“I’m counting on you to get this done, Lilli. Give me a call when Max is confirmed.”
That one night with Max had been out of character for her. And now, all these years later, she’d pay for it.
“That’s assuming he agrees.”
“We’re on a deadline, Lilli. Confirming Max is your first priority.”
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.”