by Judi Fennell
“Dinner?” She was too tired to even bother to tell him that she hated that nickname.
“You know, the meal that comes at the end of a long day when someone’s been out earning a living for eight plus hours and someone else has been home keeping the hearth fires warm.” The cute smile he had going took the sting out of his words.
She tried to return the smile as she ran her arm across her forehead. “No fires here. I’m sweaty enough as it is.”
For a heartbeat, there was no sound in the room. Even Titania seemed to stop breathing.
Then Liam cleared his throat. “Well, good thing, since it’s hot enough outside. So I guess that means that I’ll grab us something my grandmother made. Sound good?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Bull. You’ve had a shitty day and have been going nonstop. I’m sure you’ve worked up an appetite.” He waved her over. “Come on. You need to eat. You sit; I’ll get it.”
She really wished he wasn’t so darn nice to her. Why him? He didn’t even know her and he wasn’t related to her.
Oh no. She wasn’t going there. She was not going to feel sorry for herself or question her self-worth. Her father was the one with the issue—a lot of them, apparently—not her.
Cassidy took a seat at the breakfast bar, exhaustion and guilt warring with each other as Liam warmed up two—no, make that three—bowls of beef stew.
Titania sat at his feet, worshiping him as if he were a god, the little glutton.
Of course, she, too, couldn’t stop the grateful smile she gave him when he set the bowl in front of her with a nice hunk of crusty French bread that had shown up out of nowhere.
“I stopped at the store on my way home. Thought this would go great with the stew.”
He had that right, but Cassidy couldn’t tell him because she’d torn off a piece, dunked it in the stew, and was savoring the flavor before he was finished speaking. His grandmother was an angel. Anyone who could cook like this—outside of a high-end restaurant—was divine.
Her father would have a fit if he could see her now. Sweaty, in torn clothing, slurping stew off her fingers.
Cassidy smiled. Good.
“What are you grinning at? You look like you’re about to take over the world.”
Cassidy sucked the sauce off her fingers, then wiped them on the napkin Liam handed her. “I’m thinking about it.”
“So you sold the earrings, then?”
“Uh, no. Haven’t even thought about it, actually. I’ve been too busy since I got back here.”
“How much did you get done?”
“There’s still the loft and bathroom upstairs to do. I’ll finish up tomorrow.”
“Just in time for the next project: the garage.”
“The garage? Nobody cleans a garage.”
“They clean out garages, but I meant the room above it. I was planning to make it a work-out room, but it’s ended up as storage. If you clean it out and organize it for me, I’ll move my equipment up from the basement so we can have a gym.”
He wanted her to organize it? Had he seen her cabinets? “There’s a basement?”
Liam pointed to the door by his bedroom. “Where did you think that door went to?”
She’d been afraid to look. After the whole nudity thing, she was staying far away from his bedroom. It was going to be pure hell to have to clean it again.
If her luck, her sales, or the earrings sale panned out, she’d be gone before she’d have to.
“I was hoping to be able to work on the credenza tomorrow.”
“And I was hoping to sleep in, but we both have jobs to do.”
“Liam, your house isn’t that dirty. It’s just you; how much of a slob are you?”
He arched his eyebrow again and, man, that distracted her. The man really was gorgeous, what with his black hair that refused to lay flat on his head but curled around it in run-your-fingers-through-me abandon that made her want to do just that.
“We had a deal, Cassidy. You don’t renege on your deals, do you?”
He had to put it like that. “Of course not. But it’s not as big of a deal as you made it out to be.”
“Then it works to your favor, right?”
Shoot. He was right. He didn’t owe her anything; all he wanted was his house to be cleaned. She needed to work her personal stuff in around it.
If only she’d planned better before talking to her father.
She sucked up her frustration and nodded. “You’re right. I’ll get to the garage tomorrow.”
“Thanks. I’ve wanted to get the gym operational. And feel free to use the equipment once it’s up.”
Was it wrong that her mind went right to the rock hard abs she’d glimpsed? To the biceps straining against the sleeves of his T-shirt? The pants that stretched tight across some well-defined thighs? What did this man need a gym for? And with what she’d glimpsed during the après-shower debacle, she could speak with authority.
What would it be like to make love with Liam, a man so masculine he could be the advertisement for testosterone?
Cassidy almost choked on her stew. She shouldn’t be having thoughts like that. She wasn’t here to play house, just clean it.
Titania slurped up her meal, then pranced on her hind legs, twirling like a ballerina beside Liam’s chair. All she needed was a tutu—and she had one, but unfortunately, it was back in the condo.
“Looks like you have an admirer.” Cassidy nodded at her dog, who was practically apoplectic with happiness, her little tongue darting in and out in excitement.
“As long as she doesn’t try to hop into my bed tonight, I’m fine with that.”
Cassidy wisely kept her mouth shut.
Instead, she picked up her bowl and slurped the rest of the stew, effectively blocking him from sight. She needed distance.
Luckily, Liam headed to his room after putting his and Titania’s bowls in the sink. “I’m going to shower, then go over some paperwork. I’ll hang in my room if you want to watch TV in the great room.”
Watch TV? She didn’t think she could keep her eyes open long enough. And she’d thought shopping was exhausting. Nothing compared to manual labor. She was feeling bad that she hadn’t insisted Sharon take her entire pregnancy off. To have to clean while carrying a child . . .
For a second, something shifted in Cassidy’s stomach. A baby. She’d thought she’d have one someday—the requisite heir for whatever dynastic merger her father finally sanctioned—but for some reason, the reality of having one never clicked with her until just this moment. She thought of the way Sharon had always rubbed her belly. She’d been caressing her child. Thinking about it, worrying about it, loving it. Cassidy had even heard her talking to it on a few occasions.
None of it had seemed real. It’d been as foreign a concept to her as, well, as selling diamond earrings online or cleaning someone’s house. Mom hadn’t had any problems high-tailing it out of town away from her, and Dad just kept her around for his image, so it wasn’t as if children were something she had any experience in looking forward to.
But for whatever reason, being here, in Liam’s home, cleaning his things—a job so personal that she couldn’t help but think about personal things—the idea of a child, her child, suddenly became real.
As did the matter of the kid’s father.
“You want to keep an eye on this little dust mop?” Liam walked back into the kitchen within about six inches of the bar stool Cassidy was still perched on, Titania yipping at his heels and once more prancing like a ballerina. “She followed me back there.”
Smart dog.
Cassidy bent down to pick up said genius, hiding the fact that she was thinking about back there. About what she’d seen the last time she’d been back there. What he’d seen . . .
No. She was not going to think about getting involved with Liam. It would make this situation awkward. It might even get her kicked out if things didn’t go well. And there was no guarantee he was thinking alo
ng those same lines anyway, so it was pointless to go there. In a few (short, she hoped) weeks, Liam and this place would be a distant memory.
You don’t really believe that, do you?
She had to. She had to believe that she’d move on from here into her new life. She had to believe in herself.
Because there was no one else who would.
She tucked Titania against her hip. She was not going to feel sorry for herself. So many people had it tougher than she did. Today was the second day of the rest of her life, and while she may have spent it cleaning, she had a whole world of possibilities open to her now. All she needed was the courage to seize it.
Well, that and money.
“You know? I think I will get started on the garage. That way I’ll be able to start painting sooner.”
She was going to do this. She’d show her father what she was made of.
And herself, too.
Chapter Thirteen
LIAM couldn’t sleep. That shouldn’t surprise him, given that he was sharing his home with his worst nightmare: a sexy-as-hell daddy’s girl.
Who wasn’t the spoiled selfish brat he’d thought.
The last part of that was worse for his equilibrium than the first. The first, he could deal with. The second . . .
He had very little defense against the second. Cassidy Davenport wasn’t turning out to be like anything he’d thought. And it was that that had him up tonight.
Definitely up.
He tossed off the covers and sat on the edge of his bed, his toes digging into the carpet. He didn’t want to take another shower. Especially a cold one. Not at—he winced as he glanced at his phone—three A.M.
He scratched the back of his head, creating more of a bedhead than he currently had. Not that he cared. The best thing for him would be to be such a turnoff that Cassidy wouldn’t look at him twice.
Unfortunately, he’d caught her looking at him a lot more than twice. Which only added to this nightmare.
He stood up. No sense trying to go back to sleep. Not without taking matters into his own hand, so to speak, and how pathetic was that? A beautiful woman in the next room and he’s jacking off alone. Not gonna happen.
He could use a beer.
He stepped into his shorts, pulled on a T-shirt, things he’d never done when he lived alone, but he wasn’t risking any sort of temptation with her around, then headed toward his kitchen.
Only to hear two sets of little snores emanating from the sofa in the great room.
The princess and her mutt had fallen asleep there.
Turn around and go back to your room. Now.
It was sage advice. Good advice. The best for the moment.
So why did he ignore it?
Because curiosity got the best of him.
Oh, yeah, sure. Curiosity. That’s the latest term for sex drive these days?
He wouldn’t know. It’d been a while since he’d had sex.
That’s part of your problem. Go find some chick and take the edge off. Then you won’t be noticing how Cassidy’s finger is resting on her bottom lip in sleep. How tousled her hair is, so soft and silky it’d trail over a man’s skin, evoking shivers in its wake. Or how supple and soft her skin is. Her legs, so perfectly shaped as they curled up against her in sleep—and would curl around him when awake. Her dainty ankles would lock behind his ass and she’d urge him into her, deeper and—
Fuck.
Yeah, that’s the general idea here, Einstein.
Liam practically stumbled out of the great room before he did something they’d both regret.
“Yip!”
Of course the dog would wake up. Great.
“Shhh.” He held up his hand.
And of course the dog didn’t listen. And it definitely wasn’t going to stay put.
It squirmed out of Cassidy’s arms and bounded over to him with a pink tongue flapping as fast as its tail, and another excited yip doing exactly what Liam hadn’t wanted it to do.
Cassidy woke up. “What . . . ?” She flipped her wavy froth off her face as she sat up, and it jumbled over her shoulders as if he’d spent the better part of the night running his fingers through it.
Which he really wanted to do.
“Uh.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I, uh, couldn’t sleep. Came out for a drink. Didn’t realize you and the dust mop had fallen asleep out here. The dog’s uh, a good watch dog.”
“Titania?” Cassidy scrubbed her fingers through her hair, which only made him want to do it more. There was something about a woman’s hair in wild disarray that called to him to make her as wild and abandoned as he could.
God, did he want to. Right now. Right here. With her just like that.
He was in serious trouble.
The pooch was jumping on his leg, those pink frosted nails of hers a little too sharp for his liking.
Now if they were Cassidy’s, raking down his back—
“I, um, am just gonna grab a beer and, uh, head back to my room.”
Don’t ask her to come with you.
“Want one?”
Oh even better. Keep the contact going, genius. You have one hell of a way of avoiding temptation.
“Not a beer, no.” She scrubbed a hand over her face and even without makeup, she was beautiful. Hell, she was flat-out gorgeous. The quintessential girl next door with a Victoria’s Secret model’s sexiness added in just to make his life miserable.
She followed him into the kitchen. “But if you have some OJ, I’ll take that. Or cranberry?”
“I’ve got both.” He set the bottles and a glass on the counter. “Take your pick.”
She tapped the OJ bottle as she slid onto the barstool with the slinkiest move he’d ever seen someone make to sit at a bar. He’d swear it was intentional except the yawn that came with it should’ve undone the sexiness.
He sloshed some OJ over the edge of her glass when he poured it. Cassidy couldn’t undo sexiness. The woman was a walking pinup poster.
Who burped like one of the boys.
“Oops. Excuse me.” She covered her mouth and blushed all the way up to her hairline as she set the glass of juice she’d gunned onto the island.
Liam laughed. “I hear that’s a compliment to the cook in some countries.”
He got the smile he’d been hoping for.
“I didn’t realize you’d squeezed the oranges.”
“Hey, it’s tough work lifting those bottles.” He flexed his bicep. “Takes a lot of muscle.”
“Well then, my regards to the bottle-lifter.” She picked up the glass and waggled it. “Any chance I could have round two?”
“And risk another moment of indignity?”
She shrugged and it sent her hair cascading over her shoulders. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
But would she if she knew how close he was to hauling her up onto the island and making them both forget how thirsty they were for beverages, and find out how thirsty they were for each other?
What was wrong with him? Had he learned nothing from Rachel?
Except she’s not Rachel and you know it. Keep waving the Rachel flag, but that’s not why you’re staying away from Cassidy. Matter of fact, why are you staying away from her? She’s nothing like Rachel—not where it counts. Could you see Rachel cleaning your house with no complaints? Rachel trying to start a business? Rachel giving up on the easy money of marrying her father’s heir apparent? Rachel wearing the clothes Cassidy has or sleeping on a sofa? Selling diamond earrings?
Not a chance in hell.
You’re in trouble, here, Manley, because the one argument you have against Cassidy is fading away. So now whatcha gonna do?
He was going to pour her another glass of OJ, which he did, then head back to the fridge to put the bottles away. And, yeah, maybe just bask in the cold for a bit to cool himself down.
He grabbed the beer he’d forgotten about and twisted the cap off, taking a bigger swig than normal.
Coming into th
e kitchen hadn’t been a good idea. Inviting her to come with him, even worse. He would’ve been so much better off staying in his room and acting like a teenager instead of being out here thinking like one with her in touching distance.
“Titania didn’t wake you up, did she? She’s usually a sound sleeper. Barely moves when I try to get her off my pillow. She might look small, but she spreads out all over a bed and it’s hard to sleep.”
He was hearing the words but the images were completely different. He was seeing Cassidy spread out on a bed and he definitely wasn’t sleeping.
“No. I was up anyway.” In every way. “Figured a beer would take the edge off.”
“Edge? Are you worried about something?”
Yeah, like how he was going to get back to his room without yanking her off that stool and taking her with him. “Not really. Well, my brother Sean has a deal going on that I’m part of and there could be complications, but not enough to keep me up at night. Not yet anyway.” No, that honor would belong to her.
“So what do you think it is?” She ran her finger over the rim, and damn if Liam didn’t imagine her doing that to him.
So much for the mellowing effects of beer.
“Probably just not used to another person in the house.” He guzzled some more. “I’ll get used to it.”
“I’ll try to be out of here quickly. I really do appreciate your generosity, Liam.”
Yeah, he was so generous he was working her so hard that she fell asleep on the sofa. What a prince he was.
“You know, the garage doesn’t need to be done tomorrow. Take your time. Get some of your painting done.” That way he’d get her out of his vicinity and him out of temptation’s way. And wasn’t that the goal all along? She now knew how the “other half” lived; he’d made his point.
“No, no. We have a deal and I’m going to uphold my end of it. I’ll finish upstairs and then start on the garage. I’ll fit painting in there somewhere.”
He finished the beer so he could finish this conversation because with each sentence Cassidy uttered, she was knocking down his wall of misconceptions about her. Instead of whining and taking him up on his offer to get out of working, she was going to work harder. He really hadn’t wanted to like this woman, but he was starting to.