What a Woman Gets

by Judi Fennell

  The dog yipped by his feet.

  “She wants you to pick her up.”

  “I’m not picking her up.”

  “But why? She just wants to give you a kiss.”

  “And you know this how? Don’t tell me you talk to animals.”

  She rolled her gorgeous green eyes. “Her tail’s wagging and she can’t take her eyes off you.”

  “And that means she wants to kiss me?”

  Cassidy arched perfectly arched eyebrows at him. “Come on, Liam. Looking like you do, you can’t tell me you aren’t aware when a woman’s interested.”

  “Considering the not-so-nice correlation between female dogs and women, I don’t think I can answer your question without getting myself into a heap of trouble.” He set the beer bottle in the sink. “And on that note, I’m calling it a night.”

  “It’s morning.”

  “Morning. Whatever. I’m going back to bed and I’d invite you to do the same.”

  For a heartbeat he heard her thoughts. Or maybe they were his. Whoever they belonged to, yeah, he wanted her in his bed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ALL in all, the room above Liam’s garage wasn’t the nightmare Cassidy had envisioned. She even had enough time to finish most of the credenza afterward. Another couple of hours to finish the swirls around the flowers that would link the design throughout the piece, a few more shadows and highlights, plus the final finish, and she could give Jean-Pierre a call. If he refused to take her on, maybe he could recommend someone else.

  She winced. It wasn’t the best plan, but it was the only one she could come up with at the moment. Dad’s reach was a long one and finding someone willing to risk his wrath was going to be a lot tougher than cleaning a house if Jean-Pierre did shoot her down.

  Well, she’d deal with that later. Right now, though, she’d settle for a shower and a massage.

  Too bad someone knocked on the front door as she was headed toward her room.

  Titania went ballistic, hopping and twirling as if she were auditioning for a talent show. It took a last-minute sprint by Cassidy to grab the dog before she scratched Liam’s door.

  Cassidy scooped up her pet before she opened it. Who knew if a dog lover stood on the other side?

  Turns out, it was a little old lady with blue eyes and a smile identical to Liam’s. Cassidy was guessing the woman wasn’t selling encyclopedias.

  “Hello?” The woman offered her a polite smile with a quick sweep over her disheveled hair and clothing with a look that said—

  Oh God. The lady didn’t think that she and Liam had been— That she and Liam were—

  “Hi.” Cassidy stuck out her hand, then saw all the paint on it and shoved it behind her back. “Um, sorry. I’m covered in paint.”

  “You’re a painter?”

  “Um . . . yes.” Yes. She was. Dammit. “An artist.” That felt even better to say.

  “May I come in?”

  “Oh I’m sorry.” Cassidy stepped back. “Please. Yes.”

  “Thank you. I’m Liam’s grandmother, Cate Manley.”

  “Hi. I’m—” She didn’t want to tell the woman who she was. Who she really was. Things changed when people knew who she was. “Cass. Cass Marie.”

  The nickname her mother used to call her fell from her lips. She hated it, hated the memories, but Cass Marie was not Cassidy Davenport, so it worked for now.

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Cass.” Mrs. Manley walked toward the kitchen. “Is Liam here?”

  “He’s working.”

  “Oh. So what room is he having painted? I thought he finished decorating this place.”

  “I’m not painting a room. I’m working on custom furniture. In the garage.”

  Mrs. Manley turned around. “Liam’s having furniture painted?”

  “It’s not for him. I’m going to sell the pieces.”

  “So you’re renting space from him?”

  “Well, not exactly. I’m, um . . .” Damn. She didn’t know how enlightened Liam’s grandmother was or how she’d feel about Cassidy living here.

  Still, one lie was one too many.

  “I’m cleaning for him in return for a room. Until I sell another piece of furniture and can afford a place on my own, that is.”

  “Oh. Well that’s . . . new.” Mrs. Manley looked a little confused. But not horrified, thankfully. “So do you sell a lot of this furniture?”

  “Not yet. That’s why I’m here.” Cassidy walked past Liam’s grandmother to the cabinet to the right of the sink. “Are you thirsty? Can I get you something?”

  “Thank you. I’d love some iced tea. It’s on the second shelf on the back right.”

  “Ah, yes. You stocked his fridge. Your food is amazing, by the way.”

  “Thank you.” Mrs. Manley slid onto the bar stool, apparently planning to stay for a bit. “So how did you come to be exchanging cleaning services for room and board?”

  “I, uh, was evicted from my condo. The owner wanted to sell it.” That wasn’t a lie. Technically.

  “Sounds like a quick turnaround.”

  That was putting it mildly. “Yes. It was.”

  “And you know Liam from . . . school? Another job he did? One of his friends? Or do you work for Manley Maids as well?”

  “No, I don’t. He was cleaning the place where I lived. He heard the whole eviction thing and was kind enough to offer me a place to stay.”

  Mrs. Manley sat back with a smile. “Good to know my lessons weren’t wasted.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Liam. I raised him and his brothers and sister after they lost their parents—my son and his wife—in a car accident. Because of the rabble-rousing three young boys are capable of, they learned to help out around the house, cleaning and doing yard work, and even some of the cooking. It’s why I like to do for them every so often. Of course, my granddaughter, Mary-Alice Catherine, she says I go overboard.” Mrs. Manley shrugged her shoulders with a slight blush on her cheeks. “I guess I do, but for so long we had to worry about every bit on the table that it’s nice now to be able to be generous, you know?”

  Cassidy, unfortunately, now had first-hand knowledge of what Mrs. Manley was talking about. Before Dad’s marriage ultimatum, she’d never had to worry about where her next meal was coming from or where she’d live or if there would be clothes in her closet.

  “It did bring us closer. Made us appreciate each other more. I’d always loved my grandchildren of course, but there’s a difference between visiting and having them go home, and taking on four small children at my age. And I was a widow who’d raised only one child. Four was quite the handful.”

  “I can imagine.” She could imagine Liam as a child, running around with his brothers and sister . . . Kids. Children. Family. What would it be like to have that? Being an only child with absentee parents gave her zero frame of reference.

  “You did an amazing job raising him, Mrs. Manley.”

  “Why, thank you, dear. That’s nice of you to say. Have you known him long?”

  “Not very long, no.” It would probably shock the older woman to know just how few days it’d actually been. Seriously, who moved in with a complete stranger after knowing him for such a short period of time?

  Which also begged the question of who invited someone to live with them after knowing them such a short time?

  Someone special, that’s who.

  “May I see this piece you’re working on or are you one of those artists who won’t let anyone see it until it’s finished?”

  “If I had the luxury of people batting my door down to see my work, maybe, but at this point in my career, I’m willing to show it to anyone who’s interested.”

  Mrs. Manley set her glass onto the countertop and slid from the stool. “Then let’s see it. I’ve always wanted to be a patron of the arts.”

  Cassidy felt kind of funny walking Liam’s grandmother through his home. She must have been here countless times. More so than Cassidy. It oug
ht to be the other way around. But somehow, this felt right.

  Knock it off, Davenport. You’re not going to play house with Liam, so don’t go getting your hopes up that Liam’s grandmother can be yours, too. Just because your grandparents were as worthless as your parents doesn’t mean you get to claim Liam’s. You ought to be thankful for the room and board and forget anything else.

  She was trying to forget anything else. Truly. The problem was, she liked Mrs. Manley. Anyone willing to take on four kids and raise them all those years was someone special in Cassidy’s book.

  “Watch your step. I haven’t cleaned up yet. I was going to”—nope, not going to make the woman feel guilty that she’d interrupted her shower—“do that right before you arrived.”

  “Well then, I won’t keep you.” Mrs. Manley turned around and looked at the credenza. “This is lovely.” She reached out to touch it then pulled her hand back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t touch, but it’s so pretty I just felt compelled to run my hand over it.”

  There was no better compliment.

  “I must have this piece. How much are you selling it for?”

  Okay, maybe that was a better one.

  But as thrilled as she was with the validation, this was a high-ticket item. She could get a lot for it and she didn’t want to take that much from Liam’s grandmother. And she couldn’t really afford to give it away, not when she needed every penny.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s already been sold on commission. It matches another piece and the owner wants the set.” Cassidy crossed her fingers so tightly she lost circulation. “I do have that end table if you’d like it.”

  Mrs. Manley looked at the table. Cassidy was surprised to see her smile. Most people wouldn’t see the possibility in the worn old piece of furniture.

  “That would be perfect. I recently moved into a new home and I’m still trying to set it all up, you know?”

  Cassidy nodded, though she hadn’t even begun “setting anything up” because she didn’t have anything to set up.

  “It’ll be nice to have beside the chair my granddaughter bought me. It’s in front of a bay window. With a nice table, it’ll be the perfect spot for the lamp Bryan bought me on his first trip to London. Waterford crystal.”

  “I had Wa—er, I’ve always wanted a Waterford lamp. They’re lovely.” Phew. She’d almost blown her cover. And technically, what she’d said was true. She had always wanted one of her own because the ones she’d had were her father’s.

  “I told Bryan he shouldn’t have spent so much on me. Really, I would have been happy with a little memento from his trip, but he insisted. And it is beautiful. One of the nicest things I own. They’ve all done well, my grandchildren, and they like to bring me gifts. But it’s enough to me that they’re doing well in life. Now if I could just get them settled, I’d be happy.”

  The image hit Cassidy like a lightning bolt: Liam married. His grandmother wanted some woman to move into this house and into his bed and have his babies. Give her great grandchildren.

  Some other woman living here . . .

  Cassidy pasted a smile onto her face. Being jealous was just plain ridiculous. She had nothing to be jealous about because she had no claim on Liam.

  And at this point in her life, nice as it sounded, she didn’t want one.

  Uh huh . . .

  * * *

  CATE Manley let her smile loose the minute Liam’s houseguest shut the door behind her. Cass Marie, indeed. Even covered in paint and sweat, with questionable taste in clothing and her hair in complete disarray, there was no hiding the fact that Liam had Cassidy Davenport working for him.

  Funny, according to Mary-Alice Catherine, he was supposed to be working for her. That’s why Cate had stopped by: to get his impression of the socialite she had personally picked for him.

  Turned out she’d gotten quite the surprise of her own. Cassidy was as interested in Liam as Liam had to be in her to invite her to stay.

  Cate allowed herself a little chuckle. Obviously God was on board with her plan, since things appeared to be working out just the way she’d wanted.

  Chapter Fifteen

  LIAM loaded the last of the cleaning supplies into the back of the work van the next morning. He’d left his truck for Cassidy to use because he’d co-signed the loan for Mac’s first company van yesterday—with the condition that he’d be using it the rest of the month. If Cassidy hadn’t left by then, well, he’d figure something out.

  About a lot of things.

  In the meantime, he’d finished the second condo for Davenport, glad to get that out of the way before having to go back on Monday to clean Cassidy’s place again.

  Not that it’d be a big deal, since no one was living there, but the place wasn’t the same without her.

  Don’t go there. She will be leaving your place.

  True, but not right away, so he ought to grab a few other things for her when he went on Monday. Things like sweat pants and baggy shirts. Her skimpy little T-shirts and long flowing dresses that probably looked like muumuus on other women but just slid over her curves to tease him weren’t helping maintain the comparison to Rachel he was trying to cling to like a lifeline. And if that broke, he’d have no reason not to want her.

  He slammed the tailgate a little harder than necessary, but it relieved some of the tension. Thank God his latest property’s settlement had closed earlier than expected so he had something to keep himself occupied with instead of having to head home where she’d be.

  Except she showed up at his property. He shouldn’t have mentioned where he’d be.

  “Liam?” Cassidy knocked on the front door of the Cape Cod where he was in the middle of stripping the hideous seventies’ green paint the previous owner had chosen for some unknown reason off the teak built-in bookcases.

  He didn’t understand the choices some people made.

  Like his opening the door for her. “What are you doing here, Cassidy? Don’t you have something to clean?”

  “Still grumpy from your interrupted sleep the other night, are you?”

  “It was yesterday morning and I’m fine. I’m just busy and wasn’t expecting to see you.” Otherwise he would have prepared himself for her. She was making him think things he thought he shouldn’t—and made him not care that he did. “Where’s the mutt?”

  “Titania is at home in her pen.”

  For a second, Liam imagined the white marble hearth and fireplace that the pampered pooch’s gilded cage had sat in front of in her condo, then he realized that she’d meant his home. It ought to sound strange for Cassidy to call his place home, but . . . didn’t.

  She cracked her knuckles, a habit so incongruous to her runway model image that it took him a moment to realize she was still talking. “. . . more wood glue, so I thought I’d run to the store. A few dovetail joints on the drawer of the piece I’m working on are broken.”

  “You could always make another side rail to maintain the integrity of the piece.” He was a jack-of-all-trades when it came to construction, but woodworking was his specialty.

  “Painting is my area of expertise, not construction. Plus I don’t have the right equipment.”

  “I do.”

  “Are you offering to help?”

  Apparently. “If you need it.”

  He had to grit his teeth when she put her hand on his bicep. Between the home thing, that outfit, and her touch, the woman was going to kill him.

  “Liam, really, you’ve done more than enough for me. You’re busy with this place. I’ll get the glue, but um . . .”

  She looked too sexy in another tie-dyed T-shirt with an angled hem that someone thought was a good idea, but wasn’t for him when the image of sliding his tongue over the skin of her peek-a-boo waist flashed into his head and wouldn’t go away. Then she went and tucked her hair behind her ear and he wanted to suck on her earlobe, too.

  “I need a few dollars. I promise I’ll pay you back.”

  He had his wallet in hi
s hand before he thought about it.

  So much for learning his lesson with Rachel. In many ways.

  “Here you go. And I left my laptop on my bedside table. Feel free to use it to list the earrings. I set up the account for you and linked it to my bank account. We’ll work out the logistics after they sell.”

  “Oh. Right. The earrings. I’ll do it as soon as I set the drawer.” She took the twenty. “Is there anything you need while I’m at the hardware store? More paint stripper or sandpaper or anything?”

  A lock for his bedroom door . . . “How is it you know so much about construction and furniture refinishing?” He’d bet those weren’t courses in her fancy finishing school.

  “My dad’s in the construction business, remember? He made sure I knew every aspect of it, since it was apparent he was never going to get that son he’d wanted.”

  Surprisingly, Liam didn’t hear any sarcasm. She wasn’t the kid her father wanted, the man had kicked her out of her home, she had to work for her bed and board for the first time in her privileged life, yet she was considerate enough to ask him if he needed anything. Without bitterness. It was getting really hard not to like Cassidy Davenport.

  And if she played with her bottom lip one more time, something else was going to get hard.

  “No. I’m good. Keep the change. Add it to what you owe me. I’ll collect when you sell the earrings. Or your furniture. Whichever comes first.”

  And then she could get out of his life so it could get back to normal.

  She tapped him on the forearm. Even that turned him on. Dammit.

  “Oh, by the way, since you came home so late last night I didn’t get a chance to tell you that your grandmother stopped by yesterday.”

  He’d been late to make sure he wouldn’t see her, after helping his buddy Jared and wearing himself out with a lot of manual labor on the estate where Sean was working off his bet. Lucky bastard didn’t have a hot chick staying there with him to drive him nuts. Liam was seriously thinking of camping out there for the rest of the month. “Gran did? Why?”