Neesa Hart - Who Gets To Marry Max?

Suddenly, as if he sensed her scrutiny, Max turned to meet her gaze. Embarrassed that he’d caught her watching him, she struggled not to look away. He watched her for long seconds, then tilted his head in an invitation to join him.

Sidney glanced around the deck once more, before she threaded her way through the clutter of lounge chairs to stand near Max’s shoulder. “Did you need something?” she asked him.

“Watch me, Uncle Max,” his seven-year-old niece urged.

“I’m watching, Bailey,” he assured her. He remained steadily focused as the child bent nearly in two, then tumbled into the water. She surfaced with a broad grin. “Did I get it right?”

Max nodded. “Absolutely. You can work on keeping your feet pointed if you want to go in with less splash. Otherwise, it’s perfect.”

“Does splash count?”

“Only in the Olympics.”

“Good divers don’t splash?”

Max shook his head. “Nope.”

“Okay. I’ll try.” Bailey swam toward him. “But can I try the diving board even if I splash?”

“You have to ask your mother.”

Bailey frowned. “She won’t let me.”

Max plucked her from the pool and seated her on the deck next to him. “I’ll tell her I taught you how to dive. Then you can ask her.”

He earned a toothless grin. “Thanks, Uncle Max.” The child turned inquisitive eyes to Sidney. “Who is that lady?”

Max still didn’t look at her. “A friend of mine.”

“A good friend?”

He paused. “Yes.”

Bailey studied her. “I’m Bailey.”

Sidney smiled. “I’m Sidney.”

Bailey watched her with open curiosity. “How come you aren’t wearing a swimsuit?”

“Because I’m not here to swim. I’m here to work.”

“Oh. Like Uncle Max.”

“He’s swimming,” Sidney pointed out.

Bailey jumped up and reached for a towel. “Only for me. He promised to teach me how to dive so I could use the diving board. He woulda worked instead if he hadn’t promised.”

As Bailey vigorously dried her mop of red curls, Max finally turned to look at Sidney. His eyes gleamed in the morning light—like a predator’s, she thought. “Good morning,” he said quietly.

“Good morning.” She plucked a piece of paper from her trouser pocket. “I got your note. You wanted to see me about something?”

“It wasn’t a summons.”

“It sounded like it.”

Max frowned. “I didn’t mean—”

“Uncle Max?” Bailey tapped him on the shoulder.

His frown deepened before he looked at his niece. “What, Sprout?”

“When are you gonna tell Mama?”

“This morning.”

Bailey’s gaze slid to Sidney. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he said.

“You might get distracted.”

Max rolled his eyes. “I will not get distracted.”

Bailey continued looking at Sidney. “Uncle Greg would.”

“I’m not your uncle Greg.”

“No.” Bailey shook her head, then shrugged. “I want to dive off the board this afternoon. I told Kristina we would.”

“This morning,” Max said again, giving his niece a gentle shove. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay.”

“Now say goodbye.”

Bailey grinned at Sidney. “Nice to meet you, Sidney.”

Max ruffled her curls. “It’s Miss Grant.”

“But she said—”

“It’s Miss Grant.”

Sidney held up a hand, “Max, really—”

He shook his head. “Bailey?”

Bailey capitulated. “Nice to meet you, Miss Grant.”

Max and Sidney watched as the child hurried off across the deck. “She’s a great kid,” Sidney said.

“Natalie is a great mother.” Max pinned her with his gaze. “How was your night?”

The question couldn’t possibly be as provocative as it sounded. “Fine. You?”

He shrugged, then surged to his feet. Sidney forced herself not to take a step backward as he stood dripping and imposing above her. “It was fine. I wanted to ask you about your plans for this evening. Can you take a break?”

She visually scanned the deck. “Everything seems to be under control. Your guests are apparently content. Except maybe Mr. Lort. He looks a little the worse for wear.”

His mouth twitched at the corner. “Yeah, well, if I’d spent the night with Alice Northrup-Bowles, I’d look that way, too.”

Sidney ruthlessly pushed aside an image of Constance Barlow, wearing a sparkling designer dress, clinging to Max’s tuxedo-clad arm, looking like a “do” example in Town and Country Magazine.

Max snatched a towel from a nearby lounge chair, then slung it casually around his shoulders. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “Let me change, and I’ll meet you in my office in five minutes. Will that be okay?”

She deliberately ignored the warning bells in her head. More time alone with Max. Great. At this rate, she’d be a basket case by noon. The man raised her body heat into the red zone. “That’ll be fine.”

AS SIDNEY waited for Max to join her in his third-story office, she replayed her conversation with Greg Loden in her head. She couldn’t put her finger on why the incident had disturbed her so much. Philip had told her, often and in detail, the stories of Greg’s misdeeds. It seemed Max was constantly bailing him out of one scrape or another. Generally, the younger Loden brother stayed out of serious trouble. To her knowledge, he’d had no encounters with the law. He’d managed to dredge up some negative publicity a time or two—generally related to his affinity for fast women and fast cars—but, according to Philip, Greg Loden was a decent enough character who lacked any serious direction in life.

Lauren Fitzwater, on the other hand, came from old money and an even older family tradition. Since Greg had begun dating her, he’d calmed down considerably, and it was certainly easy to see why Max felt the relationship was good for his younger brother. Still, the tension between the two men bothered Sidney for reasons she didn’t begin to understand. Worse, she felt somehow trapped in the middle.

“Good morning.” Max strode into the room wearing khaki trousers and a denim shirt that somehow looked elegant. Philip’s scrupulous care of his wardrobe, no doubt. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

Sidney shook her head. “No problem. You’re the boss.”

He frowned at her as he seated himself behind his desk. “I wish you’d quit saying that.”

She blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“I don’t consider you my employee, you know. I consider you—” he paused, “my partner.”

Her stomach started its lurching rhythm again. “I see.”

“I doubt it.” He shook his head. “I’ll explain later. Right now, I want to talk to you about tonight. Greg is waffling.”

She blinked at the rapid change in topic. “What?”

“I spoke with him this morning. He’s having second thoughts about his engagement to Lauren.”

Sidney considered the information relative to last night’s conversation. “He’s an adult, Max. He can make his own choices.”

“He needs her.”

“Max….” She hesitated. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe Greg needs some purpose in his life?”

“Of course. That’s why I want him to marry Lauren. She’s good for him. She’s stable.”

“And she’s Edward Fitzwater’s daughter.”

“What the hell does that mean?” His voice had dropped to a deceptively quiet level.

“Are you absolutely certain that Lauren’s, ah, familial credentials don’t have something to do with why you’re pushing Greg so hard?”

He bit off a curse. “That was a rotten thing to say, Sidney. You may not have the highest opinion of me, but what kind of bastard do you think I am?”

His vehemence took her back. “I didn’t mean it like that.”