Flirting With the Boss

“It wouldn’t have done any good.” He smiled wanly, looking every one of his seventy-two years. “But now you’re back. We can—”

Max slammed his palm on the counter and savored the stinging that reverberated all the way up his arm to his shoulder. “There is no we. And I need to get my head examined for coming back here. If you’d been in the hospital like a normal cardiac patient, I’d have paid my respects and been on the first plane back to California. That was the plan. But you had to disappear.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Now that I’ve seen you, I can go back to the original plan. I’m going to catch the next plane out.”

“What will it take to get you to stay?” the old man asked.

He was about to say nothing could make him change his mind. Then Max made the mistake of looking in Ashley’s direction. Pity was painted all over her face. He hated that. At the same time, all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms. What was that all about?

He was a success in his own right, in spite of the old man telling him he wouldn’t amount to anything. It had taught him not to turn the other cheek or give someone another shot. He remembered his grandfather saying never show weakness, never admit you’re wrong. Max wondered if that was why he’d come back, to hear Bentley Caine admit he’d made a mistake.

“How about an apology?” he said.

His grandfather sat up straighter and folded his arms over his chest. “I’ve said all I’m going to say.”

“Me too,” Max snapped.

He turned on his heel and walked to the front door, opened it and went outside. He jogged down the steps and stomped away from the house. Behind him he heard footsteps crunching on the cement drive and increased his pace.