Chapter Three

An hour after the interview from hell, Max sat in his car at a job site and released a long, slow breath. All the tension in his muscles started draining away. He liked to spend his days out of the office and in the thick of things. He lowered the window to catch a breeze, grabbed his cell, and called Grandmother while he waited for his client to arrive. As soon as she answered, he got to the point of the conversation.

“You’ll be happy to know I’ve hired Aggie to be my assistant.” And given her a contract and benefits that included a five-hundred-dollar IRA fund.

“Why, of course you did, darling. And I’m so happy she invited you to call her Aggie instead of Agnes. She’s perfect for you.” Her tone implied she meant the statement in a much more personal manner.

He let the insinuation slide. “She’s on a one-week trial. I need to determine if she’s capable of keeping up with my hectic work pace.” A white lie meant to minimize the amount of gloating he’d have to listen to from Grandmother. Why had he agreed to an actual two-month contract?

Hell. He knew why.

The minute Aggie said “blow job,” his brain had exploded like a firecracker tent hit by lightning. At that moment, she could have asked for him to wear nothing but boxers and stilettos into his and Grant’s favorite lounge and he would have said yes.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to slow down and smell something other than money,” Grandmother said. “Like roses, or orchids, or a woman’s perfume.”

Oh, he’d smelled a woman’s perfume. Aggie’s. Soft with a hint of Satan’s seduction. “Considering I’m allergic to roses, that’s probably not the best suggestion you’ve ever made.”

“Aren’t you still taking shots for all of your allergies?”

He saw his client’s car pull into the parking area. “I quit once I turned eighteen and had control over my environment.”

Growing up, his dad had insisted on keeping bouquets of roses in the foyer despite how allergic Max had been to them. No boy of his was going to have a girly weakness. The only area Dad had given him an inch was his plan to bring a cat home and cure Max of that particular allergy.

“It gives me a reason to avoid going to Dad’s penthouse.”

She harrumphed loudly. “Ever since you and your father made that angry bet, you’ve been nothing but business. It’s not healthy.”

Time to cut the call off. “I’m not all business. I met Grant just last night for drinks. Listen, I have a client waiting on me.”

“And I’ll wager the two of you talked business after your rebound drinks.”

“Unwind drinks, and you’d be wrong. Grandmother, I really need to go.”

“I am not done talking to you, young man. When was the last time you took a woman out for more than one date?”

Not this again. “When was the last time you accepted a man’s invitation to go out on a second date?” He waved at his client who’d gotten out of his car and now waited on him.

“You can’t answer a question with a question.” She spoke in a hushed tone, which meant she must be in a public setting. Grandmother believed firmly that people shouldn’t talk on their phone for all to hear. He was surprised she had taken his call at all. If Ms. Manners had a sidekick, it would be Grandmother.

“Why can’t I?” He held up a finger to his client.

“Because there are rules of etiquette when it comes to carrying on a polite conversation. Do you not recall any of what you learned from that finishing school your dad sent you to?”

He closed his eyes and took a breath. The Art of Being a Gentleman had been one of those last-minute additions Dad put on his schedule. Which prevented Mom from getting Max during the entire month of July. “I remember what I want to remember.” He remembered being pissed Mom didn’t tell Dad to reschedule.

“Well, I would hope you’d want to remember how to carry on a titillating conversation. You’re never going to find a woman to fall in love with if you’re lacking in manners.”

“Since I don’t plan on falling in love until I’m thirty-five, I’d say I have plenty of time to brush up on my etiquette between now and then.”

“Thirty-five? That’s almost five years from now.” Her voice now at an everyone-can-hear-you level.

She meant well, but that didn’t keep him from stiffening at her command. As a minor, he hadn’t had control over his life, but as an adult he did. What others viewed as a rigid personality, he saw as peace of mind. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

An image of Aggie popped into his head. He shook it off.

When he did get around to marriage, it would not be with someone like Aggie or his mother. It would be with someone known for following through on their commitments, not quitting when the going got rough. Not that he blamed his mom for quitting on his dad. The man was an ass. But Max did blame her for quitting on her son.

His client tapped his watch. “Grandmother—”

“Darling, Hazel just arrived. I must disconnect. It’s rude to keep a person waiting.”

Before he could say “goodbye,” or “wait a minute,” or “when exactly can I expect your decision regarding my unfilled receptionist position,” the phone went dead. He stared at it in bemusement. Ms. Hazel was Aggie’s Meemaw. If the two hadn’t already met for coffee this morning, why had Grandmother rushed off earlier? She could have easily stayed and answered the phones while he interviewed Aggie.

Shaking off the thought, he got out of the car. Time to beat his father at his own low-handed game.