Mr. Personality by Carol Rose Page B

ever be honest with him?
    She looked unseeing at the words on the screen, mentally reviewing their conversation, in particular, her own reference to his “unsatisfied state.” Thank God she’d been able to keep from showing the other direction of her thoughts. A man as good-looking and virile as Max surely couldn’t be unsatisfied in his personal life. Not that she’d seen any evidence of women in his life—besides the assistants he liked to exchange on a regular basis. Then again, she’d only been here for several hours. He could have a dozen hot girlfriends, as far as she knew. Some women liked icy, withdrawn men and, heaven knew, Max had enough physical attributes to catch a woman’s eye. Even while he was freezing her with his sharp tongue, she couldn’t help being aware of his pull.
    What made a human being need to be so self-protective?
    She shook her head. This was going to be one weird six weeks. Who knew how a man with his bizarre talent and major money lived? He could have a bunch of odd habits she’d be a witness to. That would explain why he’d had her sign the “no talking to the press” contract.
    To her annoyance, there had been three photographers hanging around outside the building when she came in this morning. Scum. Max was no prize, humanity-wise, but he deserved to be left alone, if he wanted it that way.
    Nicole scooted back in her chair, her fingers poised over the computer keyboard. At least, she’d get to watch Johnna! everyday. During the school year, she had to tape her favorite talk show. Watching it live was one of her summer treats. When she’d accepted this temporary job, she’d thought she was going to have to miss out. But just now when Max was being such a butt, the idea to insist on watching it had popped into her mind. Let him do a little adjusting for a change.
    It just might be good for him.
    Tilting the note pad for better visibility, she went back to her typing.
    Just then a door chime sounded, a muted, almost muffled sound. Her hands hovering over the keyboard, Nicole squinted at the pad, trying to make sense of Max’s atrocious handwriting. It wasn’t her job to answer the man’s door.
    The chime sounded again, followed by a knock.
    Lifting her head, she listened for the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. Was the guy deaf when he was working or did the “no interruptions” rule extend to the doorbell!
    Again, the chime rang combined with louder knocking.
    “Good grief.” She got up and went to the front door, pausing only to release the four deadbolts before opening it.
    The heavy door swung open, revealing a scowling man. He was tall with dark, gray-flecked hair, and looked like he’d dressed at random, his clothes not quite matching.
    “This is for Max,” he said without preamble, thrusting out an envelope.
    “Oh!” Startled, she took it. “Wait. I’ll get him. He’s right in—“
    “No.” The stranger’s voice was rough. Standing there uncertainly, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat. “No. Just give it to him. He can mail my check to me. The checks must have got switched at Ruth’s office.”
    Max’s agent. Ruth.
    Nicole frowned, puzzled by the man’s obvious agitation.
    “Just have him mail it.” He turned and left.
    Watching the guy disappear into the elevator, Nicole shrugged and shut the door. Beyond wondering idly just how many zeros she’d find on one of Max’s royalty checks, she gave the envelope little thought. But since she’d answered the door and accepted the check, she’d better take it to him.
    Crossing the hall, she climbed the stairs to where Max sat in the window, the sun to his broad, muscular back as he frowned at the pad on his knee.
    “Did you hear the doorbell?” she asked, perversely glad to have a reason to interrupt him again. He sat in the wide window, his dark head bent over his work.
    “What?” He looked up, still frowning.
    “The doorbell. It just rang three or four times. I answered it