LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

about Jessie Martinelli.

      On the contrary, there was something about her that put him on edge, and he wasn’t quite sure exactly what it was. She wasn’t beautiful. Her mouth was a shade too big, and her cheeks a bit too rounded. Although she did have good skin. Very soft and silky looking. He ignored his sudden compulsion to stroke it. And her eyes were intriguing. A clear, crystalline green that reminded him of emeralds. As for her hair… He studied the profusion of fiery red curls that framed her face and had an inexplicable urge to thread his fingers through them. He wanted to tug one of those curls and see how long it really was. He wanted to bury his face in the satiny mass and draw deep into his lungs the faint scent of flowers that clung to her.

      For some reason that he couldn’t begin to fathom, Jessie Martinelli fascinated him on a primitive level that owed nothing to rational thought.

      So now what? he wondered in frustration. Did he jettison his plan because he had a totally unexpected case of the hots for his prospective consultant? But if he did that, where was he going to find someone else to help him? He could hardly advertise for an etiquette expert. It would be all over the gutter press the next day, and the last thing he wanted was publicity.

      He would hire Jessie Martinelli and ignore his attraction to her, he finally decided.

      “I imagine you’re curious as to why I asked you to come in to see me,” he said.

      Max paused to allow her to say something, but she didn’t. She simply gave him a small, encouraging smile and waited for him to go on. To his surprise he felt the urge to do exactly that. Jessie Martinelli had clearly mastered the technique of convincing people that she was fascinated by what they were saying.

      “I want to impress on you that anything I say is to be treated with the utmost confidentiality. I would be seriously annoyed if you were to mention it to anyone else.”

      Jessie barely suppressed a shudder at the ice she could see glittering in his eyes. He didn’t need to threaten her. Common sense told her that only a fool or a very desperate person would ever deliberately cross Max Sheridan. And she was neither.

       “I understand,” she said, when it became clear that he was waiting for an answer.

      “I got your name from Sam Berringer. He felt you might be able to help me.” He stood up as if too restless to sit still. Walking around his desk, he perched on the edge of it.

      Jessie’s eyes were drawn to the way the expensive material of his pants tightened over the muscles in his thighs. With an effort she dragged her eyes away from the enticing sight and forced herself to focus on his face instead. It was tense, his mouth tightly compressed.

      What kind of problem did he have, she wondered, not sure she wanted to know. If it worried a man as powerful as Max Sheridan, it would probably send her screaming into the night.

      Jessie had never considered it bravery to stand firm in the face of overwhelming odds. As far as she was concerned, strategy that led to debacles like the Charge of the Light Brigade was singularly stupid.

      “I have reached the point in my life where I’m ready to take a new direction,” he finally said. “To put it bluntly, I have decided it’s time I got married and started a family.”

      Jessie stared blankly at him. So why was he telling her? Unless… For one mad moment she wondered if he was going to propose to her, before her common sense kicked in. He didn’t know her, even if he did know about her. And men didn’t propose marriage to women they’d never met. At least, normal men didn’t. Although…

      Unconsciously she ran the tip of her tongue over her dry lips. By no definition could Max Sheridan be called normal. Any man who rose from abject poverty to billionaire status without even the benefit of a high school education was by definition abnormal.

       “Um…exactly where do I fit into your plans?” Jessie broke the silence.

      “As my consultant, for want of a better word,” he said.

      “In what capacity?” she asked, ignoring the sharp stab of disappointment she felt.

      Getting to his feet, Max walked over to the large window behind his desk. He stared down at the street far below for several moments. Then he turned and ran his long fingers through his dark hair. The action rumpled his hair, making him look younger and more approachable.

      “Because of my background I don’t know a lot of the finer points of social etiquette,” he finally said. “I have no problem operating in a business setting. In business I know exactly what clothes and behaviors are acceptable. But on the social side, my knowledge has some gaping holes in it. Holes I need you to plug, like you did for Bunny Berringer.

      “I also want you to accompany me to various social events, for two reasons. One, so you’ll be on scene to offer immediate advice should it become necessary; and two, so you can listen in on conversations in places I can’t go, like the women’s restroom. I’m hoping what you overhear will help me to eliminate women who are simply after my money.

      “In exchange, I’ll pay for any clothes you’ll need, plus your usual hourly rate and a bonus of fifty thousand dollars when I actually become engaged.”

      Max watched as her eyes widened. He’d thought the mention of a bonus would get her attention.

      Attend social functions with him! Jessie tasted the words and found them very seductive. But dangerous. She was already far too aware of him. But that didn’t really matter, she assured herself. What mattered was that her feelings were not reciprocated by Max. She’d seen pictures of the women he’d dated, and the only thing she had in common with them was her sex. And as for his desire to have children…

      Regret shivered through her. There was no way she could ever risk having children. Not only was there the huge problem of her family’s propensity for addictive behavior, but she’d probably make a ghastly mother. She might like kids in the abstract, but she had no clue about how one went about parenting them. Her own alcoholic mother certainly hadn’t been a role model she could emulate.

      Nevertheless, she was a sharp, competent businesswoman who could see a great opportunity staring her in the face.

      Not only that, but accompanying Max to social events would put her in a position to make some valuable business contacts, because Max would do his socializing with other wealthy, influential businessmen. No matter how she looked at it, Max’s proposition was a winner.

      “Very well,” she said. “I’ll do it. Do you have a timetable?” Jessie asked.

      “A timetable?”

      “For implementing your plan? I imagine that you’re pretty busy doing whatever it is you do.”

      “It’s called making money,” he said dryly. “I intend to delegate a lot more of my work over the next several months, while I concentrate on finding a wife. By the way, how did you get into the business of giving etiquette seminars?”

      “By accident. In college I had a job at a small African embassy. I was the general gofer. During the four years I worked there, I learned a lot about formal etiquette and entertaining. When I graduated with a degree in elementary education, I couldn’t get a job. So I signed up for substitute teaching and started giving seminars on etiquette to pay the bills. Somehow the business just grew, and I found I liked the freedom of running my own company more than I liked being tied to some bureaucrat’s idea of what I should be teaching.”

      “Serendipity. Some of my most fortunate acquisitions have come about that way,” he said. “As for a timetable, I’d like to start as soon as possible.”

      Why the sudden hurry when, from all accounts, he’d been a perfectly content bachelor for the past thirty-three years? Jessie thought better of asking him. They might be about to embark on a very odd relationship, but when you got right down to it, she worked for him, and his personal motivation was none of her business. As for starting immediately… Mentally, she reviewed her schedule. It wasn’t very full. Summers tended to be slow.

      “I’m

Скачать книгу