CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sexual tension made Carrie cranky. A fact she was trying hard to hide from Max.
Since firing his assistant, she’d tried to help him out a little which meant they’d spent even more time together than before. Max was hopeless when it came to any sort of organization whatsoever and almost completely dependent on his calendar to get him anywhere on time. Carrie had set him up on new software so that he wouldn’t be at the mercy of anyone ever again since she was sure he’d learned absolutely nothing from the situation with Gemma.
The problem was the more time she spent with Max the more attracted to him she was. Paige had been right. He was a nice man, genuinely caring, but reticent to expose his real self to the people around him until they’d earned his trust. Carrie couldn’t deny she felt special now that she’d reached that magic circle of friends.
It didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous, either.
Max opened the door to the car, giving her a smile that would have made a lesser woman swoon. “You look very nice tonight.”
Max’s deep baritone sent a shiver up her spine. If he hadn’t been completely oblivious to how he affected her, she would have accused him of doing it on purpose. It was that devastating.
“Thank you. So do you.”
Her reply came out sounding more prim than she’d intended but Max didn’t seem to notice, relaxing back in the soft leather of the limousine next to her. They were heading to Tyler’s party at an exclusive nightclub in Chelsea and he’d sent cars for everyone so they could drink as much as they wanted without worrying about getting home.
Max did look handsome in a pair of tailored black trousers, white button-down shirt, and black jacket. No tie, the shirt open at the neck showing off the strong column of his neck and that Adam’s apple she was dying to kiss. She’d started fantasizing about it at the most inopportune moments.
Twisting her black velvet purse between her fingers, Carrie tried to make small talk to fill the quiet. Normally she excelled at chatting, even about innocuous topics, but Max didn’t always make it easy. He was a man given to bouts of brooding silence.
“It’s good that you have tomorrow off. They’ve been working you hard these last few weeks.”
“I’m ready for opening night. It feels like we’ve been rehearsing forever.”
“Not much longer to wait. Next week is the shake out performances, right?”
He looked down at her, his blue eyes intent and serious. “I’d like you there for at least one of them if possible. Can you do that for me?”
He had no idea the things she wanted to do for him. Or to him.
“Of course, whatever you need.” She shoved an imaginary knife in her own heart. Just as a reminder of why she was sitting there. “That’s what we agreed to.”
Something flickered over his features but it settled into a smile. “It is but I can still say thank you. It means a great deal to me to see a friendly face in the audience.”
“If Nate and Paige were here, I know they’d be there for you. They’re trying to make it for opening night.”
“Poor Nate,” Max laughed. “He’s working overtime to get here. I told him they could come later in the run but he’s insisting.”
The drive to the venue was short and the limo smoothly pulled up to the curb. Carrie checked her lip gloss in the mirror one last time.
Max reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You’re not nervous, are you? You look stunning. Every man in the room will be envious of me.”
“And it’s all about you,” she teased, allowing him to open the door for her. They’d become much more comfortable with each other and he didn’t take offense at her words.
“It most certainly is. Are you ready? This is a private party so there’s no red carpet or paps. There might be later if they figure out we’re here.”
It was novel to be this dressed up with no one taking photos but she wouldn’t complain. Max led her into the dark nightclub illuminated by flashing lights and strategically placed lamps that looked more like candlelight. The heavy beat of the music could be felt under her feet and the song was one of her favorites.
She tugged at Max’s arm. “I love this song. Let’s dance.”
“You don’t want to greet everyone first? Or get a drink?”
He was simply teasing her now. “I don’t. Please?”
She stuck out her lower lip in a pout and he threw his head back and laughed. “We can’t have you all sad tonight. This is a party. Alright, lead the way, love.”
Dragging him out on the dance floor, Carrie found a spot right next to Mike and Amy. The two women quickly embraced before Max twirled Carrie in a circle before pulling her close, his arm wrapped around her waist and her head tucked under his chin.
There she stayed most of the evening, sweaty and happy, as she and Max danced the night away. He was an excellent dancer, comfortable with his body probably because of his profession, and not self-conscious in the least. The perfect partner, he was almost impossible to tire out due to his strict fitness regimen. She, on the other hand, needed a drink and a chair.
“I need a drink,” she gasped as the song ended and another fast one came on. “And my feet are killing me.”
Max led her to the edge of the dance floor. “Find a place to sit and I’ll get us a couple of drinks.”
Amy and Mike had already left the dance floor and were sitting off in a quiet corner on a cluster of small couches. Wincing at her sore feet, Carrie joined them, collapsing against the cushions with a sigh of relief.
“Every time I wear heels I ask myself why women got stuck with them and not men.”
Mike raised his beer in welcome. “Men wear ties and that’s cruel enough. There’s no way it’s a man’s world as long as we wrap nooses around our necks for no good reason.”
Amy giggled, her cheeks pink. She was ahead of Carrie on drink count. “What my handsome husband is trying to say is that he looks terrible in pumps. Please ask me how I know that.”
Max chuckled in her ear, his breath warm on her cheek as he bent down to hand over her drink. “We said we’d never speak of it again, Amy, now here you are threatening to spill the beans to Carrie.”
Amy wriggled her finger at Max. “You just don’t want her to know about the time all the boys dressed up in drag. I have pictures, you know.”
This Carrie had to see before she left this earth. One more item was just added to her bucket list.
See Maxwell Hayes in a dress.
Max cleared his throat. “It was a bet and we lost. We did not put on dresses because it was the thing missing from our lives. It was a bet.”
Carrie took a sip of her cool drink. “Photos or it didn’t happen.”
Max gave her a smug smile. “Then it didn’t happen.”
“Yes, it did,” Amy declared. “I don’t have the pictures with me, but I do have them. I think Nate was the prettiest.”
Lifting his nose in the air, Max sniffed with disdain. “Are you saying I was an unattractive female? That’s hardly a polite thing to say.”
“You had a five o’clock shadow,” Mike jeered. “We all looked terrible. My lipstick was smeared. Tyler’s chest hair stuck out of his neckline. It was awful.”
“I must know about this bet. Who did you lose to?”
Max pointed to Amy who was almost doubled over in laughter. “You boys never learn your lesson. I make a yearly bet with them and they always lose. Every. Single. Time.”
“World Cup,” Mike said grimly. “My lovely wife is something of a savant when it comes to picking winners. It’s one of her more annoying qualities.”
“Go Amy,” Carrie laughed. “Seriously…there are pictures? I must see these. I bet Paige would want to see them too.”
“I’ll dig them out.” Amy smiled and then stuck out her tongue at her husband. “Maybe I’ll even get one framed for the living room.”
“I’ll see you in divorce court,” Mike retorted. “Or better yet, I’ll tell my mum. She’ll never let you hear the end of it.”
Amy’s smile only grew wider. “My only love, your mother has already seen them.”
Choking on his beer, Mike’s face turned beet red. “Woman, you are treading on thin ice.”
“Then dance with me,” Amy challenged, nudging Mike with her foot. He jumped up from the sofa with a grin and swept her back onto the dance floor leaving Carrie and Max alone.
There was that tension again. It had been simmering below the surface all evening but now it was in full force, practically sucking all the oxygen out of the room.
Max fidgeted on the couch cushion. “Are you having a good time?”
“I am but we haven’t talked to too many other people tonight. Everybody is either on the dance floor or…” Her gaze swept the intimate space. “Is there an upstairs or something?”
Max nodded. “There is so there might be some guests up there. Most are dancing and many won’t show until after midnight. Tyler has some…interesting friends.”
“I’ve read some of the stories. Is he really that wild?”
She doubted it. One thing she’d learned in the past year was that the press loved hyperbole.
“He can be at times, although when he’s working he’s quite focused. Extremely serious and dedicated.”
“So it’s best to keep him busy,” Carrie concluded with a giggle. “Idle hands and all that.”
Shit. Now she couldn’t stop herself from noticing Max’s hands. Strong, with long fingers that could reach…
No. Don’t think about all the places he could reach.
Max leaned forward and she caught a whiff of his cologne. At this rate she was going to lose her mind. “Another drink?”
Alcohol wasn’t the answer but she wasn’t even sure what the question was, so why not? Maybe it would help relax her. Maybe it would help her forget how attracted she was to Max.
Because that’s what booze does. Makes the opposite sex less desirable.
She held out her glass. “Absolutely. Then can we dance again?”