Читать книгу Maid for the Millionaire - SUSAN MEIER, Susan Meier - Страница 8

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” Carrying boxes of groceries up the walk to the entrance of one of the homes owned by A Friend Indeed, Ellie “Magic” Swanson turned to face Liz. Her amber-colored eyes were as round as two full moons.

“Nope. My first client of the day was my ex-husband.”

She hadn’t meant to tell Ellie about Cain, but it had slipped out, the way things always seemed to slip out with Ellie. She was a sweet, smart, eager twenty-two-year-old who had gotten involved with the wrong man and desperately needed a break in life. Liz had given her a job only to discover that it was Liz who benefited from the relationship more than Ellie did. Desperate for a second chance, Ellie had become an invaluable employee. Which is why Liz didn’t merely provide cleaning services and grocery delivery services for A Friend Indeed, she also tried to give a job to every woman staying at the shelter homes who wanted one. She firmly believed in second chances.

Ellie shouldered open the back door, revealing the outdated but neat and clean kitchen. “How can that happen?”

“His assistant, Ava, hired us to clean the house of the CEO of Cain Corporation.”

“And you didn’t know your ex-husband was CEO of Cain Corporation?”

Liz set her box of groceries on the counter. “When we were married he only owned Nestor Construction. Apparently in three years he’s branched out. Moved to a bigger house, too.” In some ways it hurt that he’d sold the beach house they’d shared, but in others it didn’t surprise her. He’d been so lost, so despondent after the death of his brother, that he’d thrown even more of into his work than before. The much larger house on the beach had probably been a reward for reaching a goal.

Ellie walked out of the pantry where she had begun storing canned goods, her beautiful face set in firm lines and her long blond curls bouncing. “I’ll take his house next week.”

“Are you kidding? He’ll think I didn’t come back because I was intimidated.” She pointed her thumb at her chest. “I’m going. Besides, I have something else for you.” She opened her shoulder-strap purse and rifled through its contents. After finding the employment application of a young woman, Rita, whom she’d interviewed the night before, she handed it to Ellie.

“What do you think?”

“Looks okay to me.” She glanced up. “You checked her references?”

“Yes. But she’s staying at one of our Friend Indeed houses. I thought you might know her.”

Ellie shook her head. “No.”

“Well, you’ll be getting to know her next week. As soon as we’re through here, we’ll drop by the house she and her kids are using and tell her she’s got the job and that she’ll be working with you.”

“You want me to train her?”

“My goal is to get myself out of the field and into the office permanently.” Such as it was. The desk and chairs were secondhand. The air-conditioning rarely worked. The tile on the floor needed replacing. The only nice features of the crowded room were the bright yellow paint on the walls and the yellow-and-black area rug she’d found to cover most of the floor. But she was much better off than the women who came to A Friend Indeed, and working with them kept her grounded, appreciative of what she had, how far she’d come. It wasn’t so long ago that her mom had run from her abusive father with her and her sisters. The second chance they’d found because of a shelter had changed the course of not just her mom’s life, but also her life and her sisters’.

“To do that, I have to start teaching you to be my new second in command.”

Pulling canned goods from the box on the counter, Ellie glanced up again.

Liz smiled. “The promotion comes with a raise.”

Ellie’s mouth fell open and she dropped the cans before racing to Liz to hug her. “I will do the best job of anybody you’ve ever seen!”

“I know you will.”

“And seriously, I’ll take your ex-husband’s house.”

“I’m fine. My husband wasn’t abusive, remember? Simply distant and upset about his brother’s death.” She shrugged. “Besides, our paths won’t cross. We’ll be fine.”

Liz reassured Ellie, but she wasn’t a hundred percent certain it was true. Though she and Cain wouldn’t run into each other, she’d be touching his things, seeing bits and pieces of his life, opening old wounds. But she needed the job. A recommendation from Cain or his assistant could go a long way to getting the additional clients she needed. She wanted to expand. She wanted to be able to employ every woman who needed a second chance. To do that, she had to get more business.

Liz and Ellie finished storing the groceries and made a quick sweep through the house to be sure it was clean. A new family would be arriving later that afternoon to spend a few weeks regrouping before they moved on to a new life.

Satisfied that the house was ready for its new occupants, Liz led Ellie through the garage to the Happy Maids vehicle. The walk through the downstairs to the garage reminded her that she was content, happy with her life. She was smarter now and more confident than she had been when she was married. Surely she could handle being on the periphery of Cain’s life.

The following Friday morning when it was time to clean Cain’s house again, she sat in the bright yellow Happy Maids car a few houses down from Cain’s, telling herself it wouldn’t matter what she found. If the cupboards were bare, she wouldn’t worry about whether or not he was eating. She would assume he was dining out. If his mail sat unopened, she’d dust around it. Even if there were lace panties between the sheets, she would not care.

Fortified, she waited until he pulled his gorgeous black Porsche out of his driveway and headed in the other direction. But just as their encounter the week before had brought back memories of happier times, see-ing him in the Porsche reminded her of their rides along the ocean. With the convertible top down. The wind whipping her hair in all directions.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Their marriage had been abysmal. He was a withdrawn workaholic. Though his brother’s death had caused him to stop talking almost completely, she’d seen signs that Cain might not be as involved in their relationship as she was during their six-month courtship. Canceled plans. Meetings that were more important than weekends with her. It had been an impulsive, reckless decision to marry. When she was his girlfriend, he at least tried to make time for her when she visited from Philadelphia. When she became his wife, he didn’t feel the need to do that and she’d been miserably alone. When they actually did have time together, he’d been antsy, obviously thinking about his company and the work he could be doing. He’d never even tried to squeeze her into his life. So why wasn’t she remembering that?

Fortified again, she slid the Happy Maids car into his drive and entered his house. As she’d noticed the week before, there were no personal touches. No pictures. No awards. No memorabilia.

Glancing around, she realized how easy it would be to pretend it was the home of a stranger. Releasing any thought of Cain from her mind and focusing on doing the best possible job for her “client,” she cleaned quickly and efficiently. When she was done, she locked up and left as if this job were any other.

The following week, she decided that her mistake the Friday before had been watching him leave for work, seeing him in “their” beautiful Porsche. So she shifted his house from the first on her list to the second, and knew he was already gone by the time she got there. As she punched that week’s code into the alarm to disable it and unlocked the kitchen door, she once again blanked her mind of any thought of Cain, pretending this was the house of a stranger.

Tossing the first load of laundry into the washer, she thought she heard a noise. She stopped, listened, but didn’t hear it again. She returned to the kitchen and didn’t hear any more noise, but something felt off. She told herself she was imagining things, stacked dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on.

She spent the next hour cleaning the downstairs in between trips to the laundry room. When the laundry was folded, she walked up the cherrywood staircase to the second floor. Humming a bit, happy with how well she was managing to keep her focus off the house’s owner, she shouldered open the master bedroom door and gasped.

Damn.

“Who is it?”

The scratchy voice that came from the bed didn’t sound like Cain’s at all. But even in the dim light of his room, she could see it was him.

“It’s me. Liz. Cleaning your house.”

“Liz?”

His weak voice panicked her and she set the stack of clean laundry on the mirrored vanity and raced to the bed. His dark hair was soaked with sweat and spiked out in all directions. Black stubble covered his chin and cheeks.

“My wife, Liz?” he asked groggily.

“Ex-wife.” She pressed her hand to his forehead. “You’re burning up!”

Not waiting for a reply, she rushed into the master bathroom and searched through the drawers of the cherrywood vanity of the double sinks looking for something that might help him. Among the various toiletries, she eventually found some aspirin. She ran tap water into the glass and raced back to the bed.

Handing two aspirin and the water to him, she said, “Here.”

He took the pills, but didn’t say anything. As he passed the water glass back to her, he caught her gaze. His dark eyes were shiny from the effects of the fever, so she wasn’t surprised when he lay down and immediately drifted off to sleep again.

She took the glass downstairs and put it in the sink. Telling herself to forget he was in the bedroom, she finished cleaning but couldn’t leave in good conscience without checking up on him.

When she returned to the bedroom, Cain still slept soundly. She pressed her hand to his forehead again and frowned. Even after the aspirin, he was still burning up and he was so alone that it felt wrong to leave him. She could call his assistant but somehow that didn’t seem right, either. An assistant shouldn’t have to nurse him through the flu.

Technically an ex-wife shouldn’t, either, but with his family at least a thousand miles away in Kansas, she was the lesser of two evils.

Sort of.

Tiptoeing out of the room, she pulled her cell phone from her apron pocket and dialed Ellie.

“Hey, sweetie.” Ellie greeted her, obviously having noted the caller ID.

“Hey, Ellie. Is Rita with you?”

“Sure is. Doing wonderfully I might add.”

“That’s good because I think I need to have her take over my jobs this afternoon.”

“On her own?”

“Is that a problem?”

Ellie’s voice turned unexpectedly professional. “No. She’ll be great.”

“Good.”

“Um, boss, I know where you are, remember? Is there anything going on I should know about?”

“No. I’m fine. I just decided to take the afternoon off.” Liz winced. She hadn’t actually lied. She was taking time off; she simply wasn’t going to do something fun as Ellie suspected.

“No kidding! That’s great.”

“Yeah, so I’ll be out of reach for the rest of the day. Give the other girls a call and instruct them to call you, not me, if they have a problem.”

“On it, boss!” Ellie said, then she laughed. “This is so exciting!”

Liz smiled, glad Ellie was enjoying her new responsibilities. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She closed her cell phone then ambled to the kitchen. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t care if he had food or not, but with him as sick as he was, he had to at least have chicken broth and orange juice. Finding neither, she grabbed her purse and keys and headed to the grocery store where she purchased flu medicine, orange juice, chicken broth and a paperback book.

She put everything but the flu meds and book away, then she grabbed a clean glass from the cupboard and tiptoed upstairs again. He roused when she entered.

“Liz?”

“Yes. I have flu meds. You interested?”

“God, yes.”

“Great. Sit up.”

She poured one dose of the flu meds into the little plastic cup and held it out to him. He swallowed the thick syrup and handed the cup back before lying down again.

As she took the medicine to the bathroom, a bubble of fear rose up in her. Caring for him had the potential to go so wrong. Not because she worried that they’d get involved again. Tomorrow, she would forget all about this, if only because even pondering being involved with him would bring back painful memories.

But she knew Cain. He hated owing people, and if she stayed too long or did too much, he’d think he owed her. When he believed he owed somebody he could be like a dog with a bone. Being beholden made him feel weak. He was never weak. Which made her caring for him when he was sick a double threat. Not only had he been weak, but she’d seen him weak. He’d have to make this up to her.

Of course, with him as sick as he was, she could hope he wouldn’t remember most of this in the morning.

Everything would be fine.

With a peek at the bed to be sure he was asleep, she left the room and went to the Happy Maids car. In the trunk, she found a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. She changed out of her yellow maid uniform in one of the downstairs bathrooms then she took her book and a glass of orange juice into the study. Reclining on the sofa, she made herself comfortable to read.

She checked on him every hour or so. Finding him sleeping soundly every time, she slid out of the room and returned to the study. But just as she was pulling the door closed behind her on the fourth trip, he called out to her.

“Where are you going?”

She eased the door open again and walked over to the bed. “Cain? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He sat up. “Come back to bed.”

Realizing the fever had him hallucinating or mixing up the past and present, she smiled and went into the bathroom to get him some water. She pressed the glass to his lips. “Sip.”

As she held the glass to his mouth, he lifted his hand to the back of her thigh and possessively slid it up to her bottom.

Shock nearly caused her to spill water all over him. She hadn’t even dated since she left him, and the feeling of a man’s hand on her behind was equal parts startling and wonderful.

He smiled up at her. “I’m better.”

Ignoring the enticing warmth spiraling through her, she tried to sound like an impartial nurse when she said, “You’re hallucinating.”

His hand lovingly roamed her bottom as his fever-glazed eyes gazed up at her longingly. “Please. I seriously feel better. Come back to bed.”

His last words were a hoarse whisper that tiptoed into the silent room, the yearning in them like a living thing. She reminded herself that this wasn’t Cain. The Cain she’d married was a cold, distant man. But a little part of her couldn’t help admitting that this was the man she’d always wished he would be. Loving. Eager for her. Happy to be with her.

Which scared her more than the hand on her bottom. Wishing and hoping were what had gotten her into trouble in the first place—why she’d married him that impulsive day in Vegas. On that trip, he’d been so loving, so sweet, so happy that she’d stupidly believed that if they were married, if she didn’t live a thousand miles away, they wouldn’t have to spend the first day of each of their trips getting reacquainted. He’d be comfortable with her. Happy.

And for three weeks they had been. Then his brother had died, forcing him to help his dad run the family business in Kansas through e-mails and teleconference calls, as he also ran Nestor Construction. Their marriage had become one more thing in his life that he had to do. A burden to him.

That’s what she had to remember. She’d become a burden to him.

She pulled away, straightening her shoulders. She wasn’t anybody’s burden. Not ever.

“Go back to sleep.”

She returned to the study and her book, but realized that in her eagerness to get out of the room she’d forgotten to give him another dose of medicine. So she returned to his room and found him sleeping peacefully. Not wanting to disturb him, she took a seat on the chair by the window. The next time he stirred, she’d be there to give him the meds. She opened her book and began to read in the pale light of the lamp behind her.

Cain awakened from what had been the worst night of his life. Spasms of shivers had overtaken him in between bouts of heat so intense his pillow was wet with sweat. He’d thrown up. All his muscles ached. But that wasn’t the half of it. He’d dreamed Liz had taken his temperature, given him medicine and walked him to and from the bathroom.

With a groan, he tossed off the covers and sat up in bed. He didn’t want to remember the feeling of her palm on his forehead, the scent of her that lingered when she had hovered over him or the wave of longing that swept through him just imagining that she was back in his life. He pulled in a breath. How could he dream about a woman who’d left him without a word of explanation? A woman who was in his bed one day and gone without a word the next?

Because he’d been a fool. That’s how. He’d lost her because he was always working, never had time for her, and grieving his brother. No matter how she’d left, he couldn’t blame her. She was innocent of any wrongdoing…and that was why he still wanted her.

As his eyes adjusted, he noticed soft light spilling toward him from across the room. He must have left the bathroom light on. He looked to the left and saw Liz watching him from his reading chair.

He licked his dry lips. She was so beautiful. Silhouetted in the pale light from the bathroom, she looked ethereal. Her long black hair floated around her, accenting her smooth, perfect alabaster skin. She wore sweatpants and a tank top, and he realized she’d turned off the air-conditioning. Probably because of his shivering.

Still, her being in his bedroom didn’t make sense. They’d divorced three years ago.

“Why are you here?” he demanded. “How are you here?”

“I’m your maid, remember?”

“My maid?”

“Your assistant hired Happy Maids to clean your house once a week—”

He closed his eyes and lay down again, as it all came back to him. “Yeah. I remember.”

“You were pretty sick when I got here Friday morning.”

“Friday morning?” He sat up again and then groaned when his stiff muscles protested. “What day is it?”

“Relax. It’s early Saturday morning.”

He peered over. “You’ve been here all night?”

She inclined her head. “You were very sick. I didn’t feel comfortable leaving you.”

He fell back to the pillow. “Honest Liz.”

“That’s why hundreds of people let me and my company into their homes every week to clean. My reputation precedes me.”

He could hear the smile in her voice and fought a wave of nostalgia. “I guess thanks are in order.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And I probably owe you an apology for fondling your butt.”

“Oh, so you remember that?”

This time she laughed. The soft sound drifted to him, smoothed over him, made him long for everything he’d had and lost.

Which made him feel foolish, stupid, weak. She was gone. He had lost her. He could take total blame. But he refused to let any mistake make him weak.

“You know what? I appreciate all the help you’ve given me, but I think I can handle things from here on out.”

“You’re kicking me out?”

“I’m not kicking you out. I’m granting you a pardon. Consider this a get-out-of-jail-free card.”

“Okay.” She rose from the chair. Book under her arm, she headed for the door. But she stopped and glanced back at him. “You’re sure?”

He’d expect nothing less from her than absolute selflessness. Which made him feel like an absolute creep. He tried to cover that with a smile so she wouldn’t even have a hint of how hard just seeing her was for him. “I’m positive. I feel terrific.”

“Okay.”

With that she opened the door and slipped out. When the door closed behind her, he hung his head. It had been an accident of fate that he’d gotten the flu the very day she was here to clean his house. But he wasn’t an idiot. His reaction to her proved that having her back in his life—even as a temporary employee—wasn’t going to work. The weeks it took Ava to find a permanent maid would be filled with a barrage of memories that would overwhelm him with intense sadness one minute and yearning for what might have been the next.

He should get rid of her. That’s what his common sense was telling him to do. But in his heart he knew he owed her. For more than just staying with him while he was sick. He should have never talked her into marrying him.