Chapter 9
MAX
Throughout the next hour, while guests arrived, I flitted around the room to greet them, welcoming them to our event, and giving them the spiel about how amazing the charity was and what good their money could do for it. Same song and dance, different year.
Before dinner was served, and as I was making my way up to the podium to give a small speech, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, tingling.
Surreptitiously, I tried to scan the room to figure out why, but I didn’t see anyone or anything.
I closed my eyes for a brief second, calling out to the swan dwelling within me, and he was calm.
Standing at the podium, I looked out over the crowd, a smile pasted on my face, my back teeth grinding against each other.
How many of them genuinely wanted to be here to help children, to help the adults who had somehow slipped through the cracks and couldn’t read?
How many were there for the right reasons and not merely for the publicity?
I shouldn’t care, shouldn’t worry about things like this because they did donate, and our charity flourished because of it.
Maybe I was too jaded and tired of masks.
“Excuse me,” I spoke into the microphone, trying to get everyone’s attention.
“If you will take your seats, I have a few things to say and then…and then…” As my eyes wandered the crowd, my gaze locked on someone, and the speech I’d memorized and spent…
actually, no time writing, disappeared, flying away on an invisible breeze.
He stood in the shadows, but he wasn’t wholly cloaked.
Tall with broad shoulders, he towered over the woman who stood next to him.
His dark hair and all-black tuxedo made him appear dangerous and seductive, and his smile drew my attention to full lips that I could easily imagine kissing. Something about him seemed familiar.
“Max,” Fizz snapped as he threw something at me. When I peered down briefly, I found a piece of candy by my shoe.
I cleared my throat and forced myself to look away from the stranger and at something or someone else.
Anything would do. “Right. Sorry about that. I want to thank all of you for coming. The Sky’s The Limit was started by my grandfather fifty years ago.
It has worked with teachers and doctors to create programs to help people of all ages all over the world to learn to read.
In addition, it helps supplement the cost of the programs that can be found in schools and libraries.
Without your help and donations, we would not be as successful as we are.
Thank you for your patronage, your donations, and for supporting a worthy cause.
” I raised my hand during the applause, and the waitstaff moved together, delivering the first course. “Dinner is served. Bon Appetit.”
Stepping off the stage, I tried to move in the direction of the stranger I’d spotted, but a crowd had formed near the podium, preventing my escape. It also made it easier for Fizz to catch me and escort me to my table. Damn the man.
“Is something wrong, Max?” my mother asked when I sat at the table next to her.
“Not at all,” I rushed to assure her. I should have known my slip up would not be forgotten. “I’m a little tired, and Fizz and I were a little late tonight. So, I’m sure it’s that.”
“This week does get a little hectic for you.” She shook her head, a frown marring her beautiful face.
I squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry about it, Mom. After tonight, I am taking a couple of days off to rest. We don’t have to do this for another year.”
That tingling sensation zoomed through my body again, and I looked up.
There he was. The stranger I’d seen from the podium, and I remembered him from somewhere else.
The man I saw on the street. He was taller than I initially believed and had a neatly trimmed goatee, the same color as his hair and tuxedo: black.
Ignoring him and the way my heart pounded for the moment, I stood up to greet the shorter woman at his side.
“Thank you for joining us, Mrs. Jeffries. My parents told me you had accepted our invitation this year.” I kissed her hand, pushing away the slightly uneasy feeling I always got around her.
“Thank you, Max. I thought my nephew might like to attend. He’s visiting me from England. Lorde, this is Max. Max, my nephew, Lorde,” she introduced the stranger to me.
Lorde. His name rolled around in my head, and I tasted it on my tongue, rolling it around silently.
My mouth was suddenly dry. I couldn’t pretend he wasn’t there any longer, but I couldn’t remember what words were and stood there like an idiot staring at the mystery man.
He enchanted me. The feel of someone pressing their heel to my foot had me blurting, “It’s nice to meet you.
How long have you been visiting?” Well, apparently, I could talk when needed.
“A week. My parents thought I should visit my aunt since we hadn’t seen each other in years.” He grinned, and I swallowed hard.
“Max, Lorde, sit down,” my mother ordered. I had the sneaky suspicion she had been the one to step on my foot since she was closest to me.
Nodding, I smiled down at her and realized Pat Jeffries had taken my seat, leaving me to sit next to her nephew. “Uh…”
“Well, since you are only a few years older than Lorde, I thought you two might have more to talk about than anything you might have to say to the old biddies at the table.” Pat smiled sweetly, and I realized at that moment, my mother might not be playing matchmaker, but this woman definitely was, despite the fact, she barely knew me.
“Please, sit.” Lorde indicated the seat next to him and sat down next to Mrs. Harris.
I felt hot and had to fight the urge to rip off my bowtie and pull at my collar.
“Thank you,” I mumbled. This man had the ability to make me forget something I had memorized backward and forward, with one look, and my body had never reacted like this to anyone.
Now, everyone at the table expected me to sit next to him, eat a meal, and carry on a conversation?
I just prayed I didn’t choke and make an ass of myself.
There was something about him that called out to me, something familiar.
It was more than seeing him on the street, more than meeting him here or staring at him in the audience.
“How are you enjoying your visit so far?” I asked and took a bite of the salad in an attempt to shake it all off, figuring it might be my best course of action.
If I stuck to polite conversation and stuffed my mouth with food, rendering it nearly impossible to speak, I might get through this dinner without doing something completely asinine.
“It’s been lovely, although I confess, I haven’t done much. I went down to the lake and strolled around the city a bit, but not much else. It’s changed since I lived here,” he replied and took a much smaller bite of his own salad.
Maybe it was instinctual, or maybe it was because I’d experienced that particular expression my whole life, but I felt someone glaring at me.
My mother. Silently, she chastised me on my table manners.
It was not how she raised me. I wasn’t acting rude per se, but scarfing the meal wasn’t precisely behavior befitting high society.
I gulped down the bite of salad, hiding the wince of pain from the too big bite and refused to acknowledge her or her quiet scolding. “You used to live here?” I asked Lorde instead.
“Yes, we moved during the middle of my fifth-grade year. My dad received a transfer to the London office. It didn’t bother me. I hated the schools here,” he answered.
“Were the schools in England better?”
“I don’t know about all of England, but the school I went to in London was fine. I played football and had a lot of mates.” The word mate had irritation swelling in my gut, but I couldn’t comprehend why that would be.
“Football as in soccer or as in rugby?”
He laughed, the sound rich and deep. I liked it. “Rugby is not football. Well, I guess it’s like your football here in the States, sort of. It has a lot more men and is a bit rougher. For me, I mean soccer. Real football. I find it interesting that you didn’t ask if I played American Football.”
What was it about this man? I’d never reacted to someone this quickly before, but more than that, it was the way I responded to him that confused me. With one look, I wanted to kiss him. Listening to the deep timbre of his voice, I imagined taking him to my bed.
I forced myself to focus. “Why do you say that?” I chuckled.
“Well, a few NFL games have been played across the pond, and while it might not be as popular as football, there are some teams, which have popped up around the U.K.”
“No offense, but when I think of football like the Eagles or the Titans, I can’t picture England.” We both laughed, and it felt good.
The second course was served, and the conversation between us became easier, or it might have been the wine I was drinking with my meal.
I wasn’t a lightweight by any means, but I think I’d already downed three glasses, not to mention what I drank earlier in the evening before we left the house and when we arrived.
I needed to stop, or I was going to make a fool of myself not only in front of Lorde but in front of everyone here.
“How old are you?” I questioned as I cut into my roast beef.
“Twenty-nine. You?”
“Thirty-two. Although if you talk to my mother, I’m an old man.” I spoke loud enough for her to hear, and she didn’t disappoint. If anything, she had me second-guessing my decision to bring her into the conversation.
“All you do is work, work, work. No social life at all.” Her voice dropped slightly, and I got the impression she was talking to someone else and not me.
“I keep telling him he needs to find a good man to settle down with, but he’s too picky, and if the guy does meet his high standards, he has some other godawful excuse. ”