Teresa Southwick - Flirting With the Boss

“Ashley? It’s not that difficult a question.”

“No, your grandfather doesn’t have a cell phone,” she finally answered.

Max’s mouth thinned to a grim line. “I had a feeling.”

“A feeling?” The man was his family. He shouldn’t have to rely on feelings. He should have been around all these years to know the facts. Then he wouldn’t need her to steer him to his grandfather’s hangouts. And just maybe if Max hadn’t left, his grandfather wouldn’t have worked himself into a heart attack. “You haven’t seen him for ten years. How can you have feelings?”

“A figure of speech. It’s more like informed intuition. Ten years ago he was stubborn, opinionated and dictatorial. And those were his good qualities.” Max politely opened and held for her one of the double glass doors in the lobby. “I have no reason to believe he’s changed.”

“Is that so?” She walked past him and wasn’t certain if the heat she felt was from him or the June air that made Sweet Spring, Texas, feel as hot as the face of the sun.

Ashley met his gaze. “Hmm. Stubborn, opinionated and dictatorial. Has anyone ever told you the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree?”

Scrappy. Max looked down at Ashley Gallagher and that was the first word that came to mind. She was scrappy, all right, and if not for her phone call, he wouldn’t be here.

Studying her he said, “Did you just insult me?”

“If you have to ask, I was too subtle.”

He took her elbow and steered her toward his car parked in Caine Chocolate Company’s lot. Heat was radiating in waves, and he couldn’t decide if it was only from the blacktop or if some of it was coming from his companion.

“I’ll drive,” he said, stopping beside the silver BMW he’d rented at the airport. He opened the passenger door and Ashley slid inside. “You tell me where to go.”

She looked up at him and rolled her eyes. “At least make it interesting. Don’t just hand me gift-wrapped zingers.”

He wanted to ask why she felt the need to zing him. But that was a conversation he didn’t want to have while the Texas sun was frying his brain. “I’ll rephrase. You keep your eyes open for the old man.”

When she opened her mouth, he shut the door, then walked around the back of the car and let himself in on the driver’s side. After cranking up the A/C full blast, he pulled out of the lot and headed for downtown Sweet Spring. Whatever she’d been about to say remained a mystery. Ashley didn’t utter a word, but he could almost feel her thought waves vibrating.

He put on his left blinker, then stopped at the red light. Sliding a glance toward the passenger seat, he noticed she was rigid enough to snap. A few freckles dotted her turned-up nose, her pale skin looked perfect, making the red curls brushing her cheek blaze even brighter. Her profile was delicate and feminine, at odds with the unisex navy blue business suit she wore. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been a kid in the company cafeteria. Now she worked for his grandfather. He wondered if she’d ever disappointed Bentley Caine.

“Why did you call me?” he asked.

“Because your grandfather was ill, and he asked me to.”

“He was well enough to walk out of the hospital. One has to assume he could have managed a phone. So why did you do the honors?”

She glanced over at him, then her gaze slid away. “Because he wanted to see you, and he said if he called, you wouldn’t come.”

He was right, Max thought. He was only here now out of a sense of duty. The same reason his grandfather had taken him in after his parents died. His conversation with Ashley had been short. She’d informed him that his grandfather’s heart attack had put the old man in the cardiac care unit at Sweet Spring General Hospital. Then she’d given him the facility’s phone number and told him Bentley Caine would like to see him.

Max’s initial reaction had been to hang up. But some quality in Ashley’s voice—a hint of gravel mixed with whiskey and liberally laced with hostility—had stopped him. After leaving town, he hadn’t thought much about her. But when she identified herself on the other end of the line, memories had flooded back. He remembered a sweet, smiling kid. The picture in his head didn’t mesh with the cool, cranky woman beside him.

She turned suddenly to look at a pedestrian on her side of the car, then faced front again. “I think we should go to the sheriff and file a missing person’s report.”

“It’s my understanding that we have to wait at least twenty-four hours before he’s officially considered missing.” He glanced over at her. “Where does he like to go?”

“For fun?”

“My grandfather doesn’t do fun. At least he didn’t used to. I meant is there a favorite restaurant we can check? A hangout?”

The corners of her full mouth curved up. “I can’t picture Mr. Caine hanging out. But his top three favorite places are Tiny’s BBQ, Dairy Queen and The Fast Lane—it’s a coffee shop in the bowling alley.”

They were just passing the bowling alley, and he made a hard right turn into the driveway. “Let’s take a look.”

When the BMW was parked, she got out and gave the lot the once-over. “I don’t see his car.”

“Maybe someone inside has seen him.”

As they walked side by side to the double glass doors, she glanced at him curiously. He could almost hear the questions echoing in her head. It was just a matter of time until she started asking them.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

And there was the first one. “Define this.”

“Don’t play dumb, Max. We both know you’re not. And before you ask, that wasn’t a compliment. Just a statement of fact. Why are you bothering to look for your grandfather?”

“I came here to see him because I owe him that much. As soon as we find him, I can leave. It’s that simple.”

Before she could make something out of that, they stopped at the bowling alley registration desk.

Ashley put her hands on the counter. “Hi, Sam.”

“Ashley.” The fit and forty-something dark-haired man standing there, studied him, openly curious.

“Sam Fisher this is Max Caine,” she said.

“Sam,” he said, shaking hands. “I’m looking for my grandfather, Bentley Caine. Ashley tells me he likes to come in here.”

Sam’s face flickered with recognition, but unlike Bernice, he managed to hold back the ingrate remarks. “I know who he is. My wife works over at the chocolate factory.”

“I see. Have you seen him in the last twenty-four hours?”

Sam looked surprised. “Isn’t he in the hospital? I heard he had a heart attack.”

Ashley tucked a strand of copper-colored hair behind her ear. “Mr. Caine walked out of the hospital sometime last night and no one has seen him. We’re checking out the places he might have gone.”

“Sorry. He hasn’t been here since I came in this morning. But I’ll ask around.” The other man shrugged. “If he comes in, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay,” she said.

They started to back away when Sam added, “He’s a good guy. Always says we have the best fried chicken he’s ever tasted.”

Max looked at him. “And afterward, he can bowl a couple of games to counteract the blast of cholesterol.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Ashley took Max’s arm and aimed him toward the door. “Way to get the sympathy vote, Ace. You could have gone all day without telling Sam Fisher his chicken is a heart attack waiting to happen.”

“Even though I said it with a great deal of charm?” he asked.

“Here’s a suggestion. When we check out the Dairy Queen and Tiny’s BBQ, either we just cruise the parking lot or I go in alone. If you tell them they’re a hotbed of heart disease, you’re not likely to enlist their help in this endeavor.”