Mad About the Man Page 9

  She angled her head. “You want to talk business?”

  I’d better, he thought. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to initiate another backseat make-out session. His hands curled into fists. “No time like the present.”

  She drew a breath. “We’ve filed all the required papers. I should have something for you by early next week.”

  “Good. What about the labor review?”

  “In process. I’ve set up a conference call that will bring all the pertinent players to the table. I can give you the time, if you want to sit in.”

  “No. A postmortem of the salient points should be sufficient.” He fired off another trio of questions, which she did her best to answer.

  She withdrew her cell phone from her purse and typed in a few quick notations. “If I’d known we were going to have a meeting tonight, I would have brought along my laptop. Do you always put your lawyers on the spot?”

  “Frequently.” Though generally not in the backseat of his car and as a means of keeping his libido under control. Considering the simmering arousal still riding him, he wasn’t altogether sure his efforts were having the desired effect.

  He’d need a cold shower for that.

  The car slowed a few minutes later, then pulled up to the curb. The building was a modern, well-maintained high-rise with a doorman who stood at the ready. Maddox got out after Brie and walked her to the entrance.

  “Thank you for the lift,” she told him. “Sad to say but it was actually the best part of the evening.”

  “Glad I was there to help. Why don’t we go in? I’ll see you to your door.”

  “I can see myself. This is a great building with round-the-clock security and Joe here doesn’t let in oddballs or strangers, do you, Joe?” She nodded to the doorman, a forty-something man with graying black hair and a burly build that more than filled out his uniform.

  “Sure don’t, Ms. Grayson,” he said with his Brooklyn accent. “I’ll make sure she gets inside safe.”

  “Undoubtedly.” Maddox looked at Brie. “Thing is, I promised Daphne that I’d walk you to your apartment. You wouldn’t want me to tell her I just left you standing outside your building.”

  “Daphne is very thoughtful, but it’s not necessary.”

  “Necessary or not, I’m escorting you.” He took hold of her elbow.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “Only to your front door, counselor,” he said. “It’ll put Daphne’s mind at ease.”

  After a moment, she gave a wry laugh and shook her head. “Well, if it will let your sister sleep tonight, then who am I to refuse? Joe, if he’s not back down here in fifteen minutes, send up the cavalry.”

  “Sure thing, Ms. Grayson.” A grinning Joe held open the door. “Sir.”

  “Joe.”

  Maddox had to stop briefly and sign in at the security desk as a visitor. Together, he and Brie walked to the small bank of elevators.

  After punching the button, they rode up.

  “Your sister didn’t really say anything about you walking me up, did she?” Brie gave him a knowing look.

  “Not in so many words, but she would have if she’d thought of it. She really will be relieved. Worrying is another one of her specialties. She checks up on me far more often than I might wish.”

  Brie smiled. “Ah, the blessing and curse of families. It’s wonderful being loved, but murder putting up with all the well-meaning butting in.”

  “Exactly.”

  Far too quickly for his liking, the elevator arrived on her floor. He walked beside her down the hallway.

  She stopped in front of a door that read 10-G. “Here I am.”

  “G for Grayson?” He tapped a finger against the letter on the door.

  “No. G for weird coincidence, since this was the only one-bedroom available in the building when I was looking for an apartment.”

  “Must have been meant to be.”

  She tipped her head to the side. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the fatalistic type.”

  “I’m not, not usually. Still, I like to keep an open mind. What else could account for the two of us meeting again so unexpectedly after all these years?”

  “Really bad luck?”

  “Or really good, depending on your way of thinking.” He gave her a slow smile, pleased when her eyes got a slightly glazed look that meant she wasn’t nearly as immune to him as she wanted him to think.

  She blinked twice and turned to fit her key in the lock. The door opened with a soft click. “Well, thank you again for the ride home. You seem to be coming to my rescue a lot these days.”

  “That’s me. Your white knight.”

  “I think you’ve got the color wrong. Black’s more your style.”

  “If that were true, I’d have left you back at the theater with Jeff.”

  “Not even you would be that cruel.”

  “I’m not cruel.”

  “You were when we were kids.” She met his eyes, her own blue as a summer lake. “You made my life a living hell that year and you know it. Why would I think anything good about you now?”

  “Because we’re not twelve years old anymore.” Reaching out, he stroked the edge of one finger along her cheek, then caught her chin in his hand. “Besides, don’t you know that little boys are only mean to the little girls they like the best? Think about that, Brie, while you’re lying in your bed tonight.”

  “I’ll be too busy sleeping,” she told him in an arrogant tone as she shook off his hand.

  He laughed. “My fifteen minutes must nearly be up. I’d better leave before the cavalry gets here. Go inside, Brie. I’ll see you again soon.”

  Her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something—maybe a whole lot of somethings—then closed it again. After one final look, she went into her apartment.

  Whistling softly under his breath, he headed for the elevators.

  * * *

  Brie leaned back against her door, hands splayed flat against the painted wood, her heart beating hard beneath her ribs.

  Ooh, that man. He drives me crazy.

  Just like he had when they were kids.

  But as he’d reminded her, they weren’t kids anymore.

  So why did she always feel like a six-year-old who’d just gotten her pigtail yanked whenever he was around? And why did she suspect that tonight when she crawled between the sheets, he would be on her mind—and not in a childish kind of way?

  Well, he won’t. I’ll kick him straight out of my head, she promised herself as she engaged the dead-bolt lock, then went to switch off the hall light she’d turned on before she’d gone out for the evening.

  Going to her bedroom, she peeled off her ruined dress and tossed it on top of the laundry hamper. Even though it was probably a lost cause, she’d take it to the dry cleaner’s tomorrow and give them a crack at removing the stain.

  In the bathroom, she stripped off her bra and panties and stepped under the warm shower spray. Temporarily, she lost herself in a cloud of gently scented steam.

  But later, as she settled into bed with her clean, blow-dried hair and fresh nightgown, his words popped into her mind.

  Don’t you know that little boys are only mean to the little girls they like the best?

  And big boys?

  They were even worse, using sweet words and even sweeter kisses to get precisely what they wanted—and having the power to make women forget exactly why they were so dangerous.

  * * *

  “Yum,” Daphne said, laying her spoon neatly across her plate.

  After Maddox had picked her up from the show—which she told him had been fabulous and a shame he’d missed—they’d gone to an excellent but hideously expensive restaurant. Taking advantage of the culinary adventure, she’d ordered a seven-course tasting menu, which featured everyt
hing from appetizer to dessert with amuse-bouches, bread, and palate cleansers in between. And wine, of course. She hadn’t stinted on wine. Maddox didn’t mind, however, content with good dark-roast, French press coffee—black, one sugar.

  He’d ordered seven courses as well, enjoying the meal, but not as much as he enjoyed watching his sister ooh and aah over each subsequent offering. With seven years between them, it always pleased him to make his baby sis happy.

  After their father went to prison, Maddox had assumed the role of more than big brother, acting at times as a kind of surrogate father. Always there to lend a strong shoulder, always available for protection and support. Even their mother had taken to leaning on him, especially during those first few terrible years. She’d looked to him to be the man of the house when he’d still been nothing more than an immature kid. But he’d grown up fast. When he’d left home at eighteen, he’d been an adult, full-grown.

  So Daphne’s visits were always an occasion for indulgence. And she deserved the pampering. Particularly after the heartbreak she’d suffered in the wake of a brief but disastrous marriage, which had brought her east, then left her abandoned and alone.

  But she hadn’t been alone. She’d had him and she always would.

  She ate one of the tiny chocolate entremets that had been served at the end of dessert, closing her eyes as the sweet melted against her tongue.

  Curiously, it put him in mind of his lunch with Brie. She’d had that same expression of wonder and delight as she’d eaten his chef’s three-star cuisine—although in her case the look had been tempered with a wary reserve, through which he was still trying to break.

  He wished now that he’d kissed her again. But he hadn’t trusted himself not to try taking things further and Brie wasn’t ready yet. Not for all the things he wanted.

  And he definitely wanted them all.

  “You thinking about Brie Grayson?”

  He blinked, his eyes going to his sister. “Why would you say that?”

  Her lips curved in a knowing half smile. “Just the way you looked at her tonight and the way you were just looking again. You really like her, don’t you?”

  His fingers wrapped around his coffee cup. “Maybe.”

  Daphne laughed. “Right. And maybe I only kind of liked this meal. So have you asked her out?”

  “Yes.”

  “And she said no?”

  “She says we shouldn’t see each other because she’s my attorney. Ethical concerns.”

  “Well, what does that have to do with anything? It’s not like she’s a psychiatrist trying to do inappropriate things to you on her couch. Not that you’d probably mind.”

  “Now why would you say that?”

  She laughed.

  “We’ve also got a history,” he told her.

  “What kind of history?” Tiny lines creased her brow.

  “We knew each other as kids. Back when you were just a drooling rug rat working hard on graduating to curtain climber.”

  Daphne made a face; she hated it when he made references to her baby days.

  “She didn’t like me,” he admitted.

  “Probably with good reason.”

  “Definitely. I was a regular little shit.”

  “Well, grade-school history or not, you’ve got a clear field, especially if that date of hers tonight was any example of the kind of guys she’s been seeing.”

  “He was rather pathetic.”

  “He was. But cute. I’m having dinner with him tomorrow night.”

  “What?”

  “I invited him to sit with me after you left. He looked like a kicked puppy. I couldn’t just leave him there all alone.”

  “Christ, Daphne. Tomorrow’s your last night in town. What are you doing going out with some random guy?”

  “He’s not a random guy. He was Brie’s date tonight. Now he’s mine. Considering how they left things, I don’t think she’ll mind. But let’s put all that aside, since we were talking about you.”

  “Not because I volunteered. I don’t usually discuss my love life with my little sister.”

  “Maybe you should from now on. I saw the way Brie was looking at you.”

  “Oh, and how was that?”

  “All sultry-eyed and interested in spite of what she might say.” Daphne sipped from her own cup of coffee—hers a light, sweet beige. “Anyway it’d be nice to actually like someone you were seeing for a change, not that any of your women stay around long.”

  “My women?” He smirked. “You make it sound like I keep a harem.”

  “You could if you wanted to, you know, what with your looks, influence, and money. What was the last one’s name?”

  “You mean Lila?”

  “That’s right. Li-lah,” she said, stretching out the name. “How long did it last with her?”

  He thought for a moment. “About six weeks. It wasn’t anything serious.”

  Especially not after he’d run into Brie again. He’d broken it off with Lila after his lunch with Brie and was glad he had, considering the nasty rant Lila had started when she’d figured out she was being dumped. But he’d warned her from the start that he didn’t do commitment and that they were just having fun. Guess she hadn’t been ready yet to find someone new to keep her amused.

  “I think six months is the longest you’ve ever been with anybody.” Daphne drank the last of her coffee. “If you don’t count Ellen, that is.”

  “I don’t.” His voice was hard, the subject a closed one.

  “And you’re sure you have no interest in ever getting married again?”

  “Zero point zero percent.”

  “But what if you meet someone and really fall in love?”

  He shrugged. “Even if I did, it still doesn’t mean I’d want to get married. Been there, done that, end of story. Anyway, considering what you’ve been through, I’d think you’d be the last person out there waving her pom-poms and cheering on the institution of marriage. Surely you don’t have an interest in going there again?”

  Their waiter approached and refilled his and Daphne’s cups with fresh hot coffee. Daphne waited until he’d gone, taking an extra minute to stir in cream and sugar.

  “I might,” she said slowly. “If I met the right person. In the meantime, the business is doing great, I love living on the shore, and I’m having way too much fun being single to worry about serious things like whether I’ll ever tie the knot again.”

  “That’s right. You’re having fun. I’m having fun. Let’s agree we’re both happy exactly the way we are.” He flipped open the leather holder containing the bill and did a quick scan before signing the slip inside. “You finished?”

  She drank another swallow of coffee, then reached for the last sugarcoated square of passion fruit gelée that sat on the ultramodern entremets plate. “Seems a shame to waste it.” She popped the confection in her mouth and smiled.

  Maddox shook his head and smiled back.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It was Thursday afternoon nearly a week later when Brie’s office phone buzzed. With her mind squarely focused on a corporate spreadsheet analysis she was reviewing, she pushed the speaker button with only partial attention.

  “Yes? What is it, Gina?” she asked her administrative assistant. She didn’t take her eyes off the screen, typing in a couple of notations.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Brie, but there is a client here to see you.”

  “A client? I don’t have any appointments today. Tell them I’m sorry but they’ll have to come back.”

  “I did, but he says he needs to see you now. It’s Mr. Monroe.” Her admin added the last part in a kind of stage whisper.

  Monroe? Here? Now?

  What did he want?

  Whatever it was, she supposed she would have to see him. He was a significant new client and
however much she wished she could tell him to schedule an appointment and come back another day, she worried about the blowback, and the reaction of the other partners, if she did.

  She swallowed a sigh. “All right. Give me two minutes, then send him in.”

  After typing in a final comment and marking her place, she clicked the electronic file closed, then enabled a sleep corner that brought up a screen saver of the law firm’s blue and gold logo. She shoved a handful of stray pens into a caddy, retaining one, which she set atop a bright yellow ruled legal pad.

  Gina’s quiet tap came at the open door, and there stood Maddox Monroe, waiting just behind her administrative assistant. He towered over the diminutive brunette, looking undeniably attractive in a gray three-piece suit with a white pocket square and a dark eggplant-colored tie. He’d gotten his hair trimmed recently, yet a stray piece lay tumbled over his forehead; it practically begged to be brushed back.

  She ignored the impulse, curling her hands into relaxed fists as she stood and came around from behind her desk. “Mr. Monroe, what a pleasant surprise.”

  He quirked a brow, plainly amused by her carefully polite greeting.

  “Come in and have a seat.” She gestured toward a comfortable corner grouping of sofa, chairs, and coffee table. “What can I get you to drink? Water? Soda? Coffee?”

  “Nothing, thank you.” Monroe went to take a seat on the sofa.

  Brie followed, perching on one of the chairs. She waited until Gina left before she dropped the customer service routine. “So, why are you here? Is this business or personal? And I hope you’re going to say business.”

  “Is that any way to speak to your newest, most important client?”

  “No, but it’s how I’m speaking to you. What’s up, Monroe?”

  “Maddox.” He met her eyes. “You used to call me Maddox.”

  “I used to call you a whole lot of things, including Mad Bastard and Ox Breath—oh, and Creepface—but I never had the nerve to use any of them to your face and it was a long time ago. ‘Monroe’ seems preferable now and far more politically correct under the circumstances.”