The Sexy Devil

Max walked away from his brother and circled the bar slowly. Keeping his gaze fixed on her. Since the connection between them had been broken, she’d gone back to chatting with her girlfriend, a petite dark-haired woman with trendy glasses perched on her nose.

When he finally reached them, Max slipped into a spot next to her at the bar. But the patrons standing around her thought he’d come to socialize with them, wanting to shake his hand and pose for pictures. When the celebrity posturing was finally finished, he turned back to her.

“Hi,” he said. Max waited for her to respond and began to think that she hadn’t heard him, but then she slowly turned and faced him. She was even more beautiful up close. She had the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. And her shoulder-length hair, the color of honey, smelled like peaches.

“Hello,” she said.

“Do I know you?”

She paused, then smiled quizzically. “I don’t know. Do you?”

Max frowned. “I’m not sure. I can’t believe I would have forgotten you if we’d met before.” He held out his hand. “I’m Max. And forget what I just said. It sounded really lame.”

“Angela,” she said, resting her hand in his. She had beautiful fingers, long and slender, tipped with pretty red polish. No, Max thought. He’d never had those hands on his body. Though they might have met, they’d never been intimate. “And this is my friend, Celia. Ceci.”

Max reached around to Ceci and shook her hand. “Hello, Ceci. It’s nice to meet you.” He turned back to Angela. “Can I buy you two a drink?”

Angela held up her margarita. “I have a drink. But thanks anyway.”

“And I have to go,” Ceci said. “I—I have to drive my mother—I mean, my brother to—shopping. I have to take my mother grocery shopping. She’s completely out of … bananas.” She forced a smile as she slid off her barstool. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“Stay,” Angela whispered, grabbing her hand. “How will you get home?”

“I’ll grab a cab,” Ceci said. “You just enjoy your drink.” She picked up her purse, then gave Max a clever grin. “It was nice meeting you, Max. She likes her margaritas unblended, no salt. And she can’t hold her liquor, so make the next one a virgin, all right?”

Max watched as Ceci hurried to the door. In any other instance, he would have been glad to have Angela all to himself. But he felt strangely nervous. What the hell was that all about? Max Morgan never got nervous around women.

2

ANGELA TOOK A QUICK SIP of her drink. This was not part of the plan. Ceci wasn’t supposed to leave the moment Max noticed her. They were supposed to stay together until Angela felt comfortable. They’d even worked out a series of signs and a plan to escape to the ladies’ room to regroup if things got too complicated.

And they were already way too complicated. Her heart was slamming against the inside of her chest and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. And as she tried to calm herself, she felt light-headed and unable to think. Oh, God, she was having a … moment.

No, this wasn’t supposed to happen! Angela knew exactly what Max Morgan was—a smooth operator. And yet she was allowing herself to be overwhelmed by his obvious magnetism. Get a grip, she scolded silently. You’re a grown woman with a job to do. This is no time for silly fantasies.

But if she couldn’t even think of something clever span>to say, how would she keep him interested long enough to get all her questions answered? What if he decided to move on to someone else after just a few short minutes? She’d be left sitting alone at the bar feeling like a fool, humiliated in public.

But then, maybe that would be for the best. If he dumped her for someone prettier, it would only prove her point—Max Morgan was a class-A jerk.

“So,” Max said. “Do you come here often?”

Angela swallowed hard. How many times had she heard that line? He was supposed to be an expert at seduction and that was the best he could come up with? “You really need to work on your pick-up lines.”

The words were out of her mouth before she had a chance to think. Oh, hell, she’d just insulted him. And given him an excuse to move on to the redhead at the end of the bar.

At first, he seemed a bit taken aback by her comment. But then Max laughed and slid onto the stool vacated by Ceci. He thought she was teasing him. She could use that to her advantage. Keep him off balance. He was obviously used to having women agree with everything he said. She’d do the opposite. Reverse psychology.

“I do,” Max said. “And that was really bad. Maybe I should move right on to astrological signs. Wait, here’s a good one. I think I need to call heaven because they’re missing one of their angels. How does that work for you? “

Angela had to admit, he’d gone from cheesy to charming in a heartbeat. Max had a way of looking at her with those dark and dangerous eyes that made her feel as though she was the most captivating female on the planet. But that was all part of the package that was Max Morgan, Sexy Devil. He could tempt even the most steadfast of women. “Sweet and not at all suggestive. A good effort. I’d give it a seven out of ten.”

“Oh, you want suggestive? You must be the reason for global warming because you’re hot.”

“No,” Angela said, shaking her head. “Not good to reference the looks. It makes you appear shallow and desperate. That one deserves a two.”

“I lost my number, can I have yours?”

“Clever. Not as trite as the previous attempt.”

“If I followed you home, would you keep me?”

Angela groaned. All right, he was impossibly charming. But she certainly wasn’t going to let that affect her in the least. “Do you have a database of these? Or is your memory really that good?”

He leaned closer. “I have more. Maybe if you’d tell me what would work, I could choose more wisely.”

He was obviously interested. But how far was he planning to take this, she wondered. Was he simply having a little fun or was he looking for something more. Angela gathered her nerve. “Sorry. Pick-up lines don’t work with me,” she said.

“What’s the worst you’ve ever heard?” he asked.

“If I had a garden, I’d put your tulips and my tulips together? Just how is that supposed to work?”

Max leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers, lingering there for a brief moment before stepping back. “I think it worked pretty well.”

Stunned, Angela stared at him. Yes, it was an innocent kiss, so quick it barely warranted mention. But she hadn’t had a chance to prepare herself. Max Morgan, the man of her teenage dreams, had just kissed her! That simple touch had a startling effect on her body. Her pulse began racing and a warm flush crept up her cheeks. She opened her mouth, then quickly snapped it shut. Any attempt to put together a clever comeback would result in a string of incoherent babble.

His expression shifted suddenly and she thought she saw a flash of regret cross his deeply tanned face. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean anything by that. Really.” He grabbed her hand. “Maybe we could start over? I’m Max Morgan. And the reason I came over here was to tell you that you look incredible in that dress. The color is … amazing.”

Angela cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. Rewind. Begin again. Gather your composure and act as if the kiss meant nothing. It didn’t mean anything at all! “That was a pretty good line. Honesty. I like that.”

“I was an Eagle Scout. We’re big on honesty.”

“I know,” she said. She knew every arcane detail about Max. “I mean, Eagle Scouts are supposed to be trustworthy, right? You should have probably led with that instead of the angel line.”

He held out his hand. “Hello, I’m Max Morgan, former Eagle Scout.”

“Angela Weatherby,” she replied. “Former …” What could she say. Wallflower? Introvert? Stalker? “President of the Latin Club.”

“Really?” he asked. “So, you’re smart and beautiful.”

“And you’re cheeky and charming,” Angela replied.

Max pushed away from the bar. “Would you like to get out of here? It’s a nice night. Why don’t we take a walk?”

She felt a tremor run through her. This was the moment of truth. She could turn and run or she could hang in there and get her interview. Angela pointed to her shoes. “I’m not going far in these heels.”

“I know the perfect place, then,” he said.

She wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle Max on her own, without the distractions of the bar to fill the silences. But this was her chance, to figure out this guy who’d had such a hold on her. And to rationalize her crazy reaction to him. “Sure,” she said. “That sounds nice.” In truth, it sounded impossibly romantic.