Maximum Risk (3 page)

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.

“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.”

“Well, Dad, luckily it has nothing to do with you,” Tara said sarcastically, although her tone held no bite.

Dyson sat across from her and shrugged. “Whatever you’re up to, just be careful. Make sure someone knows where you are. Text me if no one else.”

“It’s not a dangerous job. I know what I’m doing.”

Dyson dug into his eggs and rolled his eyes. “That’s what you say about all of your jobs, but one day you’re going to undercover something you shouldn’t, and things could get ugly.”

Tara leaned forward, waving her fork at him. “You worry too much.”

“And you are uptight lately. It’s not good for you to spend all your time tracking down cheaters. When was the last time you even dated? Was it the police officer? No, it was the lawyer you met during that divorce case. That was . . . shit, six months ago. You’re pretty, Tara. I have friends, if you’re lonely.”

Tara laid her head on the table and groaned.
Am I really getting relationship advice from Brigitte’s booty call?
She raised her head and would have told Dyson off, but he looked so damn sincere. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

The buzzer to the apartment went off. Tara looked across at Dyson. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

Dyson raised one shoulder dismissively. “Don’t look at me.”

Tara stood and went to the intercom. “Hello?”

“Tara, it’s me, Maddy. May I come up?”

Tara looked back at Dyson then back at the intercom. How likely was it Maddy would accept an excuse that she was busy? Not very. “Sure.” She pressed the button to open the downstairs door.

A few moments later Maddy was standing in her kitchen looking at Dyson with big round eyes. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” she said.

Tara pulled out a chair for Maddy. “This is Dyson. Dyson, meet Maddy. She’s who I’m working for right now.”

Maddy hesitated. “I didn’t know you had a . . . I mean, you should have told me. I wouldn’t have worried about you and Max if I had known you were coming home to him.”

Tara poured a mug of coffee for Maddy and plopped it down in front of her. She waved a hand at Dyson. “He’s not mine. He’s my roommate’s.”

Dyson sat up straighter. “Who is Max?”

Tara sat down at the table. There was the tone again. The same one her father would have used if he’d heard Tara’s name and a man’s mentioned in the same breath. The thought made Tara a little sad. Sometimes she almost forgot how much she missed her parents, then something random would remind her. She’d been okay when they had first moved down to Naples, Florida. They sent happy emails from a retirement community by the gulf. They deserved to be living out their dream retirement, but it didn’t make Tara miss them less. “Max is nobody. He’s Maddy’s cousin.”

Dyson stabbed a piece of egg with his fork and directed his comment to Maddy. “She could use a date. She’s a little tense, if you know what I mean.”

Tara threw a piece of bacon at Dyson. “Don’t judge me. You’ve been coming here for a year, and you’re still a leftover.”

Dyson chewed his egg slowly then waved his fork in the air. “Call me what you want, but Brigitte keeps coming back to me. I’m the only one she does that with.” When Tara didn’t immediately answer, he asked again, “Right?”

Tara reluctantly admitted, “You’re the only repeat.”

He smiled. “See, I’m different.”

Maddy looked back and forth between them. “Should I ask?”

Tara shook her head. “No, it’s better to leave Dyson with his pride.”

Dyson held another forkful of eggs near his mouth and said, “She’ll marry me one day, Tara. You’ll see.”

“People don’t change, Dyson. Brigitte is who she is. Stay with her because you’re okay with things as they are. But don’t stay because you think she’s going to become monogamous all of a sudden. It doesn’t happen like that.”

Maddy twirled her coffee mug between her hands. “Love can change a person.”

Tara stood up. “No, it can make them pretend to change. Once a cheater, always a cheater.”

Dyson put his fork down. “Brigitte isn’t a cheater. She’s never lied to me. I know she’s with other men when she’s not with me. She doesn’t have to change, she merely has to choose.”

Scraping the remaining food off her plate into the trash, Tara said, “Whatever you want to believe, Dyson. Maddy, did we have someplace to go today?”

“I want to take you to meet Gio and Julia. They invited me out for brunch and said you could come along. If you’re going to their party next week, this would be a good way to get to know them before then.”

“You didn’t say anything yesterday.”

“They called me this morning.”

“I’ll need time to shower.”

“I’ll wait,” Maddy said with a smile. “I’m sure Dyson and I can find something to talk about.” She turned away from Tara and said, “Now, about you and this Brigitte. You shouldn’t let her get too comfortable. I may have some ideas for you. I’m a master matchmaker . . .”

Tara figured the two deserved each other and headed off to shower. She had the water running and was about to step into the spray when her phone rang. Expecting the call to be from Brigitte, Tara answered without checking the number. “Yes, he’s still here.”

“Who is still there?”

Although Tara had only heard his voice once before, she instantly recognized it. “Max. Sorry, I thought you were someone else. I’d love to talk to you, but I was just about to hop into the shower.”

“Alone?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

Even though her bathroom door was closed, she wrapped a towel around herself. “I’m not having this conversation with you, Max. I’m sorry you got the wrong impression of me when I went up there, but by now I hope you see it was not what you thought.”

He sighed. “It wasn’t my intention to offend you that day.”

“Is that an apology?”

“Would you go to dinner with me if it were?”

His question sent a shiver down her bare back. The idea of seeing him again was exciting in a way Tara found difficult to rationalize away. “No. But it would be a nice gesture.”

“Is that what you look for in a man, Tara? Nice? How disappointing.” His voice was a warm caress. “We could be good together.”

Tara’s breathing became shallow as she tried to deny the pleasure she felt at the knowledge he was still interested in her. “For a few hours,” Tara added with forced sarcasm and tightened the towel around her.
Wake up, Tara. He’s everything you don’t need.
“I’m not judging your lifestyle, Max. If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you. But I’m not interested in the little you have to offer, so thank you for the call, but no thank you on the dinner.”

She hung up while she was still strong enough to do so. What is wrong with me? Have I been without sex for so long that I’ll find anyone exciting?

I don’t want to meet him at a hotel, taste every inch of him.

Even though I’m probably the only woman in New York not having sex, I don’t need him to show me why all those other women didn’t turn him down. Oh, my God, what am I thinking? He’s Maddy’s cousin. She asked me to stay away from him.

I’m sure that includes getting naked with him.

Don’t forget he’s just like Brigitte.

I will not be his leftover.

***

What little I have to offer? What does that mean?

What don’t I have to offer a woman? I’m young. I’m successful. Women tell me I’m good-looking.
No, he wasn’t the “settle down, raise a family, live to mow the lawn every Saturday” type, but that didn’t mean he had nothing to offer.

Max thought back to the women he’d been with during the past few years. Sure, not all of them were pleased when they parted ways, but they didn’t hate him, either. There was nothing wrong with enjoying some time with another person on a temporary basis. In fact, going into a relationship with a clear understanding of its lack of permanency took the drama out of the eventual breakup.

Tara wasn’t an innocent.

In fact, this could all be a game designed to pique his interest. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman had chosen to play hard to get with him. However, she was holding out with an unusual amount of fortitude. The women who played it cool as part of the dating game normally understood it was also important to give him some encouragement, or he’d lose interest.

Tara didn’t seem to care.

Which meant she either wasn’t attracted to him or she had played this game before. Either way the result was the same. She definitely had his attention. Getting her into his bed had become a challenge so enticing he could think of little else.

He decided to test her. He would offer her an opportunity no woman he knew would turn down. If she agreed, he’d have her in his bed by Monday. If she refused . . .

She wouldn’t.

Max walked out onto the balcony of his penthouse suite in his Caribbean resort and inhaled deeply, feeling more excited about this than he’d been about anything in a long time. There was a slim possibility she’d say no. Then what? Give up? That wasn’t his nature. He never lost when he went after something he wanted. He never had.