Who Gets To Marry Max?

“Okay. I’ll try.” Bailey swam toward him. “But can I try the diving board even if I splash?”

“You have to ask your mother.”

Bailey frowned. “She won’t let me.”

Max plucked her from the pool and seated her on the deck next to him. “I’ll tell her I taught you how to dive. Then you can ask her.”

He earned a toothless grin. “Thanks, Uncle Max.” The child turned inquisitive eyes to Sidney. “Who is that lady?”

Max still didn’t look at her. “A friend of mine.”

“A good friend?”

He paused. “Yes.”

Bailey studied her. “I’m Bailey.”

Sidney smiled. “I’m Sidney.”

Bailey watched her with open curiosity. “How come you aren’t wearing a swimsuit?”

“Because I’m not here to swim. I’m here to work.”

“Oh. Like Uncle Max.”

“He’s swimming,” Sidney pointed out.

Bailey jumped up and reached for a towel. “Only for me. He promised to teach me how to dive so I could use the diving board. He woulda worked instead if he hadn’t promised.”

As Bailey vigorously dried her mop of red curls, Max finally turned to look at Sidney. His eyes gleamed in the morning light—like a predator’s, she thought. “Good morning,” he said quietly.

“Good morning.” She plucked a piece of paper from her trouser pocket. “I got your note. You wanted to see me about something?”

“It wasn’t a summons.”

“It sounded like it.”

Max frowned. “I didn’t mean—”

“Uncle Max?” Bailey tapped him on the shoulder.

His frown deepened before he looked at his niece. “What, Sprout?”

“When are you gonna tell Mama?”

“This morning.”

Bailey’s gaze slid to Sidney. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he said.

“You might get distracted.”

Max rolled his eyes. “I will not get distracted.”

Bailey continued looking at Sidney. “Uncle Greg would.”

“I’m not your uncle Greg.”

“No.” Bailey shook her head, then shrugged. “I want to dive off the board this afternoon. I told Kristina we would.”

“This morning,” Max said again, giving his niece a gentle shove. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay.”

“Now say goodbye.”

Bailey grinned at Sidney. “Nice to meet you, Sidney.”

Max ruffled her curls. “It’s Miss Grant.”

“But she said—”

“It’s Miss Grant.”

Sidney held up a hand, “Max, really—”

He shook his head. “Bailey?”

Bailey capitulated. “Nice to meet you, Miss Grant.”

Max and Sidney watched as the child hurried off across the deck. “She’s a great kid,” Sidney said.

“Natalie is a great mother.” Max pinned her with his gaze. “How was your night?”

The question couldn’t possibly be as provocative as it sounded. “Fine. You?”

He shrugged, then surged to his feet. Sidney forced herself not to take a step backward as he stood dripping and imposing above her. “It was fine. I wanted to ask you about your plans for this evening. Can you take a break?”

She visually scanned the deck. “Everything seems to be under control. Your guests are apparently content. Except maybe Mr. Lort. He looks a little the worse for wear.”

His mouth twitched at the corner. “Yeah, well, if I’d spent the night with Alice Northrup-Bowles, I’d look that way, too.”

Sidney ruthlessly pushed aside an image of Constance Barlow, wearing a sparkling designer dress, clinging to Max’s tuxedo-clad arm, looking like a “do” example in Town and Country Magazine.

Max snatched a towel from a nearby lounge chair, then slung it casually around his shoulders. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “Let me change, and I’ll meet you in my office in five minutes. Will that be okay?”

She deliberately ignored the warning bells in her head. More time alone with Max. Great. At this rate, she’d be a basket case by noon. The man raised her body heat into the red zone. “That’ll be fine.”