his gaze riveted on the image of Max standing beside a yellow convertible. “And you just swoop in and steal it out from under me?”

“I didn’t swoop, and I didn’t steal. I offered the guy a good price. He went for it.”

“How much?”

Max shook his head. He wasn’t about to tell Jason the truth. In fact, he wasn’t exactly sure what had prompted him to offer the sum. He only knew that Bob Sikes had driven the rare muscle car off the lot in 1971 and wasn’t about to let it go without some major convincing. The Cuda 426 Hemi convertible was one of only seven made. At the time, convertibles were too expensive, too heavy and too slow to interest the true racing enthusiasts. Thus, with fewer produced, they’d become extremely rare.

And now, Max owned one of the rarest of the rare.

“Are you ready to get your ass kicked in tomorrow’s race?” He meant for the question to distract his friend.

“You sound awfully confident for a man who lost last weekend.” Jason continued to frown over the loss of the Cuda. “A win that put me ahead of you in points.”

“For now.”

Max and Jason had been racing competitively since they were old enough to drive. They were evenly matched in determination, skill, and financing, so on any given weekend, the win could go either way.

For the last two years, Max had beaten Jason in points over the course of the season. Like the street racers of old, Jason and Max competed for cars. The guy with fewer points at the end of the season forfeited his ride. But Max knew coming in second bothered his best friend more than the forfeit of his racecar two years straight.

Jason adopted a confident pose. “If you think you’re going to have the most points again this year, you’re wrong.”

Before Max could answer, Rachel appeared in his office doorway. Despite her severe navy pantsuit and plain white blouse, his pulse behaved as if she wore a provocative cocktail dress and a come-hither smile.

“Excuse me, Max. I didn’t realize you had company.”

He waved Rachel in. “Did you get those numbers I needed?”

She took one step into the room and stopped. “I updated the report.” She glanced in Jason’s direction. “I also scheduled an interview for you at two this afternoon and emailed you the candidate’s resume. Maureen has a background in finance and business analysis. I think you’ll find she’s a perfect fit.”

“We’ll see.”

Her lips thinned. “Yes, you will.”

Amusement rippled through him as she tossed her head and exited his office. Did she have any idea that annoyance gave her stride a sexy swing?

“Hell.”

Max noticed Jason was also staring after Rachel. “What?”

“That was Rachel Lansing. What is she doing here?”

“Working as my assistant.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

Probably. But Jason didn’t know about his affair with Rachel. No one did. Those four days had been too short and too intense. The end too painful for him to share. And after badmouthing his father’s infidelity for years, how could he admit to family and friends that he’d had an affair with a married woman and not be viewed as a hypocrite?

“What are you talking about?”

“Lansing is a matchmaker.”

“A what?” Max searched his best friend’s serious expression for some sign that Jason was joking around.

“Lansing Employment Agency is a matchmaking service.”

“You’re kidding, right?” He was deeply concerned that his friend might not be.

Jason glared at him. “Don’t look at me like that. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

Rubbing his eyes, Max sighed. “Right now I’m dealing with a lunatic.” Confusion and amusement jockeyed for dominance. He’d never seen his best friend exhibit such over-the-top behavior.

“It’s not funny.”

A gust of laughter escaped him. “Sit in my chair for a minute, and I think you’ll see it’s really funny.”

“My dad used Lansing last year.” Jason’s eyebrows arched. “He married his executive assistant six months later.”

“Your dad was a widower for fifteen years. I’m a little surprised he didn’t remarry a lot sooner. Besides, Claire is a knockout.”

“You’re missing the point. They’re all knockouts.”

“So,” Max drawled. “It’s a conspiracy?”

“Yes.” The thirty-two-year-old CFO stopped looking wild-eyed and his attention settled laser-sharp on Max. Jason’s chest lifted as he pulled in an enormous breath. “You think I’m crazy?”

“Certifiable.”

“I know of five other guys that have hired their assistants from Lansing and ended up marrying them. I know two more guys that met their future wives at work. Wives that got their jobs thanks to the Lansing Employment Agency. Including your brother.” Jason’s lips thinned. “Still think I’m nuts?”

“How did you find all this out?”

Jason shrugged. “Do you really need to ask? After Dad started looking all gooey-eyed at Claire, I did a little research on the agency.”

“What did you find?”

“A spotless reputation. And one hell of a track record.”

“For what?”

“For turning executive assistants into wives.”

“Don’t you think that eight marriages out of hundreds of placements is a little insignificant?”

“It’s more worrisome when you take into consideration the ratio of single executives with single assistants to married executives with married assistants.”

“You lost me.”

“The bulk of the executives are already married, so when you look at the numbers in that way …”

“The ratio looks worse.”

Jason flung his hands forward in a that’s-what-I’m-talking-about gesture, before sinking back with a relieved smile. “Exactly.”

Max was still having a hard time swallowing the notion of Rachel as a matchmaker. “Well, you don’t need to worry about me. Where Cupid’s arrows are concerned, I’m wearing Kevlar.”

Jason pointed a finger at him. “You can’t be sure of that.”

“On the contrary, I’m very sure.”

“I’m not really feeling convinced,” the CFO said. “Maybe you’d care to make things more interesting.”

Max buzzed with the same adrenaline that filled him at the start of every race. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Your ‘71 Cuda.”

“Double my punishment, double your fun?” Max snorted. “I lose my freedom and the rarest car in my collection?” Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling much like laughing. “What sort of best friend are you?”

“The kind that has your best interests at heart. I figure you might not fight to stay single for the sake of your sanity, but you’ll do whatever it takes to keep that car.”

Interesting logic. Max couldn’t fault Jason’s reasoning. “And what are you putting on the table in case you lose?”

Now it was Jason’s turn to frown. “You want my ‘69 Corvette?” He shook his head. “I just got it.”

And Max was looking forward to taking it away. “What are you worried about?”

“Fine. You’ve got a deal.” Jason got to his feet and extended his hand across Max’s wide cherry desk. When you’ve met the girl of your dreams and gotten married, I’m going to miss you, buddy. But at least I’ll have the ‘71 Cuda to remember you by.”

Rachel sat at her desk outside Max’s office and tried to concentrate as her nerves sang a chorus of warnings. For the last two days, he’d been professional, making no further references to their past. But his gaze on her at odd moments held a particular intensity that promised he wasn’t done with her. Not by a long shot.

Despite his assurances otherwise, she suspected that his motives for strong-arming her into becoming his temporary assistant were personal. She wouldn’t put it past him to lure her into bed, enjoy his fill, and then walk away in the same fashion he believed she’d walked away from him. And that wasn’t her paranoia talking. Max wasn’t someone who forgave easily or at all in the case of his youngest brother, Nathan, and their father.

From what she’d gathered from her sources inside Case Consolidated Holdings, ever since Nathan had blown into town almost a year earlier, tension amongst the Case brothers had risen. She’d learned from Max five years ago that there was bad blood between the older Case brothers and their illegitimate brother that went way back. According to Andrea, however, things had recently gotten better between Sebastian and Nathan.

If Max couldn’t let go of the past where his family was concerned, he would certainly never forgive a woman he barely knew.

Shoving personal concerns aside, Rachel concentrated on something she could control. Max had a trip scheduled next week. The hotel arrangements and flight had been made some time ago, but she needed to arrange for a rental car, to work on a PowerPoint presentation and fix a hundred problems that hadn’t even come up yet.

The phone rang. Anxiety gripped her at the familiar number lighting up the screen. “Tell me everything’s running smoothly,” she said into the receiver.

“You sound edgy.” Devon’s amusement came through loud and clear. “Is Max on your case?”

While Devon laughed at his joke, Rachel signed on to the computer using Andrea’s ID and password. At the moment, Max was interviewing a candidate for his temporary executive assistant. If all went well, Rachel wouldn’t need to contact the IT department for her own computer access. She scanned the assistant’s contacts, searching for the phone number of the restaurant downstairs. Apparently, Max had his lunches catered in most days. Andrea’s contacts gave Rachel a pretty good sense of Max’s activities.

Restaurants. Florists. Even a couple jewelry stores. He enjoyed entertaining women. Clicking one particular restaurant Rachel had been dying to try except that it was way beyond her means, she saw the manager’s name, the particular table Max preferred, even the wine he enjoyed.

The man was a player. She hadn’t seen that about him during those days on the beach, although she’d figured it out since coming to Houston. Max didn’t know it, but she’d seen him in action during her early days in the big city.

Rachel stretched a barricade of caution tape around her heart. If Max wanted to start something with her with the express purpose of payback, she’d better be wary.

“… doing?”

Devon had been talking the whole time her mind had been wandering. Whoops.

“I’m sorry, Devon. I wasn’t listening. What did you ask?”

“How is it going with Maureen?”

“She just went in ten minutes ago. Max kept her waiting for half an hour.”

“I know that tone. Stop worrying. She’s perfect. Max won’t find anything wrong with her skills or her references.”

“I hope not.”

And she didn’t have long to wait to find out. Five minutes after she’d hung up with Devon, Maureen exited Max’s office. Unsure whether to be delighted or concerned at the shortness of the interview, Rachel stood as the assistant candidate headed her way.

“How’d it go?”

The beautiful redhead’s mouth drooped. “He didn’t seem to like me.”

“Max is very hard to read. I’m sure he found your qualifications and your experience exactly what he requested.” Rachel kept her expression cheery. “I’ll go have a chat with him now and give you a call later.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as Maureen disappeared around the corner, Rachel headed into Max’s office. “Isn’t Maureen great? She has a BA in business and five years of experience in a brokerage house. She’s great with numbers—”

“Not a self-starter.”

How had he come to that conclusion after a fifteen-minute interview? “That’s not what I heard from her references.”

“She’s not going to work out. I need someone who takes initiative. Find me someone else.”

Rachel hid her clenched hands behind her back and concentrated on keeping her shoulders relaxed and tension from her face as her mind worked furiously on an alternative candidate. “I’ll set up someone for you to interview on Monday.”

“Single?”

His question came out of left field and caught her completely off guard. “By law we don’t discuss anyone’s marital status.”

“But they’d be wearing wedding rings. You’d know if they were single or married.”

“I could guess …” She floundered. What did he want? Someone single he could hit on? That didn’t seem right. Max might be a player, but he wouldn’t be unprofessional at work. Seeing he awaited the answer to his earlier question, she heaved a sigh. “She’s single. Does that matter?”

“Your agency has a certain reputation.” He didn’t make that sound like a compliment.

“For providing the best.”

“For matchmaking.”

Rachel wasn’t sure if she’d heard him right. “Matchmaking? Are you out of your mind?” The words erupted before she considered how they might sound. Taking a calming breath, she moderated her tone. “I run an employment agency.”

He nodded. “And how many of your clients have married the assistants you’ve sent them?”

What the hell sort of question was that? “I don’t know.”

“Eight, including Sebastian and Missy.”

Rachel didn’t know what to make of his accusation. Is that why he sounded so annoyed earlier? He thought … She didn’t quite know what he thought. A matchmaking service? Was he insane?

“Don’t look so surprised,” he muttered.

“But I am. How did you know that?”

“A friend of mine has done a fair amount of research on your little enterprise.” He sneered the last word, leaving no doubt about his opinion of her or her company.

Rachel inched forward on the sofa as she wavered between staying and disputing his claims and walking out the door. Fortunately, her business sense kicked in and kept her from acting impulsively.

“I assure you I’m not in the business of matchmaking.” She straightened her spine and leveled a hard look at him. “My agency is strictly professional. If my ability to find the perfect match between executive and assistant means that they’re compatible in other ways, then that’s coincidence.” Serendipity. She grimaced. If word got out that something unprofessional was happening between her clients and her employees, she was finished. “If you’re worried about finding yourself in a similar predicament, I’ll only send you married assistants.”

She recognized her mistake the second the words were out of her mouth. Annoyance tightened his lips and hardened his eyes to tempered steel.

Once upon a time she’d been married, and he’d fallen for her. Well, maybe fallen for her was pushing it a little. They’d enjoyed a spectacular four days together and he’d been interested in pursuing her beyond the weekend.

“Or really old and ugly assistants,” she finished lamely.

One eyebrow twitched upward to meet the lock of wavy brown hair that had fallen onto his forehead.

Rachel’s professionalism came close to crumpling beneath the weight of his enormous sex appeal. Fortunately, the grim set of his mouth reminded her that they hadn’t parted on the best of terms. He wouldn’t appreciate the feminine sigh bottled up in her chest.

“I’ll arrange some candidates for you to interview on Monday,” she said, her heart sinking as she realized she was now stuck acting as Max’s assistant for the indefinite future.

Three

Monday came and went and Max was no closer to liking any of the candidates she’d arranged for him to interview. By the time Rachel pulled into her driveway at six-thirty, she was half-starved and looking forward to her sister’s famous chili. It was Hailey’s night to cook, thank heavens, or they’d be eating around midnight.

She entered the house through the kitchen door and sniffed the air in search of the spicy odors that signaled Rachel was going to need three glasses of milk to get through the meal. No pot bubbled on the stove. No jalapeño cornbread cooled on a rack. Rachel’s stomach growled in disappointment. No pile of dirty dishes awaited her attention in the sink. Why hadn’t Hailey started dinner?

“I’m home,” she called, stripping off her suit coat and setting her briefcase just inside the door. “I’m sorry I’m late. The new boss is a workaholic. Did you …”

Her question trailed away as she entered her small living room and spied her sister’s tense expression. Hailey perched on the edge of their dad’s old recliner, her palms together and tucked between her knees. The chair was the only piece of furniture they’d kept after he died. That and the family’s single photo album were all the Lansing girls had left of their dad.

Hailey’s gaze darted Rachel’s way as she paused just inside the room. Rachel’s stomach gave a sickening wrench at the misery her sister couldn’t hide. Only one person in the world produced the particular combination of alarm and disgust pinching Hailey’s lips together.

Rachel turned her attention from her sister’s stricken gaze to the tall man who dominated her couch. He’d grown fleshy in the four years since she’d last seen him, his boyish good looks warped by overindulgence and the belief that the world owed him something. He still dressed like the son of a wealthy and powerful business owner. Charcoal slacks, a white polo, blue sweater draped over his shoulders. He looked harmless until you got close enough to see the malicious glee in his eye.

“What are you doing here?”

He smiled without warmth. “Is that any way to greet the man you swore to honor and cherish until death you do part?” His gaze slid over her without appreciation. He ran an index finger across his left eyebrow. “You look good enough to eat.”

Devour, more like. And not in a pleasant way. Brody Winslow enjoyed sucking people in with his smooth talk and clever charades, and using them up. Once upon a time, that had been her. She’d been taken in by the expensive car he drove and big house he lived in. Not until it was too late did she realize that some of the best liars came from money.