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Max
How could cheating on her not be Brody’s fault? Max couldn’t wrap his mind around that. Unless she told him to go fuck around, it didn’t make sense. The conversation—which he’d made no attempt to ignore—between her and Mirabella inclined him to believe she knew about more than one indiscretion. Maybe Foster could enlighten him a bit.
“What’s the story with those two?”
Foster sighed. “They’ve been seeing each other for about a year. He’s been screwing around almost as long. I try not to get involved, but Sloane is a sweet girl. She’s family. Even though I don’t volunteer information, if she asks me, I won’t lie either.”
“I get that. What I don’t get is why she stays. She’s beautiful. She seems smart and funny. Why waste her time with him when she could do better?”
Foster glanced over at him, a small grin lifting the corner of his mouth. Max tried to act like he didn’t notice. They rode in silence for a few miles before Foster had to press.
“Are you throwing your hat in the ring?”
“What are you talking about?” Max snapped.
“Sloane. You have a thing for her.” Foster laughed.
He had a thing for her, all right. Every time they were in the same room, he had to stop himself from touching her. After seeing Brody’s arm around her this morning, he’d wanted to throw her down and cover her with his body. Leaving only his scent on her.What the fuck. He wasn’t some kind of animal. He needed to stop thinking of her that way. She was off limits.
But as much as he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking of the kiss they’d shared in the hallway of her building. Brody called her cold at the strip club, but he couldn’t reconcile the woman Brody spoke about with Sloane. She was so hot; he’d felt like he would burn up in flames when his tongue met hers.
“Earth to Max.”
“Huh? Oh, it’s a shame.”
“Oh yeah, you’re interested.”
“Fuck you, man.”
“That much, huh?” Foster cackled with uncontrollable laughter.
“You’re a dick. You know that?”
“That I do.”
When Max walked into work Monday morning, he cursed under his breath. Zoë Youngblood stood outside his office door with her entourage.
She flashed him the thousand-watt smile that she’d perfected for the cameras always following her around. This couldn’t be good. “Maxwell Fear. Just the man I’d wanted to see.”
“Ms. Youngblood, how can I help you?”
“Please call me Zoë. You make me feel like an old maid. Do I look like a frumpy old maid to you, Max?”
She sauntered up to him and dragged a bright red, manicured nail down his bicep. The other hand slid seductively down her hip. Whatever she was fishing for, he wasn’t biting.
“What do you want, Ms. Youngblood?”
“You’re no fun, Max.” Pouting, she crossed her arms under her breasts, trying to push them up so he would take notice.
“I’m a busy man.”
“I was thinking of taking a trip and Daddy said I needed a bodyguard. So I thought to myself, ‘Zoëdah-ling. Who would be best suited to guard your body?’ Only one man came to mind. So here I am.”
“Thank you for the confidence, but I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“You can’t?” She seemed appalled by his refusal.
“I have other clients. I only take local jobs.”
