Unfinished Business. Cat Schield

a yellow convertible. “And you just swoop in and steal it out from under me?”

      “I didn’t swoop, and I didn’t steal. I offered the guy a good price. He went for it.”

      “How much?”

      Max shook his head. He wasn’t about to tell Jason the truth. In fact, he wasn’t exactly sure what had prompted him to offer the sum. He only knew that Bob Sikes had driven the rare muscle car off the lot in 1971 and wasn’t about to let it go without some major convincing. The Cuda 426 Hemi convertible was one of only seven made. At the time, convertibles were too expensive, too heavy and too slow to interest the true racing enthusiasts. Thus, with fewer produced, they’d become extremely rare.

      And now, Max owned one of the rarest of the rare.

      “Are you ready to get your ass kicked in tomorrow’s race?” He meant for the question to distract his friend.

      “You sound awfully confident for a man who lost last weekend.” Jason continued to frown over the loss of the Cuda. “A win that put me ahead of you in points.”

      “For now.”

      Max and Jason had been racing competitively since they were old enough to drive. They were evenly matched in determination, skill, and financing, so on any given weekend, the win could go either way.

      For the last two years, Max had beaten Jason in points over the course of the season. Like the street racers of old, Jason and Max competed for cars. The guy with fewer points at the end of the season forfeited his ride. But Max knew coming in second bothered his best friend more than the forfeit of his racecar two years straight.

      Jason adopted a confident pose. “If you think you’re going to have the most points again this year, you’re wrong.”

      Before Max could answer, Rachel appeared in his office doorway. Despite her severe navy pantsuit and plain white blouse, his pulse behaved as if she wore a provocative cocktail dress and a come-hither smile.

      “Excuse me, Max. I didn’t realize you had company.”

      He waved Rachel in. “Did you get those numbers I needed?”

      She took one step into the room and stopped. “I updated the report.” She glanced in Jason’s direction. “I also scheduled an interview for you at two this afternoon and emailed you the candidate’s resume. Maureen has a background in finance and business analysis. I think you’ll find she’s a perfect fit.”

      “We’ll see.”

      Her lips thinned. “Yes, you will.”

      Amusement rippled through him as she tossed her head and exited his office. Did she have any idea that annoyance gave her stride a sexy swing?

      “Hell.”

      Max noticed Jason was also staring after Rachel. “What?”

      “That was Rachel Lansing. What is she doing here?”

      “Working as my assistant.”

      “Have you lost your mind?”

      Probably. But Jason didn’t know about his affair with Rachel. No one did. Those four days had been too short and too intense. The end too painful for him to share. And after badmouthing his father’s infidelity for years, how could he admit to family and friends that he’d had an affair with a married woman and not be viewed as a hypocrite?

      “What are you talking about?”

      “Lansing is a matchmaker.”

      “A what?” Max searched his best friend’s serious expression for some sign that Jason was joking around.

      “Lansing Employment Agency is a matchmaking service.”

      “You’re kidding, right?” He was deeply concerned that his friend might not be.

      Jason glared at him. “Don’t look at me like that. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

      Rubbing his eyes, Max sighed. “Right now I’m dealing with a lunatic.” Confusion and amusement jockeyed for dominance. He’d never seen his best friend exhibit such over-the-top behavior.

      “It’s not funny.”

      A gust of laughter escaped him. “Sit in my chair for a minute, and I think you’ll see it’s really funny.”

      “My dad used Lansing last year.” Jason’s eyebrows arched. “He married his executive assistant six months later.”

      “Your dad was a widower for fifteen years. I’m a little surprised he didn’t remarry a lot sooner. Besides, Claire is a knockout.”

      “You’re missing the point. They’re all knockouts.”

      “So,” Max drawled. “It’s a conspiracy?”

      “Yes.” The thirty-two-year-old CFO stopped looking wild-eyed and his attention settled laser-sharp on Max. Jason’s chest lifted as he pulled in an enormous breath. “You think I’m crazy?”

      “Certifiable.”

      “I know of five other guys that have hired their assistants from Lansing and ended up marrying them. I know two more guys that met their future wives at work. Wives that got their jobs thanks to the Lansing Employment Agency. Including your brother.” Jason’s lips thinned. “Still think I’m nuts?”

      “How did you find all this out?”

      Jason shrugged. “Do you really need to ask? After Dad started looking all gooey-eyed at Claire, I did a little research on the agency.”

      “What did you find?”

      “A spotless reputation. And one hell of a track record.”

      “For what?”

      “For turning executive assistants into wives.”

      “Don’t you think that eight marriages out of hundreds of placements is a little insignificant?”

      “It’s more worrisome when you take into consideration the ratio of single executives with single assistants to married executives with married assistants.”

      “You lost me.”

      “The bulk of the executives are already married, so when you look at the numbers in that way …”

      “The ratio looks worse.”

      Jason flung his hands forward in a that’s-what-I’m-talking-about gesture, before sinking back with a relieved smile. “Exactly.”

      Max was still having a hard time swallowing the notion of Rachel as a matchmaker. “Well, you don’t need to worry about me. Where Cupid’s arrows are concerned, I’m wearing Kevlar.”

      Jason pointed a finger at him. “You can’t be sure of that.”

      “On the contrary, I’m very sure.”

      “I’m not really feeling convinced,” the CFO said. “Maybe you’d care to make things more interesting.”

      Max buzzed with the same adrenaline that filled him at the start of every race. “What’d you have in mind?”

      “Your ‘71 Cuda.”

      “Double my punishment, double your fun?” Max snorted. “I lose my freedom and the rarest car in my collection?” Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling much like laughing. “What sort of best friend are you?”

      “The kind that has your best interests at heart. I figure you might not fight to stay single for the sake of your sanity, but you’ll do whatever it takes to keep that car.”

      Interesting logic. Max couldn’t fault Jason’s reasoning. “And what are you putting on the table in case you lose?”

      Now it was Jason’s turn to frown. “You want my ‘69 Corvette?” He