He wasn’t ready for her to leave yet. He was never, he’d long ago admitted, ready for Sidney to leave him. “Do they know where to find you?”

She searched his expression. “Yes.”

With a wave of his hand, he indicated the leather chair across from his desk. “Then sit. You’ve been on your feet all afternoon.” At her surprised look, he managed a slight smile. “And don’t ask me how I know.”

“You’re omniscient?” she quipped.

He shook his head at that. “Hardly. But Philip tells me you’re maniacal about quality service. I understand what that means. If I were in your place, I’d have checked everything twice, then checked it again.”

Surprise flickered in her gaze, but she eased into the chair. “I can spare a few minutes, I guess.”

“Thank you.” Max studied her for several tension-filled seconds. Her eyes, he admitted with some chagrin, weren’t the only things about her that had him struggling for breath. The tailored lines of her uniform did nothing to disguise a lithe figure and the kind of curves designed to catch a man’s attention. It skimmed her body in all kinds of interesting ways, yet managed through some tailoring miracle to still appear subdued. After fifteen seconds in her presence, he’d felt his fingers tingling with the urge to thrust one hand into her hair, and snake the other around her waist so he could feel the imprint of her curves against his body.

Sidney began to fidget under his intense stare. She cleared her throat. “I wanted to thank you again for sending Gertie to take care of Philip,” she finally said.

“Don’t mention it. I was glad to.”

“He’ll like having her there.”

“I hope so.” He watched the uneasiness that played across her face. She looked nervous, and, unless he missed his guess, a little heated. It made him feel better to think she was as aware as he of the strange electricity between them.

She shifted uncertainly. “Was there something you wanted?”

You, he wanted to say, just to gauge her reaction. “Philip,” he said instead. “I wanted to ask you how much Philip told you about the guest list for this weekend.”

A slight smile played at her full lips. “You wanted to strangle him, you mean?”

“Maybe.”

She nodded. “I think yes. He suggested that you might be feeling a bit, ah, perturbed by now.”

“So he knew that Raymond Lort was bringing Alice Northrup-Bowles as his guest?”

“Yes.”

“But he didn’t care to enlighten me.”

“I suppose not.”

“Why the hell not?”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t care to speculate.”

He narrowed his gaze. “But you knew.”

“I knew she’d be here.”

“Did you know it would make me furious?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t tell me either.”

She brushed her palm over her jacket sleeve. “I didn’t feel—”

“Damn Philip. He should have told me.”

“He seemed to feel you’d rescind Mr. Lort’s invitation if you knew he intended to bring Ms. Nothrup-Bowles.”

“I would have. The bastard. Lort knows exactly how I feel about that woman.”

“Uncle Philip felt the crisis could be easily avoided without forcing you to offend Mr. Lort.”

Philip would, he thought, his temper kicking up another degree. “I don’t give a damn about offending Raymond Lort. Alice is a scheming, conniving leech who happens to make my sister Natalie feel miserable. Alice has a genius for making Natalie forget that she’s an exceptionally talented, remarkably gifted woman. Worse, Alice enjoys it.” His gaze narrowed. He uttered a dark curse. “And it enrages me.”

Sidney visibly stilled. She appeared to be gathering her calm. Slowly, she pushed herself out of her chair, then brushed past him to stand at the window. “Look.” Pointing, she drew his attention back to the terrace. “I’d like you to notice that my assistant has your sister fully occupied in solving a crisis which will, no doubt, save your party from certain ruin.”

She indicated a darkened corner of the terrace. “Natalie’s husband, Paul, is busily distracting Edward Fitzwater’s attention from your brother’s obvious nervousness, thereby ensuring that Miss Northrup-Bowles has absolutely no chance of attracting Paul’s notice.” She pointed to the dance floor where Greg and Lauren were enjoying a few moments together. “And Miss Fitzwater is being given every opportunity to wrestle the expected proposal from your brother.”

Even as she said it, a waiter intercepted one of Greg’s former girlfriends with a canap'e-laden tray. The woman stopped, sampled the confection, then accepted an invitation to dance from one of Max’s vice presidents. Max’s gaze flicked over the party as he repressed the urge to pull Sidney into his arms. Too soon, he reminded himself. Patience was key. “Nicely done,” he murmured.

Her eyes twinkled when she looked at him. “I’m very good at what I do.”

The statement sent heat skittering along his skin as he wondered, inevitably, just how good she was at other things. “Really?” he said, lifting an eyebrow.