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Yeah, after getting on with her day job, nailing the promotion, living her life and enduring Max’s wrath. “I can’t believe you talked me into this,” she muttered, even though her mother had hung up.
One phone call and her life tilted out of control. Her resolve to create emotional steadiness in her life went by the wayside. Her world had suddenly turned messy, and she didn’t like messy. Except for the year she spent planning her doomed wedding, she’d achieved that long-awaited stability. She dated “safe” men, when she dated at all. At twenty-eight, you’d think she had it all together.
Until her mother called in a panic. That call thrust Lilli back into the craziness of her mother’s world and Lilli had an ache in the pit of her stomach to show for it.
With a sigh, she glanced at her watch. Just past 9:00 a.m. With any luck she could get to Max’s office, coerce a firm yes from the man without a major degree of difficulty and get back to work with productive time still left in the morning. The research on the organic dog biscuits wouldn’t get done by itself. Nor would the itinerary for the town business forum her boss had asked her to put together, plus planning her strategy to land the Danielson account.
Nine in the morning, and she already had a headache.
Three weeks until the benefit.
Could she do this?
* * ** * *
MAX SANDERS RUBBED his weary eyes, hoping the letters on the computer screen he’d been staring at would stop swimming. No good. He hit a key to close the file and downed the remainder of his coffee, flinching when the cold mouthful hit his tongue. How long had he been concentrating, anyway? With a grimace he swallowed, then rose from his chair to get a refill.
In his cramped second-story office overlooking Main Street, he slid out from behind the desk, tripped over a stack of unpacked boxes and bumped into the lone wooden straight-back chair reserved for clients before he reached the door. He really needed to take thirty minutes to straighten this place up.
His secretary, Blanche, ran the clerical end of the business. Her desk, a couch and a small coffee station filled the main office just outside his door. Talk about looking like a movie set out of a 1940s B movie. Raymond Chandler’s idea of a hard-nosed investigator he was not.
Thankfully, Blanche had filled the pot before she left for an appointment. From the first day she’d come to work for him and tasted his version of coffee, she’d forbidden him to touch the machine ever again. Today he needed caffeine too much to worry about secretarial retribution.
Last night he’d stayed at the veterinarian’s office until the early morning hours, waiting for his black Labrador, Jake Riley, to be out of danger. According to Doc Williams, the Lab had tangled with a cane toad and been poisoned. Jake Riley, resilient and stubborn, pulled through with the help of the vet’s knowledge of poisonous toads. Max, on the other hand, was tired and out of sorts. Doc had suggested Max leave Jake at the clinic so the staff could keep an eye on him. Later this afternoon the dog could go home.
Max took a sip of the coffee, savoring the warm brew as he enjoyed the unusual quiet. He could handle things himself, even though Blanche would probably beg to differ. After all, he’d made it to twenty-nine without a major mishap—depending on who you talked to—through a stint in the navy and years on the job as a cop in Atlanta. He’d already landed a few cases since he opened his doors. He had his mentor—Cypress Pointe police chief, Bob Gardener, fondly known to the town as the chief—to thank for that.
Max had returned to his desk when he heard the outer door open. He didn’t have any appointments scheduled this morning. Blanche usually dealt with clients before they saw him, but in her absence he would have to play host. Hoping for new business, he put on his game face, stopping short when he spotted the gorgeous female who’d just walked in.
This day was looking up.
She hesitated at the door as if she didn’t know what to do next until she locked gazes with him. Her eyes, a pretty shade of green, opened wide and the tentative smile playing at her full lips went flat. A flash of a memory teased the back of his mind as she gracefully sauntered the few steps toward him. He couldn’t help but check her out. Dressed in a soft blouse that matched her eyes, a skirt and impossibly high heels, she stopped before him, tucking a lock of her tousled, shoulder-length reddish hair behind her ear. He caught a whiff of her rich floral scent—a pretty, unforgettable perfume. Or maybe it was the woman who was unforgettable.
“Max Sanders?” she asked in a soft voice.
“That would be me.” He extended his hand, taken off guard by a rush of heat from her soft skin as her fingers slid against his. Interesting. He hadn’t expected that. Nor had she, evidenced by the way she quickly let go.
No doubt about it, she’d piqued his interest the minute she’d come through his door. No one in their right mind could ignore the confident sway of her walk, the slim hand with ruby nail polish and the overall pretty package beaming back at him. Something about her...
He watched her with curiosity. Victim of a home invasion while her husband worked out of town and now needed a security system? His quick glance to her left hand indicated no wedding band. Something else, then?
“Did you have an appointment? My secretary must have forgotten to tell me you were coming.”
“She didn’t know.”
Even more interesting. “Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’m in a time crunch but I need to speak with you.” The airy tone of a few minutes before disappeared and she became all business. “I’m sorry. I didn’t call before arriving because I hoped to catch you in person. It’s important.”
Good, she needed his services. “In that case, come on back to my office.”
He led the way, sweeping a pile of electronics magazines from the chair in front of his desk, motioning for her to take a seat. He rounded his desk before settling back in his leather chair, observing her as she gazed around his office, from the papers piled on his desk, to the boxes in the corner. Finally, her eyes widened a fraction as she read his wall calendar. Then she looked down at the chair he’d pointed to, wrinkling her pert nose as she reached out to brush the wood seat before sitting. He frowned. The office might be cluttered, but it wasn’t dirty.
“I usually make office or house calls, so I’m not completely organized yet.” He’d ignored Blanche when she’d nagged him about decorating to impress the clients. Man, he hated it when Blanche was right.
He settled in and took another long look at this prospective client. That elusive memory still niggled the edges of his mind. Then it hit him, hard and fast.
“It’s you.”
Her cheeks flamed. “Yes.”
“I can’t believe it. It’s been twelve years.”
“That’s about right.”
“That’s exactly right.”
“And it’s in the past.” She squirmed in her seat. “I was hoping we could look beyond that.”
Wishful thinking. His gut burned with memories. “I don’t think so.”
“It was an...unfortunate night.”
“Especially after the police showed up.”
“That, too.”
A bonfire. Mischief. A pretty girl and a stolen kiss. Great times, until the cops broke up the party. And he’d ended up spending a few nights in juvenile detention because of her.
“You ratted me out.”
“It was either that or get in trouble for something I didn’t do.”
“You could have forgotten my name.”
“I could have, but I didn’t.” Her face colored. “It was all a misunderstanding.”
“You were a far cry from a misunderstanding.”
“It was a long time ago. I was hoping today we could calmly discuss business.”
“Calm isn’t at the top of my list right now.”
Her eyes closed for a moment, and when she met his gaze again, he saw the reluctant yielding there.
Okay. So she didn’t want to walk down memory lane. Neither did he. He’d been angry with her for a long time after that night. What had started out as a flirty game of teasing ended with both of them in trouble, questioned by the police for a few hours before she went home to her family. He’d never found out why she dropped his name so she could go free. He’d asked, but the chief had been closemouthed about the details. All he knew that night? She’d caused him a world of trouble.
Now, all these years later, he was about to find out why. “Now, tell me, Miss... Miss...”
She rolled her eyes. “Barclay.”
“Right. You’re related to Celeste Barclay? The woman who keeps calling?”
“That would be my mother,” she said, her business tone ratcheting up a notch. “I’m here on behalf of the Cypress Pointe Historical Society.”
“I’ve already installed the new security system at the office. Your mother made sure I had it completed before the loaner gowns arrived.”
“That’s not why I’m here. You haven’t returned her follow-up calls.”
He inwardly groaned. “For the charity thing, right?”
“Yes. She’d like an answer.”
“The chief said your mother wouldn’t stop calling until I talked to her.”
“Then you know just how persistent she is. That’s why she sent me here.”
“Not to cause me more trouble?”
“Of course not.” She lifted her chin.
“Miss Barclay... It is Miss?” he couldn’t help asking. And thinking, why was her marital status important? In light of their history, he shouldn’t care, but found that he did. And wanted to kick himself for it.
“Yes.”
Even though she owed him, she didn’t seem inclined to elaborate. One glance at her set mouth and he decided to bide his time. He picked up a pen and tapped it on a notepad. “Your mother mentioned that she wanted me to volunteer for the benefit. What did she have in mind?”
She looked at the pen in his hand, then back at him. “You already know the Cypress Pointe Historical Society is holding their annual fund-raiser in three weeks.” She handed him a white invitation. “Tie the Knot charity wedding fashion show. At the Cypress Pointe Country Club. My mother has requested that you act as one of her volunteer grooms for the night. She felt that in your capacity as security for the event, this role as a groom would work out well. She’d be sure to have someone watching over the expensive donations during the event, but not calling attention to your undercover status. She doesn’t want to upset the guests. ”
He stared at her, trying not to flinch. No way. No possible way. “Are you kidding?”
She tilted her head. “I’m sorry, I was under the impression your answer is a formality.”
“I agreed to upgrade security at the historical society office and for the jewelry collection. Nothing else.”
“And the night of the benefit? At the club?”
“We hadn’t exactly nailed down the details for the night of the event. Your mother and I keep playing phone tag.”
“She had to go out of town and she asked me to handle it.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“You know the history of the Wingate jewelry?”
“Yes.” He nodded at his computer. “I read the file.”
“Then you know the collection is worth a lot of money.”
Oh, yeah. He’d noticed.
“We can go into the particulars at a later date, but I need to know that you’re on board and you’ll have things under control the night of the benefit.”
A fresh rush of anger swept over him. “First you show up at my office, now you question the quality of my work?”
Her eyes went wide. “No. Of course not.” She ran a hand over her skirt. “I’m sorry. My mother recently put the responsibility of the benefit in my hands and I’m playing catch-up.” She tried for a smile. “And it would really help us out if you volunteered.”
Hmm... Well, he supposed it would be a good way to keep an eye on things. But still... “Volunteer groom, huh?”
“It is a town tradition, after all.”
He snorted. “I don’t think I could pass as a groom, volunteer or not. I’m not a settling down kinda guy.”
She shifted, giving him the once-over. If he read her right, she silently agreed with him. “You do realize it’s just for one night. And afterwards, your P.I. business will get publicity.”
“Private security consultant.”
She pulled some papers from her bag. “My notes read P.I.” She looked at him, confused. “Isn’t that the same thing?”
“My major focus is security, but I do some investigating on the side.”
He did P.I. work while waiting for the security end of the business to build up, so he could focus on that full time. He’d piled all of his own savings into this venture so he needed these short-term cases to generate revenue. Once he landed one large account, the word would get out and he’d be on his way to making Sanders Security a high-end firm.
“That’s all well and good, but I need a commitment from you. The money raised will go toward deserving organizations. Did I mention this year the funds will help the local animal shelter as well as the historical society?”
He groaned. Animal shelter? He’d found Jake there, half-starved and in desperate need of a home. His home. He’d never forget those beautiful pleading eyes staring up at him. Just like the pair staring at him now.
Okay, he had to take time to consider this. Volunteer groom aside, was his pride more important than his empty bank account? More important than proving his services were needed in this town? Right now, he needed to capitalize on being the sole security consultant in town. But would the exposure bring in business, or would his professional image take a hit with the whole cheesy-groom thing? He might not be taken seriously after that.
Considering all that, he studied her. Did she think she had him? With her composed smile, he couldn’t tell.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t want to let those poor defenseless animals down. We’re only asking for a few hours of your time.”
The alluring female had grabbed hold of his attention and wouldn’t let go. Just as she had that night twelve years ago. Their gazes clashed, but she gave nothing away. All business, not trying to flatter him or outwardly flirt with him, not trying to use her womanly wiles to get him to say yes. Wait. Why wasn’t she flattering or flirting? He didn’t want the answer to that particular question.
“The animal shelter?” he asked, dragging out the minutes.
“Yes,” she replied, cool victory evident in her voice. He detected a small curve of her lips, ready to smile in triumph the moment he acquiesced. If he acquiesced. “It’s a very good organization, I can assure you, since I work with them.”
He hadn’t gotten a hard-nosed reputation for nothing. And she looked as though she could use a little shaking up, if her buttoned-up-tight persona gave any indication. What had happened to the fun girl he’d met on the beach that night long ago?
Lost in the staccato beat of the tapping pen, Max pretended to mull over her request.
“Must you keep doing that?”
The pen stopped midair.
“Doing what?”
