Kara Lennox - The Good Father

“I have an idea.” Max exited the kitchen, and Jane followed, curious. He went to one of the unoccupied offices, which were still unfinished. “Just as I thought.” The workmen had left an empty bucket, which had once been filled with paint.

“Why, what a lovely vase.”

“Hey, do you want your roses to wither?”

“I suppose I shouldn’t complain. You did buy the flowers, after all.”

They rinsed out the bucket and filled it at the sink in the break room. Then Max set it on a table, and Jane unwrapped the flowers and put them in the water, rearranging them until she was satisfied.

She admired the effect. “Hmm. Kind of kitschy. Maybe we’ve started a new decorating trend. I can see fashionable matrons all over the country putting spattered paint buckets filled with roses in their living rooms.”

She looked up to see if her lame joke had scored with Max, but he wasn’t smiling. He was looking at her with such naked longing on his face that her knees turned soft and she went light-headed.

“Your smile is so pretty.” His voice was ragged. “Not even a dozen roses outshine you.”

The compliment was so simple and heartfelt that it brought tears to Jane’s eyes. “Th-thank you.”

“I want to touch you. But you’re so perfect I’m afraid to.”

“Max…you really better stop there.” Although she didn’t want him to. She wanted him to push those flowers out of the way and come across the table at her. She wanted him to push her against the wall and kiss her until she ran out of breath. She wanted to feel his body pressed up against hers, all that hard masculinity…

“I can’t think about anything else. Are you saying you don’t feel the same way?”

She felt exactly the same way. She didn’t go five minutes without thinking about him. Even when she was angry with him, sensual images of him, of them together, plagued her.

Could she lie? Could she look him in the eye and say she didn’t want him? If she could, it would make all of their lives simpler. She did not need another man in her life, and neither did Kaylee, not unless that man would stick around forever.

Yes, closing the door firmly on any type of personal relationship was the sane, wise thing for her to do. Max would totally respect her decision. She knew that about him.

She looked him in the eye, steadily, and stiffened her spine, rehearsing exactly what she would say. She opened her mouth, intending to be firm but kind. But what she said was, “I want you worse than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my whole life.”

Max knew what he did in the next five seconds would have a profound impact on his life. He might cause Jane to quit. He might open himself up for a sexual harassment lawsuit. Or he might be involving himself with a woman on the rebound from a bad marriage-never a good idea.

At the moment, though, he didn’t care about any of that stuff. He just wanted Jane in his arms. And she wanted the same thing.

Her reaction surprised him. He’d been counting on her to be the voice of sanity. But sanity was noticeably absent from the room.

Just one kiss. That was all he wanted. That was what he told himself, anyway.

The air between them crackled with electricity and time slowed to a crawl. Max deliberately stepped around the table, and in two strides he was there. He grasped her delicate shoulders and backed her up against the wall. She stared up at him with huge eyes, her moist lips parted slightly, her breasts rising and falling rapidly.

“Last chance to say no.”

She remained silent, so he leaned in and captured those enticing, full lips with his-and was immediately in a different world. The room around them fell away. Time and space were nonexistent. There was only Jane, the feel of her, the scent of her, the wanting that welled up in her as palpable to him as his own desire.

Her response was quick and intense. She kissed him like she wanted to inhale him, snaking her arms around his neck, her fingers grabbing handfuls of his hair-

“Hello, where is everybody?”

Max and Jane sprang apart, instantly putting six feet between them, but it was too little too late. Carol was halfway into the break room already.

She skidded to a stop. “Oh. Ohh.”

Max wanted to object to her reaction, to stop the thoughts running through Carol’s head, but what could he say? Denials were useless.

“What is it, Carol?”

“Those real-estate magazines are here. Where do you want them?”

“In, um, in the storeroom.” His brain was having a hard time coming back to life.

“Okay.”

Carol backed out of the room with a wink.

“Oops.” Jane sank into the nearest chair. “That was less than discreet of us.”

Max had no idea what to say. He’d never jumped an employee before. “I, um, better check on those magazines.”

“I didn’t know we were printing any real-estate magazines.”

“It was a job we did before I hired you. In fact, working with the freelancer in Dallas was such a bad experience, it convinced me to hire someone on staff.”

Max felt some measure of relief that he was still capable of a normal conversation-and that Jane didn’t seem to be mad at him, though what he’d done was inexcusable. Yes, she’d been a willing participant, but he’d started it. He’d taken advantage of her.

“Let’s go have a look at the magazines.”

“Um, Max…” She gestured for him to wipe his mouth. “You have my lipstick all over your face.”

He smiled at her. “You have it all over yours, too.”

As soon as they’d repaired the damage with another of Jane’s ever-handy wipes they went to the storeroom, where a deliveryman with a dolly stacked up five boxes.

“How many boxes are there?” Max asked.

“That’s all,” the man said with a shrug.

“What? That can’t be right. You can’t fit ten thousand magazines into five boxes.”

The man shrugged. “That’s all I have.”

Maybe the rest were coming later, Max reasoned. They still had a few days before their deadline. But he got an uneasy feeling in his gut.

“Ten thousand?” Jane said. “That’s a lot of magazines.”

“It’s my biggest job so far. Not that I’m making a whole lot of profit. I bid the job low because I really wanted the account. But if the client is pleased, we might be doing this monthly, so there’s potential for the future.”

He grabbed a box cutter and sliced open one of the cartons. When he saw what was inside, he nearly passed out.

The magazines were pink. Everything had an unhealthy pink tinge-the photos, the background, the type.

Jane gasped. “Are they supposed to look like that?”

“Hell, no!”

“Maybe it’s just the one carton.”

Max sliced open another carton, and then a third, but they all looked the same. Pink.

“Good gravy,” Carol said under her breath.

This was bad. This was worse than bad, this was an unmitigated disaster.

“We don’t have to pay for these, do we?” Carol asked.

“We’ve already paid half up front.” He strode to his office, intending to get the artist on the phone and find out what had happened. These magazines didn’t look anything like the proof he had approved. Obviously the artist hadn’t gone to the printers to approve the printed proof, as he’d said he would.

The artist’s phone rang and rang. No answer.

“Damn it!”

Jane stood at the door. “What can I do?”

“I don’t know. The client is expecting ten thousand four-color magazines in five days. Five hundred pink magazines isn’t going to make a favorable impression.”

“You can’t call the printer and insist they do these over? And print the correct number?”