Flirting With the Boss

She bit into her toast and chewed. “I’m impressed.”

“Okay.” One corner of his mouth tilted up. “Why?”

“You’ve obviously spent a lot of time and energy on this. A spreadsheet, for goodness’ sake. Is that characteristic of a man who doesn’t care?”

“I live for spreadsheets. Logic and organization are what I do. Don’t read anything into it.”

“No? Isn’t there the tiniest possibility that you’re here to reestablish a relationship with your grandfather?”

He huffed out a breath. “Nope.”

“Really?” She studied him. “There’s not even a slight chance that you might need family after all?”

“I don’t need anything from anyone, especially my grandfather.”

“Okay.” She finished off the other piece of toast, admitting to herself she felt better after eating.

“I’m only here because I’m between consulting jobs and have some time on my hands. And you called.”

Max rested his elbows on the counter and leaned forward, observing her without a word. He’d wondered if his attraction to Ashley would evaporate. He got his answer when his gaze zeroed in on her, focusing on her mouth, the full softness of her lower lip and the tantalizing curves of the upper. Intensity simmered through him along with a heat that couldn’t be explained by the summer weather. It picked up speed and power as it ricocheted through him like a fireball. He wanted to kiss her. Throw caution to the wind and give into temptation. See if she was as soft and tantalizing as she looked.

“How many square feet did you say these four walls encompass?” she asked.

He blinked and met her gaze. “I don’t believe I said. But if memory serves, about seven thousand.”

“Not enough,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“I said time’s up.” She rested her fork on the empty plate. “We have to get out there and find Mr. Caine.”

Footsteps, slow and heavy, sounded on the wood floor behind her. “I didn’t know I was lost.”

Max straightened and stared over Ashley’s head. His heart pounded as the years melted away and he became an uncertain boy facing his stern, unyielding guardian. Bentley Caine looked older, his face thinner and more creased than Max remembered. Had he shrunk? His memories were of a man as tall as a tree and twice as hard.

“Hello, Bentley,” he said, forcing a casual tone.

Ashley slid off her stool and hurried over to him. “Are you all right, Mr. Caine?”

“I’m fine,” he answered. “I’m surprised to see you, Max.”

“Are you?”

Max thought the old man’s voice was different. Time had stolen some of the vigor from his normally booming tones. His grandfather’s hair was pure white now, not the salt-and-pepper shade he remembered. Bentley Caine had aged. There was a time when Max had thought nothing could touch the tough old man, not even the hands of time. At least his blue eyes still snapped with attitude.

“Yes. I thought it would be a waste of Ashley’s time to call and ask you to come home.”

“Not home,” Max retorted. The old man had made it clear a decade ago this estate had never been his home. “I came back to town.”

Bentley walked across the room and stopped on the other side of the island. He smiled. “It’s good to see you, son.”

“I’m not your son.” He put his hands on his hips. “Where the hell have you been?”

“We’ve been so worried,” Ashley added.

Max didn’t look at her. “When I got to the hospital they told me you walked out.”

“That I did.” He sniffed. “Coffee smells good. Any left?”

Max poured him a cup and set it on the other side of the island where his grandfather had taken a seat.

The old man took a cautious sip of the steaming liquid. “Not as good as The Fast Lane, but it’ll do.” He smiled at Ashley, who stood beside him. “I stopped in there this morning and Sam Fisher said the two of you were looking for me yesterday. I came home as soon as I knew you were here.”

“Why did you leave the hospital?” Ashley rested an elbow on the island as she studied him.

“‘Angels of mercy’ my backside. They’re a bunch of damned idiots,” he grumbled. “Kept telling me to rest then woke me up every fifteen minutes to poke, prod, or pour something down my throat. How’s an old man supposed to get any rest under those conditions?”

“Where have you been?” Max demanded. “Why didn’t you come home?”

“Went to a hotel where no one could find me. I didn’t want to be bothered.” A gleam crept into his eyes. “Although if I’d known you were here…”

Ashley sat on the bar stool beside his grandfather’s. “I’m glad you’re all right, Mr. C. But the doctor said you have to take it easy.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Bentley said. “Got a company to run and folks depending on me. I have to get back to work before things fall apart.”

“You can’t,” she protested. “It’s against doctor’s orders. You need to take it easy and get your strength back.”

The gleam mutated into a crafty expression. “I’ll stay home.”

“Good,” Ashley said, smiling at him.

Max braced himself. Bentley Caine was a sly fox. He wasn’t the only one who’d kept up on news. Ashley had said the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree, but she was wrong. Max wasn’t anything like him.

Bentley took another sip of his coffee, then set the mug down. “I’ll take the time to rest before going back to work if my grandson will agree to run the business while I do.”

Max stiffened. That was a classic Bentley move—getting his way and looking like a saint. He should have seen it coming and blamed Ashley for his mental lapse. She’d fogged up his radar. His senses had blurred when he couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth and his mind wouldn’t let go of the urge to kiss her. In her orange and yellow sundress with skimpy straps and all that red hair, she reminded him of a firecracker waiting for the right spark to set it off.

Max had been off balance when his grandfather had walked in. The crafty devil had seen an opportunity and taken it. “Ten years ago you didn’t trust me to sweep the floors. Why would you want me to run the company now?”

“Because you’re a Caine.”

“I was a Caine when you accused me of stealing the family chocolate recipe and selling it to our competitors.”

Ashley’s gasp of surprise told him she hadn’t known the whole story. But he tore his gaze from her surprised face and looked at the old man. Hurt, disillusionment and anger crashed over Max like waves egged on by a storm. He hated that it felt too much as it had ten years ago.

Bentley sighed and shook his head. “By the time I found out who actually stole the formula, you’d left town.”

“Why didn’t you go see Max?” Ashley asked.