Kate Hoffmann - The Sexy Devil

She knew every post in his profile by heart but as she read through them again, it was clear that they’d never known the real Max Morgan. Angela closed her eyes and cursed softly. Or maybe she was the one who’d never known him.

When she’d finally regained her composure, Angela opened the site maintenance program and found the tab to delete a profile. Then she clicked over to Max’s. She and Ceci had always been adamant about their own neutrality in editing the site. Profiles were meant to inform, not to slander. It was a fine line to walk, but Angela had been proud of the job they’d done so far.

Deleting a profile had never been an option. If one of the men got married, the profile was tagged, but not deleted. She drew a deep breath, the pointer hovering over the delete button. It was the least she could do for him. And if someone complained, they could always write it off as a technical glitch.

Drawing a deep breath, Angela clicked and Max Morgan disappeared from SmoothOperators.com. She felt as if an unbearable weight had been lifted. The deception, though not forgotten, was at least undone. She pulled up the manuscript for her book and found Chapter Five. Unfortunately, this wasn’t quite as easy to delete.

It was just one chapter. Would he even recognize himself in her words? There were eleven other archetypes in the book. No, she wouldn’t delete it. She’d simply change the title of the chapter. “The Sexy Sinner,” she murmured. “The Sexy Scoundrel.” Angela nodded. That would work.

When she’d saved her change, Angela turned off her computer and grabbed her bag. The past week had been a whirlwind of emotion. It was time to get her life back on track. Tuesday night was laundry night. She’d have time to give herself a pedicure, catch up on all her reading, and take a long hot bath.

There was a time she’d actually enjoyed her single life. She could find that happiness again. Angela walked to the door, but as she opened it, the office phone rang. She hesitated, desperate to leave business behind. But then she walked back inside.

“Hello, this is Angela.”

“Angela! Kelly Caulfield at Daybreak Chicago. How are you?”

“Hello. I’m fine. How are you?”

“Well, we have an opening in our schedule for Thursday morning. One of our guests cancelled. And since you were so great when you were on with us in January, I was hoping you might come back and do another segment.”

“Thursday morning?”

“Yes. I know it’s short notice, but I’m really desperate. This would be a huge favor and I promise that we’ll have you on again to plug your book when it comes out. In fact, you can pick the date.”

“I don’t know, I-”

“Please,” Kelly said. “Did I mention we’re desperate?”

“Yes. All right. What time do I need to be there?”

“We’re going to give you a later spot, so if you arrive by 7:15, we’ll be fine. Thank you so much! Our graphic guy is going to pull some shots from the Web site. If you have a cover for the book and a solid release date, we can mention that, too.”

“I do have a cover,” Angela said. “But I’m really not sure of the release date.”

“Bring it along and we’ll get it up anyway. Thank you again. I’ll see you Thursday morning.”

Angela hung up the phone. This was beyond strange. It was as if her life was rewinding, back to a time when everything seemed to be moving along quite nicely. But could she really go back after what she’d experienced in the last week?

She walked out into the warm evening, heading toward her flat. She’d spend the night alone. It felt strange to have no plans, nothing to look forward to. Just her empty bed and a quiet house.

On her way home, she stopped at the grocery store and picked up dinner, a salad, soup and some freshly baked bread. As she passed the dessert case, she picked up a small strawberry cheesecake.

At times like this, when her life looked a little bleak, eating an entire cheesecake was the only prescription for happiness. And it was just a small cheesecake.

Her flat was silent and cool as she stepped inside. The place was a bit messy. Over the past week, she’d run in and out, to dress, to shower, to get ready for fun with Max. She kicked her sandals off and walked into the kitchen, setting the bags on the granite countertop.

She picked up her phone, then set it down before listening to her voice mail signal. He wasn’t going to call. And waiting for him was only going to drive her crazy. But her curiosity got the better of her and she picked up and dialed. “One message,” she murmured, listening to the number. It was Max’s home number and he’d left the message early that morning. She held her breath, then replayed the message.

“Hi. It’s me. You just left for work and I’m lying here in my bed wondering what we’re going to do tonight. I think you should put on your prettiest dress and I’ll take you out for dinner. I have something I need to talk to you about. Don’t worry. Nothing bad.

I’ll see you later. Love you.”

“Love me,” she muttered. “Not anymore.”

She hung up the phone, then retrieved the bottle of wine from the fridge and yanked out the cork.

Not bothering with a glass, Angela took a drink of the Chardonnay, straight from the bottle. There was a half bottle left. She’d have to be careful. The last thing she wanted to do was drink too much and start drunk dialing.

Setting the wine down, Angela grabbed the bag with the cheesecake in it. She retrieved a fork and dug in, then carried the box with her to her bedroom.

When she’d settled herself in the center of the bed, she flipped on the television and began to devour the cheesecake. “So this is my life,” she murmured. “Empty calories and reality television.”

There was one bright spot. It could only get better from here.

THE ACHE IN HIS HEAD throbbed along with his pulse, an incessant rhythm that kept him from falling back asleep. Max rolled over in bed and pulled the pillow over his head, blocking out the early morning rays of the sun. He peeked at the bedside clock then groaned. Four hours of sleep was usually not enough for him, especially if it came after a night of too many beers.

He threw his arm out on the opposite side of the bed, just to make sure there was no one else in the room with him. He’d been almost drunk enough to bring a woman home. But not quite. In truth, he probably would have passed out before he drank enough to put Angela out of his mind for good.

He’d spent the last couple days trying desperately to forget her. When beer didn’t do the trick, he ran, miles and miles, pushing his body until he couldn’t run any longer. Running, drinking, sleeping and then doing it all over again. Anything to wear his body out so his mind wouldn’t have the energy to remember how good he’d had it.

Reaching out again, he searched the bed for the remote control, then flipped on the television, anxious for the drone of the morning news to put him back to sleep. Max closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.

But just as he was drifting back into unconsciousness, he heard her voice, soft, sweet, a sound he’d come to crave over the last few days. Cursing softly, he threw aside the pillow and sat up. A groan rumbled in his chest as his head threatened to explode with the pain. But her voice was still there.

Max stared at the television, giving his eyes a moment to focus. When they did, he realized Angela really was there, on television, talking about her Web site. He sat numbly, listening to her voice but not bothering to comprehend the words she was saying.

She looked tired, he thought to himself. But she was still beautiful, her honey-blond hair falling around her shoulders, her lush lips forming each word. Max crawled to the end of the bed to get a better look. He stared at her eyes, fascinated by the color. High definition plasma televisions were a wonderful invention, he mused.

Before long, the hostess wrapped up the interview and Angela was gone. An odd sense of loss settled in his gut. Was that the last time he’d ever see her? Max had fought with himself over the past few days, wanting to call her, thinking that they might be able to work it out, and then knowing that he’d be heading back to Florida in a few weeks to rejoin the team.

What was the use? Long distance relationships never worked. They’d be apart at least until the end of the regular season. And if the team made it into the playoffs, until late October.

After that, he was in charge. Free agency was a complicated affair, but Max had an ace to play. He was willing to walk away from the game if he didn’t get what he wanted. If he was going to play another year, Max wanted to finish his career in Chicago. If he could get the Rays to trade him or release him, he’d be able to negotiate a deal to make the move.

Money didn’t make a difference anymore, so chances were, he could make it work.

But what was the use coming back to Chicago if he wasn’t going to be with Angela. Sure, he wanted to be near his family, but Angela was the reason he was considering a move north. But right now, they weren’t even talking to each other.

His phone rang beside the bed and Max frowned.

Only one person called him this early in the morning-his mother. No doubt she wanted to firm up plans for Saturday’s barbecue. He’d decided to at tend, hoping some time with the family would take his mind off Angela. And maybe, just maybe, she might decide to come.

“Hi, Mom,” he said. “What’s up?”

“She was just on the news. Did you catch it? Channel Seven.”

“Actually, I did catch it.”

“She’s lovely, isn’t she? I told you. Now why wouldn’t you want to go out with a woman like that?”

“I’m coming on Saturday,” he said.

“These models and actresses. They just have their minds on other things. They don’t-”

“Mom, I said I’d be there.”

“Really?” Max heard her cover the phone with her hand and shout to his father. “Max is coming to the barbecue!”

“What time do you want me to come around?” he asked.

“Noon. She’s coming at one. And wear some thing nice. Not those raggedy shorts you always have on.”

“We’ve already discussed the wardrobe, Mom.”

He paused, fighting back an impulse. In the end, though, Max decided that if his mother was going to run his social life anyway, he might as well get something out of the deal. “Make sure you call this girl and let her know that I’m anxious to meet her.

Tell her I’m really looking forward to it.”

“Really?”

“Of course. If she’s as great as you say she is, then I’m sure I’ll like her. But I’m not going to come if she doesn’t come. Tell her that.”

“All right,” Maggie Morgan said. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

She hung up and Max tossed the cordless phone onto the bed. Then he flopped down and covered his face with the pillow again. What was the use in trying to stay away? He needed to see Angela again.

The anger he’d felt a few days ago had dissolved with time and now, he was left with the realization that what had happened hadn’t changed his feelings for her. He really liked Angela. He probably even loved her. Not probably, he did love her. And Max had never felt that way about a woman before.

He crawled out of bed and grabbed a pair of running shorts from the pile of clean clothes on a nearby chair, then tugged on a T-shirt. His shoes were next to the door and once he got them on, Max headed out, jogging slowly to warm-up, then began to run in earnest.

It was like some invisible force was drawing him toward her. He just wanted to make sure she was all right. Max wasn’t sure what he planned to do once he got to her neighborhood, but he felt an overwhelming need to see her again.

He stopped in for a latte and a Danish at the Starbucks closest to her place, then walked to her flat carrying her breakfast in a bag. As he waited on her stoop, Max wasn’t sure he was ready to talk to her. What was he supposed to say? He needed a plan, something to offer her, a way that they could move forward.

Maybe it would have been better to have just waited until Saturday. Max left the coffee and Danish on the step and started down the block. But before he turned the corner, he glanced back. He saw her, walking toward her flat, dressed in the clothes she’d worn on television.

Max hid behind a nearby tree, watching her. “Now who’s the stalker?” he muttered.

Angela stopped short when she saw the coffee and the paper bag with the Danish. She looked up and down the street, then slowly picked it up. Max smiled to himself. She had to know where it had come from.

He wondered what was going through her mind.

A few moments later, she took one last look around, then disappeared inside. Max decided to wait and see her when she came out again. If he ran around the block, he’d be able to run into her, as if it were an accidental meeting. They could chat, he could read her mood and maybe figure out where he stood.