Taming Mad Max Read Online Free PDF

for a moment as she tried to decipher whether or not he was serious. “And you resemble a Greek God,” she said with a chuckle. “Is that what you’re going to tell me next?”
    “No, but now that you mentioned it...”
    She burst out laughing. The man was the E in egotistical.
    “Glad you’re so easily amused by my misery.”
    She lowered her voice in an attempt to imitate him. “I’m a rich man who happens to be a pro-athlete, a celebrity of sorts. I am also single and attractive, if I do say so myself.”
    “You’re the one who said I resembled a Greek God. But that doesn’t matter.” He drove through the gate then merged onto the main road. “I was only trying to make a point. Any rich, single male celebrity who tries to go to the grocery store in Beverly Hills is asking for trouble.”
    “I’m sure it must be very taxing for you, shooing away one lady after another. Don’t worry, Max, I’ll take care of everything.”
    He smiled. “Fine, but I only mentioned it because I was worried about you. I usually have my groceries delivered.”
    She smiled at the conceited man. He may be crazy gorgeous, but what sort of shallow, foolhardy woman would want a man so vain he couldn’t handle going to the grocery store?
    Thirty minutes later, standing in the produce section of the grocery store, Kari took hold of a cucumber and held it out like a sword, ready to use it the next time a cute blonde or tall brunette, or anyone for that matter, came up to Max and interrupted her discussion on shopping smart.
    Who did these people think they were anyhow? At this rate, they would never get out of the grocery store before dark.
    “Half the battle of healthy eating,” she continued, ignoring the I-told-you-so expression on his face, “is having a variety of nutritious foods on hand so that when the mood to snack hits you, you’ve got the right foods to—”
    “OH MY GOD! It’s Max Dutton! Shelby, you were right,” the woman shouted across the produce section. “It’s him. It’s Mad Max.”
    The woman wasn’t the least bit shy. She walked right up to Max and stood so close her breasts brushed against him as her gaze roamed over his face. “You’re even better looking in person than on television,” she said. “CBS should give you your own show. I mean a few minutes of rambling on about some stupid defensive play you made just isn’t long enough.”
    The woman took a step back, her gaze falling lower until she appeared to be looking at the tips of his lustrous brown Ferragamo shoes. The woman’s gaze slowly wandered upward again, locking in on his crotch. Then the woman shook her head, making her red hair swing. “I can’t believe I’m standing here talking to you.”
    The redhead had more curves than Lombardi Street, and she was eating him alive with her eyes.
    “I hate to ruin your fun,” Kari cut in, using the cucumber to emphasize her point, “but Mr. Dutton isn’t here to chat or give out autographs. He’s here to shop for food. Nobody seems to care if he dies an early death because he doesn’t know that artichokes provide potassium and folic acid, or that cabbage is a good source of vitamin C. If this man doesn’t learn to eat right, he’s never going to know that fats are not created equal, or that heart-smart eating requires a diet rich in lean proteins, fresh fruit and vegetables, which means he’ll lose his job, and the next time you watch the Los Angeles Condors play, he won’t be there because he’ll be dead.”
    The redhead looked at her friend before she let out a huff and marched off.
    “Impressive,” Max said.
    “Thanks. I guess I owe you an apology.”
    He pushed the cart toward the mounds of lettuce. “No worries.”
    “No. I really am sorry. I had no idea.”
    A little man with a camera strapped around his neck popped up in the aisle between the bananas and the cantaloupes and began taking pictures. Bulbs flashed, one after another, blinding her.
    Kari held up a Fuji