The Sexy Devil

3

MAX GLANCED OVER AT Angela, her profile outlined by the lights from the street. They’d made a quick exit from his place and an uneasy silence had enveloped them. He wasn’t quite sure how to read her expression. At first glance, she seemed unbothered by what had happened between them. But experience had taught him that how a woman acted and how she really felt could be two completely different things.

The night had been so promising, but it was ending on a sour note. Maybe he should have taken her to bed. She seemed almost insulted that he hadn’t. But for the first time in his life, Max had looked past his urges and put aside his need for release. He wanted a good life after baseball and a woman to share it with. Seducing every woman who caught his eye wasn’t getting him there. So maybe it was time to try a different approach.

It was his mistake. He shouldn’t have started what he didn’t want to finish. They should have kept their clothes on, sipped their wine and eaten a little mac and cheese. He would have driven her back, they would have kissed good-night and he could have looked forward to a second date. Now, he wasn’t even sure he ought to try to kiss her again.

Max glanced over to see Angela rub her bare arms and he reached for the air conditioner. “Are you cold?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

“You’re rubbing your arms.”

She forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

With a muttered curse, he shut off the air conditioner and rolled down the windows, letting the warm night breeze flow through the car. Was this what he deserved for trying to be a gentleman? That’s what women were supposed to want, right? A guy who wasn’t focused on getting into their pants? It wasn’t just supposed to be about sex. There was trust and friendship, too.

He’d wanted to explain his reasoning to her, but Max suspected he’d only make things worse. So, for now, he’d just stay quiet, get her number before he dropped her off, and they would start fresh on their next date.

As they neared the parking ramp, he began to worry that she might not give him her number at all. He pulled into the ramp and grabbed the ticket, then turned to her. “Where are you parked?” he asked.

“Level 3B,” she said. “It’s a blue Volkswagen Jetta.”

Max carefully steered up the spiral ramp and exited on the third level, then squinted in the low light, looking for her car.

“It’s right there,” she said, pointing to the left.

Max took an empty spot nearby, then turned off the BMW. She made to get out of the car, but he reached out and took her arm. “Hang on.” He grabbed his cell phone from the center console. “I don’t have your number.”

“Why do you need my number?” she asked.

She was angry. Much angrier than he’d ever suspected. “Because we have a date tomorrow and I want to call you and work out the details.”

“We made those plans before…” Her voice trailed off and she waited for him to reply.

He sent her an inquiring look. “Before what? Before I decided we shouldn’t sleep together?” He shook his head. “It isn’t always about sex, no matter what you might have read in the press.”

With an impatient sigh, she rattled off a series of numbers. He punched them into his cell phone, then smiled in relief. “All right. I’ll call you. Tomorrow.”

She made a move for the door again, but Max wasn’t about to let her get away without one last kiss. He smoothed his hand along the length of her arm, then tangled his fingers in her hair. Angela turned toward him. He leaned forward and dropped a simple kiss on her lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” she murmured. With that, she made her escape. Max turned on the BMW and waited until she was safely inside her car, before pulling out behind her. He followed her down to street level. She turned left and he thought about following her home. But at the last minute, he decided to go back to the bar and help his brother close. Right now, he needed some advice from a guy who had actually managed to find a woman to love.

When he pulled into his parking spot behind the bar, he reached for his phone. On a whim, he decided to call her, just to see if he could smooth things over a bit more. He dialed the number and waited. It rang twice.

“Thai Express,” the voice on the other end of the line said. “Pick-up or delivery?”

“Shit,” he muttered.

“May I help you?”

“Sorry,” Max said. “Wrong number.” He checked the call against her number. He’d dialed the digits she’d given him. Either he’d messed up entering it on his phone or she’d deliberately given him a bad number.

He got out of the car and walked through the back door of the bar. The kitchen had closed an hour before and a few members of the staff were still cleaning up. When he entered the bar, there was still a crowd, but it wasn’t nearly as busy as it had been earlier. He noticed Caroline, one of their best bartenders, behind the bar. “Is Dave still here?”

“In the office,” she said. “Can you tell him we’re running low on rimming salt. I used the last container to make the rim mix for the Bloody Marys.”

“No problem,” Max said. A few people caught him on the way to the office but he still managed to get through the crowd pretty quickly. When he shut the door behind him, he found Dave on the computer, clicking through the liquor inventory.

“Caroline says you need more rimming salt. She used the last of it for the Bloody Mary stuff. Why don’t you just order Bloody Mary salt?”

“Because we mix our own,” Dave murmured. “We’re known for our Bloody Marys. We sell a ton of them on Bloody Sundays. Ten bucks a pop.”

“For tomato juice and vodka?” Max asked.

“Not just that. It’s the garbage we add. A special salt on the rim, a shot of stuff that packs a punch, and a skewer that includes all kinds of pickled veggies. You should try one.”

“I could use one right now,” Max said, flopping down in a nearby chair.

Dave grabbed the phone and buzzed the bar. “Carrie, can you bring Max one of our Bloodies. Make it a good one.” He hung up the phone, then turned to face his brother. “What are you doing back here?”

“I thought I’d come back and help you close.”

His brother’s eyebrow shot up and he gave Max a dubious look. “You left with a woman. I figured you’d be busy for the rest of the evening.”

“I don’t sleep with every woman I meet,” Max said.

“Yes, you do. All the magazines say you do.”

“Screw the magazines,” Max muttered. “They said I was Madonna’s new boytoy. I’ve never even met the woman. Don’t believe everything you read.”

“It didn’t work out with the girl?” Dave asked.

“No, the girl was great. We made a date for tomorrow night-I guess that would be tonight.”

“So, you two didn’t…”

“No. This girl is…different. I don’t know what it is. She’s really sweet and kind of shy. But she sees right through me. I mean, she doesn’t fall for my bullshit. And I feel like I know her.” He paused. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

“You think you shared a past life?”

“No. But it’s like that.” He sighed. “The only problem is, I don’t have her phone number. I must have entered it wrong in my phone. I tried calling and I got a Thai restaurant.”

“She gave you a bad number,” Dave said, chuckling. “Oh, isn’t that sweet. You finally meet a girl worth dating and she doesn’t want you. Max Morgan has lost his mojo.”

“It was probably just an innocent mistake.”

“You think?” Dave asked.

“I’ll just look her up in the book.”

“What’s her name?” Dave asked, turning back to the computer. “I’ll look her up online.”

“Angela Weatherly. Or maybe it’s Weatherby.” He groaned. “Shit. It’s Weather-something.” As Dave was searching the online phone book, Caroline came in with a huge glass, filled with Dave’s version of a Bloody Mary. “Jeez, this thing is a meal,” Max muttered.

“There isn’t an A. Weatherby listed. There is an A. Weatherly listed.”

“That must be it,” Max said. “What’s the address?”

“Looks like Lakeview,” he said.

“She said she lives in Wicker Park,” Max said. “You think I should try that one?”

“At two in the morning? No.” Dave paused. “Give me her number. The one she gave you.”

Max read off the number and Dave dialed it into his phone. When he got an answer on the other end, he grinned. “Hi there. This is kind of an odd request, but do you have a regular customer named Angela Weatherly?” He waited. “Weatherby. Yeah, that’s it. Well, I want to send her dinner. She’s not feeling well and could really use some hot soup.” Dave ordered the soup, then gave them his credit card number. “And can I double-check the address on that?” He grabbed a pen and scribbled the address on a notepad. “Thanks. Don’t tell her who it’s from. It’s a surprise.”

When he hung up the phone, he spun around in his chair and tossed the notepad at Max, grinning triumphantly. “She lives on Ashland Avenue in Wicker Park. They deliver to her all the time. You want her phone number, you’re going to have to get it on your own.”

“You should have been a detective,” Max said.

“I know. I’ve missed my calling. And you owe me fifteen bucks for the soup.”

Max stared at the address. He’d stop by tomorrow morning with breakfast, maybe a latte and a Danish. And this time, he’d make sure he got the right number. He raked his hand through his hair. “I should go.”

“I thought you were going to help me clean up,” Dave said.

“Another time,” Max said. “I have things to do.”

“You’re going to drive by her place, aren’t you?”

“Maybe. If the light is on, maybe I’ll ring the bell and get this all straightened out tonight.”

“Man, you must have it really bad for this girl.”

“Yeah,” Max said. “Maybe I do.” He started to the door, but Dave’s voice stopped him.

“Lauren called earlier. She said Mom and Dad are throwing a barbecue a week from Saturday and Mom wants you there. They’ve invited all their friends. I’m not supposed to tell you, but I think she has a girl she wants you to meet. She’s the daughter of one of her tennis partners.”

“No,” Max said. “I don’t need my mother finding dates for me. I’m perfectly capable.”

“She’s not looking for dates, she’s looking for a wife for you. If you marry a Chicago girl, then you’ll be sure to come back to Chicago when you retire.”

“You have to tell her to stop this,” Max said. “The last time I was there, she was showing me pictures of her hairdresser’s daughter. She had pink hair.”

“You’re her baby boy. She wants to see you happy.”

“I’m happy. At least for now.”

“You’ve got one shot with this girl,” Dave warned.

“You better not mess it up. Court her. Woo her. Take your time and do it right.”

“That’s easier said than done. When I’m with her, all I can think about is dragging her to bed.” He stepped out of the office and headed right for the door, his gaze fixed on the address Dave had given him.

When he got to his car, he punched the address into his GPS, then pulled out onto the street. He’d just cruise by and see where she lived. He’d be able to scope out a Starbucks in the neighborhood and make a plan for the next morning.

When he reached Ashland Avenue, he watched the GPS as it counted down the distance. Right on cue, he found the address and pulled up to the curb in front of the building. But it wasn’t a house or an apartment building.

“Wicker Park Tech Centre,” he read from the sign over the front entrance. This must be where she worked. It made sense. She’d work late and send out for Thai. Unfortunately, the delivery guy was going to end up taking the soup back to the restaurant.

Still fifteen dollars was a small price to pay for locating the girl of his dreams. And tomorrow morning, he’d be waiting for her.

“I JUST THOUGHT, what the hell. Why not turn those old fantasies into reality. And everything was moving along. And then he just-stopped.”

“Stopped what?” Ceci asked.

“Stopped seducing me. He just stopped. He tried to make it seem like the chivalrous thing to do. He said he didn’t want to ruin things between us. It was so humiliating,” Angela said. “I couldn’t have made what I wanted any clearer if I’d sent him an engraved invitation. Angela Weatherby cordially invites you to rip her clothes off, ravage her body and leave her gasping for more.”

Angela and Ceci paused and waited to cross the street, the morning rush hour alive around them. Horns honked, brakes squealed and a bus rolled to a stop near the intersection. They walked to work most mornings. Ceci and Will’s flat was only five blocks from Angela’s, so they used the walk to get a bit of exercise before starting the workday.

“It’s better that everything turned out this way. I couldn’t maintain my journalistic integrity after sleeping with him. And, considering his frustration with the press, he wouldn’t be happy to learn that I’m one of the people intruding into his private life.”

“That’s different,” Ceci said. “You’re not seeking these women out. You’re not making up these stories. You’re just giving them a place to vent.”

“I don’t think Max Morgan would see it that way,” Angela countered. She took a deep breath and smiled. “So, I’m going to move on. I’ll revise the chapter, choose a new subject to interview and forget I ever met Max Morgan.”

It was time to put her childish fantasies behind her. After all, in sixteen months, she’d celebrate her thirtieth birthday. How pathetic would it be if she were still carrying a torch for her high school crush?

Although… Angela was certain she hadn’t misread the signals. He’d wanted her as much as she’d wanted him. Something wasn’t right, but she didn’t know him well enough to figure it out.

“It wasn’t like I have some deformity he discovered. Everything was in the right place and it looked good.” She glanced down at her chest. “Maybe it was my boobs. He’s probably used to really big ones.”

“You have nice boobs,” Ceci said. “You didn’t have anything hanging from your nose or stuck in your teeth, did you? ’Cause that can really wreck the mood.”

“No! I looked at myself in the mirror and I thought I looked really good. And I know I was turning him on. I mean, that much was evident. He’s very well-endowed, from what I could see.”

“Really,” Ceci said. “You saw him naked?”

“No. He was wearing those silky basketball shorts with nothing underneath. You could see everything. And I looked-a few times-but I didn’t get a chance to touch.” A shiver skittered down her spine. Just the thought of Max naked was enough to set her heart racing.

This was crazy. She’d gone into this ready to finally put Max Morgan in the past, to prove that all her fantasies were just that, silly dreams about a man who didn’t exist. How was she supposed to stop thinking about him now? She hadn’t slept last night at all and since she’d crawled out of bed, he’d been the only thing on her mind.

“I feel like I’m moving backward. Like I’m going back to that time when he just consumed my life. I’d lay on my bed and make up long, elaborate stories about our dream life together.”

“Stop thinking about him!” Ceci said.

“Easier said than done.”

“So where did you leave it?”

“He asked me out for tonight, but after what happened, I knew he wasn’t going to call. If he was really interested, he wouldn’t have stopped when he did.”

Angela smiled weakly. “And now, I can finally put him behind me, for good.”

If she said it enough times, maybe that would make it true. Except, there were all sorts of beautiful memories she had of their night together. And even though it ended badly, the beginning and middle was pure heaven.

“Maybe it’s better that he did stop. I mean, how would you have felt this morning if you’d slept with him last night?”

“If we’d had sex, it probably would have been in credible. Then when he dumped me, I would have been left a lot angrier than I am now.”

“So what are you going to do if he calls you? What are you going to say?”

“He won’t call,” Angela said. “He can’t. I gave him a bad number.”

Ceci stopped short with a little gasp. “You what?”

“I gave him the number for the Thai place down the block from our office. See, this way, it’s kind of like I dumped him. It’s finally over. I’ve put my obsession with Max Morgan in the past and I can go on with my life.”

“Well, you had one night,” Ceci said in a bright tone. “That’s better than nothing.”

Angela’s cell phone rang and her heart skipped a beat. But when she flipped it open, she noticed her mother’s number. She glanced up at Ceci. “My mother. She wants me to come to Evanston for a barbecue next weekend. One of her tennis ladies is throwing it and I guess she has a son she wants me to meet. We’d be perfect for each other, she says.”

Angela turned the phone on. “Hi, Mom. You’re up early.” She listened patiently as her mother laid out a very logical case for meeting this man, reminding Angela that the prospects for marriage were diminishing with each year that passed. It had always been a point of conflict between the two of them. Her two sisters were already married, but Angela didn’t see anything in their marriages that she envied.

Both of her brothers-in-law were dull, unromantic men who didn’t know half of what Max Morgan did about seducing a woman. If Angela was going to have a man in her life, he was going to be sexy and exciting and fabulous in bed. Otherwise, what was the point?

Angela held her hand over the phone. “Now, we’re moving into the guilt phase. My mother knows exactly how to pull my strings.”

When Kathleen Weatherby set her mind on some thing, there was no changing it. “Just meet him, Angie. He’s a very successful fellow. He’s actually a bit of a celebrity, at least your father thinks so.

He plays baseball. Now I know, you might think he’s some kind of arrested adolescent, but from what his mother tells me, he’s made some very wise investments.”

Angela stopped, grabbing Ceci’s arm. “He plays baseball?”

“Yes. On some team in Florida. What was the name of that team, Jack? The Deviled…Eggs?”

“Devil Rays?” Angela asked. “He plays for the Devil Rays?”

“You know the team? Yes, that’s it. Your dad says it’s the Devil Rays. His name is Max. His mother and I have become such good friends and we just got to talking. He’s single and you’re single and it would be perfect for both of you. It’s a week from this Saturday.

Surely, you can fit it into your schedule.”

“Mom, I really can’t. I have to-”

“You cannot continue to avoid social situations like this.” She paused. “Your sisters are both happily married. Don’t you want that for yourself?”

“Mom, I’m not going to marry a guy just so I can say I’m married. I’m happy. I have my work and-”

“That silly Web site of yours is not a career. You spend your whole day with all those nasty men and when a good one comes along, you won’t even try.”

Angela’s expression must have looked worrisome, because Ceci grabbed her arm. “Just hang up,” she whispered.

“I’ll have to call you back, Mom,” Angela said. “The reception here is really bad. Ceci and I are on our way to the office. I’ll talk to you later.”

Angela hung up the phone, then bent over at her waist, desperately trying to draw her next breath. “You won’t believe this. This is so, so weird. I mean, it’s like, spooky weird.” She looked up at Ceci. “My mother is trying to set me up with Max Morgan.”

Ceci dragged her over to a nearby bench and pulled her down. “Oh, my God. Angie, this is like all the karmic forces in the universe have finally converged. I was reading about this at that New Age bookstore on Damen. You can’t mess with this. No matter what happens, you and Max are destined to be together.”

Angela stood up. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, starting back down the street. “It’s a coincidence. Don’t forget, we grew up in the same town, went to the same high school. Our parents live ten blocks away from each other. They belong to the same tennis club. They’d have met sooner or later. It just happened later.”

She picked up her pace. The quicker she got to the office the better. She needed to get back into her routine, work hard and put all thoughts of Max out of her head. As they approached the office, Ceci grabbed her arm again, but this time, she pulled her behind a bus shelter.

“What are you doing?” Angela asked, twisting out of her grasp.

“Look! Isn’t that him?”

Angela peered through the Plexiglas wall of the shelter, then quickly turned around. “What is he doing?”

Ceci looked over her shoulder. “He’s sitting on the steps, reading the paper and drinking a latte, I think. He’s really cute, Angie. I mean, I thought he was cute at the bar last night. But he’s cute in actual daylight. See, I told you. Karmic forces. They cannot be denied.”

“Stop it. He didn’t come here for me. He’s probably just taking a run and stopped to rest for a bit. He doesn’t know where I work.”

“It wouldn’t be hard to figure it out,” Ceci said. “All he’d have to do is put an Internet search out for your name and SmoothOperators would come up. There was that article in the Trib six months ago. And you were on that news show in January.”

“Oh, God. Maybe he’s seen the Web site. Maybe he read his profile. What am I going to do? Does he look angry?”

“Go talk to him,” Ceci said. “He’s sitting there waiting for you. How sweet is that? Maybe he brought you a donut. Oh, that would be so romantic.”

“Why are you so determined to put us together? You’re going to be the one picking up the pieces when he dumps me. And you know he will. And that’s when I’m going to say, I told you so.”

“Oh, boo freaking hoo. I feel so sorry for you. You have a gorgeous man who wants to take you out on a date and you’re grumbling about how miserable he’s going to make you. Well, don’t fall in love with him then. Go out, have a nice time and see what happens. And quit being such a beeyotch or no one is going to want to date you.” She paused. “Ever again.”

“You’re the beeyotch,” Angela whispered. “And I’ll hate you forever if this blows up in my face.”

“I may be a bitch, but I’m your best friend,” Ceci replied in a low voice. “And I love you. Now go talk to him or I will.”

When Angela refused to move, Ceci stepped back out on the sidewalk and started toward the office. As she approached, Max stood up. Angela watched as they chatted for a bit, then Ceci turned back and waved at Angela. Left with no choice, Angela walked up to the pair, a smile pasted on her face.

“There she is,” Ceci said, with a cheery expression. “What was wrong? Did you have a pebble in your shoe?”

“It came untied,” Angela said. “My shoe.” She looked up at Max. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

“He came to see you,” Ceci said. “You gave him the wrong phone number last night. I always have trouble remembering my own cell phone number. I mean, you never call yourself, right? Why would you remember it.” She gave Max a cute little wave, then reached for the door. “I’ll see you in a bit, Angie. Don’t hurry.”

“What are you doing here?” Angela asked.

“I thought I’d bring you some breakfast. But I’ve been sitting here so long, I ate the cheese Danish and drank the latte I bought you. Do you want to walk down to Starbucks with me?”

Angela knew she could use work as an excuse to beg off. This had disaster written all over it. Even if he didn’t know about the Web site, chances were he’d find out sooner or later. And she already knew the effect he had on her. When she was with Max, she forgot all the reasons she was supposed to mistrust him. Still, she couldn’t help but be a little curious as to what he was planning to say. “Sure,” she said.

“They won’t miss you at work?”

“I’m the boss. No one will miss me,” she assured him.

“Good.”

They strolled down the sidewalk in the direction of the coffee shop. “You didn’t answer my question,” she said.

“Which one?”

“Why are you here?”

“You gave me a bogus number last night. I was wondering if you’d done it on purpose or by accident. By the way, I already know you gave me the number of your favorite Thai restaurant, so don’t bother lying. That’s how I found you. I sent some chicken soup to this address last night at 1:00 a.m. I thought this was where you lived.”

“Chicken soup?”

“It’s a long story. So why did you give me a bad number?”

Angela knew she ought to make up some excuse, but for some reason, she wanted him to know what kind of effect his behavior had on women. “I didn’t want to be disappointed when you didn’t call,” she finally said.

“But I asked you to dinner. We had a date.”

“In the heat of passion, you asked me to dinner. Things look different the morning after.”

“God, you must really think I’m a jerk,” he said. “And you don’t even know me.”

His words brought her up short. True. She didn’t know him. She was lumping him in with all the other misogynists she catalogued on her Web site and wrote about in her book. And she was accepting the opinions of women she didn’t know. Maybe she ought to put more trust in her own observations.

“Man, you must have dated some real scumbags to be so cynical,” he said.

“No,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s just that…I don’t understand why you’re interested in me. I know about you, Max Morgan. I’m not your type.”

“Maybe I’m looking for a new type,” he said. “And maybe you’re exactly what I’m looking for.”

Angela smiled and shook her head. “You are smooth, I’ll give you that. I’m not sure whether to believe you or to run away as fast and as far as I can.”

“Give me a chance,” Max pleaded. “Just one date. And after that, maybe another five or twenty. And if you don’t like the way things are going, you can dump me. I promise I won’t kick up a fuss.”

“I’ll get to dump you?”

“Yes.”

She thought about the offer for a long moment. Every fiber in her being told her to refuse. She knew the danger of spending time with Max. But curiosity overwhelmed common sense. “Okay, it’s a deal,” Angela said, holding out her hand. “I’ll give you three dates to convince me of your honorable intentions. If you don’t make the grade, I’m going to cut you loose.”

“Five dates,” he said.

“Four,” she countered.

“Does last night count?”

Angela thought about it then shook her head. “No.”

“What about this morning?”

“Yes,” she said.

“All right. I guess that’s fair.” He grabbed her hand as they continued to walk down the sidewalk. “So, how am I doing so far?” Max asked. “Are we having fun?”

“You’d be doing better if you hadn’t eaten my Danish,” she said. “And drank my coffee. But I’ll forgive you for that.”

He grinned, then wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. “I’m glad we got this all straightened out. I was beginning to think you didn’t like me.”

How could she not fall hopelessly in love with this man? He was sweet and charming and funny. And he knew exactly what to say to make her feel like she was the only woman who could make him happy.

She couldn’t fall in love with him. At least not completely. But a little bit wouldn’t hurt, would it?

THEIR FIRST DATE WAS going well, Max mused as they sat at an outdoor table sipping coffee and sharing a cinnamon roll. He hadn’t had such a simple date since…well, ever. When he dated, it usually came along with cameras and curious onlookers. Today, he felt like a regular guy, enjoying the company of a beautiful woman on a breezy summer morning.

“Tell me about your work,” Max said, taking another bite of the cinnamon roll. “You said it had to do with Web design.”

“I’d rather not talk about work, if that’s okay,” Angela said.

“You said you’re the boss.”

“It’s only the two of us,” she said. “Me and Ceci. And occasionally we have a part-time programmer working for us.”

“Some of the guys on the team have their own Web sites,” he said. “I never thought much of doing it myself, though. It just seems like a lot of work.”

“I suppose it depends on what you want to accomplish. If you want your name to become a brand of sorts, then a Web site is a good idea.”

“I don’t think we have a Web site for the bar. Maybe you could help us out with something like that?”

Angela shook her head. “We really have all the work we can handle right now. But I can put you in touch with someone if you’re really interested.”

She glanced at her watch and frowned. They’d been sitting at the coffee shop for nearly two hours. Max had hoped she wasn’t noticing the time. “It’s almost lunch time,” she said. “I should really get to work.”

“You’re the boss, right?” he asked. “Skip work for the day. Let’s go to the ballpark. The Sox are playing. I can probably get us seats in one of the luxury boxes.” He wasn’t sure if she even liked baseball, but the word luxury usually appealed to women.

Angela wagged her finger at him. “I know what you’re doing. You think that if you run this date into the next and then into dinner it will only count as one date,” she teased.

He sat back in his hair, thoroughly amused. Man, she just didn’t let him get away with anything, did she? Most guys might call her a ball-buster, but he liked that about Angela. She kept it real. “I never thought of that. Thanks for the idea.” He pulled out his cell phone and handed it to her. “Call Ceci and tell her you won’t be coming in. In fact, call her and ask her to join us.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and tell her to invite someone else along. Does she have a boyfriend?”

“Will,” Angie said. “He’s the one who told us about your bar. He hangs out there on Monday nights with a bunch of his friends. You’ve met him. He took a picture with you.”

“Invite him. I’ll get four tickets and we’ll make a day of it.”

He waited while she called Ceci and when she handed him the phone back, she had a bemused smile on her face. “So this is how famous people do things,” she said. “You just make a few phone calls and it’s done.”

“Usually,” he said. “Being a celebrity is good for some things. But most of the time, it’s a huge pain in the ass.”

“What else could you do?” she asked. “Could you get us a table tonight at Charlie Trotter’s?”

“You want to eat at Charlie Trotter’s?”

“No. I’m just wondering if you could get a table there.”

“Probably,” he said.

“Could you get us a table at any restaurant in Chicago?”

“Probably,” he said. Max knew it sounded conceited, but she wanted the truth. And maybe it was better she understood from the start what it was like to be with him. “The thing is, it can get complicated if people know where I’m going to be ahead of time. Then there are cameras and questions. Like, if we were to go sit in regular seats at the game, we’d both be in the news tomorrow. I hate that they’re always in my business.”

“Are you really that good a baseball player?”

“This has nothing to do with my skills on the playing field,” he said. “It has everything to do with my skills playing the field.”

She smiled at the joke. “It’s about the women.”

“Yeah, it’s all about the women. Unfortunately, I realized that too late and now that’s all anybody’s interested in. A few months back, they wrote that I was addicted to painkillers and I was rushed to the hospital after overdosing. My nephew heard about it at school and flipped. He couldn’t stop crying. They’re such leeches. I hate it.”

“Why would they be interested in me?” she asked. “I’m not famous.”

“They’re interested in anyone I’m interested in. I can’t believe there was a time when I thought I wanted that kind of notoriety. I thought it would be cool to date famous women-models and actresses. Have my face in the magazines. And for a while it was pretty much fun. Unfortunately, a nice guy isn’t all that interesting to the press. And if they can’t find any dirt, they invent it.”

“Then stop dating actresses and models,” she said.

“They’re going to be just as interested in you. I’m giving you fair warning. It hasn’t been that bad here in Chicago. The press has kept a respectable distance. And since I told them I was thinking about retiring, I’m not such a hot story.”

“Are you retiring?”

“I haven’t decided,” he said. “Depends upon the rehab.” He paused. “Hopefully, they won’t bother us. But if they do, expect that there will be some pretty silly stories.”

“Like what?”

“That we’re engaged, fighting, expecting a baby, hooked on drugs, dependant on booze, having plastic surgery, planning our wedding, moving to Europe, buying a mansion in Beverly Hills, looking at a condo in Manhattan, getting a dog. I don’t know. It could be anything.”

Angela giggled. “Wow. All that after just one date.”

“It’s not so funny when you’re in the middle of it,” Max warned.

“But we’ll know what’s true,” she said. “It shouldn’t make any difference what they say.”

She was wonderfully naive about it all. And maybe she wouldn’t have to endure the scrutiny of the media. He could only hope they’d be able to get to know each other without having to deal with it.

“So, if I wanted to watch the Fourth of July fireworks from the deck of a yacht on Lake Michigan, you could arrange that?”

“Is that what you’d like to do?” he asked.

“I’ve heard it’s really cool to watch them from out on the lake.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Max replied.

“I was just kidding,” she said.

The fourth of July was a month away. If they were still together after a month, then it would be one of the longest relationships he’d ever had with a woman. And if Angela wanted to see fireworks from a yacht, he’d make it happen. “But today, we’re going to the game.” Max stood and held out his hand to her. “Now, I have to run home and change. But I’ll come back in about an hour to get you and your friends.”

“Where is your car?”

“At home. I ran here. I needed the exercise. Can you make it back to the office on your own?”

“No, I might get lost,” Angela said, shaking her head. “I walk here all the time by myself.”

“Oh, sarcasm,” he said. “I like you even more now. I have a great appreciation for sarcasm.” He leaned close and kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you in a little while.” With that, he pulled his sunglasses off the brim of his cap and slid them on. “Look both ways before crossing the street. And don’t talk to strangers.” He jogged backward down the sidewalk, waving to her as he went. “And prepare yourself for a great afternoon.” Then he turned and headed toward home.

As he ran, he felt a wonderful energy pulsing through him. For the first time in a very long time, he was…happy. Over the past three or four years, he hadn’t found much pure joy in his life. Everything he achieved seemed to come with strings attached. But this feeling he had when he was around Angela was simple to understand.

There were so many different things they could do together. The fact that she ran her own business was a big plus. They both had the freedom to come and go as they pleased. They could take off for a weekend in New York or fly down to Florida for a few days. He could steal her away to San Francisco for a romantic getaway.

As he jogged at a stoplight, waiting for the traffic to pass, Max realized he was getting ahead of himself. He needed to take this slowly. “Woo her,” he said. “Court her.”

But how easy would that be? The more time he spent with Angela, the more he wanted to learn everything about her-including what made her pulse beat fast and her body ache with desire. He had no doubt he could pleasure her in bed. In truth, he was much better at that than he was at dating.

“Hey, Max Morgan! Rock on!”

Max glanced up to see a truck driving by with a kid hanging out of the passenger window. He waved and smiled. “Rock on!” he called.

The driver beeped his horn and before long, there were other drivers staring at him and waving. As soon as the light turned, Max jogged across the intersection. Though Max wanted to be a different person here in Chicago, there were always reminders that he had a different life in Florida, and a career that paid very well.

This would be a stolen summer, a time when he could experience life the way it was meant to be lived. His time wouldn’t be wasted. He’d figure out the man he planned to be once baseball was over. And Angela was going to be a part of his summer. He could learn a lot from her. And maybe, if things went well, they’d have more than just this summer.