Flirting With the Boss

“Actually,” he said. “I’m pretty good at whipping up a few things.”

She’d just bet he was. Flirtation. Seduction. Surrender. “Toast would be fine,” she said. “And quick.”

“I’ll throw in some scrambled eggs. It won’t take long, then we can get down to business.”

As Max quickly and efficiently rustled up the appropriate ingredients and cooking utensils, Ashley watched him work. The island between them gave her the illusion of a safe personal space.

Until seeing Max again, she’d thought time and maturity had put into perspective the magnified disillusionment of a fourteen-year-old girl. She was a grown woman who still felt the pull of his magnetism all the way to her toes. It was impossible for her to ignore the way his muscles rippled beneath the snug, soft fabric of his T-shirt. Her stomach contracted at the sight of his sleeves tightening around his biceps with every movement of the spatula.

She blew out a discreet breath when he finished and set a plate of eggs and toast on the island in front of her. Holding out his hand, he indicated she should sit on one of the bar stools there.

He refilled the mug he’d been using and joined her, resting his forearms on the counter. “Obviously Bentley’s important to you. Enough for you to give up your day off.”

She scooped up a forkful of fluffy egg and slid it into her mouth. After chewing for several moments she said, “Like I said, he’s always been there for me. He’s been like a father.”

“The father you never had?”

She didn’t remember telling him that. “Why would you assume? Are you filling in the blanks again?”

“Something like that.”

“It’s even more than that,” she said, not confirming or denying the truth of his words. “Mr. Caine has done a lot for me. How can I abandon him when he might need help?”

He studied her for several moments, then nodded. “Okay. I guess we have to agree that we’ll never fully understand each other’s motivation. And move on.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He grabbed a piece of paper she hadn’t noticed on the counter. “Speaking of plans, I’ve been thinking about the best way to go about this search. Someone needs to be here in case he shows up. Chip is going to—”

“Chip?”

“The butler,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning up. He obviously realized that the name was completely at odds with the profession of gentleman’s gentleman. “He’s going to man the phone. Call hospitals and other places I’ve instructed him to contact. You and I will do the mobile portion of the search.” He put the paper flat on the countertop and turned it so she could see it. “I’ve done a spreadsheet of places to look for him and the most efficient way to accomplish the task. I need you to look it over, think about any place I might have neglected to put down.”

She bit into her toast and chewed. “I’m impressed.”

“Okay.” One corner of his mouth tilted up. “Why?”

“You’ve obviously spent a lot of time and energy on this. A spreadsheet, for goodness’ sake. Is that characteristic of a man who doesn’t care?”

“I live for spreadsheets. Logic and organization are what I do. Don’t read anything into it.”

“No? Isn’t there the tiniest possibility that you’re here to reestablish a relationship with your grandfather?”

He huffed out a breath. “Nope.”

“Really?” She studied him. “There’s not even a slight chance that you might need family after all?”

“I don’t need anything from anyone, especially my grandfather.”

“Okay.” She finished off the other piece of toast, admitting to herself she felt better after eating.

“I’m only here because I’m between consulting jobs and have some time on my hands. And you called.”

Max rested his elbows on the counter and leaned forward, observing her without a word. He’d wondered if his attraction to Ashley would evaporate. He got his answer when his gaze zeroed in on her, focusing on her mouth, the full softness of her lower lip and the tantalizing curves of the upper. Intensity simmered through him along with a heat that couldn’t be explained by the summer weather. It picked up speed and power as it ricocheted through him like a fireball. He wanted to kiss her. Throw caution to the wind and give into temptation. See if she was as soft and tantalizing as she looked.

“How many square feet did you say these four walls encompass?” she asked.

He blinked and met her gaze. “I don’t believe I said. But if memory serves, about seven thousand.”

“Not enough,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“I said time’s up.” She rested her fork on the empty plate. “We have to get out there and find Mr. Caine.”

Footsteps, slow and heavy, sounded on the wood floor behind her. “I didn’t know I was lost.”

Max straightened and stared over Ashley’s head. His heart pounded as the years melted away and he became an uncertain boy facing his stern, unyielding guardian. Bentley Caine looked older, his face thinner and more creased than Max remembered. Had he shrunk? His memories were of a man as tall as a tree and twice as hard.

“Hello, Bentley,” he said, forcing a casual tone.

Ashley slid off her stool and hurried over to him. “Are you all right, Mr. Caine?”

“I’m fine,” he answered. “I’m surprised to see you, Max.”

“Are you?”

Max thought the old man’s voice was different. Time had stolen some of the vigor from his normally booming tones. His grandfather’s hair was pure white now, not the salt-and-pepper shade he remembered. Bentley Caine had aged. There was a time when Max had thought nothing could touch the tough old man, not even the hands of time. At least his blue eyes still snapped with attitude.

“Yes. I thought it would be a waste of Ashley’s time to call and ask you to come home.”

“Not home,” Max retorted. The old man had made it clear a decade ago this estate had never been his home. “I came back to town.”

Bentley walked across the room and stopped on the other side of the island. He smiled. “It’s good to see you, son.”

“I’m not your son.” He put his hands on his hips. “Where the hell have you been?”

“We’ve been so worried,” Ashley added.

Max didn’t look at her. “When I got to the hospital they told me you walked out.”

“That I did.” He sniffed. “Coffee smells good. Any left?”

Max poured him a cup and set it on the other side of the island where his grandfather had taken a seat.

The old man took a cautious sip of the steaming liquid. “Not as good as The Fast Lane, but it’ll do.” He smiled at Ashley, who stood beside him. “I stopped in there this morning and Sam Fisher said the two of you were looking for me yesterday. I came home as soon as I knew you were here.”

“Why did you leave the hospital?” Ashley rested an elbow on the island as she studied him.

“‘Angels of mercy’ my backside. They’re a bunch of damned idiots,” he grumbled. “Kept telling me to rest then woke me up every fifteen minutes to poke, prod, or pour something down my throat. How’s an old man supposed to get any rest under those conditions?”

“Where have you been?” Max demanded. “Why didn’t you come home?”

“Went to a hotel where no one could find me. I didn’t want to be bothered.” A gleam crept into his eyes. “Although if I’d known you were here…”

Ashley sat on the bar stool beside his grandfather’s. “I’m glad you’re all right, Mr. C. But the doctor said you have to take it easy.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Bentley said. “Got a company to run and folks depending on me. I have to get back to work before things fall apart.”

“You can’t,” she protested. “It’s against doctor’s orders. You need to take it easy and get your strength back.”

The gleam mutated into a crafty expression. “I’ll stay home.”

“Good,” Ashley said, smiling at him.

Max braced himself. Bentley Caine was a sly fox. He wasn’t the only one who’d kept up on news. Ashley had said the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree, but she was wrong. Max wasn’t anything like him.

Bentley took another sip of his coffee, then set the mug down. “I’ll take the time to rest before going back to work if my grandson will agree to run the business while I do.”

Max stiffened. That was a classic Bentley move—getting his way and looking like a saint. He should have seen it coming and blamed Ashley for his mental lapse. She’d fogged up his radar. His senses had blurred when he couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth and his mind wouldn’t let go of the urge to kiss her. In her orange and yellow sundress with skimpy straps and all that red hair, she reminded him of a firecracker waiting for the right spark to set it off.

Max had been off balance when his grandfather had walked in. The crafty devil had seen an opportunity and taken it. “Ten years ago you didn’t trust me to sweep the floors. Why would you want me to run the company now?”

“Because you’re a Caine.”

“I was a Caine when you accused me of stealing the family chocolate recipe and selling it to our competitors.”

Ashley’s gasp of surprise told him she hadn’t known the whole story. But he tore his gaze from her surprised face and looked at the old man. Hurt, disillusionment and anger crashed over Max like waves egged on by a storm. He hated that it felt too much as it had ten years ago.

Bentley sighed and shook his head. “By the time I found out who actually stole the formula, you’d left town.”

“Why didn’t you go see Max?” Ashley asked.

“It wouldn’t have done any good.” He smiled wanly, looking every one of his seventy-two years. “But now you’re back. We can—”

Max slammed his palm on the counter and savored the stinging that reverberated all the way up his arm to his shoulder. “There is no we. And I need to get my head examined for coming back here. If you’d been in the hospital like a normal cardiac patient, I’d have paid my respects and been on the first plane back to California. That was the plan. But you had to disappear.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Now that I’ve seen you, I can go back to the original plan. I’m going to catch the next plane out.”

“What will it take to get you to stay?” the old man asked.

He was about to say nothing could make him change his mind. Then Max made the mistake of looking in Ashley’s direction. Pity was painted all over her face. He hated that. At the same time, all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms. What was that all about?

He was a success in his own right, in spite of the old man telling him he wouldn’t amount to anything. It had taught him not to turn the other cheek or give someone another shot. He remembered his grandfather saying never show weakness, never admit you’re wrong. Max wondered if that was why he’d come back, to hear Bentley Caine admit he’d made a mistake.

“How about an apology?” he said.

His grandfather sat up straighter and folded his arms over his chest. “I’ve said all I’m going to say.”

“Me too,” Max snapped.

He turned on his heel and walked to the front door, opened it and went outside. He jogged down the steps and stomped away from the house. Behind him he heard footsteps crunching on the cement drive and increased his pace.

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