Flirting With the Boss. Teresa Southwick
But I’ll ask around.” The other man shrugged. “If he comes in, I’ll let you know.”
“Okay,” she said.
They started to back away when Sam added, “He’s a good guy. Always says we have the best fried chicken he’s ever tasted.”
Max looked at him. “And afterward, he can bowl a couple of games to counteract the blast of cholesterol.”
“Thanks, Sam.” Ashley took Max’s arm and aimed him toward the door. “Way to get the sympathy vote, Ace. You could have gone all day without telling Sam Fisher his chicken is a heart attack waiting to happen.”
“Even though I said it with a great deal of charm?” he asked.
“Here’s a suggestion. When we check out the Dairy Queen and Tiny’s BBQ, either we just cruise the parking lot or I go in alone. If you tell them they’re a hotbed of heart disease, you’re not likely to enlist their help in this endeavor.”
“Whatever you say.”
When they were back in the car driving through downtown Sweet Spring Ashley sighed like a balloon losing air.
“Spit it out before you implode,” he said.
She didn’t even pretend to misunderstand. “You know, diet isn’t the only contributing factor in a heart attack.”
“Lack of exercise, maybe?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of the strain of running Caine Chocolate all by himself.”
“He’s not alone. He’s got you.”
“True. I’m part of the administrative staff in place to manage the company. But I think you know that’s not what I meant.”
“How long have you worked there?” he asked.
“Since I was sixteen. It was my first job.”
He glanced over at her. “So you worked your way through the ranks.”
“Yes. And I try to take some of the stress off him. But I’m not family.”
“I feel a zinger coming on.”
“Another source of tension and pressure could be the desertion of a family member and his subsequent refusal to return home.”
That was damned irritating. Her version of events was so slanted he couldn’t help wondering if she was merely being a devoted employee paid to recite the company line. Or if she believed what she was saying. Because there was another side to the story. His side.
“How much do you know about me?” he asked, tamping down his anger. He didn’t remember whether or not they’d talked about his background ten years ago.
“I know your parents were killed in an automobile accident and your grandfather took you in when you were fifteen. You were angry and rebellious and got into trouble with the sheriff a couple times during high school. Big trouble that made the newspapers. Very public stuff—”
“I’m sorry I asked.” He turned left into the Dairy Queen driveway. There were only a couple of cars in the lot. “Anything?”
“I don’t see his car. I’ll run inside and ask if anyone has seen him.”
Max watched her walk up to the door, then disappear inside. He didn’t remember her being so skeptical, cynical and suspicious. She also hadn’t been so sassy, scrappy and sexy. But that was beside the point. Where did she get off judging him? Whatever happened to walking a mile in a man’s wingtips before forming an opinion? Living with Bentley Caine hadn’t been a bed of roses. Did she know what the old man had done to him? What had convinced Max he’d be better off anywhere but Sweet Spring?
Ashley was back moments later. After sliding into the car she said, “He hasn’t been here, but they’ll let me know if he comes in.”
He waited for her to buckle up. After looking both ways, he eased out into noticeably heavier traffic. Quitting time in town. If he was smart, he would quit too. But this wasn’t the first time he hadn’t been smart enough to live up to his potential.
“Did you ever ask my grandfather why I left?”
“I didn’t know him then. By the time I did, it wasn’t important anymore.”
That’s not what her tone said. She was taking something very personally. Two could play that game. “For the record, I didn’t desert anyone.”
“No?”
“No.”
“But you did leave town?”
“Of course I did,” he snapped. “And I had good reason.”
“But Sweet Spring was your home—”
“It’s his home, not mine. In spite of everything he did, I got an education, including a master’s degree. I found out I was good at saving failing corporations from the brink of disaster and started my own free-lance consulting business. I do what’s necessary—reduce staff, consolidate, or sell off unprofitable businesses.”
“A heart of gold,” she murmured.
“My reputation as a business fixer is well known,” he shot back. “I’m justifiably proud of my level of success, and I did it without his help.”
“Obviously he did something for you. You said you owed him enough to see him.”
“Yeah.”
The vibes he was getting from her said she was dug in on the old man’s side. So what did he care? He was no longer a kid who didn’t know where he belonged. But it did stick in his craw that she was loyal to the man who hadn’t been loyal to his own flesh and blood. Apparently she saw a side to his grandfather that Max had never glimpsed.
“Tiny’s BBQ is up ahead,” she said, pointing toward a sign sporting a pig and a cow, nose to nose.
Max steered the car into the lot and waited while Ashley went inside. She wasn’t gone long.
“Nothing,” she said, after sliding back into her seat.
“I’ll call the house. Maybe there’s news.”
Max pulled his cell phone out and hit the programmed number. The housekeeper answered and said she hadn’t seen Mr. Caine but would let Max know if his grandfather came home.
He slid the phone into his pocket. “It’s time to bring in the big guns.”
“The sheriff’s office is just down the street,” she said, reading his mind.
“So do you believe no news is good news like the sheriff said?” Ashley asked Max. “That Mr. Caine will probably turn up tomorrow?”
“Yeah. For now, leaving the looking to the professionals seems like the best thing to do.” His mouth thinned to a straight line. “Although it’s frustrating. By this time I figured I would be on a plane back to California.”
Had it really been a decade since she’d stared wide-eyed at bad boy Max Caine in the company cafeteria? Sitting across from him again, Ashley felt an odd sense of déjà vu. Then, she’d been flattered by attention from charismatic Max Caine. But now that she knew his true colors, she wasn’t sure why she’d agreed to his dinner invitation.
The waiter left their check and Max took it. She got the feeling the gesture was automatic. Dinner out with a woman was probably par for his course, but hers had been seriously lacking in men. She didn’t think Max was her type, which was a relief. Although she wasn’t sure she had a type.
She’d been too busy working her way through college to pay much attention to the male of the species. And given the disastrous romantic track record of the Gallagher women, which included her mother, her sister and herself, she’d been grateful for the too-busy schedule that had kept her from dating.
In