Chilling with Max

By Bonnie Dee

Love dogs and smoking hot men? The Love Off Leash series is for you. Different authors. Unrelated stories. Shared theme of new love and pets.

High tension meets laid back in a collision of opposites.

Grant Edgerton hasn’t had free day in years. From overachieving student to workaholic real estate developer in a high-pressure firm, he’s striven for success to the point of developing a stomach ulcer. When he literally crashes into a dog walker and his charges, it’s time to let loose the hounds of change. After failing to land a very important client, Grant takes an afternoon to play.

Max Thompson rolls through life’s curves with easy grace. Dog walking supplements his gigs as a musician, and he’s content with his easy come, easy go existence. He’s fluid to the point of not standing firm for anything, until an eye-opening encounter with an uptight businessman shakes his cool.

As lust stirs, then love grows, Grant begins to reevaluate what it really means to be successful in life. And as Max teaches Grant to chill, he learns some things are worth making an effort to hold on to.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bonnie Dee
• Release date: Sep 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370461585

Bonnie Dee

Whether you're a fan of contemporary, paranormal, or historical romance, you'll find something to enjoy among my books. I'm interested in flawed, often damaged, people who find the fulfillment they seek in one another. To stay informed about new releases, please SIGN UP FOR MY NEWSLETTER. Help an author out by leaving a review and spreading the word about this book among your friends. You can join my street team at FB. Learn more about my backlist at http://bonniedee.com or find me on FB and Twitter @Bonnie_Dee.

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Chilling with Max

Bonnie Dee

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Copyright © 2017 by Bonnie Dee

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Chapter One

Stop! Get off. Shoo! Grant used his briefcase as a shield to drive away the sea of dogs swirling around his legs. He glared at the man attached to the horde by various colored leads. Can’t you keep them under control? Do something!

Sorry, man. You took us by surprise, charging out the door like that. The bearded young man in huarache sandals and ripped jeans reined in the animals with a quiet but firm Chill, dogs.

Immediately, the boxer backed off, and the rest of the pack followed his example. They reorganized themselves into an orderly cadre while their walker disentangled their leashes. He patted the boxer’s head, the only one tall enough for him to reach without stooping over. The rest of the pack was made up of cockapoos, pugs, and other little yappy breeds Grant didn’t recognize.

I’m usually better at my job, I swear. The dog walker chuckled.

Grant’s irritation increased at the carefree sound. He wiped paw prints from his polished shoes with a handkerchief. Watch where you’re going next time.

Yessir. Amusement still bubbled in the guy’s voice.

Grant glared. Must be nice to stroll around the city without a care in the world, but some people had important appointments to keep and only—he checked his watch—eighteen minutes to get there. Grant took a firmer grip on his briefcase, skirted the dog pack, and started down the sidewalk at a brisk pace.

From behind came the clinking of dog tags, the clicking of toenails on pavement, and the wheeze of a half-dozen dogs breathing. A voice as warm and sunny as the June day asked, Where are you headed to in such a hurry?

A meeting. Grant walked faster to keep ahead of the pack.

That’s too bad. It’s too nice a day to be indoors. You should play hooky.

How dare this man talk to him as if they knew each other? Grant ignored him and made certain to reach the crossing just as the light changed. When he glanced back, he was satisfied to see the dog walker and his charges stuck on the other side of the street.

The man waved with his free hand. Have a great day. Don’t work too hard. Blond streaks shone in his messy brown topknot of hair and his white teeth gleamed as he smiled. He was seriously hot in a slacker sort of way.

Looks like a golden retriever. Grant’s chest tightened as he remembered Prince for the first time in years. That beautiful, loyal, goofy dog had been his best friend when he was cooped up at home with meningitis for most of one summer. He’d been the brother Grant never had, the perfect companion for an often lonely only child.

He shook off the wave of nostalgia and put the odd encounter behind him. If he didn’t make this meeting in time, it would reflect badly on Smith and Cooper as well as on Grant. Henderson was almost ready to sign on, a huge account Grant couldn’t afford to lose. He couldn’t be distracted by dogs and sexy dog walkers.

When Grant reached the conference room, the entire team, including the firm’s owners Vance Cooper and doddering old Jerry Smith, were already waiting. Cooper’s laughter boomed, and the other brokers politely laughed. Vance had probably told one of his offensive jokes. Grant’s potential client, industrialist Zack Henderson, appeared more irritated than amused.

Before Cooper could annoy him further, Grant interrupted, Please forgive my tardiness. He suppressed the impulse to explain himself. Henderson wouldn’t appreciate a dog ate my homework excuse. It didn’t matter if there’d been a terror attack. Grant should have been punctual.

Henderson gave a grunt that could have been either pardon or condemnation. Grant didn’t wait for more but launched into his presentation. As he spoke and clicked through images, charts and graphs, he was aware of every person in the room judging his performance. The other brokers, Bates, Tortelli and Gable, were rooting for him to stumble. It was dog eat dog as far as getting ahead in this game. Cooper glared daggers every time Grant looked his way, while Jerry Smith seemed distracted by something outside the window. Henderson dominated one end of the table with advisors sitting on either side. One of them kept leaning to whisper to him, while Henderson remained impassive as a statue.

It’s all right. You’ve prepared for this. Just deliver the material.

Important parts of which he’d forgotten this morning—simply left the file of documents on the kitchen counter, things he couldn’t print at the office from electronic versions. This out-of-character mistake had been the beginning of Grant’s strange day. It was what had sent him racing home, then barreling out of his building into a pack of dogs. He could admit now that had been mostly his fault. The pack had been organized until Grant erupted into it, getting the animals excited.

Bottom line. Henderson interrupted Grant’s wrap-up.

If you look on schedule B, you’ll see—

No, the balding, bushy-browed man interrupted. Never mind the figures. I want to hear why I should trust your firm with this project. What can you do for me no one else can?

He demanded a personal touch, so Grant set down the remote, leaving the PowerPoint on a shot of an abandoned paper mill in a wasteland of weeds. You can trust us because we’re experienced and because we have everyone’s best interests at heart. If we broker this deal, not only you but all parties will walk away satisfied, which is good for business. We believe you’ll want to trust Smith and Cooper with all future property investments.

Level gaze, no-bullshit expression, a steady, calm voice; he held Henderson in the palm of his hand. The man was already nodding as if he’d come to a decision. A thrill of excitement at winning swelled through Grant.

Henderson rose, and the two marionettes on either side of him were pulled up by invisible strings. I’ll consider your proposal.

Grant’s stomach dropped. He’d been confident they’d have a firm commitment by the end of his presentation. Cooper would consider maybe a fail.

Henderson swept out of the conference room without a goodbye or a handshake. Grant knew that was the man’s abrupt way, but everyone else would take it as a dismissal. Damn! All Grant’s long days and late nights and this was the paltry result?

Cooper trotted after the billionaire in an attempt to