Born to Be Wild (36 page)

Jazz grabbed a napkin from a holder, pulled the lid off the cookie jar, and dug for a fresh oatmeal pecan, not the least disturbed by his disgruntled behavior. “Does she know what you’re trying to do?”

Max smacked the knife down again on the fish. “No.”

“So why don’t you tell her?”

“Because I might not be successful. Because she might try talking me out of what I’m doing or, worse yet, come up with an idea that’s worse than mine.”

“In other words, you’re afraid of calling her.”

“And why would I be afraid to call?”

“Because if what Bear told me is true, you walked out on Lauren with one of the most half-assed excuses I’ve ever heard for calling it quits, and now you’re afraid she won’t want you back.”

“Okay, I made an ass out of myself. I’m trying to remedy the situation the best way I know how, and I don’t need help from you.”

Jazz bit into another cookie and glared at him from across the counter. “You know, Max, you’ve been ready to kill for a week now. It could be several more weeks before your remedy’s ready. If I were you, I’d go see her before she decides you’re not worth waiting for.”

“I’ve got three parties to cater this week. I’ve got an appointment with the adoption attorney tomorrow. And I’ve got Harry calling every other day to report on one false lead after another. I’ve got two kids that need help with their homework, I’ve got the Hole.”

“If you want her badly enough, you’ll quit making excuses.”

In his heart, he knew Jazz was right. But what if he went to see Lauren and found out she’d already lost interest—and had turned to another man.

oOo

Lauren uncrossed and recrossed her legs for at least the fifteenth time since her friends arrived for brunch. She’d invited them over because she’d needed a break. Trying to figure out how to get Max back by bringing together two worlds that were at the opposite ends of the spectrum was not an easy task. Senseless prattle was a wonderful way to rest one’s mind.

“I still can’t believe it,” Bunny Endicott babbled, as they sipped tea and feasted on watercress sandwiches.

“What can’t you believe?” Lizzy LaFontaine asked.

“You mean you haven’t heard?” Bunny asked, her hand clasped to her chest.

“Heard what?” Lizzy asked, again.

“Kitty Whitfield has hired that avant-garde caterer, the one who made all those delectable foods for Betsy’s wedding, to prepare an intimate dinner for her and Guy Thrasher.” Bunny’s words seemed to echo through the room, and Lauren’s ears perked.

“That can’t be true,” Lizzy gasped.

“But it is,” Bunny went on. “I heard about it from my butler who heard about it from Kitty’s personal maid.”

“What would ever possess Kitty to do that?” Lizzy asked.

They didn’t know Max, Lauren thought, or they wouldn’t be so quick to judge him, to think he wasn’t worthy enough to cater an intimate—or even a non-intimate—Palm Beach affair. “He really is a wonderful chef,” Lauren piped in.

Bunny glared at her as if she’d lost her mind. Lizzy’s perfectly plucked brows almost knit together, she was frowning so hard.

“I didn’t know Guy Thrasher was a chef,” Bunny said.

“Me neither,” Lizzy added. “I was under the impression that he couldn’t do much of anything any longer, not even with the help of Viagra. And from all the things I’ve heard about Guy in the past, even when he could do something, he wasn’t very good at it.”

“I’d heard exactly the same thing,” Bunny went
on, leaving Lauren completely confused. “What just amazes me is that Kitty could fall for a man like that. He’s a terrible bore, not to mention an absolute snob. Why, I tried to get him to work at that soup kitchen in West Palm Beach last Thanksgiving and he flat-out refused.”

“And I couldn’t get a donation from him when the last hurricane hit the coast. All I wanted was a few old clothes, and we all know Guy has plenty of those.”

“Wait a minute!” Lauren interrupted. “Do you mean to tell me it doesn’t bother you that Kitty’s hired Max Wilde?”

“You mean the chef?” Bunny asked, looking totally perplexed.

“Yes,
that
Max Wilde.”

“Of course not, Lauren. Why should that bother—” Bunny clasped a hand to her mouth. When she’d regained her composure, she smiled slyly. “I forgot. You’ve been seeing that man, haven’t you?”

Here it goes. The inquisition. The snide remarks. “He’s a friend,” Lauren stated.

Lizzy grinned as she reached for a watercress sandwich. “If I were you, Lauren, I’d want him for much more than a friend. You may not be aware of this, but several of us were checking out Mr. Wilde’s body at Betsy’s wedding. Absolutely gorgeous! And I hear that Angie Hart made a pass at the man tending bar.”

“Wasn’t
he
attractive!” Bunny quipped. “And would you believe he’s a dentist? Quite well-to-
do, in fact. I can’t believe I thought he might be a thief.”

“We all make misjudgments like that from time to time,” Lizzy stated. “It’s just one of those things that happens.”

Lauren smiled as she listened to the conversation. She’d often found these friends boring, superficial, with lives that were trivial, at best. Today she’d listened, though. Really listened, and she’d heard such incredible things.

Why didn’t she know that Bunny spent Thanksgivings working in a soup kitchen? Why was it that the only things she’d known about Bunny were that she had breast implants, that she was looking for husband number four?

And Lizzy. When did she start collecting money for disaster relief?

What else didn’t she know about her friends? Maybe she really had been a snob—in more ways than one.

Her life really had gotten better since Max appeared in it. Not just because he made her happy—before he’d insanely called it quits between them—but because he was helping her see the other side of the people she’d always known.

Suddenly, everything became clear. She knew exactly what she had to do to bring Max into the world she loved—she was going to take her world to him.

oOo

It was just past midnight when Max led a half-asleep Ryan to his bedroom and watched him collapse in bed, clothes, shoes, and all.
Even with a sound asleep Jamie in his arms, Max pulled off the boy’s Air Jordans, turned out the light, and took Jamie to her room. She’d been asleep for over an hour and hadn’t made a sound when he lifted her from the car.

Pulling back the covers on her bed, he laid her down, took off her sandals, then tugged the sheet up to her shoulders.

“Thanks for taking us to Disney World,” she said, her voice muffled by the pillows. “It was fun, but it would have been nicer if Lauren had gone with us.”

Max sat on the edge of her bed. “You think so?”

Jamie nodded, then tucked her hands under her cheek. “I thought you liked her.”

“I do.”

“Then how come you haven’t seen her in a while?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“That’s not a good excuse.”

“Yeah, well, I plan on calling her tomorrow.” And with all his heart, he hoped she’d take him back.

Jamie smiled, apparently satisfied with his answer, and snuggled further into the pillows.

“Good night,” Max whispered, kissing her brow.

“Good night, Dad.”

Max closed his eyes, enjoying t
he lingering sound of that word
Dad.
It was the first time Jamie had used it since the attorney called to say Jamie and Ryan’s biological father had decided to give them
up. There hadn’t been any remorse from either kid. It had been far too long since they’d seen or heard from the man, and as far as Jamie and Ryan were concerned, the man had pretty much ceased to exist. Now the children Max loved were legally his.

Getting up from the bed, he headed for his office and slumped down in his desk chair. They’d been gone three days, and the recorder showed a slew of messages. He hit the rewind button, yawned, then hit play, figuring he ought to get this out of the way before going to bed.

Mrs. Fabiano had called to thank him once again for Luigi’s birthday party. Bunny Endicott—of all people—wanted him to cater an intimate dinner, and if he wasn’t mistaken, he could have sworn he heard Bear’s laugh in the background. Two more calls were from prospective Palm Beach clients, a call from Bear, one from Jazz, and then he heard Lauren’s voice, soft, sweet, sexy, maybe even a little hesitant.

“Call me. Please.”

The call had come two long days ago. What a fool he’d been not calling her before going away with Jamie and Ryan. Hopefully, when he called her tomorrow, she’d still want to talk.

Surprisingly, the next message was also from Lauren.

“Sorry to bother you, Max. This is Lauren. I don’t believe I left my name on the last message, so I wanted to call again, just in case you weren’t sure who had asked you to call. So now that you know it’s me, could you please call?”

He grinned. Her voice was definitely more encouraging.

Beep.

“This is my third call, Max. It’s been three hours since my first one, and I really do need to talk with you. Please. Call me.”

Beep.

“Fourth call. I really do want to talk with you, Max.” This time he heard trembling in her voice. “Call me. Please.”

Beep.

“All right, Max, it’s Lauren again. I don’t know why you’re not returning my calls, but ... but, oh, hell! I’ll be at the Hole in the Wall at noon on Tuesday. You may not want to see me again but I want to see you. Please be there. If you don’t show up, well ... She sighed deeply “I love you, Max.
Please
be there.”

He’d be there at noon no matter what, and then he’d never let Lauren out of his sight again.

Beep.

“Hey, Max, it’s Harry. I might have some good news for you. Call me as soon as you can.”

It wasn’t quite nine-thirty in California. Max grabbed the phone, punched in Harry’s number, and waited.

“Harry Crow.”

“It’s Max Wilde, Harry. I’ve been out of town and just got your call.”

“I’m glad you called,” Harry said. “I’ve got another lead.”

“How good a one?” Max asked, his hopes high in spite of all the past failures.

“Promising, that’s the best answer I can give you. I managed to find a retired agent who handled a few child actors nineteen, twenty years ago. He distinctly remembered a little girl named Charlotte Wilde.”

“Did he have any records, any—”

“All he had was a vivid memory of the girl’s mother. Loretta Wilde.”

Max plowed his fingers through his hair. This was the first Charlotte Wilde Harry had ever connected to a woman with the same name as Max’s mother. “What else did he tell you?”

“Not a lot. The woman was a tyrant, He couldn’t place the girl in commercials or anything because of Loretta’s demands on everyone. I checked a few other leads, found out Charlotte had been adopted, and finally tracked down her adoptive parents.”

“Christ, Harry. What do you mean this is just a promising lead?”

“Because her adoptive parents won’t give me any information.”

That wasn’t what Max wanted to hear. “Why not?”

“I don’t have a clue. He’s a retired Marine Corps chaplain. She’s a housewife. They live in Barstow and that’s where they lived when Charlotte was growing up. Charlotte Mattingly’s the name she went by.”

Max repeated the name to himself. This was the closest they’d ever come. “Is she the right age?” he asked, sure that Harry wouldn’t have called if he hadn’t confirmed that information first.

“Yeah. Right age. Right hair and eye color.”

“What about her past?”

“That information’s fairly sketchy. They traveled around from Marine base to Marine base until they hit Barstow. Charlotte was quiet, or so her few old acquaintances told me. Real religious. She led Bible study groups at school, didn’t go to dances, didn’t hang out.”

“My sister liked to dance and sing. She was outgoing, full of life.”

“Look, Max, the girl’s parents seem pretty strict. A kid can change living with a family like that.”

Yeah, Max knew full well the influence parents could have over their kids—good, bad, indifferent.

“So, where do we go from here?” Max asked.

“I keep looking. Something’s bound to come up.”

“Okay, call me when you hear something more.”

“One other thing, Max. I feel good about this one. I don’t say that too often, but I think I can find her.”

Max hung up the phone, staring at the paper where he’d scribbled Lauren’s name over and over, and under that where he’d written Charlotte Mattingly. He didn’t believe in fairy godmothers or guardian angels, but he figured he must have done something awfully good in his life to deserve this new streak of fortune.