Next to nothing?
he chided himself.
Hell, he didn't even know her name. He'd avoided asking for the
same reason he hadn't offered his own. Just for tonight, he didn't
want the outside world to intrude.
“Thank you,” he said simply.
Her hand jerked and she almost dropped the
sweet and sour chicken she was spooning onto her plate. At the last
second, she righted the box and placed it back on table with a
shaky hand. “For what?”
He waited till she looked back up at him
before he answered. “For staying.”
She cocked her head to one side and said
quietly, “You looked like you needed someone to talk to.”
“Talk?” he scoffed. That wasn't what women
normally offered him and certainly not what he was looking for this
evening. He gave her his best suggestive smile. “Is that really
what you think I need?”
Completely unexpectedly, she mocked instead
of melted. “Wait. Don't tell me. You don't do that, either.”
He couldn't help it. He laughed. She had a
dry wit that tickled his sense of humor. How long had it been since
he'd found a woman anything more than tediously emotional or
clingy? “You're nothing like the women I'm used to,” he said
spontaneously. As she started to sputter a response, he spoke over
her. “In a good way.”
She groaned and looked away. “Let's not go
there again.”
He leaned over the table to cup her chin
lightly with a finger, raising it until she looked at him again.
“Obviously my charm is rusty.” He ran his thumb lightly over her
lips, watched them part instinctively and fought back the desire to
haul her up on the small table between them. “I'm trying to tell
you that I find you very attractive.”
Swallowing nervously, she pulled her chin out
of his grasp. In a dismissive manner, she picked up her chopsticks
again. “If you want anything more than companionship over a meal,
you've asked the wrong woman,” she said and quickly filled her
mouth with rice as he digested her comment.
He sat back on his heels. “So prim and
proper. Do you start all of your dates with such declarations?”
Between deliberately casual bites of food,
she said, “This isn’t a date.”
“It could be.”
She choked on her food and reached for her
glass of water. After a few gulps, she stood and said, “This was a
mistake.”
He quickly stood and blocked her exit. He
felt her breath quicken. “Tell me I’m not crazy. Tell me you’re
just as tempted.” He pulled her slowly toward him, until her body
was flush against his.
“I really don’t think this is a good
idea.”
He brushed his lips softly over hers,
successfully silencing her protests. For a moment, she remained
unresponsive, frozen in his arms. Then with a shudder, her lips
began to move against his. As he deepened the kiss, she relaxed
against him with a sigh and wrapped her previously rigid arms
warmly around his neck.
He shifted backwards, so she came up onto her
tiptoes and rested more fully on his excitement. With a moan, she
moved against him, exciting him more. Nothing mattered except this
feeling, this woman, this evening.
“Stay tonight,” he whispered into her neck.
“If I had known that my maid was this sexy, I would have come back
to Boston a long time ago.”
She pulled back so abruptly that he dropped
his arms.
“Crap,” she said and continued to back away
from him.
He reached for her again, but she evaded him
this time. Whatever connection they'd shared had clearly been
broken by his mention of her career. He scolded himself for
stupidly mentioning it.
“I have to go,” she sidestepped a wide circle
around him, trying to get to the door before him.
“Stay. I know this is crazy. I’ve always made
sure to steer clear of…”
“Dating the help?” she suggested, her tone
full of the judgment it had held earlier.
“Yes, but only because I never wanted to put
anyone in an awkward position…” he acknowledged the irony of his
words as he tried to get between her in the door. Somehow this was
different. She was different.
“How nice of you,” she spoke over him.
“I don’t care that you’re a maid. It doesn’t
matter.”
“It matters to me.”
He blocked her exit. She couldn't leave. Not
like this.
“Stay.”
“I can't. I really have to go.”
“That's not what you want.”
“What I want is for you to stop blocking the
door,” she declared.
His hands fell to his side and he stepped out
of her way. She couldn’t mean that. “Why deny it? You want me just
as much as I want you.”
She brushed past him and into the main foyer
without so much as a glance back. Her voice sounded more flustered
than angry. “I told you that I had stayed to share a meal with you,
nothing more.”
Her attraction to him hadn't been in his
imagination. She'd enjoyed that kiss as much as he had. First hot,
then cold. Was it all a game? If so, it was one that he had no
intention of losing.
He knew of one way to find out her real
motivation.
“Would you stay for ten thousand dollars?” he
asked.
He felt a stab of disappointment when she
stopped before opening the door and turned back to face him. “Do
you think I'm for sale?”
He hoped not.
“How about a hundred thousand?” He forced the
words out.
“Is it because I'm a maid that you think you
can talk to me this way?” Her hands were back on her hips, eyes
flashing with fury, which only made her more beautiful.
The final test. “You’re a shrewd bargainer. A
million. I've never met a woman who was worth that amount of money,
but I suspect I won’t regret tonight.”
She opened the door with one hand and said,
“You're a pig, an egotistical pig. If you even have a million
dollars, I suggest you roll it up and stick it up your...” the last
word was lost beneath the sound of the door slamming behind
her.
He had a pretty good idea where she'd
suggested he put it.
His chuckle blossomed into a full, hearty
laugh until he was wiping wetness from around his eyes. The release
of tension felt good. Damn, that is one incredible woman. Looking
back over the evening, he gave into more laughter as he settled
back onto one of the cushions by the coffee table and filled his
plate with fried rice.
She'd be back.
He'd make sure of that.
Chapter Four
The sound of that big oaf laughing made Abby
want to reopen the door and throw a shoe at his smug face. She
didn’t, though. Instead, she made herself breathe deeply as she
descended the stone stairs. A large part of her job consisted of
extolling the virtues of non-violent responses to conflict. Mr.
Armani evoked a strong rebuttal to that philosophy.
He’d actually offered her money like a common
prostitute. What kind of man does that? The kind of man, she
reminded herself, who looked like he slept in his car when he left
bars.
Abby looked over her shoulder to make sure he
wasn't following her out of the brownstone and told herself that
she wasn't disappointed that he hadn't. The man was an arrogant
ass.
A big, gorgeous, sexy, arrogant ass.
A flashy, black car had parked carelessly
close to the rear of her slightly rusted, blue Saturn sedan. It had
plenty of room behind it. Whoever owned the car had pinned her in
out of indifference, rather than necessity. She inched her car
forward, then back, but didn’t have room to get out of her parallel
parking spot.
What kind of…wait, it couldn’t be
. The
license plate had said New York. She’d bet her last dollar that Mr.
Armani had driven his trophy car up to Boston.
She set her car in reverse and acted on an
impulse; slowly backing her car until it thumped the other. Both
bumpers protested and her tires spun, but eventually the cars
reversed a few inches. As she pulled forward and into traffic, she
quickly looked back in her rearview mirror. His bumper was
scratched and slightly dented, but it was nothing more than he
deserved and she didn’t care if he knew she’d done it. In fact, she
would have gladly signed the masterpiece had she been able to.
Who’s laughing now?
she thought and
headed for home.
The triumph was short lived. What was she
going to tell Lil? Had she set out to get her sister fired, she
couldn’t have been more thorough. Even if he didn’t mention her
general appearance or inappropriate behavior, there was always the
chance that he’d report her for damaging his vehicle.
She should feel bad about that. In fact, she
had every intention of deeply regretting that move when she was
forced to explain it to Lil, but for now, it still felt right. She
couldn’t suppress a smile as she imagined his expression when he
saw what she’d done. He’d be furious!
The idea of making him angry was unexpectedly
a turn on for Abby. A man like that wouldn’t stay angry. He’d yell
at first then pull her against him and their mutual passion would
take it from there. Would they make it as far as the bedroom or
would the stairs have to suffice?
Abby turned on the car’s air conditioner to
cool her face. She really had to stop thinking about him that way.
The man might be good looking, but he had the social skills of a
cockroach. He offered to buy me for the night, for goodness
sake.
So, why did she wish the evening had ended
differently?
She wasn’t the type who found dangerous men
attractive. She dated solid, dependable, safe men. They were part
of her plan; a plan that she’d outlined for herself and Lil when,
at eighteen, she’d become her sister’s legal guardian. What her
life lacked in passion, it made up for in achievement. Her careful
choices had made juggling college and parenthood possible. The
house she was driving home to was evidence that the path she’d
chosen had been the right one.
Whatever Mr. Armani made her feel didn’t fit
her priorities. It was good, but it was the kind of good that
always ended badly. That knowledge didn’t change the fact that for
the first time in too many years to count she’d felt young, giddy –
alive.
Pulling into the neatly shrub-lined driveway
of her suburban home, Abby succumbed once again to the memory of
their brief kiss and shivered despite the warm, June evening air
that assailed her as she opened the car door. She caught her
smiling reflection in the car window.
Come on
, Abby she said to herself in
reproach.
Snap out if it.
Nothing good would have come
from sleeping with Mr. Armani.
Nothing except mind blowing sex.
Abby groaned at the excitement that was still
evident in her expression. How was she going to convince Lil that
she regretted getting her fired from her job if she couldn’t get
this stupid smile off her face?
Dominic put his feet up on the desk in the
small office of the brownstone. The worn leather of the swivel
chair reminded him of days long past when he'd settled for this
office furniture out of necessity. Each day had held a challenge
for him, a reason to get up in the morning.
He poured himself a glass of Jack Daniels,
but put it down without taking a sip. Not normally a big drinker,
Dominic had temporarily sought solace in the numbness alcohol
provided. But even at the level of incapacitation, the
self-recriminations and fury had remained – until tonight.
Tonight he didn’t want to think about the
father who had disowned him when he’d set off to find his mother or
the bitterness that had overcome Dominic when eventually he’d
stopped looking for her. He didn’t want to second guess the very
successful career he’d thrown himself into or how his business
practices had left him with a distinct lack of friends.
No, tonight was not about the past. For once,
he was focused on something that had nothing to do with money or
revenge. Tonight was about getting something -- more specifically
someone -- he wanted. He’d played the evening wrong and fixing the
situation would require careful negotiations and a clear head.
He pulled out his cell phone and said,
“Jake.”
Jake picked up on the second ring. “Dom, what
do you need?”
“I need a favor. A personal favor.”
Knowing Jake, he sat forward in his chair as
he announced, “I’m not going to kill anyone for you.” Although his
tone was light, Dominic heard the serious undertones of his
proclamation.
“Do you honestly think if I was going to ask
you to knock someone off, that I’d use my own cell phone?” he
joked, but Jake didn't share in his humor. “Jake, I’m kidding.”
“I don’t joke about things that could have me
hiding in a third world country to escape extradition.”
The seriousness of Jake’s tone stung. When
they’d sat in this very office, cramming for exams and outlining
their future business proposals, neither of them could have
predicted exactly how much they would surpass their original goals
or how ruthless Dominic would have to become to make it happen. But
murder? Exactly how depraved did Jake think he’d become? Sure there
had been financial casualties along the way, but that was business.
Morality, much like international law, was often subjective. His
success had always sparked rumors of possible wrong-doing, but
until now he’d believed that Jake knew the truth. “All I need,
Jake, is for you to contact our local security company.”
That got Jake’s attention. “What
happened?”
“Nothing happened. I need a background check
done on someone ASAP. Tonight.”
“Not a problem. We subcontract Luros Systems
in Boston. I’ll have Duhamel contact them. Who do you want checked
out?”
He hesitated and Dominic wasn't a man who
second-guessed himself. “I don't know her name, but she cleaned my
brownstone today.”
“You want a background check on your
housekeeper?” Jake asked in disbelief. “Did she steal from
you?”