even the wine he enjoyed.
The man was a player. She hadn’t seen that about him during those days on the beach, although she’d figured it out since coming to Houston. Max didn’t know it, but she’d seen him in action during her early days in the big city.
Rachel stretched a barricade of caution tape around her heart. If Max wanted to start something with her with the express purpose of payback, she’d better be wary.
“… doing?”
Devon had been talking the whole time her mind had been wandering. Whoops.
“I’m sorry, Devon. I wasn’t listening. What did you ask?”
“How is it going with Maureen?”
“She just went in ten minutes ago. Max kept her waiting for half an hour.”
“I know that tone. Stop worrying. She’s perfect. Max won’t find anything wrong with her skills or her references.”
“I hope not.”
And she didn’t have long to wait to find out. Five minutes after she’d hung up with Devon, Maureen exited Max’s office. Unsure whether to be delighted or concerned at the shortness of the interview, Rachel stood as the assistant candidate headed her way.
“How’d it go?”
The beautiful redhead’s mouth drooped. “He didn’t seem to like me.”
“Max is very hard to read. I’m sure he found your qualifications and your experience exactly what he requested.” Rachel kept her expression cheery. “I’ll go have a chat with him now and give you a call later.”
“Thanks.”
As soon as Maureen disappeared around the corner, Rachel headed into Max’s office. “Isn’t Maureen great? She has a BA in business and five years of experience in a brokerage house. She’s great with numbers—”
“Not a self-starter.”
How had he come to that conclusion after a fifteen-minute interview? “That’s not what I heard from her references.”
“She’s not going to work out. I need someone who takes initiative. Find me someone else.”
Rachel hid her clenched hands behind her back and concentrated on keeping her shoulders relaxed and tension from her face as her mind worked furiously on an alternative candidate. “I’ll set up someone for you to interview on Monday.”
“Single?”
His question came out of left field and caught her completely off guard. “By law we don’t discuss anyone’s marital status.”
“But they’d be wearing wedding rings. You’d know if they were single or married.”
“I could guess …” She floundered. What did he want? Someone single he could hit on? That didn’t seem right. Max might be a player, but he wouldn’t be unprofessional at work. Seeing he awaited the answer to his earlier question, she heaved a sigh. “She’s single. Does that matter?”
“Your agency has a certain reputation.” He didn’t make that sound like a compliment.
“For providing the best.”
“For matchmaking.”
Rachel wasn’t sure if she’d heard him right. “Matchmaking? Are you out of your mind?” The words erupted before she considered how they might sound. Taking a calming breath, she moderated her tone. “I run an employment agency.”
He nodded. “And how many of your clients have married the assistants you’ve sent them?”
What the hell sort of question was that? “I don’t know.”
“Eight, including Sebastian and Missy.”
Rachel didn’t know what to make of his accusation. Is that why he sounded so annoyed earlier? He thought … She didn’t quite know what he thought. A matchmaking service? Was he insane?
“Don’t look so surprised,” he muttered.
“But I am. How did you know that?”
“A friend of mine has done a fair amount of research on your little enterprise.” He sneered the last word, leaving no doubt about his opinion of her or her company.
Rachel inched forward on the sofa as she wavered between staying and disputing his claims and walking out the door. Fortunately, her business sense kicked in and kept her from acting impulsively.
“I assure you I’m not in the business of matchmaking.” She straightened her spine and leveled a hard look at him. “My agency is strictly professional. If my ability to find the perfect match between executive and assistant means that they’re compatible in other ways, then that’s coincidence.” Serendipity. She grimaced. If word got out that something unprofessional was happening between her clients and her employees, she was finished. “If you’re worried about finding yourself in a similar predicament, I’ll only send you married assistants.”
She recognized her mistake the second the words were out of her mouth. Annoyance tightened his lips and hardened his eyes to tempered steel.
Once upon a time she’d been married, and he’d fallen for her. Well, maybe fallen for her was pushing it a little. They’d enjoyed a spectacular four days together and he’d been interested in pursuing her beyond the weekend.
“Or really old and ugly assistants,” she finished lamely.
One eyebrow twitched upward to meet the lock of wavy brown hair that had fallen onto his forehead.
Rachel’s professionalism came close to crumpling beneath the weight of his enormous sex appeal. Fortunately, the grim set of his mouth reminded her that they hadn’t parted on the best of terms. He wouldn’t appreciate the feminine sigh bottled up in her chest.
“I’ll arrange some candidates for you to interview on Monday,” she said, her heart sinking as she realized she was now stuck acting as Max’s assistant for the indefinite future.
Three
Monday came and went and Max was no closer to liking any of the candidates she’d arranged for him to interview. By the time Rachel pulled into her driveway at six-thirty, she was half-starved and looking forward to her sister’s famous chili. It was Hailey’s night to cook, thank heavens, or they’d be eating around midnight.
She entered the house through the kitchen door and sniffed the air in search of the spicy odors that signaled Rachel was going to need three glasses of milk to get through the meal. No pot bubbled on the stove. No jalapeño cornbread cooled on a rack. Rachel’s stomach growled in disappointment. No pile of dirty dishes awaited her attention in the sink. Why hadn’t Hailey started dinner?
“I’m home,” she called, stripping off her suit coat and setting her briefcase just inside the door. “I’m sorry I’m late. The new boss is a workaholic. Did you …”
Her
