Page 21 of Lovesick

Chapter 8

How the hell was Louise going to pretend she was the same self-assured, savvy businesswoman at the meeting today when she felt like she was an alien in her own body, in her own world? Since she’d awakened that morning, nothing felt the same. If she’d thought she knew what people meant by “you rock my world,” she’d been mistaken.

Because now she knew. Dr. Max Pendleton had been a 9.9 on the Richter scale of her pathetic world—it must have been pathetic for her to get to nearly forty years old and never experience the kind of mind-blowing sex—not just sex—they’d shared. The whole evening had been an intimate connection like she’d never had, never allowed.

Now, about to walk into a meeting with the world-rocking man, she would pay the price. She would need to pretend they were all business. She would need every last ounce of that cool she’d been so famous for just a few days ago. Before she’d met Max.

That’s what her world had come to. The time before Max and the time after. She stood outside the conference room door and felt foolish because her heart raced, remembering the feel of his body warm and hard, skin to skin with her—never mind. Dredging up her last vestige of spunk or pride or whatever, she reached out and turned the handle, opening the door.

Max was the first person she saw. Every concern in her melted away, even her anxiety about the vote and losing the company. She couldn’t muster the sense of urgency with this man standing before her, his deep, knowing brown eyes, his luscious mouth, his calm demeanor, his—

“Lou,” he said. If she hadn’t checked herself after seeing several other family members already seated at the long table, she would have stepped into his arms. Not that he had them open for her. At least he was behaving professionally. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. It wasn’t a comfort to think she was alone in her foolish lovesick bubble.

“Take a seat, Louise,” George said, all business. “This is a working meeting. We’re hammering out all the logistics and making sure we have everything covered, making sure everyone knows their role.”

“Sure thing, coach,” she said and took the seat Max held out for her—next to him. He gave her a half smile, a tentative note to it. Digging deep to call on her training, her experience of attending hundreds of these meetings, she shoved herself into the role of operations executive, VP in charge of the department and ultra-savvy go-getter, highly accomplished businesswoman—at least according to the Times business editor six months ago who’d chosen her for their annual roundup of prominent local businesswomen.

She sat and then she listened as George directed the table like an air traffic controller with precision, avoiding any crashes of personalities and viewpoints, seeing that everyone got their say, understood their roles, and they all landed in the same place. At the Back to the Future event. The meeting was winding down and a few people chatted amongst themselves.

Louise leaned into Max and spoke in a low voice.

“What are you doing for dinner tonight? Maybe we can have our rain check—”

“I’m having dinner with my son.”

“Let me know if you want dessert later.”

He made a noncommittal response. That was when Louise realized she couldn’t compete with his son.

George said, “You’re sure you’re on board with being a prop for nostalgic photographs, Max?”

“Fine by me. We don’t get many emergencies, but if one comes up, that would take precedence. Otherwise, I’m all yours for the event.”

Louise’s gut acted out, a sharp pain plaguing her which she took as a sign that she could only take so much playacting cool and composed on the outside with all the hot memories of the night before simmering just below the surface. It had been a bad idea to sit next to Max, where every breath she took smelled of him, with a faint tinge of the air from city streets. It intoxicated her, made her dizzy.

Not too dizzy to seize the opportunity though.

“Max, you should bring your son to the event. Don’t you think he’d enjoy it?” Louise asked.

George said, “Capital idea. Bring your son, Max. What’s his name? Let’s add him to the list.”

Max gave her a look bordering on troubled. Not a happy look. He’d been neutral the whole meeting, as he should be, she’d told herself. But now he flashed annoyance or something like it.

“His name is Tim. Are you sure—”

“It would be fun for him to see his dad at work, don’t you think?” Louise said. “I always loved coming to the store and sitting in my father’s office as a child.”

Another pain shot through her lower gut and she grabbed it with her hand reflexively. Max caught the movement.

“Are you—?”

“Fine.” She flashed a big smile and waved her offending hand. “We’re all set then, everyone understands their role,” she said to the room.

“That’s my line,” George said with a raised brow and a good-natured smile.

Everyone began to gather up their files and leave the meeting. George came around to Louise and asked, “Can you stay a minute?”

“Sure.” It was the last thing she wanted to do. First on her list was to go to her office, shut the door, and lie down for a minute. Or maybe pour herself a brandy, maybe even a whiskey. Second on her list was to accompany Max back to his office and test out his desk—but no, she couldn’t do that. Shouldn’t even think it. But that was only a half-hearted attempt by her conscience with no chance of affecting her wandering thoughts.