Page 48 of The Reverse Cinderella
Chapter 8
Piaget checked her watch another time. She was being stood up. Or maybe he’d been hit by the proverbial bus. He’d better be in critical, have a broken leg or something. It was nearly four in the afternoon. There was no way they were going to have time to get him a suit now. They might not even make it in time for dinner. Fashionably late was one thing, late late was another with Piaget’s mother.
She had known this was a bad idea. Love her? Ha! He couldn’t even be on time. Finally, Piaget grabbed her suitcase and locked the apartment door behind her. Lugging it down the stairs, she managed to bruise the back of her legs with the silly thing. It felt like she had packed bricks instead of a few necessities. That’s one thing she missed about having a man, or money in her life. Before now, Piaget had always had someone else to handle the bills, the arrangements, the suitcases. It was a lot easier.
A businessman was getting out of a cab and asking it to stay. She made a beeline for it. Perhaps she could bribe the cabbie to leave the guy behind and take her fare instead.With what money?her brain asked. Okay, so she would ask him to call another cab on his radio thingy. It would be the quickest she could get one.
“Hey, taxi!” Piaget skidded to a halt and once again the rolling suitcase banged into the back of her legs, causing her to stumble.
With a grin, the guy she had mistaken for a businessman gently grabbed her elbow to help keep her upright. Piaget simply couldn’t believe it. Shiny black loafers, dress pants, belt, tucked in ironed dress shirt, tie, shaved, hair freshly cut, showered, and what was that?Cologne?It had to have some sort of pheromones in it, it smelled that deliciously male on him. Her lips parted in a breathless word, “Max?”
“So, I clean up okay, right?” There was definitely some satisfaction in that non-question. “Sorry, I’m a little late. We got caught in traffic. A water main broke on Wellington. You look gorgeous. Something new with the hair?”
“Highlights,” her voice came out breathy. A fortune in dye and styling. Who was this guy in front of her and how did he afford this? Unless Piaget was mistaken, he was wearing Brooks Brothers. Gary was enough of a suit snob that she was sure it was Brooks Brothers. While it wouldn’t be the most expensive at the wedding, it certainly wouldn’t be the least expensive. His suit had to cost more than her three dresses put together. “Your curls are gone.”
“Will you miss them?” He gave a roguish grin.
“With the shave you don’t look like you,” Piaget’s voice was coming out in confused chatter. It did that sometimes when her brain had yet to catch up and absorb what was happening. Like her tongue needed to fill the space where her brain should operate. “You’re handsome. I mean, you always were but now… it’s just not you.”
Max grinned and put Piaget’s suitcase in the trunk of the taxi. “I promise, I’m still me. So, do you think I’ll pass muster for the wedding? I’ve a suit jacket.”
“Oh, you’ll definitely do,” said Piaget. Suddenly she felt a little shy. Here was comfortable, flirty Max changed into this confident, suave male who could walk off the cover of GQ without a backward glance. Piaget had one of those in her husband, been stupidly in love with one of those before and look where it had ended. She wasn’t sure what to do about this new side of Max that she was seeing. He looked amazing.
He opened the door and gestured for her to enter the taxi. Piaget shook herself mentally out of her drooling and quickly got into the cab with nerves like she was going on her first date which she certainly wasn’t, she reminded herself sternly. Max got in and took her hand in his. It was both comforting and uncomfortable at the same time. Here he was, the same sounding, happy man that she knew but yet a stranger with a whole new identity. “Tell me all about your family. What should I know before we get there?”
Piaget let him know about her mother, the control freak who loved everything perfect in her society life. She talked about her laid-back, often confused father who was an upstanding member of the country club board and somehow a partner in the law firm. Tiffany, her perfect older sister who had married Charles, a lawyer from Dad’s firm, and had three perfect children, the last of which, Tricia was getting married to her fiancé Jordan, son and heir of one of the older fortunes in the world. Money meets money and class. As she chattered on, Piaget felt herself relax. He was such a good listener and asked all the right questions. For a moment, she found comfortable Max back.
Somewhere in warning him that Aunt Lucielle was a drunk with an eye for good looking guys Piaget realized they were going the wrong way. “Did you give him the right address?”
“I hope you don’t mind, but I thought you might want to arrive in a bit more style than a cab. I have a friend who owes me a favor and he has a sports car so I asked if we could borrow it.”
“Really?” Friends with sports cars now? She wondered who this new Max was.
Max smiled. “It’s just up here. Selection is limited but you can choose whatever make and model he has.”
The taxi pulled up to a stunning house with a large garage attached. A man stepped lightly down some stone steps to meet us. He was handsome in a blond, golf and country way, except for the glasses he wore. Piaget wondered if he preferred them or if he wasn’t a candidate for laser eye surgery.
Max helped Piaget out of the car, the cabbie taking out their bags.
“Hey, Dil. Thanks for helping us out like this.” Max and the country-club man shook hands. “This is Piaget.”
“The lovely Piaget. Good to meet you,” Dillon firmly shook Piaget’s hand with a broad smile. “Shannon’s out right now but maybe when you return the car you can see her again.”
“That’d be great,” Max replied. Piaget recalled what Max had confided in her about Shannon being ill from that drug and the fund that he was using to help other children with the same issue.
“So here are the cars, take your pick,” Dillon clicked a remote in his hand and the garage doors opened to reveal a collection of twelve vehicles. All were glossy and in perfect condition. Some were classics while a few were brand new toys.
“Piaget?”
She looked at Max. “You want me to choose?”
“It’s your party,” Dillon grinned. “Hey, Max, you did keep up your license, right?”
“I promise I remember how to drive,” Max shook his head. “I do have a company truck now, you know.”
“I have insurance. It’s all good,” Dillon explained the inside joke. “I run an insurance firm.”
Max snorted. “Your Daddy owns the insurance firm.”