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“Well, that’s a relief,” he said, and I actually felt the chuckle shaking his chest before it escaped his lips.
Rolling my eyes only let me know how ridiculous I must look with one eyelash gone and the other sticking to places it didn’t belong. Huffing, I yanked it off and attempted to throw it across the room, only now it was stuck to my thumb.
His laugh was far louder as he pulled it free and wrapped it in a tissue.
“I get all dressed up and for what? I ride in the back of a car that I’m positive hasn’t been vacuumed since it came off the lot, get lectured by the driver who thinks he’s my father, spend an hour filling out some stupid form in a back-alley club and I still can’t escape.”
“Hey!”
“Get over yourself,” I said, grabbing the tissue he was still holding and realizing it was completely useless. “Let me up.” I wiggled against his hold, the silk dress making it fairly easy to slip out of his arms. I grimaced when my ankle twisted awkwardly before I got my stupid heels under me, but what else could I expect? I usually wore ballet flats and not stilts. Limping a bit, I made it to the tissue box and pulled one free, thought for a second, then grabbed the entire box. Scrubbing my face with the first handful, I made my way to his desk, which was the size of an island, and propped my hip against it as I reached down to remove my shoe. Even as I lost a good half foot of height, I had to admit this man didn’t even bat an eye at my antics.
Nope, Mr… hell, I didn’t even know his name. “What do people call you?” I asked as I switched feet to battle with the tiny buckle of the strap on the other heel.
“Master Max,” he said as if that was as common as someone introducing themselves as “Bob”.
“Not happening,” I scoffed, leaving my shoes where they lay and dropping into the seat next to the one he’d taken. “If I can’t live out my fantasy, you can bet I’m not about to call anyone Master.”
“In that case, you may call me Max,” he offered.
How very gallant he was. And I really wasn’t joking. Yes, he’d asked some pretty invasive questions, but whose fault was that?
No need to ring in, we both knew the answer.
“I apologize, Max. I didn’t mean that about your club. Revelation is really amazing. I’m sure many people enjoy your… um, services…” At the sight of his right eyebrow arching, I felt heat flooding my face as well as… let’s just say a place a lady was supposed to pretend didn’t exist. “I mean enjoy the features you and Mr. Logan offer. Everyone I’ve met tonight has been nothing but polite and helpful. It’s not anyone’s fault but my own that I’ve made a complete ass of myself.”
“I wouldn’t say complete,” he said with a grin.
“Gee, thanks,” I quipped, somehow feeling better even knowing I had been exactly that. “May I please have another glass of water?”
“Sure.” He was on his feet before I could stand to get it myself.
When he returned with the crystal glass full, I thanked him and then most likely shocked him by dunking the second handful of tissues into the glass.
I was proven wrong yet again when he shook his head, took the tissues from my fingers and tossed them into the trashcan. “Let me,” he said, setting the glass on the desk. He slid his hand into his pants pocket and pulled out an actual handkerchief.
“Wow, color me impressed. I thought the only people who use linen handkerchiefs were my father and grandmother.”
“You thought wrong,” he quipped while refolding the handkerchief to his liking. He then followed my lead and dipped the cloth into the water. Wringing the excess liquid back into the glass without spilling a drop onto the desk, he started to bend forward but then straightened and shook his head.
“Sit here,” he directed, patting the desktop.
“My mother would remind me a lady does not lounge on a desk.”
“Your mother isn’t here and I believe a lady has the freedom to make her own choices like kicking off her shoes and sitting where it makes the most sense. Besides, you’d be doing me a favor. You aren’t the tallest young lady I’ve had in this office.”
Unsure whether to be insulted and trying not to picture exactly what he meant by “had” I decided I’d take the easy route. Standing, I took a single step then found myself lifted and set down on the desk as if I weighed no more than the cup holding the pen he’d loaned me.
As he began to wipe my face with the wet cloth, I returned to my original topic. “I still say if you knew this particular man, you’d hate him too.”
“And I still maintain hate is a very strong emotion. You know there is a thin line between hate and love. Maybe you just haven’t given him a proper chance.”
“Hard to give a phantom a chance even if I wanted to and, believe me, I don’t!”
“Phantom? So we’re talking about some man who is no longer alive to defend himself?”
He lost his hold on my chin when I jerked my head back. “No! I mean, at least I don’t think he’s dead. I’m pretty sure no matter how much my parents refuse to discuss my future with me, they’d at least have the decency to tell me if their pick of the litter was no longer in contention.”
Max seemed to be contemplating my words as he worked to remove every trace of the heavy foundation, eyeliner and shadow I’d so carefully applied in my hotel room. Either that or I’d so shocked him he was at a loss for words. It took several minutes before he dipped the cloth a second time and used it to scrub the Le Rouge Parfum from my mouth. As I watched the cloth turn redder with every swipe, I made a mental note to write a letter informing Killian’s that their promise of the expensive lipstick lasting a good ten hours before fading was a big fat lie. Then again, considering all the lies I’d been telling, I supposed I should grant them a little grace.
