Nothing he said or did communicated “Get out” or “Go away” like he intended Shit.
Her mouth turned up in a cheeky grin. “I’ll just start in the bedroom, shall I?” Without waiting for a reply, she exited in the direction of the hallway.
Walsh smiled at him. “She’ll just start in the bedroom.”
“Shut up,” Payne muttered. His thoughts were jumbled in his head, twisted and tangled by lust and a distinct feeling of helplessness. She’d always fucked him up, even when she was trailing after him and her sister, wanting to know what they were doing and where they were going. He’d found her amusing in a pesky way, a bit like his little sister, Cami. Then, one night she’d found her way into a Velvet Lemons party and he’d been drinking and she’d looked nothing like someone’s younger sibling…
Muttering a curse, he slid forward on his chair. “You gotta help me out, Walsh.”
“I already did,” the other man answered. “I took a look at those records and realized you’ve need to spend some time at that yard.”
“But—”
“And Ren arranged for someone to help you at home and help you get to work and make sure you don’t overdo—all the while looking smokin’ fine in a hot little number.”
Groaning again, Payne put his head in his hands.
“How would you like me to launder these, sir?”
At Rose’s voice, his head popped up again. In her hands was a set of see-through lingerie, a panty and bra set in bold tangerine. The brat held them against her body, just to torture him by allowing him to imagine her dressed in the little-nothings.
“I don’t know where they came from,” he choked out.
“Or who they came off of,” Walsh added, sotto voce.
Payne closed his eyes, trying again to sort through his thoughts. On the one hand, Rose was a willing and able person who could help him with his household tasks, and, more importantly, act as chauffeur to get him back and forth to work. On the other hand…Rose.
“I guess I’ll put them through the hand wash cycle,” she said now.
And for the love of God, hand wash sounded like hand job, and he could see her small fingers wrapped around his cock, slick with suds, as she jerked him toward heaven. His shaft, half-hard from the moment she’d entered his house in that silly—sexy as hell—outfit went full and ready. Raging.
“What am I going to do?” he implored Walsh.
“Take the path of least resistance,” the other man advised. “Accept you have a new woman in your life.”
Rose, a fabric grocery bag in the curve of her arm, let herself into Payne’s house. The day before, under Walsh’s gaze, Payne had grudgingly handed over a set of house keys. It wasn’t completely clear what had ultimately persuaded him to accept her services, but she knew the French maid costume might have had something to do with it. That she’d shown up wearing it had caught him off-guard.
Go, Rose.
But it was so out-of-character for her that she hadn’t had the guts to try the outfit a second day. She needed to have her own wits about her to handle the man who was walking, talking, smiling sex appeal.
Which was why it had been necessary to leave that uniform at home this time. Wearing it as she’d moved about his house, she’d been hyper-aware of the way the apron strings bound her waist. The tight grip of the stockings on her upper thighs. Even the tiny scratch of the pins that held her cap to her scalp.
She’d been a mass of twitching nerve endings by the time she’d climbed into her car for the drive back to Lily’s.
So today she’d raided her sister’s wardrobe yet again and was dressed in a pair of jeans that had masses of flowers appliqued all over the legs and butt. A simple pink sleeveless top that was Lily’s too. It was loose and had two layers, the second, gauzy one she’d knotted on one side at her hip. Ballet flats, in ballet-pink, were on her feet since they’d been screaming at her after a day in those naughty high heels—though she’d decided the discomfort was worth it after she caught Payne staring at her legs a time or two.
Shutting his front door behind her, she heard voices coming from the direction of the kitchen. She paused, wondering what to do. After a night’s reflection on the best way to proceed with Payne, she’d vowed to leave the saucy maid behind and be businesslike and matter-of-fact—like a true employee.
Wouldn’t a true employee give him privacy with his latest guests?
But she had groceries to put away and perhaps it was only Walsh and his admin, Honey, again.
The tenor of Payne’s low laughter as she crossed the threshold into the sunny room told her instantly this was company of an entirely different sort. Seated on either side of him at his kitchen table were two beautiful young women—one a gorgeous Asian and the other another platinum blonde.
All three looked over as Rose approached the countertop and set down her bag. “Good morning,” she said, with a polite, yet impersonal smile.
The guests transferred their gazes to Payne.
He didn’t answer the question in their eyes, instead directing his comment to her. “You decided on a different uniform.”
This one didn’t feel any more comfortable with his gaze one her. It was as if the blossoms appliqued on her ass were heating up due to his stare—at this rate she’d be permanently branded.
“Objections?” she asked, putting the refrigerated items away.
“You can wear whatever you want,” he said.
“Good.” She grabbed the coffeemaker’s carafe and marched toward the three. “Can I top off your mugs?”
The blonde scrunched up her nose. “Who is this?” she asked Payne.
Rose answered for him as she poured the dark brew. “I’m his temporary mommy.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, turning them to hard, bright shards of unworldly blue.
Ignoring the look, she returned the carafe and paid no heed to the murmur of conversation on the other side of the room. Flipping on the faucet, she washed the vegetables she’d brought with her: carrots, zucchini, cauliflower, and broccoli.
Next, she drew a cutting board in front of her and found a knife.
“What are you doing?” Payne called from across the room.
“Preparing lunch for later.”
“That’s an awful lot of vegetables,” he said.
“That’s what mommies are for, right? To keep you healthy.”
“Rose…”
She ignored the warning note in his voice. Needling him felt good. In her old job at her father’s firm, she’d toed every line, smoothed every rough edge, never rocked any boats. Seeing Payne with another set of buxom beauties gave her an edge. “The veggies are going to be so yummy steamed, spread over brown rice then covered with melted cheese, sour cream, and shaved almonds on top. Will your little friends be staying for the meal?”
The women tittered. Payne sent her a second narrow-eyed look that promised payback later. Rose swept all the chopped vegetables into a bowl that went into the fridge. Then she strode off, a dust cloth in one hand.
While tidying one of the guest rooms, she heard him escorting the women out his front door. She made a face at herself in the mirror. Now the time had come to pay the piper for her sass. Temporary mommy was about to be taken to task, she assumed.
Well, she decided, resigned, she’d have to apologize. Hadn’t she promised herself to be businesslike?
As she prepared to look properly contrite, another female voice sounded in the direction of the entry. Someone new had arrived.
“Where is she?” the voice said. “I haven’t seen her in ages! Rose?”
Curious—and happy for the reprieve—she walked toward the sound of her name and encountered Cilla Maddox in Payne’s living area. It was a magnificent room with reclaimed oak paneling on three walls. The fourth consisted of glass doors that all stacked to one side so it fully opened to the outside terrace and pool. But all was brightened by the younger woman’s smile.
“It’s good to see you again,�
�� Cilla said, beaming. Glancing back, she caught the eye of her fiancé, Payne’s older brother Ren. “Isn’t it good to see Rose?”
The dark-haired, green-eyed man came up beside Cilla, seemingly drawn to her side by an invisible tether. “Of course.”
Rose had only known the other woman vaguely in school, and Ren not at all, but she’d met them in the fall when she’d been part of the group at a music club to hear the men’s younger sister, Cami, play and sing. “It’s great to see you again too.”
“Ren’s so happy you’re here to help Payne,” Cilla said.
Rose dared a glance at the blond man. He stood behind the couple, his expression bemused. “Cilla, I’m aware this was all your idea.”
Turning to him, the other woman’s forehead creased. “Your brother cares about you, you know.”
“Don’t let him get to you, sweetheart.” Ren pulled her close to his side and dropped a kiss on the top of her head and then another on her temple.
She smiled up at the dark-haired man and melted against him. “I love you,” she whispered.
Payne groaned aloud. “Please excuse the public display of affection, Rose. Nothing stops their PDA, even when I tell them it offends me.”
Ren lifted a brow at his brother. “Such displays didn’t seem to offend you in the hot tub during years of Velvet Lemons parties, bro.”
Payne shrugged. “Maybe I’ve mended my exhibitionist ways.”
Rose couldn’t suppress the little noise she made. And yes, it sounded suspiciously like a snort.
With a frown, Payne shifted his attention to her. “Do you have a comment to make?”
“I was just recalling walking in on you and the triplets the other day.”
Surely that wasn’t a flush crawling up the side of his neck. “I didn’t know you were there,” Payne muttered, his tone defensive.
A concerned expression crossed Cilla’s face. She tucked her hand into Rose’s arm. “Let’s go make tea,” she said briskly. “I could use a cup and some girl talk.”
In the kitchen, Cilla bustled about, putting water in a kettle and setting it on a burner. “Um, is everything all right? It seems a little…testy between you two.”
Rose sighed. Now that she was away from Payne she felt bad about her lack of professionalism. This was a job, after all, and she’d vowed to look at it that way. “I’m sorry. I guess we sort of set each other’s hackles up.”
The other woman grimaced. “He hasn’t been a very good patient from the get go. His mother called in Ren and Cami time and again for help, and all the other Velvet Lemons kids tried too, but none of us have been able to keep him content and quiet for long.”
“Perhaps it’s a sign that he’s healed.” Rose didn’t want to talk herself out of an employment check, but she had to be honest.
The kettle whistled, and Cilla prepared two mugs of tea, then handed one to Rose. “How much do you know about his accident?”
“Uh…that he was in one?”
“Men.” Cilla sighed. “I should have known Ren would leave out the salient points when he called you. I’ll have to give him a piece of my mind about that.”
Rose grinned. The man had a dark and dangerous air that she couldn’t imagine responding well to a lover’s scolding. “Oh, I’m sure that will be effective. Once suitably chastised, I’m certain Ren will sit, worshipful, at your feet.”
Cilla laughed. “Ren is never suitably chastised.”
“Worshipful?” Rose asked.
The other woman had one dimple which dug itself deep. “In only the naughtiest kind of way.” Then she sobered. “Payne was driving a Formula E car when he crashed.”
Rose blinked. “Formula E?”
“Like a Formula 1 car, those sleek, low to the ground vehicles, but it runs on electrical power.”
“Oh.”
“He was going one hundred fifty miles per hour during a practice run when another racer clipped him. It popped off his right front wheel which sent him into a skid. When he hit a barrier, the car flipped into the air, then landed upside down.”
Rose’s fingers tightened on her mug. “Oh my God.”
Cilla looked down at her tea. “I only watched the video footage of it once. That was one too many times, I’ll tell you.”
“I had no idea.”
“He was left with lots of bumps and bruises, a collarbone broken in four places, a concussion. Worst of all, he had internal bleeding.”
Rose’s glance darted in the direction of the living room. A sudden urge to see Payne, touch him, ensure he was alive and whole, nearly overwhelmed her. She forced her back against the countertop, anchoring herself there so she didn’t dash to him and then do something stupid like run her hands all over him.
That wouldn’t be the least bit businesslike.
“What—” She had to swallow to lubricate her dry throat. “What did they do about that?”
“Opened him up.” Cilla sipped her tea. “They found his liver was badly torn. He nearly died on the operating table.”
He nearly died on the operating table.
Rose felt a wash of cold sweep down her back. “But…but he’s okay now.”
The other woman nodded. “He’s recovering well. But he needs to take it easy. Not overdo until the doctor clears him—we hope in just a few more weeks.”
“Ren asked me to help out with light housekeeping, cooking. To drive him to his salvage yards and let him put in some hours working if he feels up to it.”
Cilla nodded. “That’s right. We considered splitting up the duties amongst all of us—trading days or tasks—but we thought he’d respond better to someone outside of our tribe.”
Rose grimaced. “I’m not sure how well he’s responding to me.” Guilt poured into her as she thought about how she’d goaded him both yesterday and today.
“Don’t coddle him,” Cilla said. “He’d hate that. But he must be made to rest and then you might need to find a way to…entertain him.”
Before Rose could think up an appropriate response, Ren stuck his head into the room. “Ready, Cilla? I have a meeting in my office in an hour.”
“Sure thing.” The woman placed her mug in the sink and crossed to Rose. “You can do it,” she said under her breath. “These rock princes just require a little patience.”
Rose might have questioned that a little further, but Cilla was already gone and Payne now sauntered into the room. She crossed to the sink where she washed out Cilla’s mug and placed it in the dishwasher.
“I overheard Cilla say you’ll need to entertain me.”
Glancing over her shoulder at him, she took in his gorgeous face that wasn’t the least bit marred by the smirk on his lips. There was a gleam in his eye and when she turned back around she figured he was staring at her ass again because those damn flowers were heating up once more.
“How’re you going to do that, Rose?”
“I’m not sure. I left my tap dancing shoes at home.”
He laughed. “You’ve got a mouth on you now. That’s different.”
Because she was twenty-seven, not fifteen. A grown-up, not some kid with a brand new case of spiking hormones combined with a virulent case of hero-worship. So she was going to act like an adult too, as she’d promised herself this morning climbing into her car.
Be businesslike. A true employee.
She turned around to tell him so. He’d taken a step closer now, though, close enough for her to see the stubby spikes of his dark brown eyelashes. She could smell him too, a clean, soapy scent that smelled like the ocean and made her want to bury her nose in his neck. His body heat reached out to her, and it felt magnetized.
Drawing her in.
His nostrils flared. “Rose…”
Businesslike! Be professional! she admonished herself.
Then he made a move, and her defenses caused her hand to jerk up. It knocked the mug he’d been holding out. Tea splashed on his shirt. The cup landed on the ground, shattering.
“Oh, G
od,” she said, aghast. “I’m sorry.”
“No worries.” He lifted the hem of his shirt away from his belly.
“Did it burn? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, Rose.”
She shook her head. “Take off the shirt. The tea will stain unless I get it in cold water.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“Neither is giving it a quick cold soak.” She headed for the utility closet to collect the broom and dustpan. “Off with it now.”
When she turned back, the implements in her hand, he was just stripping the cotton over his head.
Rose’s feet stuttered to a halt. She stared at him, his heavy shoulders and wide chest golden and naked. His torso was rippled with muscle…
And scarred. A long one bisected him there, from below his pecs almost to his navel. He nearly died on the operating table.
Swallowing hard, she ducked her head and hurried to sweep up the shards. As she did so, he tossed the garment onto the counter then murmured he was off to get another shirt.
Once he was out of the room, she leaned on the broom and breathed, hard.
Trying to control her emotions. A prick of hot tears stung the corners of her eyes as she thought of all that male beauty and golden vitality being lost. Payne had nearly died.
And now, supremely aware of that, Rose began to doubt she had even the smallest chance of being all-business around him.
Chapter Three
The Santa Ana winds blowing off the desert turned the temps in Southern California to true summer, which only served to scorch Payne’s already dark mood. If it felt like summer it should be summer, and by summer he was supposed to be 100 percent recovered. Instead, he was languishing on one of the lounge chairs by the pool, trying to keep out the way of the woman who was giving his house a thorough scrubbing.
He frowned in the direction of the sound of running water. The fact was, he suspected she was doing her best to keep away from him.
Annoyed by that fact for some reason he couldn’t articulate, Payne got up and wandered inside. Rose stood at the kitchen sink, sponge in hand. The twin cords of the bright blue buds stuck in her ears became one and led to the phone he could see shoved in her back pocket.
Touch Me Page 3