Page 4 of Sexy Bad Valentine

CHAPTER TWO

MAX

My desk is littered with piles of application forms, from the definite rejections right through to the ‘given half a chance I’d bang the fuck out of that chick’ pile. Probably not the best way of working out which woman will be the front runner for our new show.

I pick up the singular application form in the latter pile. There’s no picture attached, but it doesn’t matter. I summon up her image with little effort. Blonde hair pulled back into a braid of silver and gold that hangs over her shoulder from beneath a gray woollen beanie, and the most beautiful bright blue eyes I’ve probably ever seen. And when she smiles there’s something so pretty about the way they shine.

I shake my head. If I hadn’t had to take my sister’s damn dog with me I might have gotten to the interview we were supposed to have. Instead, Barclay almost flattened the child she had with her. I’d had to call from the car and cancel once I’d dropped the mutt back at home. Intolerable haystack.

My intercom buzzes and Kelly’s voice pipes into my office. “Caroline’s here to see you.”

“Great. Send her in.” One date and now she’s everywhere I turn? Another reason I hadn’t gotten to the interview part of meeting Evie, or told her my name. When Caroline suggested we meet at the park, I figured why not tell her exactly where she stood with me, but then Barclay had tried to bowl over a child, and I’d had to chase after him. Worse, she’s one of my sister’s friends, which means I can’t simply ignore her.

The door opens and Caroline struts into my office. “I thought we might do lunch.”

“No time,” I say, my attention still on Evie’s application. “Perhaps we could wait until Deanna is home?”

“Are you avoiding me?” She takes a seat opposite my desk and crosses her legs slow enough for me to realize she’s prepared for anything. “Because I thought we had a good time the other night.”

“We did.” I lay Evie’s application on the desk in front of me. One thing’s for sure, the girl must come in for a screen test. “But it was just one time. It’s sort of my thing.”

“Oh, I know.” She smiles slyly as she adjusts the hem of her white knee length skirt. “Eternal bachelor. Never goes out with the same girl more than once. But I don’t want to go out.”

I climb to my feet, scoop my cell and keys from the bowl on my desk and pocket them. The production team is starting a meeting that I’m supposed to be at. “Caroline, you’re a great girl. Don’t get me wrong. It’s just I’m not looking for anything. Not a regular date, or a regular screw. I’m sure Deanna would have told you that.”

“She did.” She exhales and drops the seduction act. “But I thought...”

“Sorry,” I say. “I’m just not that guy.”

***

“What you’re telling me is that if this show idea doesn’t get off the ground then our biggest investors are going to jump ship?” I grumble into the phone while I step out of the elevator and march down the hallway toward my apartment. “We’re a pet supply company, for goodness sake, not matchinthecity.com.”

“It’s an advertisement,” Deanna says coolly. “Marketing. And reality shows being so big these days it’s a great way to get our products in front of our audience. Surely you understand the gist of appealing to a human’s basest nature.”

“That’s a low blow.” The minute I walk into my high-rise home, I grip the knot of my tie and tug at it until it comes loose. “Fuck. I’ve been robbed.”

“Robbed?” Deanna asks.

“My apartment...” I step down into the sunken living room where cushions and stuffing from my sectional lie strewn across the rug. My one of a kind glass table is broken in half, and my bookshelves looks like they’ve been rattled by an earthquake until the contents jumped out. I turn slowly in a circle, assessing the damage and trying to pay attention to anything they might have taken. “I’ve been ransacked.”

“Your building has security,” she says. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

The cushions explode, a giant, furry head popping out between the remnants of tan leather and white cotton. “Woof.”

“Fuck, Dee,” I expel the words on a breath. Not quite as relieved by the absence of any actual thief as I would expect to be. “Your damn dog destroyed my house.”

“Oh, Barclay.” She practically swoons over the villain.

His ears prick and swivel and that lollypop pink tongue rolls out of his mouth. His whole body starts to shake. Any moment he will erupt like a volcano of excitement from the nest he’s made. “Oh Barclay my ass. This dog is a nuisance.”

“He’s just a baby,” she coos. “He just needs some time and training.”

“Things you should be taking care of,” I remind her as the furry Hound of Hell gallops full tilt toward me. “Like this dating gimmick. What do I know about dogs? Or dating for that matter? You know I’m not interested in either.”

“So I’ve heard.” I can practically hear her rolling her eyes behind those vintage Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses she prefers. “Caroline told me all about your little date and subsequent office meeting. I’ll thank you very much to keep your sights off my friends.”

“Won’t happen again,” I promise, and I mean every word.

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