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Sloane practically floated into the kitchen, following the savory smell. Mirabella was bent over checking the food in the oven. She looked like she’d been pulled from the page of a 1950’s magazine. Her long blonde hair was pulled up in a stylish twist, and an A-line dress in black and white that had a red sash cinched around her slender waist ended just above her knees. Red pumps that seemed silly to Sloane—who wore heels in her own house?—completed her look.
“Oh my…Is that your famous stew?” Sloane practically had to wipe the drool off her bottom lip. Her stomach growled as she breathed in the savory smell.
After closing the oven door, Mirabella turned to her, smiling. “Yes, it is.” Her smile faded a little. “Where’s Brody?”
“Work…You know…”
Bella shook her head. “Yeah, I know. Grab that bottle of wine over there and pour us a glass, Chickie.”
“Where’s Foster? I can’t believe he isn’t in here trying to sneak food when your back is turned.” She chuckled.
“I heard that.” Foster entered the kitchen looking relaxed in a pair of black jeans and a red button-down shirt. He crossed the room and kissed Sloane on the cheek. “How ya doin’, Hon?”
“Not too bad. My boss has been forgetting things again, so my job has been that much harder trying to make up for it. I’ve had to make excuses for so many missed meetings, but I’m not sure what else I can do.”
Being the personal assistant to Detlef Marek, CEO of Marek Enterprises, was definitely a challenge some days. Lately it was downright exhausting. His company had its fingers in multiple pies. From real estate to insurance to construction—you name it, Mr. Marek had an interest in it. He was a decent enough guy, and even in his mid-fifties, he was still a captivating man. Thankfully he wasn’t a pervert like her last boss had been, and unlike his son, Sydney. Sydney Marek was every bit as charming as his father when he wanted to be. Unfortunately, he didn’t want to very often.
After gathering the side dishes, Sloane carried them to the dining room table, where she saw the fourth setting that would be a symbol of Brody’s absence the entire night. Maybe she should clear the setting before they sat down. Sighing, she headed back to the kitchen, only to change courses to answer the extremely loud doorbell.
“Got it,” she called over her shoulder.
Maybe Brody had gotten away from work after all. Quickening her stride, she couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of Brody surprising her. Her disappointment was short lived, however. She pulled the door open, and standing on the front porch was a man that she’d never seen before.
He was tall with shaggy brown hair that fell over his forehead and the tops of his ears. Eyes the color of strong whiskey—whiskey she’d gladly get drunk on—were framed by the darkest eyelashes she had ever seen without help from mascara. The three-day-old stubble on his face only added to the allure, and she could see the hint of a tattoo peeking out below his shirtsleeve.
“Hello,” she croaked. “Can I help you?”
His gaze skimmed down her body quickly before flicking back up to meet her eyes. “Hi, I’m looking for Foster or Mirabella.”
“Great. You’re just in time,” Foster called as he closed the distance between them. “Come on in, man.”
“It smells like Heaven in here.” The stranger brushed past Sloane and shook Foster’s hand.
Foster gestured toward her. “Max, this is Sloane, Bella’s cousin.”
“Nice to meet you,” Max said courteously, offering his hand. A small grin tugged at his full, kissable lips.
Sloane shook his hand, nodding politely before following the men back to the dining room, sneaking glances at Max the whole time. The man had the finest ass to ever be encased in a pair of denim. Mmmm. Good grief, what was wrong with her? A long dry spell was what was wrong. Brody hadn’t so much as touched her in the last few months. Sadly, it didn’t bother her as much as it should; he had gotten increasingly more aggressive during sex, causing more pain than pleasure. She hadn’t had an orgasm the last dozen or so times they were together. She’d rather go without at this point. How depressing was that? Sloane poured another glass of wine for herself, downing half before taking a seat. Max took the seat across from her, leaving the other two seats for Bella and Foster.
“Bella, I’ve been dreaming of this all week.” Max winked at her.
Bella laughed. “Glad you could finally drag your ass over here. It’s been too long,” she scolded playfully.
“Yes, it has.”
“How’s the job?”
“Eh, I’ve been running backgrounds mostly this week.”
Bella smiled. “Didn’t I see you in the paper last week? The society page to boot.”
“Yeah, I was keeping a watch on Yancy Bloodworth’s daughter, Zoë. It was her twenty-third birthday. Daddy didn’t want anyone getting too ‘handsy’ with his little princess.” He rolled his eyes.
“As in Yancy Bloodworth, real estate mogul?” Sloane asked, filling her glass again. Mirabella gave her a sideways glance, making a point to look at her very full glass. Sloane just shrugged a shoulder at her.
Max nodded. “I do security, among other things. He hired me to keep her safe.”
“Mr. Bloodworth is an intimidating guy. He’s not very big physically, but there’s something about him that sets my teeth on edge.”
