Made-To-Order Wife. Judith McWilliams
children need the stability to being taken to church on Sunday,” Jessie corrected him. “What’s more, if you’re going to join a church, you’d better be prepared to live up to the teaching of whatever denomination you choose, because nothing will mess kids up quicker than being exposed to hypocrisy.”
Max blinked at her acerbic tone. “That caveat sounds very personal. What happened? Did your parents let you down?”
“No,” Jessie said, telling herself that it wasn’t exactly a lie. Her mother’s behavior had been absolutely predictable. She’d make promise after promise. Big promises such as she’d quit drinking, and little promises such as she’d come to Jessie’s school’s open house. And her mother had broken every one of them. Without fail.
To Jessie’s relief the waitress arrived with their salads, distracting Max. She was going to have to be careful to keep a tight rein on her responses, she realized. Max was a very astute man. She didn’t want him curious about her background. If he were to find out just how bad it was, he might decide she wasn’t the right person for the job of steering him through the tricky shoals of his courtship. A feeling of panic swelled in her at the thought of Max firing her. But only because she really wanted the bonus he’d promised, she assured herself. To say nothing of the fact that she was looking forward to making some very useful business contacts. The social circles Max was going to take her into should be teeming with potential clients.
As Jessie ate, she surreptitiously watched Max. To her relief, he had perfect table manners. She wouldn’t have to teach him the basics like she tended to have to do with a lot of the new college hires in her workshops.
“What’s the verdict?” Max asked as he set his napkin down.
“Verdict?” Jessie repeated.
“You’ve been watching me like a hawk through the entire meal. Did I pass muster?”
“Yes.” Jessie saw no reason to lie about what she’d been doing. “Have you attended many formal dinners?”
“No. I avoid them like the plague.”
“Then you probably haven’t been exposed to things like fish forks and the like. We’ll go over fancy place settings and exotic silverware to make sure you have them down pat before you get in too deep with the country-club set.”
“We,” he corrected. “Don’t forget, you’re coming along as my on-scene consultant.”
Jessie felt an odd mixture of anticipation and foreboding swirl through her. “I haven’t forgotten,” she said.
“Do you want dessert?” he asked.
“No, thanks. We don’t have time. Since one of the things I stress to the kids is the absolute necessity of being on time for a job, it would hardly look good if I were to show up late.”
“All right.” Max pulled his pager out of his pocket, pushed the button and then gestured toward the waitress, who was keeping them under surveillance.
The woman arrived at their table so fast it was a wonder she didn’t leave skid marks on the floor, Jessie thought acidly.
“May I have the check?” Max asked her.
“Certainly, Mr. Sheridan.” With a sultry smile the woman handed him a small leather folder containing the bill and left.
Max opened it, looked it over and then dropped several bills on it.
Jessie’s eyes narrowed as she noticed the white piece of paper on the side opposite the bill. It appeared to have a name and phone number written on it. The waitress’s? A flash of rage sizzled through Jessie. How dare that blasted woman try to pick up Max while he was with another woman?
“Coming?” Max said as he got to his feet, trying not to let his annoyance show at the way Jessie kept retreating into her thoughts.
Jessie hurriedly got to her feet and followed him out of the restaurant, inordinately glad that he had left the paper with the waitress’s name and number on the table.
Fred and the Mercedes were double-parked at the curb, and Jessie quickly climbed into the backseat.
“Evening, Fred,” she greeted the taciturn driver.
“Evening, Ms.,” he said absently as his eyes continuously swept the area around the car.
“I feel like someone should yell lights, camera, action,” she muttered.
“Fred takes security very seriously,” Max said.
“Damn right I do,” Fred said flatly as he pulled out into traffic. “Where to?”
“Jessie?”
Jessie gave him the address of the youth club.
“Not the best neighborhood,” Fred said in obvious disapproval.
“Not the worst, either,” Jessie said.
“We’ll be fine, Fred,” Max said. “Don’t worry.”
Jessie shot a quick look at Max out of the corner of her eye, her gaze lingering on the firm line of his lips, and longing welled through her.
Max might be fine, but she was beginning to have serious doubts about herself.
Chapter Three
“If I had money, I sure as hell wouldn’t want no job.”
“I see.” Max studied the short, thin teenager sprawled in the chair in front of him.
“And I tell you, man, it ain’t all that much money to start with.” Luis shoved his fingers through his overlong black hair. “Nobody pays much over the minimum.”
“Somehow, I’m not surprised,” Max said dryly.
He glanced over his shoulder at Jessie, who was sitting in the back of the room, watching the interview with a serene expression. She gave him an encouraging smile that inexplicably warmed him.
“Luis,” Jessie said, “you should never, ever tell a prospective employer that you only want a job for the money.”
Luis gave her a disbelieving look. “Nobody’s dumb enough to believe that I’m working for the fun of it, Jessie.”
“I know, but it’s just one of those things that you don’t say,” she continued with the same unflagging patience she’d shown all evening.
She’d make a great mother, Max thought idly. She’d never lose her air of calm competence no matter how annoying her kids got. Her kids wouldn’t have to learn to duck flying fists the way he had.
“It’s like when your girlfriend asks you if you think she’s gained weight,” Jessie said. “You wouldn’t be stupid enough to say yes, would you, even if it’s obvious she has?”
Luis scowled as he considered her words. “Guess not,” he muttered. Clearly it was a comparison he could relate to.
“If I ain’t supposed to tell the truth, Jessie, what kind of lie do I tell ’em?” Luis finally asked.
“Whatever half-truth works to get your foot in the door,” Max said.
“Max Sheridan!” Jessie yelped. “You can’t tell him that.”
“Wrong. I not only can, I just did.”
“But that’s dishonest,” she said.
“No, that’s the way the game is played. The only caveat, and it’s an important one, is never claim to be able to do something you can’t do or to have credentials you don’t have. Sooner or later an outright lie will trip you out, and then your credibility will be in the toilet.”
“I do whatever I gotta,” Luis said.
“Why do you want a job so much?”