Chapter Thirty

For about two strides, the next evening, Aggie tried not to embarrass Max as they were led through a restaurant inside a private club to their private dining room. Then she gave up her attempt at blasé sophistication. The statues, brass, and dark woods inside the lush restaurant were too much not to gawk at like a child at the circus.

Max pulled out her chair. They were in the Boardroom, a room with a round table and a widescreen for those conducting business after dinner. Their potential customer had yet to arrive. “You look lovely,” Max said, taking a seat next to her.

Heat warmed her cheeks. “It’s hard to look bad in this lighting.” Truth be told, minus the tiara, she felt like a damn fine damsel. Using the money she’d set aside to find her mother, since thanks to Richard, her new private detective didn’t cost a dime, she’d purchased a black cocktail dress off the sales rack at White House Black Market. The detective was actually the man she was supposed to have had a date with tonight. No, not a date. A meeting. They’d rescheduled. She’d called it a date for the sake of the grandmothers.

“You’ll be happy to know none of this cost you a cent.” Tonight, she wore her lucky pink stilettos. No cost. Manipulated her hair into a French twist all by herself. No cost. Painted her own nails. No cost.

He grimaced. “I would have been fine with you buying the moon with my credit card.”

The vibe of sincerity in his tone evaporated her snark. “Thank you. You’re looking rather handsome yourself.” He wore a dark suit, crisp white shirt, and a lovely lavender tie with a matching pocket handkerchief. Rather fanciful for him. “Is the tie new? How about the suit? Did you, too, have to go out and buy something suitable for dinner?” And, just like that, her snark returned.

Before he could reply, the potential client entered the room.

Max and Aggie stood.

The men greeted one another. Then Max said, “Mr. Smith, I’d like to introduce you to my assistant, Ms. Johansson.”

Mr. Smith held out a hand and shook Aggie’s. She’d expected him to say call me and offer her his first name, because that’s what would have happened in her circle of acquaintances. He didn’t. Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore.

As soon as they sat, a waiter handed them cocktail menus.

Max ordered a bottle of wine. Aggie didn’t recognize the name, but their guest nodded in approval.

“I take it you’ve been here before, Max.” Mr. Smith wiped his utensils with his napkin.

“Many times. Their food is divine and their service impeccable.”

Mr. Smith placed his napkin back on his lap and smiled. “In that case, order for me. I trust your judgment.”

A silent sigh of relief flittered through Aggie. The menu had dishes she couldn’t pronounce. She had no idea what they were. Thank God she at least knew which fork went with which portion of the meal. “A brilliant idea,” she said to Mr. Smith. “Be a peach, Max, and order for myself.” Had she used the word “myself” correctly? Should she have said “me” instead? Ugh. Grammar rules were her jam, why was she second guessing? And did saying “be a peach” make her sound less intelligent? Not at all. Southern women were charming and smart and, if the two gentlemen she was having dinner with didn’t know that, they could just kick it.

The meal came in stages. The appetizers were a meal all by themselves. Her favorite was the pan-fried calamari with hot cherry peppers and the lobster bisque.

“Ms. Johansson, tell me about yourself,” Mr. Smith said.

“I graduated from Kansas State with a liberal arts degree.”

“How did you come to work for Max?”

“We are both blessed with meddling grandmothers.”

His smile lost its starchiness. “My grandmother is an accomplished busybody as well. She holds a special spot in my heart.”

For the entrée, Max chose for them the bone-in kona-crusted, dry aged KC strip with shallot butter. Accompanying the entrée were dishes of lobster mac ’n’ cheese, roasted wild mushrooms, grilled asparagus with lemon mosto, and creamed spinach.

“How about you?” she said to their client. “Tell me an interesting fact about yourself.”

“The most interesting thing I’m involved in at the moment is overseeing a trivia night fundraiser for charity.”

Aggie took a bite of the lobster mac ’n’ cheese. A groan of pleasure erupted from her lips.

She didn’t realize how orgasmic it came across until both men paused in what they were doing and gaped. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Filling the awkward silence, she said, “Speaking of trivia, did you know, for men, sex burns about one hundred to two hundred calories on average? On the other hand, for women, it only burns approximately sixty-nine calories.”

More silence.

“I speculate this finding must be based on the woman lying on her back and the man doing most of the work. Now, if the couple were actually doing the position sixty-nine, then surely a woman would burn more calories.”

If possible, the silence grew even more silent. Like outer space silent.

Her attempt to lighten the moment had backfired. She resisted the urge to crawl under the table. Her ticking bomb of a mouth had just exploded all over their nice dinner.

As if coming out of a coma, Max coughed. “Aggie—”

Laughter burst from Mr. Smith’s lips. When it subsided, he said, “Max, I will have to hire your grandmother to bring someone like Aggie into my life, too. Aggie, what other trivia do you know that might come in handy for trivia night?”

“About sex?”

…

Max waited for an emotion to come that didn’t. Instead of being upset at Aggie for her ability to say the most inappropriate things, he wanted to laugh. God help him, but he liked that about her. Didn’t want her to change.

“Um, let’s go with not about sex,” Max said to her. Thank God, Mr. Smith had a sense of humor.

Aggie beamed at Mr. Smith. “One more, and then I promise I’ll move on to trivia about vegetables.” She glanced at Max as if asking for approval.

Making him squirm appeared to be her superpower. He nodded. If he lost the contract, he lost the contract.

“Did you know there’s enough sperm in just one male to impregnate every fertile woman on the planet?”

The waiter brought their dessert to the table, a flourless chocolate espresso cake.

“Ms. Johansson, you are a treasure. I hope Max is smart enough to know what he has in you.”

“He isn’t, but that hasn’t stopped me from trying to educate him.”

“I’m sitting right here, you know,” Max said.

“Indeed, you are,” Mr. Smith said. “Max, this has been the most fun business dinner I’ve ever attended, and I’ve attended a lot. Most of them were a sleeping pill in the form of a gathering.”

“I’m glad to hear that, sir. If you like, I’ve prepared some slides to share with you with my ideas on a new location for your next business endeavor.”

Max spent twenty minutes showing Mr. Smith three different locations, each with his plan as to how the properties could be re-imagined offering a unique atmosphere for a bookstore slash bar business venture. “What do you think?”

Aggie hadn’t helped him on this proposal. He glanced at her to see what she thought. She gave him that smile. The one he loved so much.

“Max, I like your ideas. I like them a lot. Number three is the one I’m drawn to the most.”

He brought his attention back to his client. “Fantastic. Shall I have a contract drawn up?”

“Not so fast. I have an equally appealing proposal from one of your competitors.”

“What’s it going to take to tip your decision in my direction?”

Mr. Smith glanced at Aggie. “Your assistant reminds me a lot of myself at her age.”

She dropped her fork. It hit the table with a resounding clank. “Did you grow up poor, too?” Her words weren’t loud, but they shouted hurt feelings.

Mr. Smith tilted his head toward her. “That’s not what I meant, but I know what it feels like to have to prove yourself to everyone you meet. What zip code did you grow up in?”

“64133. You?”

“64134.”

Aggie’s posture relaxed. “My grandmother moved into 64134 after she left home. I forget the one she grew up in, but it was worse.”

Mr. Smith nodded as if the two of them were now bonded in the same way soldiers of war bonded. “What I meant about being like me is I would wager to guess you were raised to place high importance on a well-rounded education. As was I. Not just one you find in the books.”

Her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you were judging me. I’m just so used to people looking down their nose at me.”

Max’s heart splintered. Had he ever made her feel less? Probably. Hell. No wonder she branded him a pompous ass. He deserved the title.

“It wasn’t until I earned my first million that I figured out there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with me.” Mr. Smith tugged at his shirt sleeves revealing his gold cuff links.

“Thank you,” she said. “I tell anyone who wants to listen there’s not a damn thing wrong with me, but…well…some insults stay with you long past their use-by date.”

“You’ll get there.” He glanced at Max. “Ms. Johansson’s knowledge impresses me. I want the two of you to be on my team at trivia night. If we win, the contract’s yours.”

“You’re such a peach. Contract or not, I’d love to be on your team,” Aggie said. “My meemaw has been filling my head with trivia since before I could speak.”