TROUBLE TO THE 'NTH DEGREE.
When Maximillian Davidoff meets Silken McCullen little does he know how much trouble will follow in her wake. The woman practically gets him thrown out of an establishment he could have purchased without a thought. And then, as if that weren't bad enough, she bulldozes her way into his life and proceeds to act like she's in charge. He soon finds out that there's a whole lot of woman packed into that petite bundle.
Silken McCullen has always had a feisty streak but no matter how she tries to curb her fiery nature it's forever getting her in trouble. When she first meets Maximillian Davidoff it is under less than ideal circumstances...particularly because her temper clouds her judgment and she ends up cursing him out. It is only after she has given him a good piece of her mind that she finds out that he is innocent of her charges. Now it falls on her to track him down and apologize. But apologies come hard for Silken and, before you know it, she's in a new kind of trouble with Max...but this time it's oh, so sweet.
With Silken McCullen, trouble is always just around the corner.
CHAPTER ONE
Damn, she looks good. Max took a sip of mineral water as he stared across the room at the dark-haired beauty as she practically bounced her way to the bar. Petite and slender, she wore a white polo shirt and tennis skirt that exposed legs that were tanned and toned. She looked so full of energy that he couldn’t help but smile. She’d obviously just finished a round of tennis and had been energized by it. He, on the other hand, was brand new to the sports facility in Cupertino and had just finished a work-out in the gym. He’d been lax these past few months and his return to weightlifting had left him drained.
The girl leaned against the counter and gave the bartender a wave and a smile. “Hi, Peter. The usual, please.”
The man, big and burly with a bushy mustache that gave him the air of a rough woodsman, gave her a welcoming smile and a nod. “One bottle of ice-cold spring water, coming right up.”
The girl hopped up onto the barstool and stuck out her hand to grab the bottle of water the bartender sent sailing along the smooth wooden surface.
“On your tab?” he asked, giving her a solicitous look.
“As usual, my man,” she said with a laugh then popped the cap off the bottle and raised it to her lips.
Just then, the door to the back of the bar swung open and a gangly kid with a shock of red hair and glasses walked in. “Yow, Peter. The boss needs you in the office for a sec. I’ll hold the fort till you get back.”
Peter shrugged. “Not much going on out here anyway, not at this time of day.” Then he tilted his chin toward the girl. “Suave’s my only customer. Make sure you take care of her.”
“Sure thing,” the kid gushed as he hurried to position himself behind the bar. He had a twinkle in his eyes and a wide grin that told Max he was more than stricken by the beauty perched on the stool. But he looked seventeen, eighteen max, while she looked like she was in her early twenties, probably twenty-three or twenty-four. Max couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched the boy approach her. Good luck with that, kid. She probably won’t even give you the time of day.
To his surprise, the girl – Suave, the bartender had called her – actually engaged in animated conversation with him, not seeming the least bit perturbed that he was checking her out in his bumbling kind of way. From what he could hear of the conversation she had no problem with flattering his teenage ego. He was sure most women who looked like she did would have shooed him away at his first stuttering utterance and at the first sight of his freckle-faced grin. But not this one. She was the epitome of patience, he had to give her that much.
And then another lone customer walked in, a man Max remembered seeing in the weight room, and he plopped himself down on the stool right beside Suave. “Hey, kid, get me a beer.” He jerked his head at the boy, dismissing him, and turned his attention to the girl who kept her head straight and her eyes averted, obviously disconcerted by the nearness of the man who had just arrived.
“So what’s your name, honey?” he asked as he leaned toward her, so close that she jerked back. “Hey, I’m not gonna bite.” The man gave an exaggerated version of a wounded look. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.” Then he gave her a sugary smile. “I’m Dirk, by the way. I’m new here. Want to show me around?”
Suave’s brows knitted in a frown and she shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said, her voice quiet but firm, then she began to slide off her stool.
“Where’re you going?” The man’s hand shot out and encircled her upper arm.
She gasped. “Let go of me.” She tried to pull away but his grasp must have been too strong because instead of moving farther away she ended up just inches from her tormentor.
With a grunt Max shoved back his chair and got up. Although it was technically none of his business, damned if he was going to sit there and let that jerk harass a defenseless girl.
But before he could move she took matters into her own hands, pulled back her sneakered foot and gave him a swift kick.
“Oww!” The man released her and grabbed his shin with both hands. “What did you do that for?” he shouted but by that time she was off the stool and flying across the room and out the door.
Max expelled his breath but he didn’t sit back down. He stood there, staring at the frowning man until he looked around and caught Max’s narrowed gaze on him. That must have made him real uncomfortable because he gave a grunt, got up off his stool and walked away, not even waiting for the beer the kid was bringing over to him.
Max tightened his lips and shook his head. No matter where you went you couldn’t get away from the bozos. They were like bugs in the woodwork. You thought you had an insect-free environment until one day one of them reared his ugly head.
The kid, looking like he was still scared shitless by the burly bully, drew the mug of beer toward him, dumped it in the sink then stared at the exit through which Suave had disappeared. On his face was a forlorn, little-dog-lost look.
Feeling sorry for the kid, Max strode over and ordered a sports drink then struck up a conversation with him. It was almost funny the way the tension slid from the boy’s face and soon he was busy blabbing about his surfing triumphs.