Kate Hoffmann - The Sexy Devil

“Chicken soup?”

“It’s a long story. So why did you give me a bad number?”

Angela knew she ought to make up some excuse, but for some reason, she wanted him to know what kind of effect his behavior had on women. “I didn’t want to be disappointed when you didn’t call,” she finally said.

“But I asked you to dinner. We had a date.”

“In the heat of passion, you asked me to dinner. Things look different the morning after.”

“God, you must really think I’m a jerk,” he said. “And you don’t even know me.”

His words brought her up short. True. She didn’t know him. She was lumping him in with all the other misogynists she catalogued on her Web site and wrote about in her book. And she was accepting the opinions of women she didn’t know. Maybe she ought to put more trust in her own observations.

“Man, you must have dated some real scumbags to be so cynical,” he said.

“No,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s just that…I don’t understand why you’re interested in me. I know about you, Max Morgan. I’m not your type.”

“Maybe I’m looking for a new type,” he said. “And maybe you’re exactly what I’m looking for.”

Angela smiled and shook her head. “You are smooth, I’ll give you that. I’m not sure whether to believe you or to run away as fast and as far as I can.”

“Give me a chance,” Max pleaded. “Just one date. And after that, maybe another five or twenty. And if you don’t like the way things are going, you can dump me. I promise I won’t kick up a fuss.”

“I’ll get to dump you?”

“Yes.”

She thought about the offer for a long moment. Every fiber in her being told her to refuse. She knew the danger of spending time with Max. But curiosity overwhelmed common sense. “Okay, it’s a deal,” Angela said, holding out her hand. “I’ll give you three dates to convince me of your honorable intentions. If you don’t make the grade, I’m going to cut you loose.”

“Five dates,” he said.

“Four,” she countered.

“Does last night count?”

Angela thought about it then shook her head. “No.”

“What about this morning?”

“Yes,” she said.

“All right. I guess that’s fair.” He grabbed her hand as they continued to walk down the sidewalk. “So, how am I doing so far?” Max asked. “Are we having fun?”

“You’d be doing better if you hadn’t eaten my Danish,” she said. “And drank my coffee. But I’ll forgive you for that.”

He grinned, then wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. “I’m glad we got this all straightened out. I was beginning to think you didn’t like me.”

How could she not fall hopelessly in love with this man? He was sweet and charming and funny. And he knew exactly what to say to make her feel like she was the only woman who could make him happy.

She couldn’t fall in love with him. At least not completely. But a little bit wouldn’t hurt, would it?

THEIR FIRST DATE WAS going well, Max mused as they sat at an outdoor table sipping coffee and sharing a cinnamon roll. He hadn’t had such a simple date since…well, ever. When he dated, it usually came along with cameras and curious onlookers. Today, he felt like a regular guy, enjoying the company of a beautiful woman on a breezy summer morning.

“Tell me about your work,” Max said, taking another bite of the cinnamon roll. “You said it had to do with Web design.”

“I’d rather not talk about work, if that’s okay,” Angela said.

“You said you’re the boss.”

“It’s only the two of us,” she said. “Me and Ceci. And occasionally we have a part-time programmer working for us.”

“Some of the guys on the team have their own Web sites,” he said. “I never thought much of doing it myself, though. It just seems like a lot of work.”

“I suppose it depends on what you want to accomplish. If you want your name to become a brand of sorts, then a Web site is a good idea.”

“I don’t think we have a Web site for the bar. Maybe you could help us out with something like that?”

Angela shook her head. “We really have all the work we can handle right now. But I can put you in touch with someone if you’re really interested.”

She glanced at her watch and frowned. They’d been sitting at the coffee shop for nearly two hours. Max had hoped she wasn’t noticing the time. “It’s almost lunch time,” she said. “I should really get to work.”

“You’re the boss, right?” he asked. “Skip work for the day. Let’s go to the ballpark. The Sox are playing. I can probably get us seats in one of the luxury boxes.” He wasn’t sure if she even liked baseball, but the word luxury usually appealed to women.

Angela wagged her finger at him. “I know what you’re doing. You think that if you run this date into the next and then into dinner it will only count as one date,” she teased.

He sat back in his hair, thoroughly amused. Man, she just didn’t let him get away with anything, did she? Most guys might call her a ball-buster, but he liked that about Angela. She kept it real. “I never thought of that. Thanks for the idea.” He pulled out his cell phone and handed it to her. “Call Ceci and tell her you won’t be coming in. In fact, call her and ask her to join us.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and tell her to invite someone else along. Does she have a boyfriend?”

“Will,” Angie said. “He’s the one who told us about your bar. He hangs out there on Monday nights with a bunch of his friends. You’ve met him. He took a picture with you.”

“Invite him. I’ll get four tickets and we’ll make a day of it.”

He waited while she called Ceci and when she handed him the phone back, she had a bemused smile on her face. “So this is how famous people do things,” she said. “You just make a few phone calls and it’s done.”

“Usually,” he said. “Being a celebrity is good for some things. But most of the time, it’s a huge pain in the ass.”

“What else could you do?” she asked. “Could you get us a table tonight at Charlie Trotter’s?”

“You want to eat at Charlie Trotter’s?”

“No. I’m just wondering if you could get a table there.”

“Probably,” he said.

“Could you get us a table at any restaurant in Chicago?”

“Probably,” he said. Max knew it sounded conceited, but she wanted the truth. And maybe it was better she understood from the start what it was like to be with him. “The thing is, it can get complicated if people know where I’m going to be ahead of time. Then there are cameras and questions. Like, if we were to go sit in regular seats at the game, we’d both be in the news tomorrow. I hate that they’re always in my business.”

“Are you really that good a baseball player?”

“This has nothing to do with my skills on the playing field,” he said. “It has everything to do with my skills playing the field.”

She smiled at the joke. “It’s about the women.”

“Yeah, it’s all about the women. Unfortunately, I realized that too late and now that’s all anybody’s interested in. A few months back, they wrote that I was addicted to painkillers and I was rushed to the hospital after overdosing. My nephew heard about it at school and flipped. He couldn’t stop crying. They’re such leeches. I hate it.”

“Why would they be interested in me?” she asked. “I’m not famous.”

“They’re interested in anyone I’m interested in. I can’t believe there was a time when I thought I wanted that kind of notoriety. I thought it would be cool to date famous women-models and actresses. Have my face in the magazines. And for a while it was pretty much fun. Unfortunately, a nice guy isn’t all that interesting to the press. And if they can’t find any dirt, they invent it.”