Trust Me (15 page)

Carly nodded. “That’s true. I don’t know much about you, but even I can tell that you’re badly in need of a family. I don’t
like the idea of you being alone in the world. It isn’t healthy.”

“If I’m going to have a family, Henry Tremayne is it,” Max said. “Unless you’re telling me that I should start one of my own.”

“Well,” Carly said, startled, “I didn’t exactly mean—”

“It’s the logical step at this point in my life. Unfortunately, I don’t have a good candidate to play Eve to my Adam. My current
girlfriend is not the maternal type.”

“You have a girlfriend?”

“In New York.”

“She didn’t want to come out here with you?”

Max shrugged. “Nina’s a well-known fashion editor. She wouldn’t like it here.”

“Oh,” Carly said.

“Anyway, I didn’t ask her to come.”

“Oh,” she said again, pleased.

“What about you, Carly? While we’re getting personal, tell me about your plans to start a family.”

“Me? I have a family.”

“That’s true. But you probably don’t always want to be cuddling nieces and nephews. What about children of your own? Don’t
you want any?”

Carly was shocked by the question. “I want kids more than anything,” she said. As the statement left her mouth, she knew that
despite what she had asserted to Jeannie about being too busy to reproduce, it was the truth. She couldn’t imagine any other
way to live.

“And yet you’re not married, either. It’s been over a year since you ended your relationship with Wexler, but you don’t even
date?”

“I do so date,” she said, stung.

“You spend your days taking care of other people’s pets, and your nights… doing what? Imagining happy endings for Henry and
me? What about your own happy ending?”

“Max Giordano, how did you manage to turn this around on me?”

His mouth curved dryly. “Years of practice.”

Carly took a breath. “I maintain that you need a family, Max—and I actually do have an offer in mind.”

That caught his attention. He looked sharply at her. “What offer?”

She felt her face getting warm. He thought that she was offering herself as his Eve. It was a startling idea, and, she had
to admit, an appealing one. She tried to imagine what he would be like as a husband and father, with his fierceness channeled
toward loving and protecting a tribe of his own.

“I… meant that I have a family to offer you. My family, I mean. They like you very much, Max. We adopt all kinds of people,
in case you didn’t notice, and we think that you should be an honorary Martin.”

“I see,” Max said, and was silent for a long moment.

Carly felt anxious. “If you want to, that is,” she amended. “I’m not sure if being Martinized is an honor or a punishment,
but it does come with a promise of regular meals, and there’s always someone willing to come and fix a broken water pipe at
3
A.M.
, although I suppose that isn’t too useful for someone like you.”

Max held up his hand, and she stopped. “Thanks,” he said, in an oddly flat voice. “But I’m past adoptive age.”

“Oh, we don’t think so,” Carly said quickly. “We need you. Dad already has you slated to play bass broom in his jug band act
for the Davis talent show. Me, I’m planning to be stuck in bed with a terrible flu that day, like I am every year.”

Abruptly, Max cleared his throat and turned to look out toward the distant hills. Carly felt the withdrawal keenly and wondered
if she had offended him. Maybe she had been too pushy; he was the kind of man who wouldn’t appreciate being reminded of his
weaknesses. Or perhaps it was that he didn’t like her family, and she had put him in the awkward position of having to come
up with a polite refusal.

She was about to apologize when Max turned back to face her. His eyes seemed strangely bright, almost luminous. “Why the hell
are you doing this?” he demanded.

Taken aback, she could only stare at him. “Doing what?” she asked, finally.

“Being nice to me. Bringing me to meet your family. Telling me that you people want to
adopt
me. What is this, Carly? And don’t give me any bullshit about caring about me. I want the truth.”

“Okay,” Carly said slowly. The truth was that she did care about him, not so much for what he had shown her, but for what
she sensed was hidden in him. But such an apparently flimsy explanation was not likely to register with Max as the “truth”
that he wanted. What, then, should she say?

“Do you believe in instinct?” she asked.

“Animal instinct?”

“The human version. Gut feelings.”

“Yes. I consider that a basic survival skill.”

Carly nodded. “So what would you say if I told you that my gut feeling tells me that you are not as bad a guy as you make
yourself out to be?”

Max grinned unexpectedly. “I would say that any woman who got herself into a relationship with Richard Wexler should be very
wary of her gut feelings.”

“Very funny,” Carly said coldly. “For your information, it was
ignoring
my instincts that got me into that mess, and I don’t intend to make that mistake again. Look, Max. I like you. The Martins
like you. I don’t have any better way to say it, and you probably wouldn’t believe me if I tried. Why are you looking at me
like that?”

“You
like
me?” he repeated disdainfully.

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes. What happens if my grandfather dies, Carly? What if we end up in a legal fight over his house? I might not turn out
to be very likable at all. Would I still be an honorary Martin? My guess is no. So I would be more careful with my offer of
family if I were you. You may not take it seriously, but I do.”

“Oh, dear,” Carly said. “Max, I understand what Henry’s house means to you. And despite what you think, I don’t want to take
it away from you. But you need to understand what it means to me. This animal shelter is Henry’s dream. If I sold the house
and let your grandfather’s dream die, I would be betraying his trust in me. Please don’t ask me to do that.”

Max folded his arms against his chest and looked away. He said nothing for a long time, and Carly grew restless. Finally,
she braced herself. “There’s something else I want to say.”

He looked at her, eyebrows slightly raised, and she took a quick breath and continued. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this—yes,
Max, I really have—and it seems to me that if Henry had known how important the mansion is to you, he never would have set
up the trust the way he did. He probably thought he was helping you by not saddling you with that gloomy old house. It’s the
animal shelter that matters to him, not where it’s located.”

“What are you saying?” Max asked tightly.

“I’m saying that if Henry… doesn’t recover, would you consider using some of your own money, along with Henry’s endowment,
to build and fund a new facility to be the Tremayne Center for Animal Rehabilitation?”

“And if I did that? You would sell me the house?”

“No,” Carly said. “I would give it to you.”

He stared at her as if she’d gone insane. “You can’t be serious,” he said.

She shrugged. “I am.”

“I don’t see what’s in it for you.”

“Are you kidding? A job running an incredible program like Henry’s? My God, Max. It would be everything I ever dreamed of.
Henry knew that.”

“Most people dream of having 20 million dollars.”

“Yes,” Carly said patiently. “People dream of having 20 million dollars so that they can spend their lives doing exactly what
they want. And I want to be a vet with my own practice. Anyway, it isn’t as if I could just sell your grandfather’s house
and pocket the cash. The foundation has to go somewhere. Henry didn’t really leave me a house, he left me a
job.
Isn’t this making any sense to you?”

“No,” Max said. He closed his eyes and reached up to rub his forehead as if it ached. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Well, think about it, at least.”

He lowered his hands and exhaled slowly, almost angrily. “Think about it,” he repeated. “
Think
about it? I have been in this world for almost forty goddamned years, and this is not the way it works.”

Carly shrugged. “Maybe the world is bigger than you think.”

He shook his head. “Happy endings,” he muttered.

She smiled at him. “Why not?”

“Why not? That’s a hell of a question to ask me, of all people. Don’t get me started.”

“Oh, Max,” Carly said. She felt a mixture of sympathy and exasperation as she looked at him. It was almost as if she could
see his mind working through all the possible ways that she could be trying to trick him. “There’s no need to make a decision
now. Are you having a good time here? You seemed to be enjoying yourself at dinner.”

He looked startled by the question. “I’m fine,” he said.

“Well then, why don’t you accept the offer of family, at least. We won’t revoke it. And I think that you and I can work out
this issue of the house in a way that is acceptable to everyone.”

“You think so,” he said.

“Yes,” Carly said seriously. “Remember, you and I both love Henry, and that means that we’re on the same team.”

Max’s mouth curved disbelievingly, and he began to shake his head. “Carly…” he began, then stopped. He gazed at her, his
eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and she felt him assessing her.

She stuck out her hand. “Don’t worry. It will be okay. Friends?”

“Friends,” he said slowly, as if he were testing the word. He reached out, and Carly felt his fingers close around hers. And
then he stunned her by turning her hand over and raising it to his lips. The hot imprint of his mouth on her palm was a shock
that shuddered through her body. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. Desire, as she had always understood it, was
a pleasant but awkward feeling that sometimes appeared on its own and sometimes needed to be summoned up with a little willpower.
But this was different. This was a tidal wave, an onslaught so overwhelming that she could only think of it as a force of
nature.

He released her, and she pulled her hand back, curling it closed as if she had been burned. Her heart was beating fast, and
her fingers retained the feeling of the curve of his jaw and the bristle of his skin. She looked down at her hand, then up
at Max, speechless.

His eyes held hers. “Carly,” he said, “if you really are who you seem to be, then I hope that this world never gives you a
reason to stop looking for happy endings.”

“
Z
ees cat, what can I do? He ees lunatique!” The French girl displayed her scratched and bleeding forearms to Carly. “I am supposed
to care for ze children, not for zees animal stupide. I hate zees job.”

The “animal stupide” was the fattest Persian cat that Carly had ever seen, weighing in at a stunning twenty-five pounds. Somewhere
between the scale and the exam room, he had broken away from the young nanny, and— moving with astonishing speed for such
a rotund creature—made a dash for freedom that ended with him wedged into the small corner space between the waiting-room
couch and the magazine rack. It was a well-fortified position, and the nanny had spent the past ten minutes on the floor,
cursing in French, alternately trying to coax and drag the growling cat out.

It was five-thirty, and the only other occupant of the waiting room was an elderly man with an equally elderly dachshund,
neither of whom seemed fazed by the escapee drama.

“I queet,” said the nanny tearfully. “I queet all of zees. I want to go home.”

“No, no,” Carly said. “It’ll be okay. Here, sit down and let me try. What’s his name?”

“Preencess.”

“His name is Princess?”

“Oui.”
The nanny rolled her eyes and gave a dramatic Gallic shrug.

“That explains why he’s so pissed off,” Carly muttered, hunkering down to peer under the couch. “Kitty, kitty… ?”

Two unblinking eyes in a flat white face glared out from the shadowed corner. “Poor kitty,” Carly said soothingly. “Poor nice
kitty. Here, nice kitty, we aren’t going to hurt you, but we do need to give you a checkup so that we can keep you healthy
and… ow!”

“He ees a bad cat,” said the nanny from behind her.

“He’s a little upset,” Carly said, sitting up. Thin lines of blood were forming on her wrist. “Well, so much for sweet talk.
Michelle, will you buzz Brian in the lab and have him get the gloves and come out here?”

Brian was the new technician, Nick’s replacement, and Carly was still astonished that the previous week’s confrontation with
Richard had actually produced results. After their argument, he hadn’t said another word about the issue, and Carly had come
to work on Monday morning resigned to the necessity of confronting him again. But before she could open her mouth, he had
handed her three résumés as if the whole thing had been his own idea. Brian was the best of the lot; a shy kid with a bad
complexion, an endearing smile, and several years of experience at the city SPCA. He had started that morning, and so far,
things were working out well.

With Brian’s assistance, Princess’s checkup concluded smoothly, and Carly was washing her hands when she heard Michelle on
the intercom. “Carly, there’s a call for you on line one. It’s Max Giordano.”