Kate Hoffmann - The Sexy Devil

She lay down next to him and groaned. “I love éclairs but I don’t think they love me.” Angela rubbed her belly. “Let’s stay here a bit longer. I’m not sure my legs are fully functional yet.”

He grabbed the milk and took a long drink, then set it aside. “I could get used to this,” he said.

“Eating éclairs in bed?”

“No, having you in my bed. Naked and happy. I like it.”

Angela smiled to herself. She’d expected to feel a tiny bit of guilt over what they’d done, a sliver of doubt over her choice. But there was nothing about what happened between them she could regret.

“I guess our second date went pretty well,” he said, staring up at the ceiling again. “Swimming, sex and dessert. My batting average is quickly rising.”

She reached out and smoothed her hand over his belly, coming to rest at his groin. “You’ve got a few more innings left to play, Max,” she said.

MAX ROLLED OVER IN BED, opening one eye to the morning light. A sharp pain in his shoulder caused him to curse and he rolled back again, working out the twinge. Though the surgery had been nearly four months ago, he still had pain. Either the swimming or the sex had been too much for him and considering how much time he spent at both last night, Max was sure it wasn’t the swimming.

When the ache had subsided, he sat up and found the other side of the bed empty. “Angela?” he called. His voice echoed through the silent apartment. Then he noticed the note on her pillow. Max snatched it up. “I have to work sometime. Date number two tonight. Better make it good.”

He chuckled, then flopped back down onto his pillow. Smiling seemed to be the only thing he could manage. His body was exhausted, his desire completely sated and he felt completely transformed. He reached for the phone beside the bed, ready to call her, merely to hear her voice. Then he realized he didn’t know her number by memory yet.

At that very moment, the phone rang and he reached out and grabbed it. “You better have a very good reason for leaving my bed this morning,” he said.

“Some of us have to work,” Angie replied. “And with all the noise I made, you didn’t even move. You were snoring.”

“I’m sure that was attractive,” he said. “What time did you leave?”

“About an hour ago. I caught a cab. I just got home.

I’m going to shower and then head into work.”

“Why don’t you shower and head back here?” he said. “You’re the boss, you can take the day off.”

“I took yesterday off,” she said. “And if the boss doesn’t work, the boss doesn’t make money.”

“I have plenty of money for both of us,” Max said.

“I’m not dating you for your money,” she said.

“Why are you dating me?” he asked.

“For your body. Call me later. Tonight, I get to choose what we do. Go back to sleep.”

“Bye, baby,” he said.

“Bye,” she cooed.

The line went dead. He switched off the phone and tossed it aside. But almost immediately, it rang again. “She can’t get enough of me,” Max murmured.

He pushed the button and held it to his ear. “I knew you’d change your mind. My bed is so lonely without you.”

“That is not what a mother wants to hear first thing in the morning, Max.”

He winced, biting back a curse. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hello, darling. I won’t bother asking you what you’ve been doing.”

“It’s not what you think,” he said.

“I prefer not to think about it,” she said. “Get out of bed and get dressed. I’m on my way to your place. We’re going to have coffee. I’ll pick you up out front in five minutes.”

Max ran his hand over his chest. He was still sticky from last night’s adventure with the éclairs. “Give me ten. I have to hop in the shower.”

“All right. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Max drew a deep breath and rolled out of bed. Reaching behind his head, he stretched the kinks out of his shoulder, then rubbed at the scar as he walked to the bathroom.

Five minutes was all he needed for a shower and five minutes after that, he was downstairs, watching for his mother’s car. When the Saab pulled up, he hopped in the passenger side, then leaned over and gave his mom a kiss on the cheek.

“Where’s the nearest coffee shop?” she asked.

“Out the driveway, then take your first left. As long as we’re in the car, we’ll go to my favorite place.”

Max gave her directions as they drove west. The coffee shop, Beanie’s, was in a busy part of the Lincoln Park neighborhood. He kept his eye out for a parking place, but knew that at this time of the day, it would be a while before they found something close. To his surprise, his mother pulled into a spot a few moments later.

“Why is it I can search forever for a spot and you always find one the minute you start looking?”

“You’re buying me coffee,” Maggie Morgan said as she stepped out of the car.

“It’s free,” Max said. “I own this place.”

“Really?” She stared up the facade. “It’s very nice. So you feed them drinks at night and soothe their hangovers in the morning. Your father would call that smart business.” She walked past him. “Too bad you don’t conduct your personal life with such care.”

“Here we go,” Max muttered. All of this because he’d made a mistake answering the phone. He followed his mother inside, then ordered coffees and pastries for them both. They found a table near the window and he pulled out her chair for her. “Before you start in on me, I’ll just say that the woman I was with last night is someone pretty special.”

“Movie star or model?”

“Neither. Just a regular, normal girl. Well, not normal. Very pretty. And nice. You’d like her.”

“Maxwell Morgan, it is time you seriously reevaluated your social life. You can’t keep sleeping with these women and expect any good to come of it. You’re not going to find a nice girl that way.”

“Oh, I know what this is about,” Max said. He took a bite of his pastry and slowly chewed. “David told me you want to set me up on a date. That’s why you’re here. To convince me to come to your barbecue. I’m not interested. I’m busy that weekend.”

“Just consider this girl. She’s lovely and she’s from a good family. And she’s not the sort to go sleeping around.”

“You’ve met her?”

“No, but her mother has shown me photos. She owns her own business and has a master’s degree.

You went to high school with her. You might even remember her.”

“I went to high school with 3,000 kids,” Max said.

“I didn’t know all of them.”

“She went to Northwestern, too. Although she finished all four years.” His mother grabbed her bag. “I brought your yearbook along. We’ll look her up and see if you remember her.” She flipped through the pages. “Here she is.” She paused. “Oh, my. This isn’t a very flattering picture. She looks nothing like this anymore.” She slammed the book shut. “Just trust me. Besides, if you don’t hit it off, you haven’t lost anything.”

Max grabbed the yearbook. “Show me. I’d like to know what you consider a lovely girl.”

Reluctantly, she found the page again and then held it out to Max. “Top row, second to the last.”

“Where?” Max asked, scanning the photos.

“There,” his mother said. “She had braces and she’s wearing glasses. She looks so much better now.

She’s blond. You seem to prefer blondes.”

The photo looked strangely familiar, but he shook his head. “Oh, Mom, no. This girl I’m dating is re ally great. I was thinking about bringing her to the barbecue. Her name is Angela.”

“Yes, dear. Angela Weatherby. I know.”

Max blinked in surprise. “How did you know that?

Did Dave mention her?”

“It’s right there, next to the photo.”

“What?” Max shook his head. “What photo?”

His mother pointed to the list of names in the yearbook. “Angela Weatherby. That’s her name. Kathy Weatherby is my tennis partner.”

Max stared at the picture for a long moment, dumbfounded. If he squinted his eyes, he could al most believe this was the woman who’d shared his bed last night. He bit back a curse. What the hell did this mean?

When they’d met, Angela had acted as if they’d been strangers. How could she have gone through four years of high school without- No, everyone in school knew who he was. And that wasn’t just ego talking, it was the truth. He’d been class president his junior year and student body president his senior year.

His brain scrambled to make sense of it. What had seemed so simple last night was suddenly incredibly complicated. Max had to question Angela’s motives and rewind every comment she made. Was this part of some clever manipulation?

Some of his buddies in the league had some experience with stalkers. Was Angela one of those? He slowly worked through the events of their short time together. No, she’d given him a bogus phone number. Why would she do that? Unless she knew his interest would be piqued and he’d come looking.

And she had been evasive about her background. She’d never mentioned where she went to high school or college. “Can I keep this?” he asked.

“Of course. Now, you’ll be coming to the barbecue, right?”

“Yes,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on the photo.

“Alone?”

“Yes,” Max replied. “I’m very anxious to meet this girl. There’s something very familiar about her. In fact, I feel as if I know her quite…intimately.” He stood up. “I have to go, Mom.”

“But we’ve barely started our coffee.”

Max bent over and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. “I have a lot of things to do today. Don’t worry, I’ll walk home.”

“All right,” she said. “I’ll see you a week from Saturday. Come about one. And wear something nice. I hate seeing you in those silly basketball shorts all the time. Wear a shirt. In fact, buy a new shirt. Then send it to the cleaners to be pressed. And no jeans. Khakis.”

“Are you going to pick out my underwear for me, too?” Max asked.

“You don’t have to be snippy,” she warned.

“Sorry. I’m tired.”

“I just want you to be happy,” she said, her expression softening.

“And that’s all I want for you, Mom. I’ll be at your barbecue. I promise.” He walked out of the coffee shop and onto the busy sidewalk. For a long moment, Max wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. He wasn’t even sure how he felt. Angry? Confused? Shocked?

He pulled his sunglasses down and headed east, toward the lake. “Let’s review,” he murmured. “I didn’t know her, but she knew me…maybe. We went to high school and college together, but we never-” He cursed softly. “We might have met.” There was a reason he’d thought he knew her that first night. They had met. But when?

“Think.” He’d only been in college for two years. She probably hadn’t looked much different from her high school graduation picture, with the exception of the braces. And maybe the glasses. She’d told him she’d been the president of the Latin Club. Max stopped and paged through the yearbook until he found the photo. “There she is,” he murmured. “Angela Weatherby. President.”

This was all too strange. Like it had all been planned out ahead of time. He’d known women-baseball groupies-who’d gone to great lengths to meet him, but was Angela one of them? Had she walked into the bar that night hoping that she’d catch his eye? The groupies he’d encountered were much more obvious about their intentions. Unless she was so good at manipulating men that she knew how he’d react if he were forced to chase her.

Max needed some straight answers. Now. But he wasn’t even sure what questions he ought to be asking. It would be better to wait and let things between him and Angela play out. A few well-timed questions about high school and college might shake the truth out of her. And then he’d know if this was a complicated manipulation or just a simple misunderstanding.

Max hoped it was the latter. Right now, he didn’t want to consider anything that might mess up the good thing they had going.

“I LOVE THIS PLACE,” Angela said, staring into the penguin tank at the Shedd Aquarium. “Whenever I need to clear my mind, I come here and watch the penguins. Life seems so perfect for them. Swim and eat, swim and eat.”

She glanced over at Max, her gaze taking in his perfect profile. They’d been together for two days and she’d done her best to resist his charms. But his constant assault on her defenses had left her feeling exposed and vulnerable.

It was just sex, incredible as it was. But it was the simple moments like this one, when she’d look at him and saw the man behind all the hype and celebrity that threw her. He was just a regular guy who loved pizza and swimming and watching penguins. He was completely content to spend a quiet afternoon with her.

“They’re like us,” Max said. “But we threw a little sex in there for variety.”