The familiar resonance sends a shiver up my spine, and sure enough, when I turn I see Max standing there, an amused smirk on his face.
What the hell is he doing here? Did he really go to all of the trouble of tracking down my grandmother, so he can recruit her in his quest to make me see the error of my anti-romance ways?
A flush of anger fills me. Involving my Nan like this feels like a violation. He’s had the balls to lecture me several times about professional behavior, and then he does something like this? Not cool.
“Oh, Sean,” Nan says as she sidles up to him. “There’s that sense of humor again. Women love witty men. By the way, this is my lovely granddaughter, Eden.” Nan smiles and through gritted teeth says, “Say hello, Eden.” Then she leans over and whispers, “Isn’t he handsome?”
Max holds out his hand and acts innocent. “Very nice to meet you, Miss ... uh ... Eden.” It ridiculous how awkward he sounds calling me by my first name.
I ignore his hand and go for a level-ten glare instead. “Oh, please ... Sean, is it? Feel free to call me Miss Tate.”
“Or call her anytime!” Nan says with a giggle. “She’s single.” When neither Max nor I laugh, she glances between us. “Wait, do you two know each other?”
“No,” I say. “I’ve never met Sean before. Wow, you’re a lawyer, huh? Impressive. Perhaps you can enlighten me – what can I do if a guy is stalking me?”
“Well, first,” he says in his calmest voice, “you’d have to establish that his presence is nefarious and not just a coincidence.”
“That’s unlikely.”
“Not really. If two people live in the same area, it’s conceivable they’d run into each other from time to time.”
“After not running into each other for years before that? Seems strange.”
“Perhaps he’s recently moved to the area.”
“And perhaps he’s full of horseshit.”
He tilts his head. “Not bullshit?”
“I thought horseshit would be more appropriate, considering the whole cowboy thing.”
Nan continues watching us like a tennis match, until a couple of girls wearing flowers in their hair pick up some herbs and wave at her.
“Well, if you’ll both excuse me,” she says, giving one more glance between us. “I have customers to attend to. Eden, don’t forget to get a contact number for Sean before he leaves. See you next weekend! We’re going to make you some money.”
When she’s out of earshot, Max goes to say something, but I cut him off. “How dare you use my grandmother to get to me!”
“Miss Tate –”
“I mean, seriously. She’s an old woman whose only wish is to see me married off and churning out tiny, red-headed babies. She doesn’t need Sean the lawyer coming in here and being all tall and single.”
“I didn’t –”
“I know you’re probably nervous about convincing me that your whole romance shtick isn’t a con, but clearly we need to set some professional boundaries about how and when we contact each other, because I find this totally unacceptable. Call me on the phone. Don’t just show up and charm my Nan into liking you.”
“That wasn’t my –”
“I can’t believe you’d just ...” I’m shocked into silence when Max takes a step well inside my buffer zone and whispers, “Miss Tate, if you don’t stop and listen for five seconds, I’m going to kiss the hell out of you in front of your gran then drop to one knee and propose. If you think she’s obsessed with marrying you off now, imagine what she’d be like after that.”
He’s so close it takes me a second to get used to the heat of his proximity. “You wouldn’t.”
“Keep talking and find out.”
“You agreed you wouldn’t kiss me.”
“On a date. Since we’re not on a date right now ...”
“Seems like you’re just looking for an excuse to kiss me, Mr. Riley.”
“I’m not, but if that’s what it takes to get a word in, I’m willing to take the hit.”
Looking up at him like this is uncomfortable on my neck, but I’ll be damned if I’m the first one to step back.
“Wow, you sweet talker. I can see what all the ladies see in you. I’m swooning so hard right now.”
“I assume your failure to stop means you’d like to find out how my mouth tastes? Maybe it’s you who’s looking for an excuse.”
I tell myself that threatening to shut someone up with a kiss should not be sexy. Unfortunately, my body doesn’t listen. He stares, waiting to find out what I’ll do, and I deliberately press my lips together to show him I’m done. I’m still not moving back, though. He can be the one to retreat.
I hold my breath for the full three seconds he takes to register my compliance, and then exhale as he finally steps back.
“Now,” he says, “if you care to know the truth, I came down here today because a friend recommended Nannabeth as someone who could sell secondhand furniture fast and for a decent price. I had no idea she was your grandmother, until I returned from my phone call to find you doing your best Jerry Lewis impersonation.”
“It was Lucille Ball mixed with Holly Hunter, actually, but whatever.”
“I know this may be hard to believe, Miss Tate, but my world doesn’t revolve around finding excuses to spend time with you. I have a life outside of my work and separate from your story, so if you’ve finished yelling at me, I have better things to do than stand here and argue.”
He’s about to leave when I say, “Why are you selling your furniture?”
He looks back at me and hesitates before saying, “For personal reasons.”
“It just seems strange to me that someone who earns as much as you would need to sell furniture on the side.”
“I inherited some pieces. I’d rather sell them through Nannabeth than worry about registering with a dealer or auction house.”
“Because then you don’t have to give your real name?”
“That’s part of it, yes.” He takes a step back. “Oh, and just so you’re clear on when and how I’m going to be contacting you in the near future, you’ll receive an email from me tomorrow about the etiquette of our upcoming dates. Please read the guidelines carefully and commit them to memory. I’ll call you tomorrow night to discuss them and answer any questions you might have.”
I don’t know why I bristle from his assumption that I won’t have anything better to do on a Sunday night than talk to him, but I do, and without thinking too much about it I say, “I’m not available tomorrow night. I’m going to a concert.”
He pushes his hands into his pockets. “Let me guess –Kingdom of Stone.”
“How did you know?”
He looks over at the line of clouds forming on the horizon. “I think half the women in Manhattan are going. I’d considered taking a client, but if you’re going to be there …”
“You don’t think I could maintain a professional distance?”
“I think it would be a challenge for you.”
“Would you prefer it if I didn’t go?”