Chapter Seventeen

Under hooded eyes, Max watched as Aggie glided across the carpet toward him where he stood in the receptionist area. A perfect vision in a pink suit and a pair of black skyscraping heels. The kind she daily kicked off under her desk.

He motioned for her to close the door. He forced himself to stay calm as he asked, “Did you make plans to go on a date with one of my clients?” He wanted to believe Richard wasn’t the sort to date someone young enough to be his granddaughter, but if Aggie put her mind to it, she could probably talk a Mormon into skipping their two-year mission trip experience. Or him breaking his vow not to mix business with pleasure. That one teetered daily.

“Why do you always assume the worst of me?” She stomped back to the receptionist desk, grabbed a tissue out of its box, and dabbed at her cleavage.

Christ. She did that to trash his line of thought. “Are you saying I’m wrong?” His hands tightened into fists as a need to crush something took hold of him.

She stared stonily. “Besides the notes you left on my desk, do you have anything else you need me to do?”

She could cause all of his dealings with Richard Harris to blow up if she went out with him and things went sideways. “I do.” He’d planned on doing this task himself. And it was a shitty thing to ask. But she’d just done a shitty thing to him by jeopardizing a business deal. And as a result, he was feeling quite fucking shitty.

“And it is?” Her words were followed with a grade-A smirk. A smirk that sealed her fate.

He released his fists. “I stayed late last night, working on a new project.”

“And?” she asked in an impatient tone.

“I threw away a document I still need.” Probably because his brain had kept coming back to thoughts of her naked on his conference table. “Right before I left, the janitor came in and emptied the trash bins.”

“And…?” Again with the tone.

Was he asking her to do this for the right reason? Absolutely not.

Fuck. Watching her hand Richard her phone number had made him feel something he didn’t want to feel. Jealousy.

As a rule, he wasn’t the jealous sort. What was it about Aggie that brought that emotion out in him? It couldn’t be simply she was beautiful and sexy. Hell, he’d dated his fair share of that type of women.

The obvious answer to the puzzle didn’t escape him. There’s brain jealousy and then there’s heart jealousy. Just because his brain didn’t do the jealous thing didn’t mean his heart was immune.

If his heart was attempting to get involved, he needed to shut it down.

There was a saying the heart wants what the heart wants, but all you had to do was look at the divorce column to know more times than not the heart wanted the wrong person.

She had said herself they were incompatible.

If he couldn’t stop his own headstrong heart, he would stop hers. When hers crashed and burned, his wouldn’t have any choice but to give up. Which meant asking her to do something unforgivable. Something far worse than toilet paper pickup. Something that would take any shine off how she was feeling about him. “I need you to go out to the dumpster and locate my office trash bag and bring it back in.” He’d just cemented his asshole status. There would be no recovering from this.

Assholes don’t win the love of the lady. His heart was safe.

Her chin jerked. “You want me to dumpster dive?” Instead of anger or distaste, her voice held an odd hint of panic.

“Afraid Richard might see you out there and decide not to ask you out on a date?” Yep, asshole-of-the-year award was his for the taking.

Her eyes narrowed. “He’s not that shallow.”

“Good for him.”

She shrugged. “If I say no, are you going to fire me?”

If you’re going to be an asshole, be a grade-A asshole. No soft underbelly. “I recall you saying, short of blowing me, there wasn’t anything you weren’t willing to do.” Hell. This might qualify him for dick-of-the-year as well. This was far worse than anything Father had ever done to secure the title.

She gave a succinct nod and kicked out of her heels. “I’ll change shoes and go look for your bag of trash.”

Grandmother would be appalled. Ms. Hazel might shoot him.

Damn it. What in the hell was the matter with him? You didn’t make a woman hate you just so you didn’t have to deal with the risk of falling for her. He swallowed hard and backpedaled. Not all the way back, but far enough to save his soul when he some day met his Maker and had to defend his actions in life. “Ask the janitor for a hook to dig it out with.” He’d find another way to keep her at arm’s length. “I don’t want you to actually get in the dumpster. If you can’t get it with a hook, don’t worry about it.” If nothing else, he’d revamp her duties so she became his virtual assistant. If she wasn’t underfoot, his heart should be safe.

Hell. Why hadn’t he thought of that idea before now?

“Right. Lucky for you, I ordered trash bags to match our interior, so it’ll be easy to find.”

Jealousy aside, he really did need the paper. “Great.”

“Great.” She swept out the door and, not even bothering with a low voice, muttered, “Jackass.”

Fair enough.