Trust Me (6 page)

“I know! My first appointment is in ten minutes.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, fine. You can drive me to work. But this
is very strange, coming from you, and don’t think I haven’t noticed that.”

She sat silently in the passenger seat as Max pulled out of the parking lot. He glanced over at her and saw that she was staring
out the window, her face expressionless.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said.

Max didn’t believe it. The hospital visit had clearly upset her, and the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if
he had misjudged the whole situation. The pain in her eyes yesterday when he had broken the news about Henry, the passion
in her voice when she had called his grandfather “one of the kindest and most caring people” she had ever met… Was she acting
a part, as he had assumed then, or did she genuinely love Henry Tremayne?

And if she did, what did that mean? Who, exactly, was Carly Martin? He knew a little bit about her life, but nothing whatsoever
about her mind. He looked speculatively at her, letting his eyes travel over her profile, noting the tiny lines at the corners
of her eyes as she squinted in the sunlight. He guessed that she was not quite thirty; young, but old enough to understand
that a person’s age often matters less than what is in their soul.

What if there had been some kind of May-December romance? If Carly had been Henry’s mistress, she might very well feel entitled
to the house. God forbid, she might even want to keep it, for sentimental reasons.

He was going to have to uncover the truth.

T
he Union Street Veterinary Clinic was in the heart of San Francisco’s trendy Marina district, and had the sky-high property
taxes to prove it. Carly had once suggested to Richard that they sell their small building and relocate to another area, where
they could have more space for less money. It seemed like a good idea to her, since they had a loyal clientele who would follow
them, but Richard had vetoed the idea. He liked the prestige of being in an exclusive section of town, and the latitude it
gave him to inflate prices to suit the local market.

Max pulled the car smoothly up to the curb, stopping in the red zone in front of the clinic, and turned off the ignition.

Carly glanced at him. They had exchanged only a few words during the drive, mostly because she had answered him in monosyllables,
not trusting the sudden truce. She didn’t know what he was up to, and it made her nervous.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said, reaching for the door handle.

“You’re welcome. If you don’t mind, I’d like to come in and use your phone. My cell phone battery is dead.”

Carly frowned, suspecting that he was up to something. But she couldn’t come up with a good reason to refuse such an innocuous
request. If she was lucky, Max would move in and out of the clinic without any drama. “Okay,” she said. “Come on in.”

To Carly’s relief, the waiting room was empty, which meant that her nine o’clock client was running even later than she was.
The front desk was also empty, and the jingle of the bell over the front door brought Nick, one of their veterinary technicians,
from the back. When he saw that it was Carly, he waved briefly.

“I thought you were the Taylor cat,” he said. “Dr. Wex is waiting for her.”

“Where’s Michelle?” Carly asked. “Max, the phone is right there. Push the line one button before you dial.”

“She’s sick,” Nick said. “I’m the front and back office today. Something’s going around.”

“I guess so. Rich was out yesterday. Well, don’t you dare catch it, Nick, whatever it is. I need you.”

He grinned. “People who take herbs never get sick. Let me know if you want some.”

Carly shuddered. The last time she had been on the verge of a cold, Nick had talked her into swallowing a dropperful of some
foul, cloudy brown substance that had been so bitter that her tongue had gone numb in self-defense. Since then she had stuck
resolutely to conventional medicine.

With a curious glance at Max, Nick excused himself. Carly hung up her coat and went around to the wall of client records to
pull the chart for her first appointment. She was paging through it when Richard appeared. He was scowling, and Carly was
surprised to see that his right hand was bandaged.

“You’re late,” he said.

Out of the corner of her eye, Carly saw Max pause in his dialing. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I left you a message on
the voice mail. You didn’t get it?”

Richard shook his head. “No, I didn’t get it. Michelle called in sick, then you didn’t show up. What was I supposed to think?”

“If you had checked the messages, you would have known.”

“I’ve got a tumor removal and two hip replacements today, and you think I have time for secretarial work? I don’t even get
a lunch break.” Richard seemed to notice Max for the first time. “Who’s that?”

“That is Max Giordano,” Carly said. Max replaced the receiver and stepped out from behind the desk to gaze down at Richard,
who was several inches shorter. “Max, meet Richard Wexler, my partner.”

Richard squinted at Max, his eyes darting over Max’s tailored suit, his silk tie, his watch. “Don’t I know you?”

“I doubt it,” Max said. He hadn’t missed Rich’s not-so-subtle assessment of his net worth.

“Huh,” Richard said, unconvinced. “You look familiar. Are you sure we haven’t met somewhere?”

Carly cut in. “Rich, what happened to your hand?”

He was still frowning at Max. “I got bitten. That yellow Lab. The Palmer dog. It’s nothing.”

“When did that happen? You weren’t in the office yesterday.”

“It was the day before yesterday. You were off making house calls, so you missed it. Does it matter?”

It wasn’t a real question, so Carly didn’t bother to answer. Richard was very proud, and she supposed that he felt foolish
about the wound, as if it proclaimed incompetence. He wasn’t a bad animal handler, but he tended to be impatient. The high-strung
retriever was notorious for snapping at everyone, but Richard was the type to take it personally.

Carly sighed. It was good that she had introduced Richard and Max, she thought dryly. Maybe they could go out for a beer and
compare notes on how to make her miserable. No doubt Rich would be delighted to hear about Max’s plans to ruin her life in
court. Unless, of course, that meant more work at the office for him.

Max was regarding Richard with a kind of cool curiosity akin to that of a cat watching a large bug crawl up a wall, and Carly
was glad that he didn’t know that Rich had once been more than her business partner. He wouldn’t care, but she would. It was
a matter of feminine pride.

The bell jingled as the front door swung open to admit a woman struggling with an oversize cat carrier and a folded baby stroller.
A whimpering toddler clung to her skirt. It was a welcome interruption, and Carly hurried forward to help.

“Thanks, Dr. Martin,” the woman said, as Carly took the heavy carrier. Two resentful cat faces glared at her from inside.
“Sorry we’re late. The sitter didn’t show up.”

The toddler staggered forward, fell down with a bump, and began to cry. Carly hauled the carrier past Richard and Max, settled
cats and client into Exam Room Two, then came out to grab the charts for the two Siamese. She needed a pen, she realized,
and turned toward Michelle’s desk.

Richard had gone back to his office, and Max was on the phone again. He had taken off his suit jacket and slung it over the
empty chair, and Carly could see the powerful lines of his shoulders under his crisp white shirt. His black hair was short,
cut to a perfect edge against the back of his neck, and she suspected that it was never allowed to get even slightly shaggy
or uneven. He was perfectly, corporately, groomed every time she had seen him, and she wondered what his idea of relaxation
was. A suit in a lighter shade of gray, maybe.

He was leaning against the edge of the desk, his body blocking the drawer where Michelle kept the pens. Carly touched his
arm to get his attention, startled as her fingers met the hard curve of his biceps and felt the heat of his skin through the
thin cloth.

There was a subtle scent of cologne lingering close to him, a smoky fragrance that mingled with the warm, male scent of his
body. She felt a fluttery sensation in her chest when he turned to look at her, and found herself suddenly shy. She focused
on his chin, where she could see the faint dark shadow of beard beneath the skin.

“Excuse me,” she said, pointing to the drawer.

Max stepped back against Michelle’s filing cabinet, but the phone cord was short. She could feel his eyes on her as she reached
in to grab a pen. She slid the drawer closed and backed up awkwardly.

He replaced the receiver, a very slight, thoughtful frown touching his forehead. Carly wondered if she looked as flustered
as she suddenly felt.

“Well,” she said. “Thanks again for the ride. Are you going back to the hospital?”

“Later.”

“You’ll let me know… if anything happens.”

It was as much of a question as a request, and when he didn’t answer immediately, Carly felt her stomach tighten.

“Max,” she said. “Please.”

He was silent for a moment longer, then, abruptly, he nodded. “I’ll let you know.”

That afternoon, Carly had her hand on the doorknob of Exam Room One when she heard Richard say her name. She turned, and saw
him beckoning to her from the open door of his office.

“What?” she asked, walking toward him. “I have a client waiting.”

Richard’s eyes were alight with excitement. “That guy this morning, didn’t I say that I recognized him? I knew I’d seen him
before. It’s been bugging me all day, and I just got it. He was in
Fortune
magazine last month. I’ve still got the issue.”

“Rich, I really need to—”

“He cofounded a sales automation software company that Syscom acquired in March. I’ve got the article right here.”

“Max is a computer guy?” Carly asked, astonished. She would never have guessed that. He seemed smart, but not in an engineering
sort of way.

“Yeah, right. When was the last time you saw a computer guy in a suit like that? No, he’s all about sales and marketing. His
partner was the techie, some guy from MIT, but Giordano bought him out a few years ago. Do you know how much he’s worth?”

That explained the shoes, Carly thought. And the car. But the revelation that Max was genuinely wealthy in his own right raised
puzzling new questions.

She had assumed that it was either need or greed behind Max’s anger at losing the chunk of his inheritance represented by
the Tremayne mansion. But if Max was no trust-fund grandson, living at the edge of his income, waiting to inherit Henry’s
money, why threaten her with a protracted court battle for ownership of Henry’s house? It was prime real estate, indeed, but
it took only one look at Max’s personal style to feel sure that a towering Gothic mansion was not his ideal home environment.
He couldn’t possibly want to live there. Even she didn’t want to live there. Did he hope to raze it and use the land? Or was
he some kind of control freak, with an ego that insisted that he be his grandfather’s sole heir?

“What was he doing here?” Richard was asking her.

“Using the phone.”

“Yeah, I saw that. But why was he here? He’s not one of our clients.”

“He drove me to work,” Carly said, and had the pleasure of seeing Richard’s eyes widen with shock as he made the obvious assumption.
She didn’t bother to correct him.

“I have to go,” she said, noting with satisfaction that Rich had turned the sickly beige of unbaked bread dough. In the time
since their personal relationship had ended, Richard had brought his girlfriends into the office. Women apparently loved the
image of the macho Porsche-driving animal doctor with a heart of gold.

“You’re dating him?” Richard was ogling at her as if she had grown a second head. “Max Giordano? You? How did
you
… ?”

Carly assumed a lofty expression. “Rich,” she said, “I really don’t feel comfortable discussing my private life with you.
Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

She turned and left him there, feeling his stare on her back all the way down the hall.

It wasn’t a lie, exactly, Carly told herself later. The clinic was closed, and she was in the lab, cleaning up. She never
actually
said
that she was dating Max, after all. Was it her fault that Richard had jumped to conclusions?

He had been in surgery most of the day, so she hadn’t seen much of him, and even during his breaks he barely said a word to
her. Several times, though, she had caught him watching her covertly, as if he were reassessing her value. Carly just ignored
him and went about her business, finding the whole situation too absurd to be offended by Richard’s inability to understand
how she, of all people, could have bewitched a multimillionaire.

Even if it had been a lie by implication, even if she should, morally, have corrected Richard, what did it matter? It was
a little fun at no real expense. For all she knew, she would never cross paths with Max again. He had no reason to come to
the mansion, and running into him at the hospital this morning had been sheer coincidence. He had promised to contact her
with any news about Henry, but it was hard to know if he really meant to do it. Assuming that Henry recovered, it was likely
that she had seen the last of Max Giordano.