A Little Crushed (31 page)

At that moment, his mother made her entrance, bursting through the double oak doors, flanked by two beautiful specimens of English Setter, hotly pursued by another one of the interminable Jackson Media guards. “Madame, please. Animals are not permitted on the premises.”

“Oh, go away and play with your gun. As my dear, departed husband owned the place, I think I’ m entitled to do as I bloody well please. Besides, there is plenty of scavenging wildlife in here already. Now can someone fetch some water? My poor babies have been shut in the car for hours. Typical Robert, always messing up my life.”

An indulgent grin on his face, Max waved the distraught guard away. Max’s mother strode around the room, her faithful hounds in tow.

“Oh, God.” Max groaned. “Now the fun starts. Whatever I say now, just ignore me.”

“My condolences, Max.”

Rebecca stared into the florid face of a man at Kate’s side. She presumed he was her father. Uncomfortable as she was at this face-to-face meeting with Max’s ex, she fought hard to swallow a giggle. Kate’s dad bore a strong resemblance to a beaver. All that was missing were the teeth.

“Thank you,” Max replied stiffly.

“Yer sorry, mate.” A younger version of Kate’s father edged his way to their side.

Under his too-obvious appraisal, Rebecca squirmed, a fragment of that old unease clawing back up from the deep recesses of her mind. Blatant sexual interest burned in his pale, serpent eyes.

“I’m Ron, and you must be the ravishing Rebecca who stole Max away from my sister. I can see how you managed it. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” He held out his hand.

Max caught it in an iron fist. “Not a mistake, I can assure you.”

The look of latent violence in Max’s eyes alarmed her. He looked as if he wanted to smash this man’s face to a pulp.

Ron was obviously not too perceptive. “A touch possessive, are we not?”

Max took a step forward. “Ron, if you don’t leave right now, I’m going to take you by your fat, wrinkly neck and throw you through that window over there. And don’t think because this is a funeral I won’t do it. My father would have been the first to congratulate me. It’s about the only thing we ever agreed on. You are and always have been a total fucking prat. One more thing, if you ever so much as
look
in Rebecca’s direction again, I will cut off your miserable little dick and feed it to my mother’s dogs. Now do we understand each other?”

Ron’s face went from red to puce and then back to red again. Amidst an enthralled hush, he wisely moved on.

“Never let it be said Max Jackson does not know how to show a girl a good time.” Taking her in his arms, he held her close. “So you see, darling, you were right all along. I am an uncouth, Aussie Neanderthal.”

“An impressive one, nevertheless.” She hugged him.

“A bit over the top, don t you think, Max?” Kate’s tone was chilly.

Expression on robot impassive, arm still around Rebecca’s shoulder, he reached for another brandy. “I thought I was quite restrained.” He raised his glass in a salute. “He’s an arse, but I give him credit for having the guts to show up—after last time.”

Without another word, Kate turned on her spiked heels and walked away.

“So what happened last time?” Rebecca elbowed him.

“Not much.” His sheepish expression didn’t fool her. “Oh, okay then. Ron opened his big, stupid mouth, so I rammed my fist in it. Actually, it was quite impressive, even if I do say so myself. He crashed against a trolley of canapés and then fell backward into the pool. A superhero couldn’t have done a better job. Unfortunately, Kate’s parents were not so impressed. It was their Christmas party I ruined.”

“Oh.” Rebecca studied him, bemused. “And to think I thought you boring. May I ask what poor Ron did to incur the wrath of the Tasmanian devil?”

Max winced. “He made some derogatory comment about my being seduced by young, manipulative English girls. Of course, I knew he was only repeating the line Kate had fed him. But that was it—the end for Kate and me. I knew from the way I reacted it was you I loved. Kate knew it, too. I moved out the next day.”

“Thank you.” Emotion welled in her heart. “I’ve never had a knight in shining armour before.”

“And now you have one forever.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And don’t dare cry because I may have to take you home and ravish you.”

“Ah, there you are.” Peggy strolled up to them. “Mr. Smythe would like a word, Max. I tried to put him off, but he says it’s important.”

“Fuck it.” Max emptied another glass. “Can’t he leave me in peace for a minute? What the hell do we pay these people for? Sorry, Rebecca. Rain check on the ravishing?”

“Don’t be so bloody testy.” Peggy warned him. “You are going to have to work with these people. And go easy on the brandy. People are beginning to notice.”

“Who cares? It’s my party, and I’ll get pissed if I want to, isn’t that right, my darling?”

“Rebecca, say something.” Peggy turned to her for help. “He’s being very juvenile.”

“I know.” Gazing up at him, she stood up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “It’s great, isn’t it? I think he’s funny.”

“See why I love this girl, Peg? All right.” He raised his hands to the ceiling. “I’m coming.” Throwing Rebecca a roguish wink, he followed his assistant into the madding crowd.

Before Rebecca had time to catch her breath, Max’s mother materialized at her side.

“Has that silly woman gone? I don’t know what Max ever saw in Kate. Do you know she doesn’t even know the difference between an English and Irish Setter?”

“Really?” Rebecca chewed on the inside of her mouth to ward off a chuckle. “I mean, that’s terrible.”

“Do
you
know?” Green eyes, so like Max’s dazzled her.

“Well, of course I do. An English Setter is either black and white or liver and white. It’s a much heavier boned dog with a deeper stop and looser jowls. An Irish—”

“I knew it.”

Before Rebecca had time to move out of reach, Max’s mother clasped her in a tight squeeze and kissed her cheek. “You are, without doubt, the girl for my Max. He was so right. You are definitely interesting.”

“I am?” Rebecca wondering what exactly Max had told his mother. Nothing too rude, she hoped.

“Oh yes. Such a fascinating story. So romantic. It’s a pity about the little dog. Some people can be so cruel. Now Rebecca, can you watch my babies for me? I’ve just spied a woman my husband used to know, and I do mean in the biblical sense. I believe she owes me some jewelry. One more thing, don’t let that Ron Marsden near them. I don’t know if the bastard’s had any of his shots.”

Rebecca watched, fascinated, as she marched through the crowd and cornered a poor, unsuspecting blonde. Max’s mother was great. “This party is crazier than the Mad Hatter’s.” She turned to see two pairs of soulful eyes staring up at her expectantly. “So, who is Simon, and who is Garfunkel? Great names, by the way.”

* * * *

Max shut off from the never-ending platitudes spouting forth from the lips of his father’s personal banker.

“Please don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.” The banker gave him what he probably considered to be a manly slap on the back.

Max gritted his teeth; he’d rather call Attila the Hun than this weaselly little man. “I will, Paul.” God, he’d smiled so much his jaw wanted to crumble. He moved away before the irritating man could launch into another testimony to his father’s good and charitable works.

“Someone forgot to mention to him that charity, supposedly, begins at home. Please, Miss, can I go home and play now. I’ve done my bit.”

“Max, I really don’t know what’s got into you.” Peggy shook her head, trying to sound severe, but Max caught the laughter hidden behind her reprimand.

“Nothing. It’s been quite fun, actually, but now I just want to get out of here. Where is my breathtaking Rebecca? It’s okay, I see her.” Handing Peggy his empty glass, he pushed through the hordes.

She sat on the floor in the corner, her long, coltish legs curled under her. Hidden behind a pillar, he watched her feed canapés to his mother’s hounds. Simon sprawled across her lap, covering her nice, new frock with a fine coating of white, albeit champion, hairs while Garfunkel, not to be outdone, was busy gnawing at her long-since discarded shoes. His heart swelled in his chest. God did he love this girl. It suddenly became so crystal-clear. Rebecca was all that mattered to him. Nothing else even came close.

“My mother will kill you.” Max stepped out from his hiding place and crouched down. He lifted the glass of wine out of Simon’s reach. “Are you corrupting her babies?”

“It worked on you, didn’t it?” She beamed. “Anyway, we’re having fun. They’re much more interesting than half the people here. Besides, they haven’t drunk that much.”

At this point Garfunkel belched and brought up a nice little pile of partly digested smoked roe pate.

Rebecca giggled.

“I’m glad I’m not the cleaner.” Max pulled her to her feet.

The dogs jumped up, growling, not wanting their fun to end.

“Excuse me boys, but she is mine.”

“Are you leaving?” Sissi arrived, looking rather flushed and very pleased with herself. “Why didn’t anyone tell me funerals could be so much fun and so cathartic? At long last, Max, your father finally gave me a good time.”

“We’re just about to.” Max kissed her cheek. “I’m in danger of getting seriously pissed out of my head, and I can’t have that. I want to get this delectable creature home.”

His mother remained unfazed. “Call me.” She patted his arm. “And bring Rebecca out to the farm sometime. She must meet Garfunkel’s puppies.”

“Max!” Rebecca slapped his hand. “You are really naughty.” She giggled as he swung her off her feet before kissing her passionately. “You’re tipsy, aren’t you?”

“A little,” he admitted, and ignoring the disapproving stares, he kissed her again. “But not enough that I won’t be able to make wild love to you when I get you upstairs. Let’s get out of here.”

Max studied the stunned faces of his board members and knew they thought he had gone quite mad.

His father’s lawyer wiped at his sweat soaked brow. “Have you really thought this through? Are you ready to give up control, all the power?”

He laughed. “Power? What do I want with power? I’m not my father, and I’ve decided I have no wish to be. Just draw up the necessary papers and have them ready for me to sign by this afternoon. I want to get this over with as quickly as possible. I want to get on with my life. Let’s go, Peg. It’s settled.”

“You are sure about this, aren’t you, Max?” Peggy followed him from the conference room. “You can still change your mind. I’ll understand.”

He stopped and caught her by the shoulders. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, Peg. This is what I want.
She
is what I want. I won’t risk losing her.”

* * * *

Rebecca picked up the remote and idly flicked through the channels, only to turn it off. Was there nowhere in the world safe from TV shopping? She supposed she ought to eat something, but she wasn’t that hungry. Max had been gone since eight a.m., and she missed him like crazy. He’d been in a strange mood, distracted, and that scared her. With the funeral over, it was time for him to step into the real world. They’d talked long into the night about their future.
Her
future. He wanted her to get her degree.

“Well, he bloody would, wouldn’t he?” she addressed the tank of exotic tropical fish. The fish looked on, bored.

“You don’t say much, do you?” She had never understood the fascination in fish. Jack’s stick insects were livelier. Thinking of her brother churned up a huge wave of homesickness. God, she even missed Vicky. And Wally. Poor old Wal. He was probably pining away for her—and her chocolate bars.

Her mind did a U-turn back to Max. He was so amazing, but then she’d always known that. Sighing, she stretched out on the sofa and folded her arms behind her head. Still, like a pneumatic drill, doubt drilled away at her confidence. In little over a month, the college year would begin. A month was nothing, not when she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Max, she knew, would play the role of rational adult, although he hadn’t been so grown-up last night. Remembering their crazy lovemaking, she giggled. Of course, he’d been a little drunk, high on brandy and emotion. “Oh, shut up, Rebecca.” Rolling on to her side, she tried to talk herself up. “He isn’t going to abandon you, and even if he makes you go home, Christmas break won’t be far off and—”

A discreet knock at the door pushed her train of thought off its too winding track. Curious, she went to open it, only to find the blonde with the cheese cutter bob standing there, waving an envelope in her hand.

“I’m so sorry for disturbing you.” She smiled, so obviously not, her tone sugary with sarcasm. “But the confirmation just came through by email. Please give this to Mr. Jackson as soon as he returns. Enjoy your flight.”

Rebecca snatched the envelope from the velociraptor talons and slammed the door. Miss Wilde forgotten, her heart skipped a beat, folding in on itself. It could only mean one thing. In a zombie-like trance, she carried the offending article into the bedroom. Pain ripped through her and sat down on the bed. Crumbling up the envelope, she allowed it to slip from her trembling fingers. She swallowed the brick-sized lump in her throat. What could she do? Nothing except pack.

* * * *

“Rebecca?”

She heard the front door close and the sound of metal on metal. His car keys, she imagined. Wiping at her face, she sat up and tried to ease the creases from her clothes. She’d been lying in them for hours so not much luck there.

Max opened the bedroom door. “Hey, why are you in here, sitting in the dark? Loosening his tie, he crossed to the bed and sprawled out. “What a bloody awful day.” He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her down next to him, spooning her with his body. “But it just got better. Miss me?” Not waiting for her reply, he kissed her, his fingers playing with her hair. “You taste good…like strawberries and cream.”

“Please. Stop.” She wriggled free from his too seductive embrace. “You are not helping.”