Page 4 of Maximum Risk (The Andrades 3)
“We went to dinner this week.”
“You took Tara out to dinner?” Max instantly regretted both his question and the emotion his question revealed.
Luke chuckled. “I went to dinner with Maddy at Richard’s new restaurant, and Tara joined us. Why? Do you know her?”
The conversation had already gone off course. Max ground out, “No.”
Instantly serious, Luke said, “Hey, nothing happened with her and me. She’s pretty, but there was no spark there.”
Thank God.
Luke continued, “She seems like a very nice woman, Max.”
“I was merely curious if you had met her.”
“Sure. Okay, we’ll go with that. Did you decide yet about Gio’s dinner? He wants everyone together when he selects the date for his wedding.”
“He doesn’t need me there for that.”
“Because you’re not attending the wedding?” Luke didn’t hide his displeasure.
“We already talked about this, Luke. If Gio wants all or nothing, he’ll get nothing. No dinner will change that.”
Luke sighed. “I’m asking you to do this, Max. Not because you want to, but because it’s the right thing to do. Gio won’t say it, but he needs all of us right now. He hasn’t been the same since Stephan’s wedding, even though he seems happy with Julia. He’s run-down, but he won’t take time off. I don’t know if it’s work-related or Julia-related. He won’t tell me.”
“Because it’s none of your business.”
“We’re brothers. We are all each other’s business. We always have been, and we always will be.”
As always, Luke saw only what he wanted to see. “Gio is moody. That’s who he is. You know my opinion on the subject: he’d be a hell of a lot happier if he left New York and spent time away from the family. Nick is probably driving him nuts.”
“That’s not true, Max. You’d see that if you came home. Gio and Nick make a good team at Cogent. They’re each happier than I’ve seen them in a long time. They are spending time with our uncles and that side of the family, and it seems to be good for both of them. On the whole, things are good here.”
“Except for whatever problem Gio is having.”
“Yes, except for that. And no one knows what to do about Mother. She’s in rare form lately.”
“See, this is why I can’t talk to you, Luke. Things cannot be perfect and perfectly fucked up at the same time. I can handle Mother for about five minutes. I can handle the rest of you for about ten more. We’re old enough to stop pretending things are ever going to be different.”
Luke was quiet for a moment. “So, what do you want, Max? You called me for a reason. What is it?”
Max punched the couch beside him. Talking to his family always tangled his emotions until he didn’t know how he felt about anything. He took a deep breath and distanced himself as much as he could. In a cool voice, he asked, “Do you know Tara’s last name?”
“Holmes. She lives in Murray Hill.”
Max closed his eyes. There was nothing left to say. Luke would forgive his comments, he always did, but Max didn’t like that he wanted to apologize. He shouldn’t feel badly about speaking the truth. “Thanks, Luke.”
Luke said something under his breath, then started to say, “Max—”
“I have to go, Luke,” Max said and hung up. He tossed his phone on the couch beside his laptop. Fuck.
And that is why my ass is not going to New York anytime soon.
Especially not for some damn woman I don’t even know.
Chapter Three
The following week Tara rolled out of bed, her eyes still half closed, and made her way to the bathroom. She studied herself in the mirror as she washed her hands a few moments later. She looked as tired as she felt. Maddy had her social calendar overflowing with afternoon teas, lunch dates with her friends, and dinners with family members almost every night. Tara wasn’t normally the type to dress up, but Maddy had her dressed to the hilt in exclusive venues almost nightly. Not only could Tara barely recognize herself, she was getting lost in a mountain of Maddy’s lies. Where I met Maddy. How long I’ve known her. The recent breakup that supposedly has me so sad that Maddy is taking me everywhere to cheer me up. I am living proof a person can become exactly what they despise.
I dedicate my life to uncovering liars—and then do this. And why?
She gave herself a stern look in the mirror. Because I’m a sucker. Because I took one look at a man in a photo, fell for the sad expression in his eyes, and agreed to a job I knew I wasn’t suited for.
How could I have been so off in my judgment? Max doesn’t need sympathy; he needs someone to take that big ego down a peg or two. She wiped the stray mascara away and told herself the job would soon be over. Maddy’s family had welcomed her into their circle. They seemed to trust Tara. Surely one of them would have the answers Maddy sought.
If I don’t totally lose myself before then.
What is the saying? The road to hell is paved with good intentions?
I either have to stop lying or stop feeling so guilty about it.
I wish I were more like Brigitte.
Her roommate wasn’t weighed down by a moral compass. She lived exactly as she wanted to, no excuses, no apologies. Brigitte designed high-end suits for businessmen and traveled extensively to meet with her clients. She was chic, modern, and blatantly sexual. Although she and Tara had little in common, as roommates they meshed well. In fact, Brigitte was the perfect test to know if a guy Tara was dating would stray. Brigitte could reduce most men to a puddle of drool in sixty seconds or less.
A perk for Brigitte was Tara’s tolerance for what Brigitte called leftovers: men who didn’t understand that a one-night stand shouldn’t include sleeping over. Brigitte hated awkward morning-after meetings, so she left without saying goodbye to the men.
There was something pathetically endearing about a man stumbling around the apartment looking for a woman he thought he’d won over with his prowess. Time and experience had honed Tara’s skill with handling the male ego, letting them down gently, and even offering breakfast if they looked sad enough. They weren’t a scary bunch. Brigitte had good taste and brought home nothing less than buff, well-educated men whose only crime was believing sex meant anything to a woman like Brigitte.
There was something enviable about how Brigitte dated, even if Tara didn’t emulate her lifestyle. Pleasure for the sake of pleasure without expectations of more.
A female version of Max.
Tara didn’t like the comparison. She’d prefer to see Brigitte as a woman who could not be contained by societal taboos. And Max? He was just another man who expected every woman to fall at his feet at the idea of sleeping with him before he moved on to the next.
I need coffee.
Tara padded into the kitchen and smiled when she saw a familiar bare back in front of the stove. The smell of fresh bacon and eggs was a welcome surprise. Tara sank into one of the chairs at the small kitchen table. “Morning, Dyson. Is Brigitte already gone?” She might not be. Dyson was already an exception to Brigitte’s other rules. He was the only repeat overnighter and had been for more than a year. For Brigitte, that was practically a relationship. Any day now Tara expected Brigitte to do something crazy like stay to have breakfast with him.
Dyson turned with a spatula in one hand. “Long gone. She flew away to meet with shop owners in France. She’s hoping to break into the small boutiques. Hungry?”
“Starving. Thanks.” He handed her a plate with enough eggs and bacon to necessitate an extra hour at the gym, but Tara was too hungry to care. She gave in to the infrequent indulgence.
“So, where were you last night? We tried to call you. We could have met for dinner,” Dyson said and handed her a mug of hot coffee with milk but no sugar, just the way she liked it.
Tara took a sip and closed her eyes for a moment. “Working.” She opened her eyes in time to see him place his own heaping plate across from hers.
&
nbsp; “Until midnight?” Dyson asked in what Tara jokingly referred to as his brotherly tone of voice.
“Yes, until midnight.”
“What part of town? Brigitte said you weren’t saying much about this new job. Who are you working for?”
“You know I can’t tell you that: client confidentiality.”
“But it’s still your usual unfaithful husband detail, right?”
“Not exactly.”
“I don’t like the way that sounds.”
