Excerpt from Messing Around with Max
Rain and hail hitting the door was one thing. A woman was another.
She ran into it at full speed, and Max stared, seeing long blond hair stick wetly to the glass panel, a small nose smooshed up hard, red and looking miserably cold. The rain came down in a curtain, muffling her grunt but not obliterating it entirely.
Cleo took an instant dislike to the intruder.
Hurrying around the counter of his sister's bookstore, Max opened the door. The small feminine bundle tumbled limply inside. At first Max thought she'd been shot or bludgeoned on the back of the head. In a fury he stepped over her and peered through the downpour, looking for another body, for any type of threat. There wasn't anyone there. Just the miserable rain.
Cleo continued to complain and snarl and as Max knelt down by the felled body, which now moaned loudly, he said, "Pipe down, you mean-tempered bitch."
The woman on the floor gasped, rolled over onto her back, and started to open her eyes. She moaned again instead.
"I'm wounded," she snarled, every bit as ferocious as Cleo. "I could certainly do without your abuse!"
"I wasn't." Max stopped when she got one eye peeped open. It was a startling, dark blue eye, fringed by dark brown lashes. It was just the one eye, not even both, but he felt the impact of her gaze like a kick.
Cleo snuffled closer, poking her wet nose against the woman's face while emitting a low growl.
"Where are you wounded," Max asked, still not sure why she'd thrown herself against the door, or why she was still on the floor.
"All over." That one eye regarded him steadily. "Even my teeth rattled, so the least you can do is not insult me while I'm still down."
Max wondered if that meant he could insult her when she got up. If she got up. She didn't seem to be in any rush to do so.
"Cleo," he explained, more quietly this time, "is my dog. And she is mean-tempered, but not really ferocious. She won't hurt you."
"I'm not afraid of dogs." Even in her less than auspicious position, she managed to appear affronted by the very idea, then she turned her disgruntled one-eyed frown on Cleo, who whimpered in surprise. "I just don't want snout tracks on my cheek."
Max hid a grin. "C'mere, Cleo. Leave the lady alone." Cleo obeyed - a first as far as Max could recall. She came immediately to his side, but continued to grumble out of one side of her mouth, making her doggy lips vibrate, while keeping her watchful attention on the downed female.
A puddle had formed around the woman and since she continued to recline there on the tile floor, apparently at her leisure, Max looked for injuries. He found instead a rather attractive if petite bosom covered in a white T-shirt that read I Give Good Peach .
His brows rose. What the hell did that mean?
The shirt, now soaked through, was practically transparent and put on display a lacy pink bra beneath. Not that he was looking. Nope. He'd made a deal with Cleo, and he intended to keep his word. He stroked his fingers through Cleo's ruff, just to reassure her.
The damn dog looked beyond dubious.
Maybe she knew him better than he knew himself.
"Are you okay?" Max asked the woman, in lieu of what he was really thinking, which had to do generally with her wet shirt and specifically with what it was molded to. He would distract himself. But it'd be easier if she'd just get up.
With what appeared to be a lot of undue effort, she got both eyes opened and stared at him. "I'm seeing two of you," she muttered in surprise, "and surely that's a fantasy, not reality."
"A fantasy, huh?" Maybe she was delirious. Maybe she was drunk.
Maybe she was fodder for his next advice column. No sooner than he thought it, Max discarded the idea. It was just a tad too far-fetched to be believed. Even for his eclectic audience, who so far seemed to believe anything he told them.
One small hand lifted to flap in his face, the gesture making Cleo positively livid. The female human ignored the female dog.
"Well, you know what you look like, I assume. Two of you would be.never mind." As if just realizing what she'd said, she cleared her throat. "Yes, I think I'm okay."
Max had never met a woman like her, and that was saying something since he'd known a lot of women. He was so knowledgeable on the subject of females, in fact, that his column was a rousing success - written anonymously, of course. Even his family had no idea that he wrote it.
They all thought he was jobless.
This woman was most definitely different. She flirted, then withdrew - all while stretched out in sodden disarray on the tile floor. "You're sure?"
"My pride is permanently damaged," she admitted, "but beyond that I believe I'll live." She pushed herself into a sitting position, long legs stretched out before her. Cleo again tried to sniff her, but when the woman turned her blue-eyed stare on her, Cleo whimpered, backed away, and from a safe distance, started snarling again.
Max could understand that. Her eyes were incredible. Not the color, the shape or the size. But the intensity.
"Where's Annie?" the woman asked, looking around the bookstore with an air of familiarity.
"You know my sister?"
"I've bought tons of books here," she explained, "to use in my work. Annie and I've gotten to know each other pretty well over the past year. Now we're friends." Then she asked, "Why was the door latched?"
Cleo, suddenly acting brave, inched one paw closer and the woman absently petted her. Outraged, Cleo yapped and howled, and the woman ignored her bluster while continuing to stroke the dog's too-small head.
Amazed, Max could do no more than stare. No one other than he had ever ignored Cleo's hostile swagger to give her affection. Max looked the woman over again, this time with a different type of interest. His heart beat just a little too fast.
He was on a bride hunt, and since his bride absolutely had to get along with his dog - he was marrying for the dog, after all, to give Cleo a stable home and the love and acceptance she'd never had - he couldn't help taking note of the somewhat tenuous friendship forming right before his eyes. It amazed him.
It warmed his cynical heart.
In a way, it even made him horny. But then, the rain had made him horny, too. Hell, he'd been so long without, a smack in the head would have turned him on. The only action he'd seen lately had been in the damn newspaper column, and that sure as hell wasn't enough to appease a man of his appetites.
The woman snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Where'd you go, big guy?"
Max laughed. "Sorry. My mind wandered."
"I could see that." She looked him over slowly, brazenly, then asked, "Why are you in here with the door latched?"
Max remembered that his sister had the habit of leaving the door cocked open, something both he and Daniel had grumbled about endlessly, which was probably why Annie continued to do it. She lived to irritate her brothers.
"Annie isn't here, and the storm kept whistling through the door, so I closed it. I hadn't figured on many people shopping today anyway. And of course, I hadn't counted on a woman throwing herself against it." More softly, because she had that effect on him, he said, "That must have hurt."
She sluiced water off her arms, and wrung out her hair. "I nearly knocked myself silly, but I'll survive."
Cleo, still looking ferocious so no one would realize her real intent, nudged the female's hand for another pet. Max nearly gawked. "What are you doing out in this storm?"
"I needed a book, and I was running to keep from getting soaked, but obviously I hadn't planned on hitting a closed door." Suddenly she grinned, and it made her face go crooked, made her eyes squinch up. She looked adorable, even with her smeared makeup and rain dripping from the end of her red nose.
And she was still petting his dog.
And Cleo was still allowing it.
Max settled himself more comfortably on the floor, where it appeared their conversation would take place. The woman showed no signs of rising any time soon.
Doing his best to ignore her clinging T-shirt and the equally enticing long legs displayed by her tight rain-soaked jeans, Max asked, "Do you need a doctor?"
"Oh, no. Really, I'm fine." She continued to grin, then added, "I'm Maddie Montgomery." To Cleo's dismay, she stuck out a slim wet hand, now slightly coated with dog hair.
Max took it, felt how cold her fingers were and held on. "Max Sawyers. You're freezing."
"And you're Annie's most disreputable brother."
"Her brother, yes, the rest is debatable." Especially lately, Max added to himself. His life as a monk was not an acceptable one.
Maddie pulled her hand away and struggled to her feet. "You know, I've heard tales about you that could curl a woman's hair. You look different from how I'd imagined."
She'd imagined him? Max walked toward the back room where he could find a towel, deliberately removing himself from the temptation. Sexual excitement, the thrill of the chase, the discovery, had already begun a heady beat in his heart. After so many years of indulging his basic nature, his actions were often instinctual. He'd find himself seducing a woman without even realizing it, as if he went on automatic pilot or something.
A woman commenting on his reputation just naturally left herself open to a firsthand display of that reputation. Only now he needed a bride, not merely a temporary bedmate. Which meant he had to move slower than he preferred.
But he couldn't stop himself from asking over his shoulder, "How did you expect me to look?" And , he added silently, needing the information if he hoped to succeed in his new altruistic plans, whom did you hear it from ?
"I dunno." She followed on his heels, the squishing and squeaking of her sneakers echoed by the tapping of Cleo's nails. "I thought maybe you'd have long hair, like the guys who model for the women's magazines. Maybe gold necklaces. Something along the lines of the gigolo look."
Finding her description absurd, Max shook his head. He picked up a towel and turned to face her. "Here you go."
She swiped at her face and throat. "You're not offended, are you?"
"More like amused. And curious." No woman he'd ever been with would have described him as anything less than macho, virile.but never a gigolo.
Intrigued, he asked, "Who's been taking about me?"
"Your sister, mostly."
Max almost tripped over his own two feet. "Annie?" Well, hell, that wasn't in the least exciting.
"Yes. Your sister loves you dearly, and she's very proud of you. But she claims you're a reprobate."
"Annie told you I wear gold chains?"
Maddie laughed. It was a nice laugh - natural, warm. Cleo stared at her as if confused, her doggy lips rolling and shuddering as she gave a low growl. "No, that part I imagined all on my own. Annie just told me what a romancer you are, how women seem to find you irresistible."
Max nodded. As many women as men read his column. And they sent him letters of appreciation.
Which was why his weekly column was so successful. He liked it that no one knew he wrote the thing. Anonymity was his friend, otherwise he could just imagine the women who'd be chasing him. It was bad enough that his reputation was so well known, but if women found out he was the weekly love expert.
"I've heard about you from some other women, too."
Her statement drew Max out of his reverie. "Is that right?"
Maddie blotted at her hair as she spoke, oblivious to the sexy display of her breasts beneath the transparent tee. For the most part, Max kept his gaze fixedly on her face. But he was human and male and that combination made it impossible to ignore her tightened nipples completely. He couldn't not look every now and then.
"You're the world traveler." Maddie claimed with fanfare, "the lover extraordinaire, the prize every woman wants to win."
Her candid banter charmed Max. He couldn't quite decide if she was coming on to him, or poking fun at him, but she did it in such a way that either was okay. It was a unique approach, one he was unfamiliar with.
He leaned in the doorway, Cleo by his side. "Every woman?"
That crooked grin appeared again. "Certainly. I feel ready to faint just being in your presence. The sexual vibes are all but knocking me over. Why do you think I spent so long on the floor?"
Biting back a grin, Max laughed, "Because you'd nearly knocked yourself out?"
" Au contraire . Because I opened my eyes-"
"One eye."
"-and saw you and the world tilted. I was far too dizzy to sit up straight."
Those beautiful eyes - both of them were double the impact - twinkled at Max, keeping him from knowing how serious she might be.
She started to dry her shirt, looked down and gasped. "Good grief!" She shielded her breasts with the towel and glared at Max. "You could have said something!"
Purposely being obtuse, Max asked, "About what?"
"About.about.I'm showing through!"
He shrugged. "It didn't bother me."
Grumbling under her breath, Maddie turned her back on him and tied the towel around her upper body, knotting it at the side like a sarong. Cleo barked, the sound far from playful.
"There, you see?" Maddie said over her shoulder. "The dog agrees that despite your reputation, you should have been gentleman enough to let me know that more was showing than should have been."
"Actually," Max explained, "Cleo just hates people to turn their backs on her. She distrusts anyone who does."
"Oh." Maddie shifted slightly toward Cleo, tilted her head, and said with real sincerity, "Sorry girl. But Max was rude for not saying anything."
Apologizing to his dog?
Cleo snarled.
"Aha!" Maddie said. "She obviously agrees that you're lacking in manners."
"Because I didn't tell you that your breasts were showing?" Max watched her closely, waiting for her to blush. She was far too cocky to suit him.
"You should have told me. A gentlemen always lets a lady know when her modesty is threatened. And being a gentlemen doesn't detract from your reputation, I promise."
"Okay." Glancing down at her plump bottom in the snug jeans, Max said, "You've got a rip."
She blinked at him over her shoulders, not understanding. "I've got a.?"
"Rip. In the seat of your jeans. Your panties, which match your bra and are really pretty by the way, are showing."
Max watched as she slapped her hands over her behind. It was a generous, well-rounded behind and her hands weren't adequate. He added, "Just being a gentlemen."
Maddie back-stepped to a chair in the seating area of the bookstore and plopped down. "I don't suppose you have another towel?"
"Nope. Best I can do is offer my shirt."
She flashed that silly, endearing grin. "Now, I certainly couldn't turn that down. But not yet please. I need to keep my wits about me for a bit longer, at least until I've gotten what I came for."
"Which is?" Max pulled out his own chair and straddled it to face her. The storm still raged, rain lashing the front windows and lightning splitting the dark afternoon sky. Thunder belched and rolled.
The lights in the bookstore flickered once, and all three occupants looked up to see if they'd go out. When they stayed on, Cleo settled herself nervously at Max's side, her head on his foot.
Max absently patted the dog while watching Maddie. She really was cute, though he hadn't thought so at first. And he enjoyed chatting with her. The things she said took him by surprise - not that he'd ever admit it to her.
It was a cozy scene, comfortable, until Maddie said, "Annie told me about Satisfying Alternatives to Intercourse ."