The Millionaire Tempted Fate (A Novella) (Sweet and Savory Romances) (6 page)

Then Max chided himself. He’d brought Becky a time or two to the Wednesday karaoke, but Angie had never done it. Never invited a date to any of the things that were just Max and Angie. He was the one who had broken that rule. Not Angie.

He’d met her boyfriends over the years, of course, at group things like parties. There’d been the inevitable double dates and movie nights, but by and large, Angie kept her dating life separate from what she called her "Max World." And now she had gone and invited a stranger into that space. He knew he should get used to it—after he married Becky, there’d naturally be less Max and Angie time. Angie had every right to find her own perfect match.

That didn’t mean Max had to be happy about it.

For God’s sake, he’d offered to fix her up. Now he was all worked up about her dating someone? What was wrong with him?

He forced a smile to his face, then sat down at the table. The stranger had even taken Max’s usual seat, the one between the bar and the table. Max tried not to hate him on sight or pull a few of the UFC fighter moves on the guy. "Hi, Angie," Max said.

"Max! Glad you could make it." She pulled a few inches away from her companion. "This is Michael. Michael, meet Max, my oldest and dearest friend."

It seemed like Angie put extra emphasis on the word
friend
, and for some reason, that grated on Max. He fought the urge to scowl. God, he was grumpy tonight.

"Nice to meet you," Michael said, extending a hand to shake with Max. "Angie’s told me a lot about you."

"Funny, she hasn’t told me anything about you," Max said. What the hell was that about? He sounded like a jilted lover. Which he wasn’t. At all.

"That’s because we’ve wanted to keep this just between us until now," Michael said with a tender look at Angie. She smiled, then nuzzled Michael’s neck.

That hot, dark snake coiled tighter in Max’s gut.
Get a grip, Max.
In a few days, he was going to propose to Becky. Settle down with her. Live the life he’d had planned out since he was old enough to make a bulleted list.

That’s who he should be focused on—Becky, not Angie. Except he was having trouble remembering what Becky looked like or why he’d made that list in the first place.

Max settled back in his chair and faced Michael. "So how long have you two been together?"

"Long enough to know she is one incredible woman," Michael said. He placed a tender kiss on Angie’s forehead and Max’s fist curled at his side. "Honestly, I don’t know she’s remained single this long. Seems some smart man would have put a ring on her finger."

And would that be you?
Max wanted to ask. But he didn’t. He drew in a breath that did nothing to tame the beast growing inside him.

"Oh, you are so sweet," Angie said, then kissed Michael’s cheek.

Max had never seen her like this. So…so smitten. Her eyes danced, her smile glowed, heck, her entire body radiated joy. For a second, he wondered what it would be like if she looked at Max like that. If he was the one enjoying those kisses, that touch.

But he wasn’t, and for good reason. Angie was his best friend, and losing that friendship was the one thing Max couldn’t do. If he listed his possessions, the most valuable was Angie’s friendship. She was his rock, the ground he stood on when life got crazy, the only person in the world who understood his moods and read his thoughts before he spoke them.

And as a friend, he should want her to be happy. Should wish her and Michael well, hope that they got married and made little Michael clones someday. Instead, Max got to his feet so fast the chair let out a squeal of protest. "I…I have another commitment tonight," he said. "Sorry, Angie. You’ll have to enjoy the Drop Inn without me."

She turned to Michael, gave him a smile that would put the brightest lightbulb to shame, and made Max’s gut clench in ways it never had before. "Oh, I’m sure I can do that, Max. Besides, you’ll be doing the same with Becky soon, won’t you? We’ll have to double date sometime."

"Yeah, yeah." But the thought didn’t fill him with the anticipation he’d expected. Instead, the thought of being here with Angie and Michael as well as his soon-to-be-fiancé filled Max with something akin to…

Dread.

2 ½ cups graham cracker crumbs

2 ¾ cups confectionary sugar

1 cup peanut butter

1 cup butter, melted

16 ounces semisweet chocolate chips

When you can’t decide, try to have both. In a large bowl, mix together the graham cracker crumbs, confectionary sugar, peanut butter and butter. Press peanut butter mixture into a greased 9 by 13 pan.

Put the chocolate chips in a glass bowl, and microwave 30 seconds, stir, microwave again, stir, repeating until they’re melted. Hey, this recipe is so easy, any guy can do it. And best of all, no oven. Once the chips are melted, spread them on top of the peanut butter mixture. Let cool for at least five minutes, then serve. Both the peanut butter and the chocolate are delicious, but at some point, you’re going to have to pick one—

And that means giving up the other. For now, try to enjoy the best of all worlds.

C
HAPTER
S
IX

Max rolled over, stuffed a pillow over his head and prayed the phone would stop ringing. The day had already dawned, and if this had been any other day, he would have been at the gym, finishing up his daily workout before heading to the office. But he’d spent the last night tossing and turning, watching really bad movies on late-night TV. He kept thinking about Angie and Michael, and the high heels and the condoms, and all it had done was torture him more.

The phone rang again. He picked it up and barked a greeting.

"My goodness, sweetie, is that any way to greet your girlfriend?" Becky’s bright and perky voice bloomed in his ear.

"Sorry, sorry. You surprised me, that’s all." He tried not to be annoyed at the call. He hadn’t talked to Becky in two days, after all. He’d missed her.

Or he’d tried to. Honestly, he’d barely thought about her in the last few days. His mind had been on Angie, which wasn’t right. Angie was his friend; Becky was going to be his fiancé. When did he get his priorities all reversed?

She laughed. "I surprised you? Now that’s something I don’t do very often. You are the least surprise-able man I know."

That wasn’t who he’d been last night, but he didn’t tell Becky that. Funny thing was, the person he most wanted to tell about his sleepless night was Angie, and she was the only person he
couldn’t
talk to about it. What a mess.

Maybe it would all look better after a few cups of coffee. He swung his legs over the bed, then padded out to the kitchen in his boxers. The room was pristine, as always, everything set where he liked it by a housekeeper who came by daily. That made him think of Angie’s cluttered apartment, the way she hung mementos all over the walls, how she filled the bookcase with little knick-knacks that others would set out at a garage sale, yet each one meant something to her. How she didn’t fret over a spilled drink or a few crumbs at a party. Every time he went to her apartment, he felt relaxed, comfortable. Here…

Well, here was a place to store his clothes. And his coffee mugs.

"Did you hear a word I said, Max?"

"Sorry. I was getting coffee. Tell me again."

"Silly man. You’re always distracted when I talk to you. I swear, unless I’m standing right in front of you, your mind is a million miles away."

Actually, less than one mile away. In an apartment with a braided rug in the kitchen and a sassy woman who saved the ticket stubs from every movie they’d ever gone to together. He shook his head, and refocused on Becky.

The woman he wanted to marry. The woman he’d already bought a ring for.

Except, he’d bought the ring that looked best on Angie. And when he’d done that practice proposal, it had been about Angie, not Becky. Because he had some subconscious desire to marry—

Angie?

No, that was all wrong. It was merely that Angie was such an integral part of his life. That was all. He had his list damn it, he had his plan, and he didn’t need to throw a monkey wrench into this.

He crossed to the Keurig, and brewed an extra-strong cup of coffee, then leaned against the counter while he drank it and listened to Becky’s recounting of her conference, and all the cool new things she had learned about oral hygiene. "Sounds like a great conference."

"It was so great, I’m almost sorry to see it end. At least I’ll get to see my family for a few days. And then I’ll be back in Boston again, with you." Becky sighed. "I so wish you were here, honey bear."

The endearment grated on his nerves, which made no sense. Becky’s daisy-like attitude about everything was part of what had attracted him to her in the first place. It was number one on his list of things to look for in a potential spouse.

He’d grown up in a house that was about as happy as a funeral parlor, always stuck in that perpetual cloud of stress his father brought home from work and decanted with his first martini of the night. Max wanted the polar opposite of that—high optimism, chatty bright attitude, a constant smile. A woman who was warm and giving and cuddly.

Angie, of course, wasn’t a cuddly optimist. She was a plain talking realist, one who he could count on to always tell him the truth but to also always have his back. With Angie, there was no glass half-full or glass half-empty, there was merely,
here’s a glass, what are we going to do with it.

Damn it. Once again, his thoughts had drifted to Angie, and away from the woman he intended to marry. What was wrong with him?

He glanced at the clock, and for the first time since he’d met Becky, he wanted nothing more than to end the conversation and get to work. "Hey, Becky, listen, I hate to cut you off, but I have a meeting this morning I need to get to."

He could almost hear her pouting on the other end of the phone. "Okay, honey bear, but remember, I’ll be traveling all day tomorrow, and then at Momma’s, so I might not have a chance to call for another day or two."

"That’s fine. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?" If he said it enough, maybe it would be true. Because right now, he was having trouble remembering what Becky looked like, never mind why he wanted to propose.

Twenty minutes later, he headed out the door. His phone buzzed a constant melody of emails, texts, voicemails. He flipped past them all, looking for one name. Angie.

Nothing.

Because she was still sleeping? Or because she was wrapped in that Michael’s arms, and too distracted to do anything other than—

Okay, not the best train of thought.

His mind, however, didn’t get the message, and pictured Angie in bed, her naked body under a tangle of sheets, that long riot of brown hair spread out on the pillow in a dark, tempting cloud. It had to be the manicure and the heels and the condoms, because his brain kept going down one path and one path only with Angie.

His thumb found the number one, and before he could think twice, he was ignoring the office and speed dialing Angie. "Hey, sunshine."

She laughed. "Only you would sound so chipper this early in the morning. God, don’t you sleep?"

"Of course I do. Just not as much as some people." He smiled. Every time he talked to her, his world turned right-side-up again. That made him question again the wisdom of his list. Of choosing a wife based on bullet points he’d written up in high school.

Was he making a huge mistake? Or was he just having a case of cold feet?

"Hey, some of us need our beauty sleep," Angie said. "And some of us go without it."

"Are you saying I’m not beautiful?" What was he doing? Fishing for a compliment? He really had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed today, hadn’t he? Since when did he care if Angie found him attractive?

"No, Max, you are
not
beautiful," she said with a laugh. "Anyway, I can’t talk long. I’m….in the middle of something." She paused. He could hear the shower running in the background.