In one hand, he held a thin box about the length of a pencil wrapped up in pink paper and ribbon. The last time she’d seen him, he’d given her a brief wave before getting into a car and speeding away.
One corner of his mouth lifted. “I like your toes,” he said.
Lola didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Throw her arms around him and kiss him all over his handsome face or punch him on the jaw. He hadn’t even bothered to call since they’d been back. She’d expected better, especially since they’d made love. Then again, she’d had to cajole him into it, and if that wasn’t galling enough, she wasn’t certain she wouldn’t do it again.
Years of practiced restraint and generations of southern pose and breeding came to her rescue. She leaned a shoulder into the doorjamb, folded her arms beneath her breasts, and raised a brow. “Are you lost?” she inquired, as cool as a frosty glass of Coca-Cola.
The other side of his mouth slid up. “No, ma’am. I don’t get lost, just a little blown off course occasionally.”
Chapter 12
From the rear of the house, Baby darted through the living room and entry, barking as if he were on the hot trail of a cat. He ran between Lola’s feet, through the door, and hopped around on his back legs in front of Max.
Lola straightened as Max bent down and picked up her dog with his free hand.
“Hey, B. D.,” he said, and held him up for inspection. “What in the hell are you wearing?”
“His silk tank.”
“Uh-huh.” He turned him to the side. “Except for that sissy shirt, he looks pretty good. Any problems since he’s been back?”
Lola chose to ignore the disparaging fashion commentary. “His vet said he has a slight bladder infection and his immune system is a little weak, but he’ll be okay as soon as he finishes all his medication.”
Max glanced up from Baby. “What about you? How are you, Lola?”
Now, there was a question. Her heartbeat a little too hard in her chest, and she suddenly felt a little short of breath. She spread her arms wide as if she were perfectly fine. “I went into the office today.”
“I like your hair.”
“Thank you.” She brushed several loose curls behind her ears and looked behind him at the black Jeep parked by her curb. “Is that yours?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah.”
“I figured you for a guy who’d drive a Hummer.”
His quiet laughter filled the space between them as Baby yapped and licked Max’s chin. “Hey, now, mutt,” he said, and once again held Baby up and away from his face. “Settle down before you have an accident.”
“He’s just excited to see you.”
Max set the dog on the porch, then slowly rose to his full height. He looked down at her through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. “And what about you, Lolita? Are you excited to see me?”
The sound of her name on his lips cut through her like sunshine on a foggy day, but she didn’t know if she’d go so far as to say she was excited. She was too upset with him to be excited. She tilted her head and drawled, “I’m likely to go mad and bite myself.”
“Can’t have that,” he said through a smile. “Maybe you should invite me inside, just so I can make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”
Well, since he was here anyway. She took a step back. “Come on in.” As she moved to the kitchen, she heard him shut the front door and follow. Baby raced ahead to his dinner, and Lola took a bottle of red wine from one of the grocery bags she’d set on the counter.
“I saw you on television Wednesday,” Max told her as he entered the kitchen.
She shook her head and reached for two glasses. “I looked horrible.”
“You could never look horrible.”
He was being kind and they both knew it, but when she glanced up at him, he looked serious. He’d taken off his sunglasses and those gorgeous blue eyes of his looked back at her as if he meant every word. “Wine?”
“No, thank you.”
“That’s right. You’re a beer drinker.”
“Yes, like your daddy’s branch-water cousins.” He handed her the thin box he held in his hand. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me, so I thought I might have to bribe you with this.”
She took the present and shook it. “Why would you have to bribe me?”
“After everything, I didn’t know if you’d be out for my blood.”
She tore away the paper and ribbon and couldn’t help her smile. A ridiculous little glow lit up her chest and went a long way to cool her anger. Unlike gifts from other men in her past, it wasn’t expensive or lavish. “Thank you,” she said. “No man has ever given me a toothbrush before.”
“It’s an Oral-B, just like your old one.”
“Yes, I see that.”
“I figured I owed you.”
“Yes, you do. I’ll cherish it always.” She set the toothbrush next to the groceries on the counter, then pulled a Waterford vase from the glass-fronted cupboard. “You know, I probably shouldn’t want to see you,” she said as she filled the vase with water. “But Baby and I still suffer the lingering effects of Stockholm syndrome.”
“Stockholm syndrome? Don’t you have to be kidnapped to suffer from Stockholm syndrome?”
She turned off the water and looked over at him, at the light from the ceiling shining in his hair. At him standing in her kitchen filling up her senses with the sight of him and the barely detectable scent of his cologne. She’d been wrong about the bruises. Blue still smudged one corner of his eye. “Are we going to debate that again?”
Max shook his head and leaned a shoulder into the refrigerator. “So, how long do you and your dog think you’ll be suffering?”
She placed the vase on the counter, then began to arrange the flowers she’d bought at the market. It was so strange having him here, in her condo, talking to her in her own kitchen instead of the galley of the
“Through dinner?”
She looked up from a peach tulip. “Are you buying?”
“Of course. I thought we’d grab a steak and talk about your plans to get your naked photos off the Internet.”
She’d already put her new plan into motion. “I called a private detective, and I meet with him Monday.”
“Hire me instead.”
He couldn’t have surprised her more if he’d told her she should hire him to fly her to the moon. “Are you offering to help me?”
“Yes.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Sure.”
If there was anyone who could shut down Sam’s site and get those photographs back, she was sure it was Max. Mad Max. The man who ate cobras and rescued drowning dogs. Saved her from drug runners and blew up yachts. Max the hero. She felt her burden lighten and an accompanying little tug at her heart. “How much?”
“For you, I’ll work extremely cheap.”
“How cheap?”
“We’ll talk about it over dinner.” He took the tulip from her, touched the end of her nose with the soft petals, then stuck it in the vase. “I’m starving and I think better after I eat.”
One of last things Lola felt like doing was putting her shoes back on. “I really don’t feel like going out, but I’ll let you cook me dinner here.”
