The Sexy Devil
Max cursed softly and shut his phone, tossing it on the desk. What the hell was wrong with him? Making decisions about anything had become nearly impossible. He pushed to his feet and restlessly paced back and forth in the tiny office. “Do something,” he muttered to himself. “Pick a lane and hit the Gas.”
A soft knock sounded at the door and he looked up to see Dave peering inside. “Sorry to disturb, but Greg Wilbern, our liquor salesman is here and he’d really like to meet you. He brought his teenage son. This guy gives us great—”
Max held up his hand. “Say no more. I’ll tell him his son looks like a future major leaguer.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. His son showed me how to reprogram our cash registers. I suspect he has a better chance working for Microsoft than in the major leagues.”
Max followed Dave, closing the office door behind him. He glanced across the bar, scanning the crowd. Suddenly, his breath caught in his throat. She was sitting with a friend, sipping a drink, her warm blond hair softly falling around her face. She looked up and their gazes met and Max had an overwhelming feeling of déjà vu.
He stood, fixed in one spot, staring at her. They’d met before. Or maybe not. Yes, there had been a lot of women, but he remembered all of them—at least he thought he did. But, he’d never forgotten a woman he’d slept with.
“Are you coming?” Dave asked.
“Yeah, just give me a sec,” Max murmured. “I’ll be right over.”
Had he ever touched her … or kissed her? His fingers twitched as he tried to recall the feel of her skin, her hair. What was the scent of her perfume? He had an uncanny memory for smells, but he couldn’t recall hers.
Max smiled and she returned it, tilting her head slightly. Whoever this woman was, he had to meet her. Maybe he did know her. “Think,” he murmured. If he walked over and introduced himself and they’d already met, she’d be insulted. But if he acted as if he knew her, then she might be put off. “Best to be upfront.” He took a step in her direction, finally picking a lane and hitting the Gas.
“Max!”
Max blinked and looked at his brother motioning him toward the bar. He glanced back and the connection was broken. A strange sensation came over him. It was déjà vu. This had happened once before. When? Where had it been? He recalled the odd sense of loss he’d felt at the time.
Frustrated, Max approached the bar. Dave made the introductions, then handed Max a baseball from the stock they kept handy. “See that woman over there in the green dress? Send her a drink from me.”
“Champagne?”
“No,” Max said, as he scribbled his name the ball. “Never mind. That’s too cheesy.” He handed the boy the baseball, then shook the liquor salesman’s hand. “I’ll just go talk to her. Do I look all right? How’s my breath? Shit, I shouldn’t have had onions on that burger.”
“What is wrong with you? Since when do you worry about your appearance?” Dave looked over his shoulder. “That girl? She’s not your type.”
“What’s my type?” Max asked.
“There’s a ten sitting at the end of the bar. Fake hair, fake boobs, fake nails. She’s your type.”
“Shut up, Dave.”
Max walked away from his brother and circled the bar slowly. Keeping his gaze fixed on her. Since the connection between them had been broken, she’d gone back to chatting with her girlfriend, a petite dark-haired woman with trendy glasses perched on her nose.
When he finally reached them, Max slipped into a spot next to her at the bar. But the patrons standing around her thought he’d come to socialize with them, wanting to shake his hand and pose for pictures. When the celebrity posturing was finally finished, he turned back to her.
“Hi,” he said. Max waited for her to respond and began to think that she hadn’t heard him, but then she slowly turned and faced him. She was even more beautiful up close. She had the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. And her shoulder-length hair, the color of honey, smelled like peaches.
“Hello,” she said.
“Do I know you?”
She paused, then smiled quizzically. “I don’t know. Do you?”
Max frowned. “I’m not sure. I can’t believe I would have forgotten you if we’d met before.” He held out his hand. “I’m Max. And forget what I just said. It sounded really lame.”
“Angela,” she said, resting her hand in his. She had beautiful fingers, long and slender, tipped with pretty red polish. No, Max thought. He’d never had those hands on his body. Though they might have met, they’d never been intimate. “And this is my friend, Celia. Ceci.”
Max reached around to Ceci and shook her hand. “Hello, Ceci. It’s nice to meet you.” He turned back to Angela. “Can I buy you two a drink?”
Angela held up her margarita. “I have a drink. But thanks anyway.”
“And I have to go,” Ceci said. “I—I have to drive my mother—I mean, my brother to—shopping. I have to take my mother grocery shopping. She’s completely out of … bananas.” She forced a smile as she slid off her barstool. “Sorry, I forgot.”
“Stay,” Angela whispered, grabbing her hand. “How will you get home?”
“I’ll grab a cab,” Ceci said. “You just enjoy your drink.” She picked up her purse, then gave Max a clever grin. “It was nice meeting you, Max. She likes her margaritas unblended, no salt. And she can’t hold her liquor, so make the next one a virgin, all right?”
Max watched as Ceci hurried to the door. In any other instance, he would have been glad to have Angela all to himself. But he felt strangely nervous. What the hell was that all about? Max Morgan never got nervous around women.
2
ANGELA TOOK A QUICK SIP of her drink. This was not part of the plan. Ceci wasn’t supposed to leave the moment Max noticed her. They were supposed to stay together until Angela felt comfortable. They’d even worked out a series of signs and a plan to escape to the ladies’ room to regroup if things got too complicated.
And they were already way too complicated. Her heart was slamming against the inside of her chest and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. And as she tried to calm herself, she felt light-headed and unable to think. Oh, God, she was having a … moment.
No, this wasn’t supposed to happen! Angela knew exactly what Max Morgan was—a smooth operator. And yet she was allowing herself to be overwhelmed by his obvious magnetism. Get a grip, she scolded silently. You’re a grown woman with a job to do. This is no time for silly fantasies.
But if she couldn’t even think of something clever span>to say, how would she keep him interested long enough to get all her questions answered? What if he decided to move on to someone else after just a few short minutes? She’d be left sitting alone at the bar feeling like a fool, humiliated in public.
But then, maybe that would be for the best. If he dumped her for someone prettier, it would only prove her point—Max Morgan was a class-A jerk.
“So,” Max said. “Do you come here often?”
Angela swallowed hard. How many times had she heard that line? He was supposed to be an expert at seduction and that was the best he could come up with? “You really need to work on your pick-up lines.”
The words were out of her mouth before she had a chance to think. Oh, hell, she’d just insulted him. And given him an excuse to move on to the redhead at the end of the bar.
At first, he seemed a bit taken aback by her comment. But then Max laughed and slid onto the stool vacated by Ceci. He thought she was teasing him. She could use that to her advantage. Keep him off balance. He was obviously used to having women agree with everything he said. She’d do the opposite. Reverse psychology.
“I do,” Max said. “And that was really bad. Maybe I should move right on to astrological signs. Wait, here’s a good one. I think I need to call heaven because they’re missing one of their angels. How does that work for you? “
Angela had to admit, he’d gone from cheesy to charming in a heartbeat. Max had a way of looking at her with those dark and dangerous eyes that made her feel as though she was the most captivating female on the planet. But that was all part of the package that was Max Morgan, Sexy Devil. He could tempt even the most steadfast of women. “Sweet and not at all suggestive. A good effort. I’d give it a seven out of ten.”
“Oh, you want suggestive? You must be the reason for global warming because you’re hot.”
“No,” Angela said, shaking her head. “Not good to reference the looks. It makes you appear shallow and desperate. That one deserves a two.”
“I lost my number, can I have yours?”
“Clever. Not as trite as the previous attempt.”
“If I followed you home, would you keep me?”
Angela groaned. All right, he was impossibly charming. But she certainly wasn’t going to let that affect her in the least. “Do you have a database of these? Or is your memory really that good?”
He leaned closer. “I have more. Maybe if you’d tell me what would work, I could choose more wisely.”
He was obviously interested. But how far was he planning to take this, she wondered. Was he simply having a little fun or was he looking for something more. Angela gathered her nerve. “Sorry. Pick-up lines don’t work with me,” she said.
“What’s the worst you’ve ever heard?” he asked.
“If I had a garden, I’d put your tulips and my tulips together? Just how is that supposed to work?”
Max leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers, lingering there for a brief moment before stepping back. “I think it worked pretty well.”
Stunned, Angela stared at him. Yes, it was an innocent kiss, so quick it barely warranted mention. But she hadn’t had a chance to prepare herself. Max Morgan, the man of her teenage dreams, had just kissed her! That simple touch had a startling effect on her body. Her pulse began racing and a warm flush crept up her cheeks. She opened her mouth, then quickly snapped it shut. Any attempt to put together a clever comeback would result in a string of incoherent babble.
His expression shifted suddenly and she thought she saw a flash of regret cross his deeply tanned face. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean anything by that. Really.” He grabbed her hand. “Maybe we could start over? I’m Max Morgan. And the reason I came over here was to tell you that you look incredible in that dress. The color is … amazing.”
Angela cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. Rewind. Begin again. Gather your composure and act as if the kiss meant nothing. It didn’t mean anything at all! “That was a pretty good line. Honesty. I like that.”
“I was an Eagle Scout. We’re big on honesty.”
“I know,” she said. She knew every arcane detail about Max. “I mean, Eagle Scouts are supposed to be trustworthy, right? You should have probably led with that instead of the angel line.”
He held out his hand. “Hello, I’m Max Morgan, former Eagle Scout.”
“Angela Weatherby,” she replied. “Former …” What could she say. Wallflower? Introvert? Stalker? “President of the Latin Club.”
“Really?” he asked. “So, you’re smart and beautiful.”
“And you’re cheeky and charming,” Angela replied.
Max pushed away from the bar. “Would you like to get out of here? It’s a nice night. Why don’t we take a walk?”
She felt a tremor run through her. This was the moment of truth. She could turn and run or she could hang in there and get her interview. Angela pointed to her shoes. “I’m not going far in these heels.”
“I know the perfect place, then,” he said.
She wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle Max on her own, without the distractions of the bar to fill the silences. But this was her chance, to figure out this guy who’d had such a hold on her. And to rationalize her crazy reaction to him. “Sure,” she said. “That sounds nice.” In truth, it sounded impossibly romantic.
“All right, here’s the plan. Where is your car parked?”
“In the ramp just down the block.”
“Why don’t you leave through the front door and start walking toward the ramp. I’ll go out the back and meet you outside. That way, nobody will see us leaving together.”
Angela frowned. “That was not a good line,” she said. “In fact, it was kind of insulting.”
“No!” he cried, taking her hand again. “No, no. That’s not what I meant. It’s just that if we leave together, there will be all kinds of speculation, maybe even some mention of it in the papers. I don’t want you to get pulled into that.” He paused. “You know who I am, don’t you?”
Angela decided not to lie. What would be the point? She just stared at him silently and shrugged. “You’re Max Morgan,” she replied. “You play baseball.”
He grabbed her hand. “Come on, we’ll both go out the back.” He laced his fingers between hers and pulled her along behind him, through the crowd to the kitchen and then out the rear door to the alley. “We’ll take my car.” He pointed to a black BMW sedan with tinted windows, parked against the building.
Max opened the passenger side door for her and helped her inside, then hopped in behind the wheel. Angela wasn’t sure what to say to him. She’d expected they might chat at the bar. She’d been prepared to ask him a few questions, to get a sense of the man he was. She’d even predicted it would take approximately thirty minutes for her to realize, once and for all, that he was not the man of her post-adolescent dreams. The night was definitely not going as planned. “Nice car,” she murmured.
He laughed as he reached for the ignition. “Now, I’m going to have to start calling you out on the cheesy lines.”
“Sorry,” Angela said, relaxing a bit. “I’m not the best flirt. And I’m sure that’s what you’re used to.”
Max turned to her. “Maybe I don’t like what I’m used to,” he said. “Maybe I don’t want you to flirt with me.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I just wish people could forget all that celebrity stuff and be normal.”
“Well, if you’re looking for normal, then I’m definitely it,” Angela said. “Nothing very special here.”
“You were president of the Latin Club,” he said, grinning. “I think that’s kind of special.”
“You’re very strange,” Angela said. As he pulled out of the parking spot, she took the opportunity to observe him, his profile outlined by the light from the street lamps.
He was even more beautiful than she remembered, his features so perfectly. His hair was darker and his body more mature, but there was still a bit of the handsome boy left inside him—especially in the smile and in the teasing tone of his voice.
“Tell me something completely random about yourself. Let’s start there.”
Angela knew she’d have to come up with something intriguing and humorous. Something to show him that an evening with her could be fun. “I can list all the states in the Union.”
“Impressive,” Max said.
“In alphabetical order, in reverse alpha order, in order of entrance into the union, and in order of geographical size. Plus I know all of the capitals by heart.” She drew a deep breath. “What can I say, I was a geek and my parents thought it was an interesting party trick.”
“You are a very interesting woman, Angela.” He turned on some music, flipping through the CDs in his player until he found something soothing.
She was going to make a complete mess of things. In another hour, he’d be dropping her off at the parking ramp and heading back to the bar, looking for someone more intriguing. It was time to start asking questions. “So you’re famous,” she ventured. “What’s that like?”
“It’s about what you’d expect,” he said with a shrug. “Sometimes bad, sometimes good.”
“Tell me the bad,” Angela said.
“I hate the press. I hate that they can make up stories about my life without any thought of how it affects the people I love. I hate that people wonder who I date or where I eat dinner or where I sleep at night. I hate that I don’t have much of a life outside of baseball.”
“Tell me the good,” she said.
“If I wasn’t famous, you might not have given me a second look at the bar,” he said. “I’m glad you did.”
“Oh, you think I’m impressed by your fame?” Angela asked. “I’ve spent time with much more famous people than you—Churchill, Gandhi, Hemingway. You don’t impress me.”
“Obviously not,” Max said with a devilish grin. “Since you seem intent on poking holes in my ego.” He opened all the windows in the BMW, letting the warm summer wind blow through the car. “I love Chicago in the summer. The smell, the sounds. I never get to enjoy my summers anymore. It’s always about work, the next game, the next at bat. This is the first summer in my memory that I haven’t played baseball.”
“Isn’t it fun?” she asked, anxious to keep him talking about himself.
“It’s a job. It can be fun. It certainly looks like fun. But it’s not … normal. I’d like to lead a normal life.”
“Normal is boring,” Angela said. “Take it from me.”
“Normal might be nice for a change.” He glanced over at her. “What would you be doing on a normal Tuesday night?”
“Laundry,” she said.
“You made the right decision,” he teased. “I’m much more interesting than laundry.”
The conversation was going well. Maybe it was time to get a bit more personal. “Can I ask you a question?” Angela began.
“Anything,” he said.
“Why did you choose me? That bar was full of women more beautiful. More interested in a guy like you. Why me?”
“I don’t know,” Max said. “I just got this feeling. When I saw you and our eyes met, there was this … moment.”
Angela’s breath froze in her throat. Oh, God. He’d had a moment, too? What did that mean? No, there was no need to get excited. Maybe a guy like him had multiple moments. Maybe it didn’t mean anything at all. Of course, they’d been attracted to each other. But a “moment” was more than just sexual attraction, wasn’t it?
They chatted about a variety of subjects for the rest of the ride—the latest festivals on the lakefront, the best ethnic restaurants in town, the traffic, the weather. But Angela couldn’t get her mind off the “moment.”
The conversation turned to his injury and his rehab efforts, but she found herself transfixed by a careful study of his mouth. He asked her about her work and she told him she was in communications, before changing the subject to the music he liked.
By the time they reached the lake, the conversation had become surprisingly relaxed, at least to the casual observer. But Angela was in the midst of an internal crisis. She found herself completely charmed by Max Morgan. He was sweet and funny and smart. And when he smiled at her, she felt as if she might just melt into a big puddle of goo on his leather seat.
No, Angela thought to herself. Max Morgan was supposed to be the enemy. And all this charm was expected from a smooth operator. Of course, he would try to weaken her defenses, to turn himself into the perfect guy. He knew exactly how to read the signs. And if she weren’t careful, she’d fall for it, hook, line and sinker.
Max found a place to park, then helped her out of the car. It was dark on the beach, but the city was alive with light behind them. He held onto her arm as she kicked off her shoes and stepped into the sand. Then he laced his fingers through hers and they walked toward the water.
“I never come to the beach,” she said. “I just drive by.” She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “It doesn’t smell like the city.”
“I have a place on the water in Florida,” he said. “And a place on a small lake in Wisconsin. And my apartment here in Chicago overlooks the lake. I’m a water guy, I guess. Where do you live?”
“I have a flat in Wicker Park.” This guy was seriously out of her league, Angela thought to herself. He had at least three homes, maybe even more. She lived in a tiny, one-bedroom flat with leaky pipes and a noisy radiator.
When they reached the water’s edge, Max slipped out of his shoes and socks and rolled up his pant legs, then waded in. “Cold,” he said, wincing. “I can’t believe I used to swim in this.”
“It’s always cold,” Angela said, backing away from his invitation to join him. He ran out and grabbed her, pulling her along until her toes touched the water too.
“No!” she cried, trying to twist out of his grasp. But he pulled her closer until she was caught in his embrace. He stared down into her eyes, then bent closer and kissed her.
Angela tried to remain calm, hoping to remember every little detail of the kiss. It was sweet and simple and filled with a delicious anticipation. She parted her lips and he took the invitation to tease at her tongue. He’d obviously had a lot of experience kissing women and it had paid off. When he finally drew away, she felt as if her legs were about to buckle beneath her.
“I’ve been thinking about doing that ever since we left the bar,” he murmured, smoothing his hand through her hair. His gaze scanned her features and he smiled. “I don’t know what it is. I feel like we know each other. Is that strange?”
“Yes,” Angela said. The one word was all she could manage for the moment. Oh, it was wonderful kissing him. And though she’d tried to maintain her defenses, it was all it took to make her realize that she was totally and utterly at his mercy.
He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her again, this time more playfully. “So, what are we going to do for our next date? “
“What?”
“Where are we going to go? You probably have to work tomorrow, but I’m free tomorrow night. We can go to dinner or take in a concert. I haven’t been to the aquarium for years.”
Angela wasn’t sure what to say. This was so unexpected. Although, maybe he’d do the same thing all the other smooth operators did—promise to call her tomorrow to firm up their plans and then never call. “I—I don’t know. I’d have to check my—”
He placed a finger over her lips. “No. We’re going to plan it now. I’ll pick you up at six.”
Angela took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure she wanted to believe what he was saying. She’d have more than just this night to get to know Max. All the questions spinning around in her head didn’t have to be asked tonight. Tonight, she could just enjoy herself. “Six,” she said in a shaky voice. “Sounds good.”
THEY SAT ON THE SAND for two hours, talking, joking, laughing. Max couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so completely fascinated by a woman. What was it about Angela that he found so sexy? Had he passed her on the street or seen her at a party, he might have considered her ordinary.
But for the first time, he found himself looking a bit deeper. She was a study in contrasts. One moment she was confident and outspoken and the next, shy and nervous. She didn’t play games, but she did enjoy poking at his ego every so often. And though she wasn’t the kind of woman he usually found himself attracted to, he was beginning to think she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.
“This is going to be a great summer,” Max said.
“Will you have the entire summer off?” Angie asked.
“If rehab goes well, I should be on my way back to the club by September. Maybe August. But I’m thinking I need time, not just to heal physically, but to figure out a few things.”
“Like what?” Angie asked, turning to face him.
He grabbed her legs and pulled them over his, drawing her close to kiss her. The impulse to seduce her was overwhelming. He wanted to explore her body, to learn what made her shudder with desire. There was something between them that he’d never experienced before. Yet, he didn’t want her to be just another notch on his bedpost.
“Like life,” he said. “I’ve been living in an alternate reality. I see my brothers and sisters and their families and they’re happy. Really happy, not just artificially happy.”
“How can you be artificially happy?” she asked.
“You know. When you buy a new car and you think you’re happy, and maybe you are for a day or so. But then you realize it’s just a car.”
Angela leaned against him, the warmth from her body seeping into his. “So what makes you really happy?”
“Kissing you does it for me,” he said.