“So what’s going to happen, Max?”
“You’ll slowly fall for each other. Something will rip you apart, maybe a misunderstanding, a possible blast from the past from an ex-lover? Who knows? You’ll argue in the elevator. Share a heated kiss. Slam doors. But wait!” He thrust his hand into the air. “You live together and you could just swear,” he said, shaking his head, “that each time he breathes, nay, each time he moves in his bed, it’s because he misses you beside him. So you pop out from underneath your covers, because of course you’re curious . . .” He set his cup on the coffee table and leaned forward. “He opens his eyes the minute you walk in. The air is thick with tension.”
I gulped as my erratic pulse picked up.
“He checks you out like you’re the only woman in the world, and you return the favor, eyeing his sexy six-pack, his built chest, and then your eyes home in on his lips, those perfect, full lips.” Max leaned forward, his cologne floating off him, hitting me square in the face. “You want him. Badly. And you know he wants you too. You don’t know who moves first. You? Him? Does it matter?”
I shivered.
“Mouth hot and urgent, desperate to take you to places you’ve never been. He moans, you deepen the kiss as his fingers dig into your hips, the primal need he has for you awakens. And. You. Just. Can’t”—his voice was a hoarse whisper—“stop.”
My palms flinched with the sudden need to touch Reid.
Max’s grin was shameless. “Oh, I know the story, Jordan. The sex won’t just be average. It will blow every fantasy you’ve ever had out of the water. And then . . .” He sighed. “Just when things are getting good. It breaks. Good things always break, and it’s always up to the two people in a relationship to fix it, to make it work, but you’ll have nothing to fall back on. No friendship, nothing. So when it breaks for you two, it shatters. You’ll fight. Say things you don’t mean. And then you’ll leave in tears. He’ll be lonely. Famous, but lonely. And you’ll swear to yourself never to trust a man again.” He finished his coffee and clasped his hands together. “Now. What are you going to do about it?”
“Huh?” I felt dazed. Owned. And somehow manipulated, like I was at a fair and Max was the hypnotist telling me I was a chicken.
“Aw.” He patted my hand. “Good talk. I just wanted to make sure you understood how this would end. I feel it’s my job to emotionally prepare you for the road ahead. Fall you will.” He shrugged. “How could you not? Swear your hair’s probably already picking wedding colors.”
I slapped his hand away as he tried to grab a bit of my curly mess. “I’m his publicist. Not his girlfriend. And this isn’t a romance novel, which by the way is pretty much what you just described. This is real life. Things like that don’t happen in real life. Believe me, I know.”
“What will I get?”
“Max, would it kill you to ask direct questions?”
He tapped his chin. “Yes.”
I growled.
“When I’m right.” He picked up his empty cup and stood. “When you come over to my apartment sobbing like a Taylor Swift concert attendee. I’ll tell you what—I won’t get anything for being right, but I will let you sleep on the couch. When it all goes south.”
I snorted. “You’re just trying to convince me to back off so that you can have sex with your fiancée again. I won’t fall for it.”
“Okay.” Max pulled me in for a jerky hug. “But remember our chat. Oh, and you spilled coffee on your white shirt. That one of your things?”
“Crap!” I stomped my heel.
He held up his hands. “Cold water, not hot.”
“Go home!”
“Pfft.” Max winked. “I have work this afternoon; this world doesn’t run itself.”
Just let it run Max-less. Amen.
“Toodles.” He waved and slammed the door behind him while I was left feeling a bit turned on by the thought of me and Reid kissing in his bedroom. Ugh!
“Max!” I seethed. He was just trying to get into my head. That’s what people like him did. For crying out loud, he set his own brother up to be a laughingstock!
This was my job.
I worked with attractive actors on a daily basis.
Working with another one?
Not going to be a problem.
I used cold water on the stain, threw on a white blazer, and shoved my black sunglasses on my face. Making sure I had the apartment key and my red purse, I confidently pressed the elevator button and waited.
And I’m happy to announce I didn’t once think about the elevator fight.
Or the kiss.
Or the moment in the bedroom.
Or the way Reid’s hands would feel on my hips.
Nope. Not once.
But twice.
“Damn, Max,” I cursed, walking out into the New York sun.
I quickly sent a text to Reid.
Me: Your brother is certifiably insane. Has he been locked up before?
Reid: Arkham Asylum wouldn’t take him.
Me: This saddens me.
Reid: Just don’t ask him anything related to the Joker. You’ll get a hell of a long answer.
Me: I’m stopping by in a few minutes. Be ready to wow me, lover boy, this shit’s going public.