Flirting With the Boss

“I haven’t seen him yet.” Max rested his palms on her desk and leaned forward, frowning as he studied her. “I’m here looking for my grandfather, Ashley.”

“Have you looked for him at Sweet Spring General Hospital?” she asked.

“He’s not there.” Exasperation coated his words.

“That’s impossible. He was just moved to a regular room from the cardiac care unit yesterday. The doctor said he wanted to keep Mr. Caine in the hospital at least a few more days.”

“Apparently he left.”

She blinked. “Why would he do that?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Max lifted one broad shoulder. “I’m just passing on the information I was given.”

Ashley stared at him, then picked up her phone. “Bernice, get Mr. Caine’s cardiologist on the phone.”

“Right away,” came the female voice on the other end of the line.

Ashley set the receiver back in the cradle and looked up. “I don’t understand. Who did you speak to at the hospital?”

“Does it matter?”

“Maybe. Patients get moved. It’s possible you were given the wrong room number.”

“Are you suggesting I should have searched every room?”

“I’m just saying, maybe you only talked to someone at the information desk who hadn’t been updated yet about a move.”

“A move that happened yesterday? News in the hospital travels by pony express?”

He had a point, but wild horses wouldn’t compel her to tell him that. “I can’t believe he would do this.” The phone buzzed, and she picked it up. When she was told the doctor was on line two, she pressed the button and said, “Doctor Davis? Ashley Gallagher here.”

“How can I help you, Miss Gallagher?”

“It’s about Mr. Caine.” She looked up at the other Mr. Caine staring intently at her and tried to ignore the jittery feeling his gaze generated inside her.

“Yes?”

“I’ve just been told he’s no longer in the hospital.”

“That’s right. He walked out.”

“But how could you let him do that?”

“I can’t force a patient to stay. I can only make sure he understands the seriousness of his condition. Are you calling from work?”

“Yes.”

“So he’s not there?”

Her eyes widened. “I haven’t seen him, but that doesn’t mean—”

“If he is, I advise you to make him go home.”

“And what makes you think I would have more luck with him than you did?”

The chuckle on the other end of the line was tinged with dark humor. “Good point. I wish you luck anyway. He’s a stubborn old man. But I like him.”

“Me, too,” she said.

“If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

“Can I call on you if I need some muscle?” She looked at the muscular man whose gaze had been superglued to her this whole time. But Max had disappeared from Bentley Caine’s life ten years ago. There was no reason to believe she could count on him for help now.

The doctor laughed, this time in genuine amusement. “I’ll do whatever I can, Miss Gallagher.”

“Thank you,” she said, then hung up the phone. Looking up at Max she said, “You’re right. He’s AWOL. Have you checked the house?” she asked.

“Right after the hospital. No sign of him,” he said, sliding his big hands into the pockets of his suit slacks.

Expensive slacks unless she missed her guess. The supremely masculine movement upset the sleek, perfect line of the costly matching jacket. His beige dress shirt and coordinating geometric-patterned tie were immaculate, unlike the memories he’d left behind.

“Have you checked his office?” She stood up.

Her simmering exasperation at the senior Mr. Caine escalated. If he ignored his cardiologist’s advice to rest in the hospital after a heart attack, what would prevent that stubborn old man from sneaking back to work against his doctor’s orders? Without waiting for an answer, she rounded her desk and headed out the door.

Max Caine fell into step beside her as she walked down the hall. He was tall, much taller than his grandfather, about six feet to her five feet three inches, unless she missed her guess. He was more filled out through the chest than she remembered. And his hair was different. Unlike the too-long shaggy style she’d last seen, now his sandy blond hair was short and neatly combed. But his strong, square jaw and the nose that was neither too big nor too small for his face were the same. He was still very attractive, but now instead of radiating bad boy boldness, he was too-smooth, too-GQ, too-businessman chic.

She admitted to herself that she was judging him without mercy. That couldn’t be helped. Men who left without saying goodbye didn’t deserve mercy. Granted, she’d been a fourteen-year-old with a raging crush, but his indifference had cut deep. She’d gotten over it. What she couldn’t forgive was not a single word to his grandfather in a decade. That indifference had devastated the older man who was her friend as well as her boss. Anyone who hurt him had to answer to her.

She stopped at the end of the hall in front of the receptionist. “Bernice, have you seen Mr. Caine today?”

The thirty-something brunette met her gaze, then slid an appreciative, appraising look to the man beside Ashley. “Isn’t he still in the hospital?”

Ashley glanced up at Max. “Apparently not,” she said grimly.

“He’s supposed to be.”

“I know,” Ashley admitted.

“Who’s he?” Bernice asked, nodding toward Max.

“Max Caine,” he said, extending his large hand.

The secretary’s eyes widened as she put her palm in his. “The rebel?”

“Is that what they call me?” he asked Ashley.

“Among other things,” she admitted.