by Selena Kitt
Gabriel nodded, appearing grim, but amusement gleamed in his eyes as she continued on. All of a sudden the dam broke and the need to purge her grievances was too overwhelming so she continued her rant, the words falling from her lips like verbal diarrhoea that she was helpless to stop. "So that means I'm stuck here. At the shitty dead end job for another year. Hell, maybe even the rest of my life! I'm twenty-three years old and facing a lifetime of being the donut girl. It wouldn't even be so bad if I had a boyfriend, or hell, got laid once in a while. But no. None of that either. The only men I seem to attract are criminals, married men or unemployed losers." Beth huffed and shook her head in defeat. "Just can't catch a break..."
Nodding, a smile spread across Gabriel's lips as he raised a brow at her. "Well as far as the telephone and electricity issues go I might be able to help you there."
Frowning, Beth caught his eyes. Her heart stopped for a moment and her face flushed. Oh my God. She groaned inwardly. Now he thinks I'm some sex-starved charity case. She prayed for death at that moment. Though looking at him, his dark eyes burrowing into hers, she knew she'd have told him anything he wanted to know. Somehow she doubted many women could resist answering any questions or fulfilling any request he may send their way.
Feeling the heat rush up to her cheeks, Beth shook her head. "No. No, I wasn't implying or hinting. I-"
Gabriel's grin widened. "So you don't want a better job?'' He shrugged, "or at least a better paying job? Not sure if I would say better."
"W-well. No, I do. I mean, I didn't mean to be looking for handouts. I just-"
"Can you cook?" Gabriel asked, laughing outright as he reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and producing a business card which he passed to her.
The heat in her cheeks intensified and she nibbled lightly on her lower lip. "Macaroni and cheese," she joked. Could she cook? He had to be joking. She had to be the worst cook she knew. Nothing ever seemed to turn out right, no matter how much time or effort she took to prepare a meal. She overcooked everything. Some people were meant to be domestic; she wasn't one of those people.
Taking the card from him, she glanced down at it. "Gabriel Reynolds Enterprises."
"Yeah, that's me," he confirmed, with a disinterested shrug.
She looked up from the card to meet his eyes. She had no idea what Gabriel Reynolds Enterprises was, but he seemed to be awfully young to be running anything. He couldn't have been a day over thirty.
"You know what," reaching back into his inner pocket, he produced a silver pen, retrieved the card from her fingertips and quickly jotted down a phone number and address. "I have to go. I have a meeting in ten minutes, but give me a call tonight, we'll arrange a meeting and see what we can figure out for you."
Beth accepted the extended card once again, and decided to ask the question that was at the forefront of her mind. "Why would you do this for me?"
Snatching his coffee from the counter he grinned at her, and gave her a wink, sending her pulse racing. "Maybe I like the way you make my coffee."
Rolling her eyes at him, she couldn't help but grin; his smile was infectious. "I press a button on a machine and it pours it into a cup..."
"Call me tonight," he called over his shoulder ignoring her comment, as he rushed across the dining room and out the front door.
Beth watched as he strode across the parking lot, taking long, graceful strides. Working for Gabriel... Cooking? She tapped her lower lip with the edge of the business card as she watch him slide into his black Lamborghini, pull out of the parking slot and speed away. She made a mental note to do an online search for Gabriel Reynolds Enterprises when she arrived home. Maybe he owned a chain of restaurants? She had always assumed he was some sort of hotshot lawyer, or something of the sort. Whatever it was that he did for a living, considering the expensive car, finely tailored suit and large tips he always gave her for a single cup of coffee, Beth guessed that business was very good for Mr Reynolds.
* * * *
"4591 Spruce Meadow Lane," Beth muttered, her blue eyes widening as she pulled her ancient Sunfire up to the tall - at least eight feet in height - wrought iron security fence and lowered her window to press the buzzer for admittance. It was easily one of the most magnificent homes she'd ever seen. It was a three-story Victorian-styled house that looked more like a hotel than someone's private home. It was something she'd expect to see on '"Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous."
Once she got over her awe of the house, she pressed the buzzer and waited for a response.
"Please state your name and business," an abrupt male voice called over the speaker.
"I um... I'm Beth. I'm here to see... Ummmm, Gabe... I mean... Mr Reynolds."
There was silence from the mysterious voice on the other end.
"About a job," she added groaning inwardly at herself. Why was she so nervous? He was just another customer. One she enjoyed flirting with on a daily basis, just like all the other good-looking men who came into the coffee shop. Just because he owned a profitable mergers and acquisitions company - at least that's what she gathered from the online research - didn't change a thing. He was still the same Gabriel she'd been flirting with for months now. And if she hadn't read the signals wrong, he was more than happy to flirt back.
"Come on through," the voice through the metal box answered as a creaking noise sounded, and the gates began to slowly part.
Shifting the car into drive, Beth slowly made her way to the front of the house and parked behind Gabriel's Lamborghini. Taking a deep breath in, she attempted to calm her increasingly rattled nerves. There was rich and then there was this! She shut off the car while still eyeing the beautiful home. Looking down at her black knee-length skirt and purple short-sleeved blouse, she immediately began feeling underdressed. Bending down she peered at herself in the driver's side mirror, flattening her shoulder-length blonde hair and ensuring her make-up hadn't smudged. To her relief it hadn't.
She suddenly laughed at herself for being so self-conscious. This was a job interview, not a date. While surfing the web trying to find out more about Gabriel, she'd seen a number of photographs with him and his dates. They were all leggy, model types who reeked of high society and presumably owned little dogs they carried in their purses named Fefe or something equally as ridiculous. He was out of her league. Perhaps she was fun to flirt with in the afternoons while grabbing a coffee, but that was the extent of it for him she was sure. Sure she’d had a crush on him for some time now. But big deal. It was a crush, it didn't have to complicate matters.
Taking a deep breath she tried to steady her nerves before straightening up and squaring her shoulders. She finally got out of her car and made her way up the front steps. She was just raising her fist to knock on the large oak door when it was opened by a man who appeared to be in his mid-forties, wearing a stern expression.
"Miss Wilmington," he gave her a nod and stepped aside, ushering her in.
"Thank you," pasting a tight smile on her face to cover her nerves she nodded back at him and walked into the house. The inside was just as magnificent as the outside. The front door brought her into a main room, a large white marble fountain at its center, with two cupids back to back arrows poised and ready to shoot as the highlight of the masterpiece which reached up past the first floor and to the second.
On either side of her was a staircase leading to the second floor, which overlooked the first. Wow. She knew there would be a look of marvel on her face, but at that point she didn't care. The inside of his home, at least the first room reminded her of an Arabian palace, with all the gold-coloured trim and marble. She halfway expected belly dancers to appear and dance their way down the winding staircase. But, of course, they didn't.
"This is a beautiful house," she managed to gasp. She looked over at the man who had opened the door and caught a glimpse of humour in his eyes, which faded quickly as he nodded, the stern expression reappearing.
"This way. Mr Reynolds is expecting you." With a fir
m hand at her back, he led her down a hallway, which was softly lit by elegant stained glass sconces on the walls.
You could get lost in this place! As beautiful as it was, it seemed too big, if that were possible. More like a museum than an actual home.
"In here," the man who had yet to give her his name knocked lightly on the door.
"Come in," a voice that was unmistakably Gabriel's called out from behind the door.
Turning the knob, the man pushed it open and stepped aside for Beth to walk past him. Once she was in, he closed the door softly behind her.
Gabriel's office was unlike the rest of the house. It was small, quaint even. The walls were beige with burgundy trim and to her left was a fireplace, giving the room a soft, warm glow.
"Come on over and have a seat Beth."
His voice, which was soft and seductive, took her eyes from their exploration of the room to Gabriel, who was leaning back against his desk. He had one ankle crossed casually over the other and his arms folded over his t-shirt-clad chest.
Her breath hitched at the sight of him. Gone was the suit and tie which always hung loosely around his neck. Tonight, he wore a v-neck black t-shirt which stretched across his lean, nicely defined chest and instead of the dark trousers he wore faded denim. It occurred to her that this was the first time she'd ever seen him in anything other than a suit.
She ran a shaky hand through her silken locks. The coffee shop was her domain, she felt in control there. But here, in his private man cave, he was the master and she felt as though she was in his thrall. A warmth spread through her and she felt her cheeks grow warm just as a soft throbbing between her legs caught her attention. Oh, this was a bad idea.
His dark eyes met hers, sending a shiver down her spine and causing the throbbing between her legs to intensify. A devious smile touched his lips, as if he knew where her mind had led her while he motioned to the chair in front of him. She exhaled loudly, just then realizing that she'd been holding her breath.
Doing as instructed she sat in the chair indicated, crossing one leg over the other and sitting up straight, shoulders squared. "Hi." That was the best she could come up with; no other words seemed to come to her at that moment.
His grin widened. "Hi."
So you have me here Mr Reynolds now what are you going to do with me? The way that her body was responding to his presence she knew, without a doubt what she'd like him to do with her. Stop it Beth, you're here for an interview. That's all, she scolded herself silently.
Uncrossing his arms, he lowered them and grasped the edge of the desk, as he continued to recline back on it. "So let's get down to it. We've established that you can't cook..."
"Well, I... Ummmm," she shrugged and gave him an apologetic smile. "I'm willing to learn."
Laughing, Gabriel nodded. "Fair enough. I'm willing to give you a little grace period to get up to speed. What I'm in need of is a live-in cook and housekeeper."
"Live here?" Her blue eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped in disbelief. He couldn't be serious. In this house? With him?
Chapter 2
Cocking his head to the side Gabriel arched a brow at her, amused. "Well, that would be what the term live-in implies. You'd be paid well. Your pay will increase when your culinary skills improve. We can heckle about the pay later. In addition, you'll receive room and board. I'm assuming when you said the extent of your cooking skills stopped at..." he chuckled and cleared his throat, "mac and cheese you weren't understating."
Embarrassed, Beth shook her head. "Afraid not. It's really good though."
"No doubt."
Taking a deep breath in, she exhaled slowly. "With all due respect, I have a feeling you can well afford a real chef, one who knows how to cook and do what you need them to. Why me?"
"Fair question." He clucked his tongue off the roof of his mouth as he eyed her. "The thing is that when I say live-in, it means just that and to be honest I'm a fairly hard man to live with."
Beth grinned; she had a hard time believing that. "But this is a rather large house," she countered.
"Okay, let me rephrase then. I want someone who I think I'll enjoy having around." His gaze caught hers and once again she felt a familiar pleasurable chill rush down her spine and the throbbing between her legs that had just begun to die down resumed in full force.
Enjoy how? Oh my God, don't be silly. He certainly doesn't have to hire someone for sex! Maybe he just wants a cook, housekeeper and someone to shoot the shit with from time to time, nothing more and nothing less. But the heat in his gaze told her otherwise. His gaze told her he wanted her. She'd felt it in the coffee shop and she was feeling it now, more intensely than ever before because there was no counter to use as a buffer between them.
But what if she was mistaken? What if by taking this job, she'd be forced to endure seeing him bring home a parade of snotty model-type women? She growled at herself. This was a job, nothing more or less. Who he brought home would be none of her concern.
"So what happened to your former cook-slash-housekeeper?"
"She has moved on."
"And what other duties would this include?"
His eyes continued to gaze onto hers. Damn, she hated, but at the same time loved how he was making her feel. Could she work for someone who made her feel this way? She didn't know.
"Well, the cooking is the primary thing. Breakfast would be required to be prepared and served at 7am sharp every morning. And you are expected to be here and have an acceptable dinner on the table when I come home during the week. On the weekend I expect three meals. In addition, laundry, shopping and cleaning throughout the day. Whatever requires doing - more or less. I do have people come in and take care of the floors, windows, pool twice a week, so virtually everything having to do with the household upkeep would be under your command. And like I say, I require you to be on call 24/7. No exceptions."
"Sounds like you're looking for a wife to me," she joked.
His soft smile faded and his expression went blank. Beth gasped her eyes wide in horror as soon as the words came from her mouth. Why did she keep doing that? Filter. Beth. Filter, she scolded herself. "I'm so sorry. I never meant. I was jo-"
"Now if you were to fulfill the duties of my wife, then I assure you I'd be expecting more than simple cooking and cleaning." His voice took on a deep, husky sound that made her wish she was bold enough to volunteer for the "extras."
Running a nervous hand through her hair she couldn't bear to meet his heated gaze. Instead she focused on an abstract painting just over his left shoulder.
"So would you like to see the kitchen and the room that would be yours before we discuss money and you make a decision either way?"
She gulped down the lump forming in her throat and nodded. "Yes please."
* * * *
She was a cheeky little thing. And he liked it, perhaps too much. He'd asked himself a number of times during the course of the day if offering her a job and having her live with him was such a good idea. While he'd led her to believe that the previous housekeeper had lived at the house, that hadn't actually been the case. Beth was the first employee that he'd opened his home to. It was partially because of her apparent financial issues, but mostly because there was something about her that had him captivated. And if he were to be brutally honest with himself, the house felt too big for him. He wanted the companionship of a woman without necessarily the relationship.
One of the highlights of each of his - frequently frustratingly - long days was the sweet smile she'd present him with when he arrived at the coffee shop and the casual flirting that would transpire between them while he was there. He liked that she remembered what he liked and things he'd said. She seemed like such a genuine person, unlike the women he'd dated in the past. Yes, she'd managed to get under his skin and so he wanted her near him, at least until he could sort out his feelings towards her.
While his intentions for the moment were strictly professional, the thought of having her in his bed,
or for that matter, bent over his desk made his cock come alive. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to conceal his growing erection from her. She looked a little indecisive, and the last thing he wanted was for her to feel he wanted more than a strictly professional relationship. Whether that was the case or not.
"So what do you say? Let me show you around?" Standing, he extended his hand to her. She hesitated briefly, looked up, met his eyes with her sapphire blue ones and accepted his hand. His larger hand eclipsed her soft, delicate one as she rose to her feet.
He led her to the door and opened it, ushering her out and then exiting after her. The first stop would be the kitchen and then he'd play it by ear from there.
"To address the cooking issue-"
"Are you sure you wouldn't be more suited to have a real chef?" she asked, looking up at him.
He laughed. "No, I know what I want."
"I just want to be honest with you. Even with a lot of practice I doubt I'll be able to get even close to cooking as well as you'll want from me." She ran her hand through her hair once more, the golden strands slipping by her fingers one by one. It was killing him not to reach over and stroke her soft, silky hair. Or better yet, wrap it around his fist as he pulled her lips up to meet his in a hard, demanding kiss that would leave them both breathless. Oh God, the things he'd like to do to her.
Her eyes dropped to his groin briefly and then she quickly glanced away flushing. Did he have the same effect on her as she did on him? If he pulled her into his arms and slid a hand up her inner thigh, under her skirt, and then between her legs would she be wet for him? He groaned inwardly as his cock hardened further. If he didn't get a handle on this attraction for her it would be a nightmare having her sleeping down the hall from him.
Fuck, this was a bad idea.
Bad or not, it was what he wanted. By the way she flushed and averted her gaze so frequently, especially after the marriage comment he assumed that indeed she did as well. Hoped she did. At the coffee shop he was just another asshole customer, one of hundreds; hell, thousands she served each week. He wanted to know if he was more than just another guy to her.