Born to Be Wild Read Free Page A

annoyed that the woman who’d once bruised his ego had popped back into his life, and damn if she didn’t have to do it right before another one of her weddings.
    “Who’s the lucky guy?” he asked, wondering what poor sucker had fallen for her this time around.
    “You mean the groom?”
    He laughed, as if there was more than one lucky guy in her life. “Yes, the groom.”
    “Dickie Stribling. Do you know him?”
    A vision of Dickie Stribling hit Max between the eyes. “I know him.” He’d waited on Mr. Stribling once or twice. He’d served half the people in Palm Beach, Florida, when he was younger, back in the days when everyone who was anyone hired his foster father’s high-class French catering business.
    Dickie Stribling wasn’t a bad sort, if you could stomach the kind of guy who dressed in white shoes and pants, a navy blazer, and a gold-braided captain’s hat. Dickie Stribling was rich beyond imagining, too, just the kind of man someone like Lauren Remington would go for.
    “Dickie’s such a lovely man and this wedding means the world to him,” the woman continued. “So, will you please consider catering for me this Saturday? If not for me, then for Dickie.”
    Dickie’s a gullible dope , Max thought. The woman sounded fond of him, not in love, which didn’t seem like much of a basis for marriage, and now she wanted Max to make the day special! Considering the way Miss Palm Beach had humiliated him all those years ago and the fact that she’d probably humiliate Dickie somewhere down the road, he should have said no without any hesitation, but he plowed his fingers through his hair and said, “Hold on. Let me look at my schedule.”
    He knew full well he didn’t have time to cater some fancy Palm Beach affair, especially a wedding for the oft-married Lauren Remington, but she’d said “Please” more than once, and she sounded desperate. Her breeding made her believe she could have anything she wanted, and damn if his upbringing didn’t make it nearly impossible for him to turn down someone in need.
    She wasn’t exactly a charity case, but what the hell!
    “All right,” he said, hoping this wasn’t a big mistake, that some asinine desire to see her again wasn’t screwing with his brain, “it looks like I can work your wedding into my schedule.”
    “Oh, thank goodness. How soon can you come over so we can discuss the menu?”
    Max looked at his watch. “How about one-forty-five?”
    She was silent a moment, and he thought for sure he heard a sniffle on the other end of the phone before hearing her soft, sultry voice again. “That would be wonderful, Mr. Wilde. Thank you.”
    He hung up the phone and stared into the pot of hot and spicy barbecue sauce. It was as different from poached quail eggs as he was from Lauren Remington. He realized that now, but he hadn’t given their differences much thought the first time he’d seen her.
    His job that night was to serve champagne, to keep an eye on every crystal glass and to make sure they were never empty. But he’d forgotten all about the champagne when he caught a glimpse of the bride-to-be. The golden highlights in her light brown hair glistened in the candlelight, her smile glowed, and he’d thought she was the most incredibly beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on. Why she’d wanted to marry the man at her side made no sense to him. Chip Chasen was brash and arrogant and swilled one glass of champagne after another as he talked incessantly about his success at the track, comparing those wins to the conquest of his gorgeous bride.
    Max had wanted to put a fist into the man’s pretty face. But heading across the room, he found that the closer he got to Lauren, the less he thought about Chip. Stopping behind her chair, he tilted the bottle of Dom Perignon toward her glass and let his gaze roam over her shoulders, across her creamy skin and voluptuous cleavage. The champagne had just started to flow from the bottle when she