Dream Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

should use other sources, too. I don’t demand exclusivity of my clients, just… honesty. As I require of the people who apply for the jobs.”
    â€œEverything up-front and straightforward, huh? Was it that famous straightforwardness that attracted unsuitable men for the position, or something else?”
    Jeanie shrugged. “Maybe.” She didn’t try to explain that non-answer, but he was not apparently about to drop the subject.
    His smile mocked her. “Hmm. I wonder what it could have been, then?”
    None of them looked like you.
    She flicked a glance at him and caught his eyebrows raising upwards. Heavens! She hadn’t said that out loud, had she? No. No, of course not. She was much too self-controlled to blurt out every passing thought, though every little part of her responded to him and his incredible smile, even when he was making fun of her. It made her mad even while it excited her so much, she almost drove into the back of a bus. It wasn’t fair! No woman should have to try to drive sensibly with a man like Max McKenzie smiling at her from the passenger seat. Maybe if she stopped, told him to get into the backseat and crouch down so she couldn’t see him, they’d both be safer. Except then he’d know how crazy he was making her.
    â€œIt was not lack of straightforwardness,” she said, making no attempt to stem the huffy tone. “What I meant was, if you spread the word around about what you’re looking for, maybe you’ll have better results. No point in relying on one source.”
    â€œI won’t. But if you do hear of something you think might be right for me, will you call? Something wild and interesting and unusual enough for my article?” He reached into his breast pocket and took out a card, placing it on the dash just as she swung the car into the parking lot behind her building.
    She stared at the little white rectangle as she pulled up on the hand brake and turned off the ignition. Then, almost against her will, she reached out and took it, dropping it into an outside pocket of her purse.
    â€œYes,” she said. “Of course, Mr. McKenzie.”
    â€œHey,” he said, “you called me Max just a few minutes ago. Why the return to formality?”
    Jeanie opened her door, stepped out, and looked at him across the car roof when he had alighted. “Good-bye, Mr. McKenzie. Thank you for the lunch.” She couldn’t begin to explain to him why she felt the need to hide behind what he called formality. She couldn’t even explain it to herself. But she felt it was better that they stay several arms’ lengths away from each other even when they were saying good-bye. And why not be formal? It wasn’t as though she intended to see him again.
    He didn’t stay one car width away, let alone an arm’s length. He came right up to her, smiled at her, bent his head, and brushed an impudent kiss over her lips. Then, lifting his hand in a little salute, he said, “See you, Jeanie,” and strode away along the sidewalk, around the corner, and out of sight.
    Jeanie stood there for several minutes, gripping her purse so tightly, her hands ached. Her insides shook. Her head spun. Her knees quaked. She would not, under any circumstances, see that man again. She wondered bleakly as she climbed the four flights of stairs to her office if there were some way she could ensure that she would never go to sleep again. Because if she did, she knew she would see him—in her dreams.
    â€œIt’s not fair!” Why should the perfect ‘weird’ job offer come in now, a week after she’d first met Max McKenzie, six days after she’d firmly—several times a day—put him out of her mind. “It simply is not fair.”
    â€œDid you call me, Ms. Leslie?”
    Jeanie looked up to see the girl in the doorway. “No, Cindy. I was talking to myself. It’s all right. Go on home now.