Best Man For The Job (The Men of Fear Incorporated Book 1) (2 page)

Chapter Two

Sloane

Sloane walked up the steps to her cousin Mirabella’s house. Once again, she was attending their monthly Saturday night dinner alone. She understood Brody’s job was important, but she had a hard time understanding how he could never get away when Foster, Mirabella’s fiancé, almost always made it on time. Sadly, she was beginning to get used to being the third wheel.

She should’ve just cancelled, but the idea of sitting home alone—again—was more depressing than attending dinner by herself. She knocked loudly, and without waiting for a reply, she walked inside.

“Bella?”

“Kitchen,” Mirabella called out.

Sloane practically floated into the kitchen, following the savory smell. Mirabella was bent over checking the food in the oven. She looked like she’d been pulled from the page of a 1950’s magazine. Her long blonde hair was pulled up in a stylish twist, and an A-line dress in black and white that had a red sash cinched around her slender waist ended just above her knees. Red pumps that seemed silly to Sloane—who wore heels in her own house?—completed her look.

“Oh my…Is that your famous stew?” Sloane practically had to wipe the drool off her bottom lip. Her stomach growled as she breathed in the savory smell.

After closing the oven door, Mirabella turned to her, smiling. “Yes, it is.” Her smile faded a little. “Where’s Brody?”

“Work…You know…”

Bella shook her head. “Yeah, I know. Grab that bottle of wine over there and pour us a glass, Chickie.”

“Where’s Foster? I can’t believe he isn’t in here trying to sneak food when your back is turned.” She chuckled.

“I heard that.” Foster entered the kitchen looking relaxed in a pair of black jeans and a red button-down shirt. He crossed the room and kissed Sloane on the cheek. “How ya doin’, Hon?”

“Not too bad. My boss has been forgetting things again, so my job has been that much harder trying to make up for it. I’ve had to make excuses for so many missed meetings, but I’m not sure what else I can do.”

Being the personal assistant to Detlef Marek, CEO of Marek Enterprises, was definitely a challenge some days. Lately it was downright exhausting. His company had its fingers in multiple pies. From real estate to insurance to construction—you name it, Mr. Marek had an interest in it. He was a decent enough guy, and even in his mid-fifties, he was still a captivating man. Thankfully he wasn’t a pervert like her last boss had been, and unlike his son, Sydney. Sydney Marek was every bit as charming as his father when he wanted to be. Unfortunately, he didn’t want to very often.

After gathering the side dishes, Sloane carried them to the dining room table, where she saw the fourth setting that would be a symbol of Brody’s absence the entire night. Maybe she should clear the setting before they sat down. Sighing, she headed back to the kitchen, only to change courses to answer the extremely loud doorbell.

“Got it,” she called over her shoulder.

Maybe Brody had gotten away from work after all. Quickening her stride, she couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of Brody surprising her. Her disappointment was short lived, however. She pulled the door open, and standing on the front porch was a man that she’d never seen before.

He was tall with shaggy brown hair that fell over his forehead and the tops of his ears. Eyes the color of strong whiskey—whiskey she’d gladly get drunk on—were framed by the darkest eyelashes she had ever seen without help from mascara. The three-day-old stubble on his face only added to the allure, and she could see the hint of a tattoo peeking out below his shirtsleeve.

“Hello,” she croaked. “Can I help you?”

His gaze skimmed down her body quickly before flicking back up to meet her eyes. “Hi, I’m looking for Foster or Mirabella.”

“Great. You’re just in time,” Foster called as he closed the distance between them. “Come on in, man.”

“It smells like Heaven in here.” The stranger brushed past Sloane and shook Foster’s hand.

Foster gestured toward her. “Max, this is Sloane, Bella’s cousin.”

“Nice to meet you,” Max said courteously, offering his hand. A small grin tugged at his full, kissable lips.

Sloane shook his hand, nodding politely before following the men back to the dining room, sneaking glances at Max the whole time. The man had the finest ass to ever be encased in a pair of denim. Mmmm. Good grief, what was wrong with her? A long dry spell was what was wrong. Brody hadn’t so much as touched her in the last few months. Sadly, it didn’t bother her as much as it should; he had gotten increasingly more aggressive during sex, causing more pain than pleasure. She hadn’t had an orgasm the last dozen or so times they were together. She’d rather go without at this point. How depressing was that? Sloane poured another glass of wine for herself, downing half before taking a seat. Max took the seat across from her, leaving the other two seats for Bella and Foster.

“Bella, I’ve been dreaming of this all week.” Max winked at her.

Bella laughed. “Glad you could finally drag your ass over here. It’s been too long,” she scolded playfully.

“Yes, it has.”

“How’s the job?”

“Eh, I’ve been running backgrounds mostly this week.”

Bella smiled. “Didn’t I see you in the paper last week? The society page to boot.”

“Yeah, I was keeping a watch on Yancy Bloodworth’s daughter, Zoë. It was her twenty-third birthday. Daddy didn’t want anyone getting too ‘handsy’ with his little princess.” He rolled his eyes.

“As in Yancy Bloodworth, real estate mogul?” Sloane asked, filling her glass again. Mirabella gave her a sideways glance, making a point to look at her very full glass. Sloane just shrugged a shoulder at her.

Max nodded. “I do security, among other things. He hired me to keep her safe.”

“Mr. Bloodworth is an intimidating guy. He’s not very big physically, but there’s something about him that sets my teeth on edge.”

Max’s eyebrows shot up. “You know him?” He seemed surprised. Sloane wasn’t sure why that bothered her.

“I’m Detlef Marek’s personal assistant; they have dealings together and he often comes by the office.”

The four of them made small talk until they finished dinner. Sloane helped Mirabella clear the table and get dessert. She took all the plates in first, returning to collect the wine glasses. Max handed over his, their fingertips touching briefly. His eyes locked with hers. She could feel the heat that colored her cheeks as she spun around, quickly retreating to the kitchen.

“I’ll pour the coffee,” she muttered.

“You all right, Sloane? You look flushed.” Bella smirked.

“I’m fine. Must be the wine. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It could be the wine, or…It could be that fine example of a man out there.”

“Max? I don’t even know him.”

“But you want to.”

“Shut up, Bella. Even if I did want to, I’m already seeing someone.”

“Look, I mean this in the most loving way: You are a moron.”

Sloane narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Brody is a piece of shit if I ever met one, and you deserve a whole hell of a lot better.”

Mirabella stood on the other side of the kitchen island with her hands on her hips, her expression daring Sloane to disagree. Mirabella was more than her cousin—she was her best friend. Denying Brody’s affairs would be pointless since Sloane had cried on Bella’s couch just last month and it hadn’t been the first time. She had a feeling he was up to his old tricks again, but she wasn’t going to admit that to Bella.

“We’ve had our roadblocks, yeah.”

“Roadblocks? That’s what you call finding him in bed with a stripper? A stripper, Sloane.”

Sloane’s eyes burned; she couldn’t go down that road right now. It was too much. “I don’t want to talk about it tonight, Bella,” she whispered. “Please.”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” She walked around the island and took Sloane in her arms. “It just pisses me off that he thinks he can do that to you.”

“I know.” Her whispered words hung between them for a moment. Sloane knew that he thought he could do those things because she always forgave him. She also knew she should leave him, only she wasn’t strong enough to actually do it. She kept hoping he would change.

“All right,” Bella said. “Grab some plates. I’ve got the pie.”

***

Max

Max looked up as the women came out of the kitchen. The smell of warm cherry pie filled the room. Biting into his slice, Max tried to keep his gaze from traveling over to Sloane. She was breathtaking. When she’d opened the front door, he’d thought he might have to pick up his lower jaw before he walked into the house. Her skin was ivory and looked softer than satin. He loved that she wasn’t artificially tanned like a lot of women he encountered in his line of work. Her honey-colored hair was loose, hanging halfway down her back. Max longed to fist his hands in it. The thought tightened his pants.
Shit.
He had to calm down. No way she wouldn’t notice if he had to stand anytime soon.

Sloane’s phone rang. Smiling at the screen, she quickly excused herself and hurried into the kitchen. Foster shook his head, and Mirabella gave him a small, sad half smile. Sloane’s raised voice floated in from the kitchen. They all sat quietly, trying not to be obvious about the fact they were all trying to eavesdrop. Bella worried her bottom lip, stealing glances at Foster. Foster alternated his gaze between Bella and the kitchen door. They were failing miserably at it. Max watched them quietly, wondering what could be going on to cause the concerned expression on Bella’s face. Suddenly it all became clear.

“Why not? You promised you wouldn’t miss tonight, Brody…Selfish? Me? …who is she this time? I know you’re fucking someone! I’m not stupid! …Whatever. Do what you want. You always do.”

Sloane came out of the kitchen with a fresh bottle of red wine in one hand and a glass in the other. “Sorry about that, what did I miss?”

She smiled, only this time it didn’t reach her expressive blue eyes. While Mirabella was completely put together even for an evening at home, her nails freshly painted and every hair in its proper place, Sloane was the opposite. Her polish was starting to chip, bangs that were slightly overgrown framed her face, and she wore a simple V-neck t-shirt with blue jeans. She was exactly what Max liked. She sat down, looking at Bella expectantly.

“We were just discussing going to Velvet Ropes next weekend. Are you in?”

Damn, Bella lied good. Max chuckled to himself. Velvet Ropes was the newest club to open its doors. The line to get in was always wrapped halfway around the building after eight at night, even on weekdays. Max had been there once for a job.

Sloane smoothed her hair from her face. “Sure, why not. I doubt I’ll have plans.”

“Max, you said you were in, right?” Mirabella smiled slyly.

“How could I refuse after you made stew?”

“You can’t.”

The next thing Max knew it was almost midnight. Sloane’s bottle of red was as empty as her glass. The alcohol induced pink flush covering her cheeks made him smile to himself, even if the reason she drank that much didn’t. This was Brody’s “vanilla” girlfriend—the one he was cheating on, and apparently not for the first time.

The three of them had settled in the living room after dinner, and he now sat in the recliner in the corner, watching Sloane stare into the fireplace. Mirabella and Foster held hands on the couch, whispering into each other’s ear. They occasionally glanced at Sloane, only to whisper some more. Sometimes giggling, but mostly they looked concerned.

Max couldn’t take his eyes off her; she made his insides crawl. It was as though his skin was too tight for his body. He wanted to push her hair out of her eyes like he’d watched her do a dozen times tonight. He wanted to tell her Brody was a damn fool and didn’t deserve her. To take her lips with his. He wanted her. Plain and simple. But he’d just met her. How could he feel this strongly? It didn’t make any sense.

Sloane stood up abruptly like she’d awakened from a trance. She staggered slightly, using the mantel to steady herself.

“Thank you both for dinner,” she said. “It’s late; I better get going.”

Bella shook her head. “Honey, stay here tonight. You’re in no condition to drive.”

“I’m fine, really.” She stumbled, only to fling a hand out to balance against the wall.

Max stood up. “I’ll take her home. I was going to head out myself.”

“That’s all right, Max. You don’t have to,” Bella protested.

Max walked over to Sloane and gently pried her keys from her fingers. Warmth spread from every place her fingers touched his. It radiated up his arm and throughout his body similar to an electric current from a live wire. She pulled her hand back quickly, her eyes widening. Max knew she felt it too. His eyes were drawn to her full lips, and her tongue darted across them, leaving them glistening. His body responded to such a simple act just as easily as if she’d rubbed herself against him. Yup, time to get outta here before Foster figured it out. He always could read Max like a book.