What a Woman Gets

by Judi Fennell

  “No, Stacey,” Cassidy said into the phone, “it’s not true. Burton didn’t propose, so I couldn’t have turned him down.” She raked a hand through her hair again, which hiked her shirt up a little bit.

  Shit. That curve of her waist was enough to get his mouth watering.

  Utterly inappropriate.

  “Yeah, I know. It’s going to be a major pain in the ass to set the record straight. I should just go away and let the whole thing blow over.” She tapped her finger against the corner of her mouth.

  Yes, Liam was watching her a lot longer than he should—but he wasn’t about to look away. Her toes were bare—except for that blue nail polish of course—and the way they curled into the thick carpet had him imagining how he’d get them to curl when he kissed his way down her body—

  Back the fuck off, Manley. You are not going anywhere near this woman. Have you forgotten about Rachel?

  Right. Rachel. His disillusionment and almost-downfall.

  “Oh, that’s right. I’d forgotten you are. Well, what about Donna? Isn’t she going to Monte Carlo? I haven’t been in a whi—Oh. I hadn’t realized. Well, what about Janet? Wasn’t her father buying her that house in Marbella? I love that town. The water’s gorgeous and the atmosphere is just—” She tucked a shank of hair behind her ear. “She said that? Well I don’t know what I did to her that she’d—” She sighed. “I guess. But Jean’s in Long Island with her relatives, so that’s out, and Mary’s at the Cape with her new boyfriend, and Joy’s in Europe for the rest of the summer, and with you going to LA, it looks like I’m stuck here, and alone to boot.”

  Liam didn’t say anything about the poor little rich girl having no place to go. Poor her; she had to stay holed up in this swanky penthouse with a doorman, concierge, and room service—not to mention a maid—while she rode out the “bad” storm of publicity surrounding her supposed engagement to a man who could afford to keep her in this lifestyle.

  Even socialites got jaded, he supposed.

  God, it was really hard for him to swallow. The woman had it all and was too damn spoiled to realize it and thank her lucky stars that there were still men in this world who wanted to treat the women they were with like the china dolls they wanted to be.

  But Liam wasn’t one of them. No way in hell. He wanted a woman of substance. A real human being. A partner. Someone he could count on to be by his side, not off spending his hard-earned money and complaining that he never took her anywhere or did things with her.

  Now if only he could squash the physical attraction he felt for her, he might just be able to complete this job without losing his sanity.

  * * *

  CASSIDY swallowed the question she really didn’t want to ask, but hell, all of her friends were tied up or on vacation and she was going to be stuck here. But she’d love to go to LA with Stacey, except Stacey was off on her father’s corporate jet to visit the movie star she was currently dating. Some women had all the luck while she got to sit home in her father’s showplace and fend off rumors of her being spoiled. Hell, being stuck in this place was the epitome of being spoiled, but she didn’t want to ask her father for the beach house or the place in the mountains because then he’d have one more thing to throw in her face. And no public hotel was as security-conscious as Dad’s buildings, so she wouldn’t have to face the paparazzi unless she went out.

  She said goodbye to Stacey and turned off the phone. She was stuck.

  Everything had been so clear when Jean-Pierre had called about the sale. Cassidy had been nervous to even approach him about displaying her work, but Franklin’s memory had given her the courage. Then, when Jean-Pierre had been enthusiastic, Cassidy had felt the hope she’d tamped down for so long come out of hiding and blossom. Then there’d been the sale, and she’d finally felt as if she was someone. As if she had something to contribute. Granted, it wasn’t what the doctors and nurses had done for Franklin, but it was a hell of a lot more than sitting on her butt while clothing designers flaunted their latest fashions in front of her.

  “So you’ll be here today while I finish up?”

  She looked up, startled. That’s right. Maid guy was here.

  Damn. What was his name again? She didn’t want to ask. She didn’t want to come off as shallow as everyone thought she was.

  “Um, yes, I will.” How was she going to find out his name? “Do you have a business card, by any chance?”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. Funny how her father’s eyebrow-cocking only instilled dread but this guy’s . . . That wasn’t dread flooding her insides.

  Or her thighs.

  What was wrong with her? She had some big-time PR snafus to fix and she was lusting over the guy who cleaned her toilets because he was hot?

  Oh, God. She was that shallow.

  Still, she took the business card he handed her. “It doesn’t have your name on it.” Just the logo and the contact info. Plain, functional. Which was nothing like the guy standing in front of her.

  The guy shrugged. “I’ll have to get Mac on that. I guess it should, though, so people can request people specifically.”

  She’d request him specifically.

  “Right. I mean, how else will people know who you are?” Damn, she still needed to find out his name.

  He cocked his head. “You don’t know my name.”

  “What? Of course I do. You introduced yourself yesterday.” She kept replaying the scene in her mind, but all she could remember were the tingles that had run through her as he’d stood in her living room while she’d prayed he was a stripper her friends had sent—the ones who’d all but abandoned her this week—and not the actual maid.

  How wrong she’d been. And now she was paying for it.

  “You don’t know my name.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  He crossed his arms, and, oh my, what that did to his shoulders. She wouldn’t mind being wrapped in those.

  “Okay prove me wrong. What is it?”

  “What’s what?”

  “My name?”

  Crap. She’d forgotten the question; why couldn’t he? “You don’t know? That could be a problem. You might want to get that checked out.”

  “Funny.” He uncrossed his arms and put his fists on his hips.

  Oh my, what that did to his washboard eight-pack—

  “So what’s my name?”

  Dammit. She licked her lips. “Seriously, buddy, if you’re not remembering your name, you might want to see a doctor.”

  Liam took a step toward her. “You can’t back out of this, Princess. You either know my name or you don’t. I’m either important enough for you to remember or I’m not.”

  “That’s not really fair.” Because she’d never forget him. Maybe she wouldn’t remember his name, but him? No, he was definitely memorable.

  “And looking down your sculpted nose at us poor working slobs is?”

  “My nose isn’t sculpted. This is the nose I was born with.”

  The arched eyebrow said he thought differently.

  “It is.” She crossed her arms. “Just because most people in my social circle have nose jobs or boob jobs, don’t assume I have as well.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I already know you didn’t have a boob job.”

  He had no business thinking about her breasts.

  But, damn, her breasts liked that he did, her nipples hardening beneath the sports bra and flimsy painting shirt she was wearing.

  Turn around, Cassidy. Walk away from the hot guy. Whose name you still don’t know.

  Oh God. She didn’t know his name. How freaking shallow was she?

  Cassidy took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She could admit she didn’t remember. Lots of people had trouble with names. It didn’t mean she was shallow. Plus, she’d had a lot going on these past twenty-four hours. She’d been nervous about lunch with Dad; that’s why she couldn’t remember his name. He’d probably only said it once and it’d probably been so fast that she really hadn’t heard it.<
br />
  Still, good manners dictated that she should own up to her memory loss. It could happen to anyone.

  A key turned in the front door lock.

  Maid guy’s head swung around at the sound.

  Cassidy’s didn’t. There was only one person who’d use the key without knocking.

  Funny, she hadn’t thought she’d be happy to see her father after last night, but if his arrival was going to save her from the embarrassment of having to admit she couldn’t remember the maid’s name, well then, there was a first time for everything.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  Dad’s question, though well-timed, was as arrogant as Cassidy not knowing his name was shallow.

  Maid guy, however, didn’t seem intimidated. He stuck out his hand and met Dad on equal footing. “Liam Manley. Of Manley Maids.”

  “Your company?”

  Liam (!) shook his gorgeous head of hair. “My sister’s. I’m just helping out.”

  “You work for your sister?” There went Dad’s damn eyebrow arching again. “Shouldn’t that be the other way around?”

  Cassidy wanted to shrivel up and die. How condescending could Dad be? She didn’t want to see Liam squirm, but a morbid sense of something had her looking at him.

  He looked like a Liam. Big and strong and strapping, like someone from the old country you could depend on to take care of you when the going got tough.

  Now why the hell had she thought that?

  “I don’t really see my sister climbing hip roofs or installing insulation, but I’ll mention it to her if she feels the need for a career change.” Liam ended the handshake and turned ninety degrees so her father got the side view.

  She, lucky woman, got the front view.

  “So, Cass, I guess I’ll head into the bedroom to finish up in there. Give you two some privacy to discuss your, ah, issue.”

  Cass? Since when did he call her Cass? Since when did he call her anything? Well, except for Princess of course, but that’d been said with a healthy dose of sarcasm that she could do without.

  Dad watched Liam head into her bedroom. Then he arched an eyebrow at her. “Cass? Don’t tell me you’ve made the maid your boy-toy and that’s his nickname for you.”

  Dear God, her father could be crude. Which was really laughable considering he made every blonde twenty-something his bimbo. And even if she had made Liam her boy-toy—not that it’d be any of her father’s business—Cass would be the last thing she’d let him call her. She hadn’t let anyone call her that since, well . . . since Mom had left.

  “I’m not dating Liam.”

  Dad just arched his eyebrow again.

  But this time, Cassidy wasn’t going to squirm. His innuendo was ridiculous and, besides, she had another bone to pick with him.

  “Why’d you tell a reporter I’m engaged?”

  Her father sighed as if he couldn’t be bothered to have this conversation. “That’s what your frantic call to Deborah was about? Seriously, Cassidy, I do have a company to run. People are counting on me for their livelihood. To feed their families. I can’t be at your beck and call over everything someone says about you. Haven’t I told you that we want to be mentioned in the society pages?”

  “But you don’t want any word getting out about my painting.”

  “That’s different. We control the flow of information. Your hobby won’t do a bit of good for my company.”

  “But my faux-engagement to Burton will?”

  “Of course.” Her father picked up one of the throw pillows and turned it about three inches to the left. Damn perfectionist. Just had to show her that what she’d done wasn’t good enough for him. “Burton is a valued member of my executive team. A trusted member. He’s worked hard to earn his place and he cares for you a great deal. He’s the perfect man for you to marry.”

  “You make it sound like a business deal.”

  Dad looked out the large glass windows. “Love matches certainly don’t work out well. Look at this country’s divorce rate.”

  He wasn’t talking about the country. He was talking about him and Mom. He hadn’t spoken about her since two years after she’d left. Which was about the time he’d starting looking at boarding schools . . .

  “I am not going to marry Burton, Dad.”

  He took a deep breath, stuck his hands in his pockets, and turned around. “Yes, you will.”

  To say she was shocked would be an understatement. Cassidy had never, in a million years, thought he’d be so controlling as to tell her who she was going to marry and actually expect her to. Or go along with it.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, I’m serious. And with the announcement on the front of the society pages, it will happen.”

  “No it will not.” She was not going to budge on this. He might have picked out her wardrobe, her house, even her name, but he was not going to pick out the man she was going to spend her life with.

  “It will, Cassidy, and when you calm down you’ll see it makes sense. Burton’s the perfect man for you. You’ll continue to live as you’re accustomed and he’ll work at Davenport Properties. It’s all planned.”

  “Really? By whom? Because I certainly wasn’t consulted in this plan.”

  “You’ll do as I see fit, just as you’ve always done if you want to continue with the benefits of being my daughter.”

  “Well maybe I don’t want to.” She shocked even herself when she said that, but the look on Dad’s face was priceless.

  Too bad she couldn’t sell it. Especially when he uttered his next statement.

  “That’s up to you. And it’s a decision that needs to be made in the next thirty seconds.”

  He tugged back his jacket sleeve and stared at the Rolex that was the model for Burton’s. “Twenty-eight, twenty-seven.”

  “Your intimidation tactics aren’t going to work this time, Dad.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “This isn’t a tactic, Cassidy. You either play by my rules or you don’t play at all. And that includes all the trappings that go with being my daughter.”

  “Dad, this is ridiculous. We aren’t living in the Dark Ages. I can choose who I want to marry.”

  He looked back at his watch. “Fifteen, fourteen.”

  He wasn’t serious. He wasn’t going to disown her just because she didn’t want to marry Burton. He was just used to getting his own way. Plus, he needed her too much. It was a power play. Well, she’d been his daughter for twenty-nine years; she wasn’t intimidated.

  “Nine, eight.” He didn’t even look up at her. “Seven, six.”

  She crossed her arms. “I’m not giving in, Dad.”

  “Four, three, two, one.” He tugged his sleeve down over his Rolex. “I expect you out of here in the next fifteen minutes. You will, of course, leave everything my money has purchased. Except the dog and what you’re wearing. I can’t turn my daughter out naked on the streets.”

  “But you’ll turn her out onto the streets just the same?” He was trying to scare her into doing what he wanted.

  “Exactly. That’s what you get when you think you know better. Prove it.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Aren’t you going to get moving, Cassidy? I’m sure it will take you at least five minutes to pack the dog’s things. Your things, however, won’t take as long since I have paid for everything in this penthouse. Since I’m not without a heart, however, I will permit you to take your toiletries. But be quick about it. I now have to go to my real estate broker to put this place up for sale.”

  “Sale?” Geez, he was really pulling out all the stops.

  “Of course. I can’t have an empty property sitting around costing me money. It’ll help the other units sell.” He pulled out his cell phone. “Hurry up, Cassidy. I don’t have all day. Let’s make this quick and devoid of unnecessary emotion, shall we?”

  “Dad, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear.” He punched a button on his phone. “Deborah, I w
ant a locksmith at the Davenport Towers penthouse. Yes, Cassidy’s apartment. No, there’s nothing wrong, it’s just that Cassidy has decided she isn’t going to be living here any longer. And call Shel once you’ve arranged for the locksmith. I want him out here with his photographer right away to get pictures of the place. The maid’s here and should be finished within the hour. This place will be in perfect shape for the listing photos.”

  Cassidy glanced at the phone. Holy shit. He really was talking to Deborah.

  Oh my God. He meant it.

  He was kicking her out.

  No, that wasn’t right. He wouldn’t just toss his own flesh and blood out on her ass.

  Though he had tossed Mom out if Deborah’s recounting could be believed and Cassidy had no reason to think it couldn’t. A few years ago, after Deborah’s sister had died and Dad had been on safari in Africa where cell service had been spotty at best, Deborah had had some free time to accompany Cassidy on a site inspection for an upcoming event. One glass of wine at the bar had led to four, and a few stories about her father had come out. Mom had been part of that disclosure.

  Mom had had an affair with Dad’s head of security. Cassidy would like to say the affair was what had made her father a cold-hearted bastard, but the way he was barking orders at Deborah to arrange the locksmith, the broker, editors of various real estate and architectural magazines, even a spot on the local morning show wasn’t something that’d happened because his wife had cheated on him.

  “Cassidy, you’re down to seven minutes. I suggest you get packed or you and your dog will be left with nothing.”

  Yeah, her father had been born a bastard.

  Chapter Seven

  JESUS, are you all right?” Liam stared at the zombie-like creature that had woodenly walked into the bedroom. Cassidy looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

  She stared up at him on the ladder but didn’t say a word. Her green eyes that had sparkled in anger were dull and lifeless, and she was looking around as if she didn’t recognize a thing.