What Maxi Needs (Leave Your Shoes On 3)

Heat flared low in her belly. She tried to concentrate on their conversation, difficult as it was to corral her lascivious thoughts. Even with her mental pep talks.

She said, “I met Staci in college. She’s two years older than me. We were in the same sorority.”

His grin was a knowing one. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Staci was very popular.”

“And you weren’t?”

She shrugged noncommittally.

“Oh, please,” he said in a droll tone. “You were probably head cheerleader.”

“Well, that’s to be expected when you have five football-playing brothers who all went to UB.”

His brow crooked.

She amended, “University of Baltimore. You’re probably only familiar with Ivy League schools, right? Anyway, each Shayne of my generation had athletic scholarships, which they managed to land because of the massive amounts of tutoring my parents paid for to substantially improve their grades.”

Maxi shook her head and let out a small laugh. She’d tutored her brothers as well, and what a chore that had been! But they’d all wanted to go to UB, so they’d put in the necessary effort to maintain respectable GPAs, even if their topics of study never stuck in their heads past whatever tests they had to take.

Continuing, she said, “Three of them have since gone on to coach college football. The other two—the oldest, Josh, and Troy—played pro for a couple years each, but both suffered injuries. First Josh, who experienced nerve damage from a neck and spinal injury; the doctors feared he might never walk again. But—thank God—he made a full recovery. Then Troy, who suffered a few too many concussions and, after Josh’s scare, decided he’d rather do something else with his life.”

“So where’d they both end up?”

“Josh manages my parents’ restaurant; they’re both professional chefs and prefer to be in the kitchen. Troy oversees bar operations. They make an excellent front-house team and, of course, our female customer base has tripled since they started there. Good-looking guys, the whole lot of them.”

“Seems to run in the family.” His unabashed, heated gaze roved her body, and it might as well have been the fluttering of his tongue against her clit for the fire it sparked.

“So the restaurant is in Baltimore?” he asked, sounding genuinely interested.

“In Columbia, not far from here,” she said, suddenly a bit breathless. “Where we grew up.”

“And what kind of food is the specialty?” he asked.

“Seafood, of course. We serve the most amazing lobster bisque and she-crab soup. And a seafood tower that would blow your mind.”

“I’m sure,” he commented, his bold gaze unwavering. “Another family trait.”

Excitement rippled through her.

Maxi tucked a plump curl behind her ear. “Are you flirting with me, Einstein?”

Her voice was low and smoky. It seemed to affect him greatly, because his rich brown irises glowed with a silent, sexy invitation.

He set aside his scotch. “I’m tempted to seduce you right out of that nickname you’ve given me.”

“But it fits you so appropriately.”

“You don’t know me well enough to make that assumption.”

Maxi reached for the decanter and refreshed their drinks. She took a small sip, the whisky burning down her throat to her belly, warring with the searing inside her that Ryan incited.

She said, “You were raised in Melbourne, but did your undergrad work at Oxford—starting at the impressive age of sixteen—before completing your graduate studies in technology and economics at MIT.”

He snickered. “You read my résumé.”

“And, as the pièce de résistance,” she added, as she lifted her glass in a salute, “you rocked it hard-core with the MIT Sloan PhD Program for ‘complex organizational, financial, and technological issues that characterize an increasingly competitive and challenging business world.’ I memorized that from the website.” She winked.