by Sierra Rose
“Thanks. I took extra communications courses at Wharton to avoid douchiness.”
“Right. It was nice meeting you, Harvey. You’re a lot more down to earth than I expected.”
“Thank you. And younger, apparently. If I have a Metamucil emergency, I’ll know who to call.”
“Yes. I could take care of that for you,” Bella said, embarrassed.
“I hope you like working here. We’re glad to have you at the compound.”
“That sounds so Kennedys.”
“I didn’t want to call it an estate or something stuck-up like that. It’s not an ancestral manor. It’s a bunch of affiliated residential buildings under top-flight security. That’s a compound,” he shrugged as if it were totally ordinary. She smiled at him again, her gaze lingering on his perfect face before she walked out.
Bella was in serious trouble. She had a crush on her boss.
Chapter 4
Harvey Carlson didn’t have time for distractions. A cute new maid was a minor problem. Certainly nothing he couldn’t ignore, though. The major problem was the cute new maid’s adorable personality. She offered to make him Metamucil. She babbled when she was nervous. She told razor-sharp jokes about hipsters. In short, she was a disaster. He liked having competent, healthy, and unobtrusive staff. They were supplied with every advantage to enable them to fulfill his requirements perfectly and without drawing attention to themselves. So here was Bella James, like a lightning rod for his attention.
His pulse had sped up, and he’d put down the stylus he’d been using on his table. He’d, in fact, quit doing anything except talking to her and flirting a little. His mind wasn’t on business or how to dismiss her swiftly, so she didn’t deter his working momentum. Instead, he’d paid attention and been fully present. The corporate world set a high value on Harvey Carlson’s undivided attention.
There were plenty of struggling or not-so-struggling executives who’d gladly pay thousands for the ten minutes of focus he’d lavished on a mere employee who amused him. It had been an absolute waste of time, and he’d be certain she was assigned to work in whichever part of the house was farthest from his office and private quarters. He could tell Marks that the girl’s voice annoyed him or something superficial like that. The housekeeper would not only reassign her, she’d probably have the girl muzzled or have her mouth duct taped or something extreme.
No, better to say he wanted no staff in the vicinity of his office unless expressly summoned. The area would simply have to be cleaned while he was at work. It was a simple matter to remove the distracting maid from his immediate sphere. Out of sight, out of mind. It was as easy as that. Harvey congratulated himself on solving the issue so handily. He messaged Mrs. Marks with the directive for absolute seclusion and silence anytime he was working in his office.
Now Harvey could concentrate on the relevant challenges, the kind that superseded any adolescent attraction he felt toward the cute maid. Like the fact that his mother was coming back to the States from a year in Europe next month, which meant nothing but trouble. She would either demand that he marry a respectable blue-blood immediately or that he avoid any sort of romantic entanglement lest he end up like his father.
When he died, Harvey’s father was married to wife number five, a twenty-nine-year old restaurant seating hostess turned heiress when she outlived her wealthy husband of only eight months. She wore a red bandage dress to the funeral and generally made dear old dad look ridiculous regardless of what she was wearing. So he would be damned if he did (like Dad) or damned if he didn’t and thus died without an heir, or something like that. Harvey had been hearing the same contradictory arguments from his mother for the last decade and her time in Italy had given him a nice year off from her constant harangue.
He needed to clear the permits for the acquisition of the Jakarta plant and speak with the legal department about the debt load from restructuring. He also needed to quit thinking about Bella and whether she was going to take advantage of the staff pool. He’d had a lap pool installed two years ago for his employees, and it had proven a good investment both in fitness and morale. He’d only been there himself on the day they opened the pool and had a cookout to celebrate.
Otherwise, he gave his employees their privacy. He didn’t want them standing around while he swam laps by the main house, so it stood to reason they’d prefer their boss to leave them alone while they swam. It seemed rude to drop in and demand to know if they were enjoying the pool or if they’d noticed any health benefits from it. Still—he might need to spend more time building positive relationships with his employees. He often took one division or other out to lunch at corporate each week—this week had been the Accounting staff at the new empanada restaurant. It made sense to socialize a bit with his domestic help as well. Build loyalty and mutual respect, that sort of thing.
Harvey decided that after he called legal and checked on the permits for Jakarta, he’d stroll over to the staff pool and see if it was being put to good use. That should give them time to complete her tour. Not that he was even timing his visit casually to coincide with the swim an Arkansas girl would be unable to resist as she settled in. Her presence had nothing to do with his plan. He was building positive rapport with staff. It was just good business practice. That’s all.
He made the calls, checked his email, and headed out for a leisurely stroll around his property. It was a good opportunity to speak to the groundskeeper about how good the perennials were looking and how the tallest tree to the west needed trimming because it obstructed the view of Camelback from his office window.
Hands in his pockets, he realized quickly that taking an unplanned stroll in his suit and tie was going to be uncomfortably hot. He shed the jacket and rolled up the sleeves. There, he thought, business casual. Harvey spoke to the groundskeeper, pointing out the offending branches, and stopped by the stables to speak to the groomers and greet Winnower, his stallion.
At last, he made his way back to the staff guesthouse and nodded to the pair of night security men who were just getting up and heading out for coffee. Around at the pool, he saw one of his chefs, a stable groom on a late meal break, and the new maid lounging with her feet in the water. She wore a plain one-piece bathing suit in boring black, and he couldn’t help thinking how stunning she’d look in one of those Trina Turk bikinis all the women in his set favored. He was used to seeing bathing suits on tanned, perfect bodies on his yacht, wearing their designer suits complete with necklaces and earrings, with sunglasses that probably cost more than this girl’s Arkansas apartment had.
If Harvey was used to looking at perfection, why couldn’t he take his eyes off this girl? This maid with her hipster jokes and her motel-cleaner work experience and discount store fashion. She had no degree, no study abroad program, no connections to speak of. So here he was, one of the top executives in the nation, the wealthiest man in the state of Arizona, spying on the help at their pool. Overcoming the slight embarrassment, he strode forward and said hello to Fabrice, the chef.
“Duck tonight?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. With the cherry glaze you prefer.”
“Excellent. Enjoying your swim?”
“Very much. The pool is such a relief on hot days after the hot kitchen.”
“Good, good. And you, Mariel?” he asked of the stablehand.
“Just cooling off before I head back,” she said, diving underwater.
“How are you settling in, Bella?” he said, finally turning his attention to her.
“It’s great. I love the pool. I feel more productive already,” she smiled.
“Did Mrs. Marks give you the grand tour?”
“Yes. I know where to find the abrasive cleaners and the toilet brushes and all that good stuff. Your bathroom fixtures are safe with me.”
“Good to know. And if I find a water spot on my faucet, I’ll know who to call.”
“Day or night. My phone’s right over there on the towel. So I can leap out of the water and t
end to your every need.” She blushed, “well, not your every need. I meant cleaning needs. Like if you needed something…cleaned…” she trailed off, obviously embarrassed.
Harvey had the urge to kiss her. He was madly attracted to her. “I’ll keep my requests strictly professional, don’t worry,” he said to reassure her. She nodded sagely.
“Yes, Greta said you weren’t a creep. I appreciate that. And I apologize for the gaffe about your every need. I’m not flirting. I’m just nervous, and I say awkward things when I’m nervous. I blurt things out.”
“Please don’t feel nervous around me.”
“You don’t have that problem. I can tell. You’re very cool that way. I’m—I like the pool, and thanks for checking in on me. I’ll see you when—well, I guess I won’t see you. If I do my job properly, Mrs. Marks said I would be invisible. No one would know I was there. All of us had to be like the elves.”
“Elves?”
“In the Elves and the Shoemaker. The ones that crept in at night and made perfect little fairy shoes…I’m guessing you don’t know this story. I thought Mrs. Marks was funny. But it kind of reminded me of this story I used to read when I was a kid about little helper elves who never let anyone see them. This is like that in a way. I creep in and clean when you’re gone, and then you find everything just right without ever having to think about the people who keep it that way.”
“You have the most astonishing way of speaking, Bella.”
“The elf thing was all Mrs. Marks. But thank you. I mean, I’m sorry. I just get flustered around, well, around hot guys. Not that you’re hot. I mean, you are, obviously. But I don’t think of you as hot. I just think of you as my boss. That’s all. I don’t intend to think of you at all apart from that. I swear,” she said, clearly agitated, her face pink.
He laughed.
“You’re very refreshing. There are so few people of my acquaintance who actually tell me what they think. It’s a hazard of my station, I’ve always thought. People tell me what they think I want to hear and no more. So it’s interesting to hear an unedited response. Especially if you think I’m hot.”
“I don’t think you’re hot. It’s not a matter of opinion. Mariel? He’s hot, right?”
“I guess so. Yeah,” the stablehand said as she toweled off, “Personally not my type, too pretty.”
“See?” Bella said, as if this demonstrated her point perfectly, “It isn’t a matter of preference or of—attraction, you’re just handsome. So handsome,” she said in almost a sigh, “Oh, I didn’t mean to say that last part aloud. The ‘so handsome’ part? Yeah, that was an accident. See what I mean?”
“I think so. And I thank you for the compliment. I promise not to take it personally.”
“Thank you. For not making this more embarrassing. If you don’t care, I’m just going to dunk my head and try to forget we ever spoke. Have a good afternoon,” she said and pushed herself off the side and into the pool. The crystal blue water swallowed her whole. He watched the blur of her golden hair, the dark form of her swimsuit as she pushed off the bottom and kicked across the pool, her pale legs scissoring through the shimmering water. She had dismissed him as perfunctorily as if she’d been a headmistress and he a recalcitrant schoolboy. For someone who seemed baffled in his presence, she certainly didn’t lack confidence. In fact, she was rather formidable, sending him on his way like that. It electrified him and did nothing to assuage the interest he’d felt a spark with her.
Chapter 5
Her first week on the job was a whirlwind. She emailed Greta her W2 and insurance forms and got started. After the encounter by the pool, Bella didn’t see her boss again. She was busy learning the standards and schedule of the house and then she got her first paycheck and was blown away by the fact that the money she cleared each week was on top of full health and dental coverage and her room and board with the pool. The chef, the actual chef, served the staff meals, and there had been a fabulous dessert every night. Mrs. Marks told her that Fabrice had studied at Le Cordon Bleu and had even apprenticed at Stohrer, the famous patisserie in Paris. Bella had certainly never been to Paris, but if they made little cakes like that in France, she would weigh three hundred pounds in no time if she ever visited there.
The first night there had been a delicate layered wedge of sponge cake filled with raspberry cream. Then came an orange dessert with light whipped cream and flower blossoms on top as a garnish. But last, oh last on Friday night was a lemon cake that ruined Bella for every other dessert in her life. She used to think that ice cream sundaes were good. This cake, sweet and tangy and impossibly light, made ice cream seem like sawdust in comparison.
She woke up in the night fantasizing about the slightly sour bite of the creamy glaze. It was past one in the morning when she threw off her covers and crept in her flip-flops across the property and into the kitchen to see if there was a slice left from supper. She opened the door cautiously, careful not to make a noise. She slipped to the refrigerator and eased the door open. As the light spilled across the room, she gasped. There at the table was Harvey, eating a sandwich.
“You can’t sleep either?” he said with amusement in his voice.
Her heart seemed caught in her throat. “I was—looking for cake. I didn’t know anyone would be in here. I’m sorry to bother you. I’ll just be on my way.”
“No, you’re welcome to come in here for a snack. Please, join me. Which cake is it that you’re looking for?” Harvey asked.
“The lemon cake. Don’t tell me you don’t remember it!”
“I was out this evening. I rarely eat sweets, though. I’m glad you liked it. Fabrice loves making desserts, and I’m afraid I’m a dismal audience for his talents. I have no enthusiasm for sugar.”
“I do! This cake, oh you have to try it. I mean, you may think you don’t like cake, but that’s just because you haven’t tried this one,” she said, reaching into the refrigerator for the last slice. A wedge of soft white cake layered with icy pale yellow lemon filling and a light creamy glaze. Her mouth actually watered just looking at it.
Bella placed it on the table and pressed her fork into the yielding softness of the cake, watching the rest of the slice spring back as she tugged the first bite away from the wedge. She held the fork out to Harvey, “Here, you get the first bite,” she offered.
“I’m fine. You enjoy it.”
“You’ll be better than fine when I’m done with you. I mean, the cake. It’s good. You’ll like it,” she said, cursing herself for babbling around him every single time.
Harvey leaned forward and ate off the fork she held, letting her feed him. She watched his perfect mouth in the dim light, watched him capture the melting morsel of cake, and her legs felt week. She wanted to sink down into a chair or onto a bed with Harvey on top of her. Her cheeks flamed at the realization that feeding him that bite of cake had been the most erotic thing she’d ever seen.
“Mmm. That is good,” he said, “Thank you.”
Flustered, Bella cut a huge bite and stuffed it in her mouth, unthinking. She needed something to do with her mouth besides kiss him or bite him or whatever her stupid brain had just come up with.
She finished the bite of cake and crossed to the sink for a drink of water, and to put some distance between them. The confusion of it, of this attraction was too much for Bella. She couldn’t imagine that he felt anything for her. He just caused this reaction in women indiscriminately, she was sure. Bella, being young and inexperienced, was probably more susceptible to his allure than more sophisticated women.
“How was your first week at the compound?” he asked conversationally.
“It was good. Busy,” she said, “And obviously I got to meet the true love of my life. This cake!”
She giggled, and he gave her a half-smile.
“Fabrice will be thrilled to hear it. He’s quite vain.”
“He has a reason to be. This is a bigger accomplishment than any symphony. To make something like this—wel
l, for this, I’d totally do the supply chain logistics just to make sure the guy has enough flour to make an endless supply of these cakes.”
“He doesn’t sell them commercially. They’re only available through me,” he said.
“Is that how you seduce girlfriends? Let them taste this cake and then say the only way to access it is through you?” she said, “Because I bet it would work.”
“Strangely, I’ve never had to bribe anyone with cake to get them into bed.”
“I can see why, but if your charm ever fails, use the cake to close the deal,” she advised.
“I’ll be sure to keep a ready supply just in case.”
He gave her a sexually charged look that only a man who is confident and experienced with women could give. How could she live in a charged, lustful environment like this? The sexual tension and chemistry between them was practically exploding.
She licked her lips. “Last bite. Do you want it?”
“Sure,” he said, and let her feed him the final forkful of exquisite lemon cake. There was something about it, the chill that went through her, the frisson of attraction, even lust that she felt when she fed him again. She’d wanted to see if it was a fluke or if he inspired that sort of reaction every time. Unfortunately, he still caused those sparks across her skin. Her boss, of all impossible people. Not the chef or stablehand or anyone else she might reasonably have dated.
Bella took the plate to the sink and rinsed the fork off. She didn’t want to leave him there, didn’t want to go back to the solitude of her room just yet. “Did you have a good week?”
“Yes, I did. I got the red tape cleared away to buy a factory in Indonesia to expand the business and stock prices went up.”
“That’s good, then,” she said, “Was your dinner good? When you went out last night?”
“I suppose. The food was good. My dinner companion was a little moody, though.”