The Bachelor’s Stand-In Wife Susan Crosby www.millsandboon.co.uk Table of Contents Cover Title Page About the Author Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Copyright Susan Crosby believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes, which often do come true – as long as she works hard enough. Along life’s journey she’s done a lot of the usual things – married, had children, attended college a little later than the average co-ed and earned a BA in English. Then she dived off the deep end into a full-time writing career, a wish come true. Susan enjoys writing about people who take a chance on love, sometimes against all odds. She loves warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines, and will always believe in happily ever after.
More can be learned about her at www.susancrosby.com. To Gail Chasan with gratitude, for the long-time support and enthusiasm, then and now. Thank you for the wonderful opportunities. And to Sandra Dark, my wordy friend, who proves the statement, “Writers write.” You do it well. Chapter One David Falcon dragged his hands down his face as a woman took a seat across the desk from him. “Well?” she asked. “What’s to think about? I just interviewed my twelfth candidate in two days, and I finally realized I’m delusional to hope I can find someone who fits my needs.” He tipped his chair back to look at Denise Watson, the efficient, thirty-something director of At Your Service, a prestigious domestic-and-clerical-help agency nicknamed by many clients as “Wives for Hire.” They were seated in her interview room. “If you have to compromise on something, what would it be?” Denise asked. He’d been doing a lot of compromising lately—for three years, in fact. He wasn’t interested in more of the same. “I’m not giving up on the ideal yet. You’ve got other candidates, right?” “One.” “That’s all?” “From my own staffing pool. As you pointed out, you have specific and complex needs. I’d be happy to advertise and screen them for you.” “What are your thoughts about the one remaining?” She set a folder on the desk in front of him and smiled. “I’ve learned not to second-guess the client.” He half smiled in return. “Send her in, please.” He skimmed the woman’s résumé. Ten years’ experience as a domestic, seven in clerical jobs. He speculated on her age—midthirties to forty, maybe? There were too many questions he wasn’t allowed to ask legally, tying his hands, leaving him only intuition and guesswork about her age. He was twenty-nine. It was critical that she be older than him. “Hello. I’m Valerie Sinclair,” came a quiet but level voice. He looked up. The woman was either extraordinarily well preserved or had lied about her work experience. She didn’t look a day over twenty-five. She wore a dress and jacket that was way too formal and warm for a hot August day in Sacramento, as if trying to look older. And her hair, a rich, shiny color, like chestnuts, was bundled up in some kind of bun or whatever that style was called, but couldn’t take away from her young age. Her eyes were hazel and direct. No rings on her slender fingers; her nails were short, clean and unpolished. “I’m David Falcon. Please, have a seat,” he said, wondering how she’d passed At Your Service’s background check. She had to have lied— To hell with the law, he decided. If she could lie about her work experience, he could ask the questions he wanted to. “How old are you, Ms. Sinclair?” She stiffened. “I’m twenty-six.” “How is it you have seventeen years of work experience? You started working when you were nine?” “Eight, actually. Not legally, of course, but my mother has been housekeeper for a family in Palm Springs since I was five. I was put to work early.” “Doing what?” “In the beginning, dusting and sweeping. New responsibilities were added as I could handle them.” “Your mother allowed you to be used like that?” “Used?” She smiled slightly. “Didn’t you do chores as a child? The family wasn’t in residence full-time. We lived on-site. It was my home.” David didn’t know what to think. On the one hand it seemed that child labor laws were violated. On the other, her point was well taken—to a point. “Did you receive a salary?” “An allowance from my mother, which increased as my responsibilities did. I don’t think it’s worth a lot of discussion, Mr. Falcon. My understanding is that you’re looking for someone to run your household and also be your administrative assistant. I listed the domestic work so that you would know I had a lot of experience in that field.” вернуться Susan Crosby believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes, which often do come true – as long as she works hard enough. Along life’s journey she’s done a lot of the usual things – married, had children, attended college a little later than the average co-ed and earned a BA in English. Then she dived off the deep end into a full-time writing career, a wish come true. Susan enjoys writing about people who take a chance on love, sometimes against all odds. She loves warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines, and will always believe in happily ever after.
More can be learned about her at www.susancrosby.com. вернуться To Gail Chasan with gratitude, for the long-time support and enthusiasm, then and now. Thank you for the wonderful opportunities. And to Sandra Dark, my wordy friend, who proves the statement, “Writers write.” You do it well. вернуться Chapter One David Falcon dragged his hands down his face as a woman took a seat across the desk from him. “Well?” she asked. “What’s to think about? I just interviewed my twelfth candidate in two days, and I finally realized I’m delusional to hope I can find someone who fits my needs.” He tipped his chair back to look at Denise Watson, the efficient, thirty-something director of At Your Service, a prestigious domestic-and-clerical-help agency nicknamed by many clients as “Wives for Hire.” They were seated in her interview room. “If you have to compromise on something, what would it be?” Denise asked. He’d been doing a lot of compromising lately—for three years, in fact. He wasn’t interested in more of the same. “I’m not giving up on the ideal yet. You’ve got other candidates, right?” “One.” “That’s all?” “From my own staffing pool. As you pointed out, you have specific and complex needs. I’d be happy to advertise and screen them for you.” “What are your thoughts about the one remaining?” She set a folder on the desk in front of him and smiled. “I’ve learned not to second-guess the client.” He half smiled in return. “Send her in, please.” He skimmed the woman’s résumé. Ten years’ experience as a domestic, seven in clerical jobs. He speculated on her age—midthirties to forty, maybe? There were too many questions he wasn’t allowed to ask legally, tying his hands, leaving him only intuition and guesswork about her age. He was twenty-nine. It was critical that she be older than him. “Hello. I’m Valerie Sinclair,” came a quiet but level voice. He looked up. The woman was either extraordinarily well preserved or had lied about her work experience. She didn’t look a day over twenty-five. She wore a dress and jacket that was way too formal and warm for a hot August day in Sacramento, as if trying to look older. And her hair, a rich, shiny color, like chestnuts, was bundled up in some kind of bun or whatever that style was called, but couldn’t take away from her young age. Her eyes were hazel and direct. No rings on her slender fingers; her nails were short, clean and unpolished. “I’m David Falcon. Please, have a seat,” he said, wondering how she’d passed At Your Service’s background check. She had to have lied— To hell with the law, he decided. If she could lie about her work experience, he could ask the questions he wanted to. “How old are you, Ms. Sinclair?” She stiffened. “I’m twenty-six.” “How is it you have seventeen years of work experience? You started working when you were nine?” “Eight, actually. Not legally, of course, but my mother has been housekeeper for a family in Palm Springs since I was five. I was put to work early.” “Doing what?” “In the beginning, dusting and sweeping. New responsibilities were added as I could handle them.” “Your mother allowed you to be used like that?” “Used?” She smiled slightly. “Didn’t you do chores as a child? The family wasn’t in residence full-time. We lived on-site. It was my home.” David didn’t know what to think. On the one hand it seemed that child labor laws were violated. On the other, her point was well taken—to a point. “Did you receive a salary?” “An allowance from my mother, which increased as my responsibilities did. I don’t think it’s worth a lot of discussion, Mr. Falcon. My understanding is that you’re looking for someone to run your household and also be your administrative assistant. I listed the domestic work so that you would know I had a lot of experience in that field.” David studied her. She was…soothing, he decided. Her feathers didn’t ruffle easily. “May I ask the nature of your business?” she asked. “My brother and I own Falcon Motorcars.” “I’ve never heard of that make.” “They’re custom-made. Our clients aren’t the average car buyers, so we don’t need to advertise. Most buyers are European, which is why I’ve been out of the country more than I’ve been home the past few years. Which is also why I’m looking for someone to take charge of things here, personally and professionally.” “Denise said you want a live-in.” A wife without the sex was what he wanted. Someone experienced, efficient and of a certain age. “That’s a requirement. Is that a problem?” “Not at all.” “Given the time difference between California and the continent, you might be awakened during the night to take care of business for me, or work until midnight, or get up at four.” “I can do that.” “How are your computer skills?” “Denise tested me on five different programs. I assume the results are in my folder.” He found the report and read it, letting her wait, testing her patience. She didn’t fidget. “Why did you leave your last job?” “Sexual harassment.” She said it as easily as she might have said she’d gone to the grocery store. He flattened his hands on top of the folder. “Did you file suit?” Again that slight smile touched her lips. “I was accused of sexual harassment.” David looked her over once more. Was that the reason for the buttoned-up outfit she wore? Beneath it was a slender, attractive body, he could tell. And maybe with her hair down and some makeup on, she would look sexy. She didn’t want to look sexy? “Were you guilty?” “Quite the opposite.” He let that information sink in. “He was harassing you?” She nodded once, sharply, the only outward indication of how much the situation bothered her. “Why didn’t you report him?” “I did. That’s when he turned it around to me instead. Look, it’s dead and buried for me.” “Is it? I would imagine it’s followed you and made it difficult to find a job,” he said, knowing how such things worked. She hesitated, then gave a taut smile. Pride. He understood it all too well. “Let me share my recent experiences,” he said. “My last housekeeper stole from me. My last four administrative assistants left because of pregnancy or child-care-related issues, each of them at just about the time they were fully trained. Frankly, I’d pretty much decided this time around to hire a woman beyond childbearing age. You don’t fit that qualification.” Her stark disappointment flashed, but he couldn’t let that interfere with his decision-making process. “As much as I’d like to hire you—” His cell phone rang. He would’ve ignored it, except it was his brother Noah, the only caller David couldn’t ignore. “Excuse me a moment,” he said, then left the room. Valerie waited for David Falcon to shut the door before she closed her eyes. As much as I’d like to hire you. His mind was apparently made up. Her hands shook; her mouth went dry. She was at the end of her already short rope. If she didn’t get this job she didn’t know what she was going to do. She’d used every penny of her meager savings. Her credit card was maxed out. How could she convince him to hire her? She was this close to being homeless, although a homeless shelter might be better than the apartment complex where she lived, in a part of town where drive-by shootings weren’t uncommon. This job would mean a steady income and a safe place to live. For her and— “Sorry about that,” David said, returning. “As I started to say, as much as I’d like to hire you, given your job skills, I’m hesitant. I would need your assurance that you won’t be taking off to get married anytime soon. I need to know you’re not pregnant or intending to get pregnant anytime soon. I would be hiring you to take care of me—my house and my business—not a baby.” Valerie clenched her hands. She still had a chance. Say the right thing. Say the right thing. “I’m not even dating anyone, so the issue of marriage is nonexistent. Which would also, therefore, mean no pregnancy or babies in sight. However, I do have a daughter, Hannah. She’s eight.” Valerie saw his eyes dull with disappointment. “She’s a quiet, obedient child, I promise you.” She waited for lightning to strike her for the fib, then continued to plead her case. “My daughter doesn’t require the care that a baby does. You won’t even know she’s there.” Valerie had her own reasons for not letting Hannah get close to him, anyway. “Just give me a chance to prove myself,” she said, trying not to beg. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving hers. She didn’t look away, either. Please hire me. Please. “Let’s try it for a month,” he said at last. Emotions tumbled through the desert of what her life had become. She couldn’t even speak. “I’ll pay your rent for where you’re living now so that you have a place to go back to if it doesn’t work out.” She wouldn’t move back to that hellhole under any circumstances. She swallowed against the still roiling emotions. “It’s not necessary. I was going to look for a new place anyway.” “All right. You’ll be living in a cottage behind the main house, and it’s fully furnished, including all the kitchen things. I’ll arrange for some movers and a storage unit for your belongings.” A cottage? Their own space? “My apartment came furnished. I have very little to transport.” She and Hannah had moved so many times, they had the routine down pat. “You’re making this very easy, Ms. Sinclair.” “Valerie. It’s my job to make your life easy.” “If you can pull that off, you’re a miracle worker.” He stood; she did, as well. Apparently when he made up his mind, that was that. “How soon can you start?” he asked. “Where is your house?” “In Chance City, close to Grass Valley and Nevada City. Are you familiar with the area?” “Not much. I know it’s a Mother Lode location from the gold rush era.” “Right. It’s beautiful country, but the house itself is a little isolated.” “Isolation doesn’t bother me.” They would be about an hour north of Sacramento. Clean air, and stars at night. Trees. Their own cottage. “I can be there tonight.” “I’ll send someone to help.” “I can manage, thanks.” She smiled, hopefully diverting him from becoming insistent on helping her. She really didn’t want anyone associated with him to see where she lived. The tiredness in his face smoothed out—his very handsome face, she finally realized, admiring his tall, athletic body. “Whatever expenses you incur in moving out, I’ll pay. Just let me know how much.” “Thank you.” “And if everything works out, I’ll buy out your contract from At Your Service. Falcon Motorcars would become your employer, so you’d have benefits.” Benefits. Valerie wished he would leave so that she could sit down. An internal earthquake had her trembling. She was surprised he couldn’t see it. She’d been without health insurance for the year that she hadn’t been able to find permanent work. “Feel free to start putting through the new-employee paperwork,” she said. “You’re very sure that things are going to work out.” “Three things you’ll learn about me, Mr. Falcon. I’m competent, I’m reliable and I’m loyal. I also know I have to prove myself.” “You can call me David.” He pulled a large envelope from his briefcase and handed it to her. “You’ll find a map to the house inside this envelope, and some general instructions. A few forms you need to fill out. A key to the cottage, in case I’m not there when you arrive.” He gestured toward the door. “I’ll walk you out.” “I think we both probably have to talk to Denise.” “Right. I’ll go first.” He shook her hand. “See you later.” “Thank you for the opportunity,” she said. Now go away. He walked out the door. She sank into the chair, her knees giving out. He stuck his head back around the corner. “You like dogs?” “Yes.” She tried to stand. “Don’t get up,” he said, eyeing her intently. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine. My foot got caught in the chair leg.” He waited a couple of beats. “Is your daughter good with dogs?” “She loves them, but she’s never had one of her own.” “I have a great old-lady dog. I’ve had to foster her with my brother and his four kids because I’ve been gone so much. She looks at me with accusing eyes every time I leave their house without her. I’d like to bring her home.” “By all means.” He slapped the doorjamb and nodded. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome.” He disappeared, but she held herself together, in case he surprised her by returning— “One more thing,” he said, again appearing in the doorway. “Can your daughter swim?” “Yes.” “Good. I have a pool. I don’t want to have to worry about her.” “She’ll abide by the rules.” “Okay.” Then he was off again. She stared into space. He had no idea what having this job meant to her. None. She didn’t care if she had to work 24/7. Didn’t care if she lost sleep or weight or her mind. Well, maybe she would care if she lost her mind. It was a good job, out of the city, working for a man Denise assured her was decent and successful. He’d have to sign a contract, the same as Valerie would, spelling out the details of the business arrangement, including that there would be no sexual contact between employer and employee. She could live with that. All she wanted was to provide for her daughter. Finally she could do that. вернуться Chapter Two “Over there, Mom.” Hannah pointed straight ahead. “See the mailbox? That’s the address. But where’s the house?” Valerie braked, slowing, then came to a stop next to the mailbox. Ahead she spotted a break in the abundance of trees and shrubs and assumed it was a driveway. She nosed the car down the gravel road, past a small forest of wild oaks, fragrant pines and stately cedars. Then she came upon a wide firebreak clearing and an amazing house, all glass and logs and rocks, reaching toward the sky, the stark edges softened by clouds, the windows reflecting treetops. “Awesome,” Hannah said reverently. “We’re gonna live here?” Valerie was no less awed. She’d expected a nice house, but not one that should be profiled in Architectural Digest. “Remember we won’t be living in the house but in a cottage on the property.” No one came out of the house to greet or question them, so Valerie continued on, following a gently curving path around the house, discovering several buildings—a four-car garage, what looked to be a stable and the building referred to as the cottage. The word cottage had conjured up visions in Valerie’s mind of rosebushes and wood shingles. Instead the structure was a smaller version of the main house, except with cedar-plank siding instead of logs, but with the same large windows, and more space than she and Hannah had ever lived in. “There’s the pool!” Hannah exclaimed, scrambling to unbuckle her seat belt and flinging the car door open. “And a hot tub. Mom, it’s got a hot tub. We get to use it, too, right?” She was out of the car and running toward a free-form pool that seemed carved out of the landscape, with a small, rock waterfall at one end that spilled into both the pool and hot tub. Gravel crunched under Valerie’s feet as she followed Hannah, reaching a flagstone path that branched into others heading toward the cottage, the main house, and through a wild, obviously untended garden to the pool. Lack of interest in gardening, she wondered, or his intent? He must be able to afford a gardener. Valerie reached her daughter, who’d crouched beside the pool, dipped her hand into it then flicked a few refreshing drops at Valerie. “Can we go swimming, Mom? I’m sooo hot.” They’d spent the afternoon packing their belongings and cleaning their apartment in the 101-degree Sacramento weather, squeezing everything into their small car. They both needed a cool swim before unpacking and settling in. And the man of the house didn’t appear to be home. “Pleeease,” Hannah begged, tugging on Valerie’s hand. “How fast can you find your bathing suit?” “I put it in the last grocery bag we loaded.” She grinned, obviously pleased at her planning ahead. “Yours, too. I swiped it from your suitcase as soon as you said there was a pool.” “Have I told you lately how smart you are?” Valerie hooked an arm around her daughter as they returned to the car. “Just every day.” They grabbed the bag from the car then headed to the cottage to change. A note was taped to the front door: “Welcome. I expect to be home by 7:30. I’ll bring dinner. We’ll meet later to discuss your specific duties. DF” It was only six o’clock, so they had plenty of time, provided she could drag Hannah out of the pool at some point. “Way cool!” Hannah declared as they stepped inside the cottage. Valerie wondered why David called it a cottage when it was really more of a guesthouse. A large great room, dining area and kitchen comprised the visible living space, while in the back were two bedrooms with a shared bath between. The modern furnishings looked brand-new and perfectly suited to the structure, not exactly “cabin” decor but dark greens, reds and browns, with some wrought-iron pieces and trim, and a stone fireplace. She’d never lived in anything like it. “Which bedroom do you want?” she asked her daughter, her words trailing off as Hannah raced into one of the rooms and slammed the door shut. “Hurry, Mom,” she shouted through the wood. Valerie took a moment to enjoy the bedroom that would now be hers. The pine furnishings included a rustic four-poster, queen-size bed and an armoire that housed a television, drop-leaf desk and six-drawer dresser. The comforter was red-and-green striped. Overall, it was a streamlined, masculine look, but that didn’t really surprise her. David Falcon was all male. “I’m ready!” “Almost done,” Valerie called out as she peeled off her sweaty, sticky clothes and tugged on her bathing suit, a black one-piece as old as Hannah. Valerie found a linen closet inside the bathroom and grabbed two pool towels. On her way out she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her suit sagged a little, as much from old elastic as the fact she’d lost weight in the past year, leaving her, according to her mother, skin and bones. She didn’t think she looked that bad, but maybe the new situation—especially the lack of worrying about life in general—would bring back her lost curves, or at least what there’d been of them to begin with. She would be happy here. She could feel it. She and Hannah would have a place they could call home. They wouldn’t have to triple-lock their door. They could sleep with windows open. “Mo-om!” Valerie hurried out of the bathroom, grabbed Hannah’s hand and ran to the pool, jumping straight in. They touched bottom then shoved themselves up through the bubbles, still holding hands, laughing as they broke the surface. This is what freedom feels like—cool and clean.… She ignored the hot tears pressing at her eyes. She wouldn’t do anything to mess up this incredible situation, would make sure that Hannah understood what her boundaries were. Valerie would make herself completely indispensable to Mr. David Falcon. He would find no fault with her work or behavior. She would be a consummate professional, do nothing remotely improper.… For the next half hour she and Hannah played and romped and floated. They turned on the jets in the hot tub and climbed in, just because they could, letting the heat seep into their bodies, then getting out and doing cannonballs into the cooler pool. Valerie planted her hands on the pool edge to push herself out as Hannah grabbed her ankles, trying to tug her back in. They were laughing and taunting each other. The stretched-out straps of Valerie’s bathing suit slipped a little. She pulled free of her daughter’s grip. Breathless, she shoved herself up and almost out of the pool…and came face-to-face with a huge golden retriever—and her boss standing right behind. * * * So. The buttoned-up Valerie Sinclair did have a body—a very nice body—beneath all that fabric, David thought, studiously avoiding watching her directly as she jammed her straps back into place and hurried over to a chair to grab a towel, covering herself, apologizing the whole time. “Hi, I’m David Falcon,” he said to the worried-looking little girl clinging to the side of the pool. “I’m Hannah. What’s your dog’s name?” “This is Belle.” Belle looked up at him at hearing her name, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth in a goofy dog smile. She’d become like a puppy again since he’d loaded her in his car. “She’ll swim with you, if you want.” “Really?” “She won’t go in on her own, but if you slap the water and call her name, she’ll dive right in. Don’t call her near you, because she’s strong and her claws can hurt. Just let her swim around on her own. She’ll climb up the stairs when she’s done.” “Cool!” Hannah patted the water. “C’mere, Belle. Come on, girl.” With one last happy look at David she jumped in, thus apparently forgiving him for her years of exile at Noah’s. She was too old to be having to put up with all those children, even Noah’s sedate children. But having one child around, this eight-year-old Hannah, would be good for her, especially when David was out of town. Belle needed company, and someone to care about, follow around and curl up with. “I’m sorry,” Valerie said again, coming up beside David, watching the dog and the girl swim in circles. “For what?” “Not being ready for work when you arrived. I thought we had more time.” “I didn’t expect you to work tonight.” He finally eyed her directly, all wrapped up in a towel that matched her hazel eyes, her wet hair dripping down her back. He’d been right about her looking younger with her hair down. “Your daughter is a miniature of you.” “I can’t tell you how excited she is to be here. The cottage is beautiful.” Belle followed a giggling Hannah across the pool, then headed for the stairs. The dog didn’t climb out but stood, resting. “Are you all settled in?” “We haven’t even unloaded the car yet.” He considered taking a swim himself, but decided to wait until later. He figured Valerie would keep a strict employer/employee relationship with him, which would include making sure her daughter didn’t get in his way. Which was fine with him. David had nothing against kids, he just didn’t know how to relate to them, even his nieces and nephews. He particularly didn’t want to get attached to an employee’s child. She had to be separate from the working relationship as much as possible. “I picked up a pizza,” he said to Valerie. “Come up to the house when you’re ready and we’ll reheat it. We’ll talk business afterward.” “Both of us?” “Your daughter needs to eat, too, right?” “I can take her a plate.” “We’ll make an exception for tonight.” Valerie nodded. He walked away, sensing her relief. He knew, given her background of false accusations of sexual harassment, that she would be more wary than most, more aware of potential impropriety. He respected that. He wanted a long-term, employer/employee relationship with her. He would be just as careful as she. He got partway down the path when he heard the thunder of Belle’s paws pounding the flagstone behind him, getting closer. He turned. She bounded to a halt and shook the pool water from her fur, head to tail, drenching him. Hannah shrieked with laughter then clamped a hand over her mouth. Valerie stood frozen, awaiting his response. He hunkered down and wrapped his arms around his great old dog, getting himself wetter in the process, glad to have her home. So much for impeccable behavior, Valerie thought with a sigh as she and Hannah walked to the cottage a few minutes later. He’d caught her in her bathing suit, totally goofing off, acting like a kid. How embarrassing. Not an auspicious start to their business relationship at all. “Belle’s a neat dog,” Hannah said. “I never knew dogs liked to swim. I mean, I know they can, because there’s even a name for it, right? The dog paddle? But I didn’t know they would just jump in and swim around.” “Just don’t get too attached. She’s his dog, not yours.” “But he’s gone a lot. You said so. She’ll be staying with us, won’t she? She can’t stay in that big ol’ house by herself. She’d be sooo lonely.” Hannah’s eyes pleaded with Valerie, who tried not to laugh. Right. Belle would be lonely. Valerie and Hannah unloaded the car, then showered and dressed for their first dinner with the boss. The evening temperature was perfect as they took the path to the house and climbed the back stairs. Through a window Valerie saw a kitchen and was glad she would be working in a space with such a spectacular view, not only of the pool but the tree-studded hills. She knocked on the kitchen door. After a minute she knocked again. Finally she turned the handle and leaned inside. “Hello?” “Be right there. Make yourself at home,” David called, the words muffled by distance. “Wow. Our old apartment would fit in here,” Hannah said, looking around at the kitchen and breakfast nook. The stainless steel appliances made it contemporary, but there was a rustic feel, too, in the pine cabinets and autumn-toned granite countertops. Not a curtain in sight, either, nor any plants. Nothing to soften the streamlined feel of the place, the home of someone who didn’t really live there, but used it as a base camp. David breezed into the room. He’d changed from slacks and a dress shirt to jeans and a T-shirt, and was barefoot. Belle trailed him. Valerie wondered how old David was. Thirty? “Settled in?” he asked. “Almost. We haven’t put everything away, but it’s all in the house,” Valerie answered, keeping a hand on Hannah’s shoulder so that she wouldn’t run to Belle, who wagged her tail in greeting. “The stove’s preheated,” David said. “Shouldn’t take too long. I hope you like pepperoni.” He slid a large pizza into the oven. “How about a tour while it heats.” “That would be great.” The inside of the house was as stunning as the outside. It was a man’s home, but a classy one, the environment clearly of someone who liked art and color, who had style. Maybe a decorator should get credit, but David would have had to approve everything purchased, so he must’ve had a hand in the final result in some way. On the first floor was a living room with a stone fireplace, a family room holding a woodstove that piped heat into the rest of the house, a large dining room with a table and chairs for twelve, an office and a powder room. Upstairs were four bedrooms, two baths and the master suite, with its enormous bed and spectacular view, the same as in the kitchen, of the pool and mountains, even the cottage. Heavy green drapes framed the windows. She wondered how often he shut them. She wondered, too, how often he had company. Female company. He was an attractive and successful man. Did he have a regular girlfriend? “It’s an incredible home,” she said to him, having given up on keeping Hannah by her side. She and Belle had teamed up, following at their own pace. “Although a lot of house for one person.” “I spend much of my life in airplanes and hotel rooms. I need a place to spread out.” “How long have you lived here?” “Had it built five years ago.” They headed out the bedroom door and downstairs. Valerie motioned to Hannah, who played on the landing with Belle, tossing the dog’s rag doll, then throwing it again after Belle brought it back. “How much are you gone?” she asked. “At least half the month. My oldest brother, Noah, and I have owned the business for eleven years. We used to share the overseas work, but Noah’s wife died three years ago, and now he has their four children to take care of.” They reached the bottom of the staircase, which faced a wall of family photos. He pointed to a photo of a man and woman with four children. “He’s needed to be with them, I understand that, so I’ve been doing all the traveling. But someday I hope we can split the work again. I’m also trying to figure out ways to do less overseas and more here in the States.” Valerie heard frustration in his voice. Or maybe weariness. “How old are the children?” “He has two sets of twins, as you can see. Ashley and Zoe are twelve. Adam and Zachary are nine. They’re…very well behaved.” Valerie wondered why he said that as if it was a bad thing. “You said he was your oldest brother. You have others?” “One, Gideon.” He tapped a photo. “He’s the middle child.” “Your parents like biblical names,” she said with a smile. “Our father did.” The man in the picture he pointed to resembled Noah most of all, but she could see David in him, too. “We have different mothers. This one’s mine,” he went on to say, moving to the photo of a young woman, the picture probably taken twenty years ago, given her hairstyle. “Do you want to eat in the kitchen or on the deck?” he asked in a quick change of subject. “The deck,” Hannah said, focused on the photographs, apparently fascinated. Then she caught Valerie’s pointed look. “Please,” she added. “You got it. I’ll cut the pizza into slices. There’s a salad in the refrigerator. Paper plates and napkins are in the cupboard next to the sink,” he said. They settled around a table on the deck overlooking the backyard. Belle curled up at their feet. “If you had the house built,” Valerie said, “then you also had the stables put in. Do you plan to get a horse?” “It’s a dream. I’m not here enough.” “Do you know how to ride?” He grinned. “Nope.” “Then why…?” “Wide-open spaces.” Valerie was beginning to understand him. He needed space but felt hemmed in by his work. He must feel handcuffed or something. And resentful? she wondered. “What grade are you in?” David asked Hannah. “Third.” “Do you like school?” “It’s okay.” Valerie sympathized with her daughter. She’d attended three different schools in her short life. It was another reason for making sure she kept her job—she wanted Hannah to have the luxury of staying at one school and making long-term friends. Living a normal childhood, if Valerie could make that happen. She wondered about David’s childhood, if, having different mothers, he and his brothers were raised together. Maybe they weren’t close in age. As an only child, Valerie had desperately wanted siblings, but her father had divorced her mother when Valerie was a toddler and had rarely contacted Valerie since. As far as she knew, he hadn’t fathered more children. When they were done eating, Valerie stacked the paper plates and started to stand. “I’ll take care of that later,” David said, then pointed toward the floor under the table. Hannah had joined Belle and was now asleep against the dog, who looked at David but didn’t make a move to get up. “We might as well go over your duties,” he said. “I’ve written them up for you. Be right back.” “What a good dog you are,” Valerie said to Belle, petting her. Belle closed her eyes, making a happy sound. David returned, taking the seat next to instead of across from her. He set a piece of paper on the table between them so they both could read it. She was aware of him, of his arm almost touching hers. He hadn’t stepped over any line at any time, either with comments or looks, in fact had gone out of his way not to look at her at the pool until she’d wrapped the towel around her, covering her bathing suit. Not interested? She knew it was better that way, but— “You’re probably worried about working at the house during the night, and leaving Hannah on her own at the cottage,” he said. “There’s an intercom system between the houses. You’ll be able to hear everything that happens in the cottage—or vice versa, if necessary. You just have to set the buttons. There’s also an alarm. I’ve never had problems here, but I know it’ll probably make a city girl like you feel more comfortable.” “Okay, good.” He went down his itemized list, explaining each of her duties. He would make his own breakfast but preferred she prepare his dinner. He was rarely home at lunchtime, so they would play that by ear on the occasions he stayed home. Valerie and Hannah could use the pool and patio anytime except when he was entertaining, and then he expected privacy, unless he asked for something. Privacy for women friends? Valerie wondered. Probably. “I know how to serve a household,” she said. “And Hannah will know to stay in the cottage.” “She’s not to work in my house,” he said decisively. “I know your mother allowed it, but I think children should enjoy childhood. She’s welcome to have friends over when I’m not here, including to use the pool, as long as they’re supervised every second.” Valerie’s throat closed. She blessed whatever fates had sent her to the At Your Service agency, which had led her here. “That’s very generous.” “My childhood was one crisis after another. I don’t wish that on any child.” He cocked his head. “What about her father?” “Not in the picture.” A long pause followed. She figured he was waiting for her to expand on her answer, but she had no intention of doing so. “Okay,” he said finally. “I’ve never had live-in help before, so we’ll both be feeling our way through the situation. You should speak up if you think something should be handled differently.” “I will. You’ll do the same, right?” “Of course. I’m sure we’ll spend a lot of time communicating, in person and by phone. There’s no purpose in holding back. The relationship depends on honesty and openness.” “Like a marriage,” she said. Without sex, she reminded herself. Without any physical contact whatsoever. Without innuendo. They couldn’t even joke about it. “I’ll take your word on that,” he said, flashing a quick grin. “Like a good marriage, maybe. But since I’ve never taken part in that institution, I wouldn’t know.” “Neither would I.” She let that bit of information set in for a minute without explanation. He glanced at Belle and Hannah. “And, as you know, I never expected a child to be part of the deal, so we’re especially going to have to feel our way through that, figure out what works for all of us.” “Your needs and demands come first. You have to tell me if Hannah is bothering you. She’s obviously already made herself at home.” He nodded. “We’ll talk more in the morning. You’ll have to come to the house for breakfast, since I know you haven’t had time to shop for groceries yet. I’ll be heading to the office for the day.” He stood, so she did, as well. “Where is that?” “In Roseville, just north of Sacramento.” “What time do you want breakfast?” “Eight.” “Okay.” Valerie looked out over his property. Garden lights illuminated the pool and pathways, creating a beautiful picture. “Is the yard my responsibility?” “I have a gardener.” “You do?” She put a hand to her mouth, surprised that she’d blurted that out. He grinned. “You like the untamed look, I guess,” she said. “I’ve pretty much just left it in his hands.” He walked to the railing, leaned on his elbows there and looked around. “I guess it’s not as nice as it could be.” “It could be a showpiece, if that’s what you want.” “Are you saying you want to add gardening to your many duties?” “Maybe your gardener and I could work together on a new look. Would that be okay?” “Sure, why not. I’ll give him a call and tell him you’re the boss.” She’d never been the boss of anyone, unless she counted Hannah. “That would be great, thanks.” She knelt down to wake up her daughter, who made sleepy sounds of resistance as she snuggled against Belle. “Bedtime, sweetie.” Hannah finally got her to her feet, although she leaned heavily against Valerie. It had been a long, tiring day for both of them. “Say good-night to Mr. Falcon.” “’Night,” she said softly. “Thank you for everything,” Valerie added, still unable to believe her luck. “It’s a month, Valerie,” he said. The grace period. She’d already forgotten about that, she was so sure of her ability to please him. She nodded. “Good night.” “I hope you both sleep well. Belle, stay,” he ordered quietly as the dog started to follow. Valerie was aware of him watching as she made her way down the stairs and through the yard, holding Hannah’s hand and stepping carefully. She didn’t look back until they were entering the cottage. She could just make out his silhouette. He hadn’t moved. Her heart swelled at the protectiveness of his actions. She was accustomed to looking out for herself and Hannah, without help from anyone. And although David was her employer, she felt he was also looking out for them. It was a very nice feeling. вернуться Chapter Three Valerie had learned to cook at a young age and had begun teaching Hannah when she was a toddler. She wasn’t a picky eater. They often read recipes and talked about them—how a dish might taste, what could be served with it. Valerie looked forward to cooking for David, starting this morning. Hannah was still asleep when Valerie was ready to head to the house. She went into her daughter’s room and sat on her bed. “Good morning,” she sing-songed, brushing Hannah’s long hair away from her face. “Mmpff.” “Are you awake? I need to tell you something.” Hannah flopped onto her back and opened her eyes halfway. “I’m awake.” “I’m going up to fix Mr. Falcon’s breakfast. As soon as he leaves, we’ll eat. In the meantime, you can watch television.” Hannah’s eyes opened fully. “I never get to watch TV in the morning.” “Some things are going to be different for us here. We’ll have to figure out new rules.” She stood. “There’s an intercom by the front door. If you need me, push the talk button and shout, okay?” She guessed that’s how it worked, anyway. She wasn’t worried, since she could see the front door of the cottage from the kitchen window at the big house. “Okay.” “After breakfast we’ll go grocery shopping and stop by the school district office to get you registered, so put on some nice clothes. I put everything away before I went to bed last night. Check your dresser and your closet.” Hannah sat up. “I’m kinda hungry.” “There’s a box of cereal and a couple of granola bars in the kitchen cupboard but no milk. I’ll probably be gone about half an hour, however long it takes to make breakfast and put it on the table. Unless he has more to tell me or some job to do.” “Mom, I’m eight. I’ll be fine.” Yes, her grown-up girl. She’d had to mature fast, like so many children of single parents. When Hannah was settled on the living room sofa, granola bar in hand and the TV turned to cartoons, Valerie opened the door and was greeted by Belle. She got up, wagging her tail. “Good morning, Miss Belle. I assume you’re looking for Hannah.” Belle barked. Hannah jumped off the couch and ran over, falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around the dog. “Belle! Mom, look. Belle came to see me. Can she stay?” “For now. I’ll find out when I get up to the house. Don’t let her on the sofa with you, though.” “Okay. C’mon, Belle.” They sat on the floor in front of the couch. Valerie headed out and up the pathway. The morning was exquisite—a crystal-clear sky, the crisp scent of pine in the air, a mild midsixties or so, although probably another hot day ahead. At the house, the kitchen door was unlocked, and since Belle was out, Valerie knew David must be up. She’d checked the contents of his refrigerator when she’d gotten the salad out last night, seeing very little beyond condiments, although he did have eggs. “Good morning,” he said, coming into the kitchen. “How’d you sleep?” “Exceptionally well.” He also looked exceptionally good in his khakis and light green polo shirt, a shade lighter than his eyes. His dark hair was still damp. He smelled good, too, fresh from the shower, kind of soap scented or a light, pleasant aftershave. “Could I fix you an omelet?” “I’ll just have cereal, thanks.” “Are you sure? You’ve got eggs and cheese and—” “Okay, you talked me into it.” He poured himself a cup of coffee from a carafe on the counter. “I made a full pot, if you’re interested. Didn’t know whether or not you drink it.” It was something she’d given up because she couldn’t afford it. “Yes, thanks. Do you have likes and dislikes, foodwise?” “I like meat and potatoes. And most vegetables. Not a big dessert eater, except apple pie and chocolate-chip cookies. And ice cream.” David leaned against the counter, sipping from his cup, watching her whisk eggs and grate cheese. “When you have time today, I’d like you to read through the files I left on my office desk and familiarize yourself with them. We’ll talk about them tonight. Tomorrow I’ll stay home longer in the morning and show you how to access files on my computer.” “When will you leave town again?” “Sunday.” This was Wednesday. He figured she should be up to speed by the time he left. They would spend a lot of time together, just the two of them.… She poured the eggs into the pan, moving gracefully and efficiently from task to task, then he saw her realize he was watching her, and her cheeks turned pink. He shoved away from the counter and went to the window, surveying the morning. “It’s so quiet here,” she said hesitantly, as if needing to fill the silence. “I feel like I’m on vacation.” “I know what you mean. Some days I can’t wait to get home. And now that Belle’s home, too, it’ll be even better.” “Oh, I forgot! Belle is with Hannah in the cottage. I hope that’s okay.” “It’s fine. I saw her wander down there this morning and sit in front of your door.” “You’ll need to tell me what to feed her, and when.” “Her bowls are in the laundry room, and an extra water bowl on the deck. One scoop of dog food, twice a day.” “When you’re gone, should she stay in the cottage with us?” “If you don’t mind.” “I think my daughter would raise quite a ruckus if Belle couldn’t be there.” “I figured that.” He took another sip of his cooling coffee. He rarely had someone to talk to in the morning, and now he couldn’t decide if he liked it or not, accustomed to silence as he was. “Is this enough food for you or do you prefer a bigger breakfast?” she asked. “I eat what’s put in front of me.” Maybe he shouldn’t have told her he’d fix his own breakfast most of the time, after all. Maybe it would be nice having her there in the morning, fixing something hot and filling. “You look like you work out.…” Her words drifted. He turned in time to see her swallow, obviously uncomfortable. “I mean, you don’t look like you overeat.” She stopped, closed her eyes. “I mean—Shoot.” He decided to rescue her. “I could say the same about you.” “Good genes,” she said in a tone indicating that conversation was over. She tipped the omelet onto the plate next to the toast she’d just buttered. He came forward, taking the plate from her, not wanting things to get any more personal—for both their sakes. Maybe he should have let Hannah hang around more, to keep things professional. “I’ll eat in front of the computer while I answer some e-mail, then I’ll take off,” he said. “See you around six o’clock.” “When would you like dinner?” “Plan on seven.” He went out the kitchen door then retraced his steps. “Don’t try to do too much today except get settled and acclimated. I know the house needs cleaning, but it can wait one more day.” “All right.” He didn’t believe her. Based on what she’d told him, he guessed she had a stronger work ethic than most. “I hope this works out, Valerie.” “Me, too.” He went to his office and shut the door. His computer was on, but he stood at the window instead, eating, the view of the yard the same as from the kitchen and his bedroom. After a minute he saw Valerie make her way to the cottage, carrying a carton of milk. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry, taking a little time to stop and look around, maybe visualizing what she wanted to do with the yard. He should’ve probably held off letting her start on any major project until their trial month was up, but what damage could she do in the yard? The worst that could happen was that it got tamed some, thinned out. Except he didn’t want a bunch of flowers planted. He should tell her that before she got started. He liked the natural look, which was why his pool seemed to be carved from the rocks. Women always had different ideas about things like gardens, however. His mother had loved to garden.… An hour later David pulled into the company parking lot in an industrial area of Roseville. The large metal building housed several bays in which cars in various states of completion were being hand built. At the far right of the building were his and Noah’s offices. David had been a partner in Falcon Motorcars since he was eighteen, the year his father died, leaving his three sons the business in equal shares. For the first eight years it had been fun, each day a challenge, each job different. But since Noah’s wife’s death, it had become exhausting. David tried to hide his resentment from Noah, who was still grieving and had enough on his plate with four children, but the resentment was becoming increasingly difficult to conceal, especially as it was compounded by Noah’s inability to see the pressure cooker David lived in daily. If only Gideon hadn’t left the company, then the responsibilities would have continued to be more equitable. But Gideon marched to a different drummer, always had, always would. Nothing would lure him back into the family business. “Morning, Mae,” David said to the woman who’d been office manager of the business for thirty years, and Noah’s administrative assistant. “The conquering hero returns.” She looked at him over the top of her glasses while continuing to type. She hadn’t changed her supershort hairstyle since he’d known her, the color as bright red as it had always been. “Hero?” he repeated. “You brought home gold, I hear. Literally.” “Oh, yeah. That.” She smiled. “Nice job.” He’d sold twenty cars to the sultan of Tumari, each personalized, and each vehicle netting a tidy profit for Falcon Motorcars, their biggest single order in their thirty-year history. The sultan required so many gold accessories that they might have to open a mine somewhere. The order would keep them busy for two years, would require hiring and training a few new craftsmen. “Welcome home,” Noah said, coming into his doorway. He was taller by several inches and heavier by twenty pounds of rock-solid muscle. “I heard you arranged a prison break for Belle.” David grinned. “She’s finally speaking to me again.” He trailed Noah into his office, both taking a seat on the leather sofa. “So, you found someone to live in,” Noah said. “Yep. Which is why I took Belle home. Valerie started yesterday.” “If she’s good, maybe she’ll come work for me when she gets sick of you.” “Don’t tell me you’re losing another nanny.” “She hasn’t quit yet, but she’s been there for two months. Shouldn’t be too much longer.” Get a clue, David wanted to yell at his brother. His nannies quit for good reasons. “Keep your overly generous job offers away from Valerie,” he said instead. “I think she’s the one.” Noah raised his brows. “The one?” “Not that kind of one. The perfect employee. The only hitch is that she has an eight-year-old daughter. We’re doing a one-month test run.” He didn’t want to jinx the relationship by talking about it more than that. “You do seem mellowed out.” “I do?” The idea took him by surprise. “You’re not pacing. Or jingling your keys in your pocket. Like Dad.” David couldn’t give credit to Valerie for that, not after less than a day. Maybe the idea of how his life could settle down and run more smoothly had relaxed him some, but he couldn’t have changed in twelve hours. “I’d forgotten that about Dad,” David said, glancing at the photo of him—with Noah, Gideon and himself—on the wall. “Never could sit still.” The brothers stared at the picture for a few seconds. Dad. Another topic David didn’t really want to get into. Mae leaned into the office. “The third secretary to the sultan is on line one.” David hopped up. “Third secretary, hmm?” Noah said. “Guess you didn’t make as much of an impression as we all thought.” “The sultan’s got fifteen secretaries. Having number three call ranks me high,” he said over his shoulder as he hurried out the door and into his own office. Fifteen minutes later he slid a note into Noah’s line of vision as he talked on the phone: “They added four more to the order.” Noah gave a thumbs-up. David wandered into the shop. The sound of pneumatic tools created an odd soundtrack to work by, and the journeymen craftsmen stayed focused on the work except to give David a wave or nod. The bays were filled with four cars in various stages of assembly. At the company’s European operation in Hamburg, Germany, eight bays were filled at all times. They had orders for fourteen more cars, plus the twenty-four for the sultan. Most took about two thousand hours to build. The company created three basic models: a two-seater convertible sports car, a larger four-seater luxury passenger car and limos, each custom-fit to the customer’s specs, including bulletproofing. The brothers had increased twenty-fold the business their father had founded. With the new order for the sultan, they’d sealed their financial stability for years to come. David could finally relax a little.… If Noah let him. In that sense Noah was like their father—he could never slow down, never miss out on any potential business. He hadn’t taken a vacation in years. But maybe that was because he couldn’t handle that much concentrated time with his children. Which made David wonder about Valerie, and why Hannah’s father wasn’t in the picture. Had he ever been? Had he abandoned them? David headed back to his office, channeling his focus elsewhere, not wanting to be reminded of parental abandonment. It was something he couldn’t afford to think about. вернуться Chapter Four At six-thirty, through the open kitchen windows, Valerie heard a car make its way up the driveway, the tires-on-gravel sound distinctive. Earlier in the day she’d peeked through the garage window and spied two cars: a large mocha-colored pickup and a shiny black SUV. She’d wondered what he’d driven to work, and assumed it was a Falcon car because his other two were American-made brands she knew. Sure enough, a sleek silver convertible sports car came into view, the sun reflecting off a soaring-falcon hood ornament. One of the garage doors opened and David drove straight in. When he emerged a few seconds later, her pulse thumped in anticipation. Would he approve of everything she’d done? Would he even notice? She’d worked hard all day, never stopping to rest except to sit by the pool for a half hour while Hannah swam, but even then reading the files he’d left on his desk for her. Her mind reeled with the details of a business completely foreign to her. Her body ached from scrubbing and vacuuming. But she’d caught herself humming several times during the day. Work had never been so much fun. Much of her happiness came from the general situation—she and Hannah had a safe, beautiful place to live. She worked for a decent man. And in a month she would have health insurance and a sense of security. All of that would spill over to Hannah, too, who had tuned in to Valerie’s stress, especially this past year, even though she’d tried to hide it from her daughter. Worry about ever-increasing debt had robbed Valerie of sleep many nights. The kitchen door swung open, and David breezed into the room, his hair windblown from driving with the top down. The messy look made him seem younger—or maybe just carefree. At the agency yesterday, his jaw had been as hard as granite, his brows drawn together, forming deep lines that had aged him. By evening, he’d relaxed considerably. “How was your day?” she asked, locking her hands together. “Productive.” He set his briefcase on the nearest counter, next to the stack of mail she’d brought in earlier. “Yours?” “The same.” “You get your daughter registered in school?” “All taken care of. She starts a week from Monday. The bus will pick her up right out front.” He picked up the mail and thumbed through it. “Good.” Valerie stood by silently, wondering what to do. Apparently, she’d been wrong—he’d only seemed looser. He was taut with tension. “Would you like a drink?” she asked. “Yeah. I’ll get it, though,” he said vaguely, perusing the contents of a large envelope. After a minute he looked up at her. “Don’t let me keep you.” She smiled. “I’m here to serve.” Everything about him seemed to relax then. He put aside the mail and focused on her. “Something smells great.” “Ribs. They’re precooking now, then I’ll put them on the grill to finish them up. There’s also potato salad, corn on the cob and apple pie.” “Where have you been all my life?” Looking for you. The wayward thought caught Valerie by surprise. No way was she letting herself wish for something she couldn’t have. A smart woman learned from her mistakes. “I’ve been out there in the world,” she said lightly, “getting enough experience to be a great employee for you.” “I’d ask if you got a chance to look over the files I left for you, but I’m sure you did.” “Yes.” “And went grocery shopping. And made dinner from scratch. And cleaned the house, right?” “I’m kind of an overachiever.” “No kidding.” He smiled. “Where’s my dog?” “Oh! I’m sorry. She’s at the cottage with Hannah.” She should’ve thought about that. She should’ve realized that he would want to see Belle when he got home from work. “I’ll go get her.” He put his hand on her arm as she started to pass by him but quickly released her. “Belle can stay put for now, although I’m surprised she didn’t hear my car and come running.” Her heart pitter-pattered at the brief contact. She didn’t need this. She didn’t need this at all. “Belle’s probably shut inside. I could use the intercom.…” “Are you nervous about something, Valerie?” “I gave you my word that you wouldn’t know Hannah was here, and the first thing she did was latch on to your dog.” “I believe it was mutual latching. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Regardless of what he said, she would deal with it as soon as she could. “Do you still want to eat at seven?” “I think I’ll take a swim and kick back for a while. Would an hour ruin dinner?” “Not at all.” He nodded and walked away, grabbing a bottle of beer from the refrigerator on his way out. She turned down the oven, then headed to the cottage. Hannah was watching a movie, with Belle curled up next to her on the sofa. “Oops,” Hannah said as the dog climbed off the couch without being ordered. They both looked guilty. “Mr. Falcon is home. Didn’t you hear his car pull in?” “I heard it.” “You need to make sure that Belle is let out so she can greet him. He hasn’t seen her much the past few years. He’s really missed her.” She looked about to argue but said, “Okay.” “Belle, David’s home.” Valerie held the door open and hoped the dog understood. Her tail wagged slowly as she passed by, as if apologizing. “You’re a good girl,” Valerie said. Belle gave a little bark then hurried off, heading straight for the house and her dog door. “Am I in trouble?” Hannah asked. “No. You didn’t know. Now you do, however.” Valerie sat beside her. “I know it’s hard on you, not having any friends yet. And I’ve been so busy all day and ignoring you most of the time.” “It’s okay, Mom.” Valerie brushed her daughter’s hair away from her face. It wasn’t okay. Kids needed friends, and it seemed like every time Hannah made a new friend, she and Valerie moved again and Hannah had to start over. Please let this work out, Valerie prayed silently. She refused to look ahead at the negative possibilities—that David wouldn’t be happy with her work or his business shut down or something. That he might meet someone, get married and not need her anymore. If that happened, she vowed there and then not to move out of the area. She would find another job and stay put, let Hannah have a stable life. They’d both earned that. Valerie needed to find some friends herself. She missed having a girlfriend to hang out with. “When’s dinner, Mom?” “At seven-thirty. Can you make it that long?” “Can I go swimming until then?” “No. Mr. Falcon’s in the pool.” “Aw, man. I’m tired of watching television.” Valerie patted her cheek then stood. “Read a book.” “I’m not that tired.” She grinned. “He’ll be out of town for a while starting on Sunday. You’ll have plenty of time to swim.” She moved to the door. “I’ll bring our plates here when everything is done.” “We’re not eating at the house?” “Hannah, employees don’t eat meals with employers.” “We did last night.” “We hadn’t settled in yet, so he invited us. It’s different now.” Valerie closed the door behind her and headed to the house. She glanced at the pool, saw David swimming laps, methodically, rhythmically, his tempo never altering. She looked away as she rushed by, giving him the privacy he’d given her the day before. In the kitchen Valerie put on a big pot of water for the corn, then went out to the deck to fire up the gas grill. She set the patio table for one, then realized she couldn’t hear him swimming. She looked at the pool in time to see him push himself up and out of the water. Valerie went still. Water drops glistened off his chest. His swimmer’s body was long and lean and perfectly muscled. There was strength there, enough to pick a woman up and carry her, to hold her close.… Belle trotted up to him, waited to be petted. He crouched down and scratched behind her ears, and she wagged her tail, rubbing happily against him. Valerie heard him talk to the dog, but couldn’t hear the words. He stood, toweling his hair, then saw her. She should’ve returned to the kitchen, pretended she wasn’t watching, but she couldn’t make her legs work. He was one beautiful male specimen.… He looked away first, then knotted his towel at his hips and headed toward the stairs leading to the kitchen. Her face burned. What would he think? That the sexual harassment claimed by the jerk she used to work for was true? That she’d lied? If they didn’t have trust, they had nothing. She was living on his property, would have full access to his home, his computer, the details of his business. She picked up a grill brush and scrubbed hard at the already clean racks until she knew he’d made his way through the kitchen and she could comfortably return. Would he say anything? Had she already ruined her future with him? Her hand shook as she lifted the pot lid to check on the water. And so the wait for answers began. David stood under the shower spray, letting the ultramassage setting work magic on his tight shoulders, trying to pound out the image of Valerie watching him. If she weren’t his employee, he would be flattered. She was an attractive woman, both soothing and sexy, a rare combination. But she worked for him, so now what? Just ignore it? Discuss it so they could deal with the situation before it escalated into something uncomfortable, or even impossible? Man, he needed a date. If all it took was for Valerie to stare at him for a few seconds— But maybe he was wrong. Maybe she hadn’t been looking at him. She’d been a good twenty-five feet away, after all. He could’ve read something into it that wasn’t there. Perhaps his ego had gone into overdrive. His body certainly had, which was why he’d wrapped the towel around himself and headed for his bedroom so fast, before she saw how affected he’d been. He stepped out of the shower, the question still foremost on his mind. What should he do? The phone rang as he zipped his jeans. “David? It’s Denise Watson. Just checking in to see how Valerie is working out.” Hearing the voice of the director of At Your Service made David’s decision for him. He didn’t want to interview any more candidates. He wanted his life settled. And maybe he was wrong, anyway. “She’s fitting in very well,” he told Denise, grabbing a T-shirt from his dresser drawer. “She’s a very hard worker.” “And her daughter?” “So far, so good.” He hoped it continued after Hannah felt comfortable in her new surroundings. You never knew with kids. “I’m so glad to hear that. You’ll let me know if anything comes up, right?” David almost choked. Like something hadn’t already come up when Valerie had stared at him so intently, so directly? “I’ll do that.” Belle followed him downstairs a minute later. He could smell the ribs on the barbecue—or the barbecue sauce, anyway. He walked into the kitchen. Valerie didn’t acknowledge his presence. “Smells good,” he said. “Everything’s ready.” Still she didn’t look at him but moved around the room, putting corn and potato salad on three plates then taking an empty platter to the barbecue, returning with a stack of ribs. She piled a mound on one dinner plate. “I set the table on the deck for you,” she said, adding ribs to the other two plates. “If you’d rather eat inside, I can move your place setting.” He was a little intrigued now at how she wouldn’t look at him. He’d been right. It hadn’t been his ego. “Outside is fine, thanks.” He took the plate from her. “You don’t need to wait hand and foot, Valerie.” “Okay.” She slid her hands down her apron. He wondered where she’d gotten it. He also wondered when the last time was that he’d seen a woman wear an apron at home. It seemed so old-fashioned. Or maybe she thought it put a division between them, a reminder of their employer/employee status. “I’ll be back in a half hour to clean up the kitchen, if that’s okay,” she said, picking up the two remaining dinner plates and walking away. “That’s fine.” What else could he say? She apparently hadn’t thought about the fact she had a plate in each hand, however, because she stopped at the door, looking bewildered. “Hang on. I’ll get it,” he said. He grabbed the handle, then waited for her to look at him. Her cheeks took on a pink tinge. “The food looks great. The house is cleaner than it’s been in months. I’m not going to make your day longer by discussing the files tonight. I don’t need to go into the office tomorrow, so plan on a full morning with me tomorrow.” “Okay.” He opened the door. She slipped past him, the scent of hickory trailing her. He shut the door then grabbed his beer and took his plate outside, Belle following and settling under the table, just as Valerie reached the cottage. She didn’t turn around and look back at him. David turned his attention to the panoramic view, something he never tired of. The sun hadn’t quite set but had dipped behind the hill, creating an aura that backlit the scene. Peace washed over him. After a minute he picked up a rib, the meat so tender it almost fell off the bone. He was used to eating alone at home, although not a meal as good as this one, and he certainly never set the table, place mat, cloth napkin and all. It made him seem even more alone. He picked up his plate and moved to the railing, leaning a hip against the wood as he dug into the potato salad. From the cottage came laughter, first Hannah’s then Valerie’s. Even Belle lifted her head, her ears pricking. Were they reacting to something on television or just making each other laugh? They did that a lot. He hadn’t grown up in a household where laughter was a constant. His mother had left when he was eleven. Before that, his parents had fought all the time, one of the reasons why David refused to fight with anyone. Noah had left for college the same week David’s mother left, and Gideon was fourteen and entering high school, so Gideon hadn’t had a lot of time for a kid brother. Their father hadn’t been an easy man to please. Hannah laughed again. Did she miss having a father, as he had missed his mother? Hannah seemed well-adjusted enough. Belle got to her feet and wagged her tail as she looked up at him with soulful eyes. David sighed. “Okay. You can go see Hannah.” The dog hustled off. Hell, even Belle wouldn’t keep him company.… That settled it. Time to take back his life. He would start by accepting invitations, even when he was too jet-lagged. His world had become too routine, too closed in. Too all work and no play. Time to liven things up. вернуться Chapter Five “So, your home base in Europe is Hamburg, Germany, but you’re rarely there?” Valerie asked the next morning after spending a few hours with David in his office. He was searching for a particular file on his computer, his focus on the screen. “I go where the potential business is, which means I’m taking a train or plane constantly, following leads. I go to Hamburg only to keep a personal hand in the business, because that’s where the cars are built. It’s good for the crew to see a boss now and then.” “And you’ve been the one solely responsible for wrapping up the deals for the past three years?” He nodded. No wonder he seemed so tired. It made her want to rub his back.… Valerie picked up her notepad and ran her pen down the notes she’d taken. “When you leave on Sunday, where will you go?” “London first, then Rome.” She’d never traveled outside of California. It all sounded exotic to her, while to him it was probably just routine, maybe even mundane. “Do you have a favorite place?” “Yes, a newly discovered one. Tumari.” “Where’s that?” “In Malaysia. It’s a sultanate, an extremely rich little country with lots of oil. And it’s beautiful. Completely different from the places I usually go.” He double-clicked on a folder. “Usually it doesn’t matter much to me where I go, since I rarely do anything but work—wining and dining being part of that.” “So you have no interest in vacationing anywhere you’ve been?” “Coming home is my vacation. This house is my ultimate five-star resort.” His gaze flickered to her. “You have dreams of traveling?” “I’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii.” He smiled. “A small dream.” “Not to me.” “I didn’t mean you were dreaming small, but that accomplishing it is relatively easy.” She couldn’t contradict him without telling him how close she’d been to being homeless two days ago. How long it was going to take her to be debt free. He’d never been poor. “I’m saving my pennies. Maybe for Hannah’s high school graduation.” He seemed about to say something, then looked at his monitor instead. “Here’s the breakdown of clients, real and potential. How are you with spreadsheets?” “Classroom taught, but no work experience.” “The data is here in various forms. What I need is for you to extract the data and import it into separate spreadsheets.” He opened a blank spreadsheet and showed her how to transfer the numbers, as she took notes. “What’s your goal?” she asked. “I want to know if there’s business potentially big enough anywhere in particular to justify hiring a local rep permanently for the area. I know where we’ve sold well. I want to know where we’ve made inroads but no sales success—and, therefore, why. Which models have customers been interested in, then didn’t buy? Which engine displacement is being considered? All these things have merit.” He met her gaze. “All the information is here, but I need it separated and sorted.” “Okay.” Maybe not as hard as it seemed, she hoped. She would need an atlas, though, since she didn’t know where a lot of the European cities were in relation to each other. The Internet would help. “Do you want me to work on this now?” He looked at his watch. “It’s almost lunchtime. Why don’t you take an hour off and spend it with your daughter. My guess is she’s anxious for a swim.” She didn’t like that he had to take Hannah into consideration, but she was glad he did. “Can I make a sandwich for you?” she asked. He stretched. “I’m going for a drive. I’ll eat while I’m out. I may take a couple hours.” “Okay.” “Good work today, Valerie. You’re a quick learner.” “You’re a patient teacher.” “Am I?” he asked. She nodded. Why did that surprise him? “I’ve never been known for patience.” He jangled his keys in his pocket for a moment, then pulled them out. “I’ll see you later.” “Okay.” He disappeared around the corner then came back into the doorway a moment later. “We never discussed your hours.” “In what way?” “Obviously you’re supposed to have days off. Need to have days off. Everyone does. And this job may be sixty hours one week and twenty hours the next.” “Let’s not worry about it at this point. I’ll keep track for now and see how it averages. At some point I’ll probably want a weekend to go visit my mom in Palm Springs.” “Works for me.” He left again. This time he stayed gone. Days off? She smiled as she stood, laying her notepad on the streamlined black and teak desk, aligning the items on his desktop. Her salary was generous already, plus it included room and board. She could work eighty hours a week and it would still be a good deal for her. Valerie put the computer to sleep, slid David’s chair under the desk, then moved hers back into position against a wall. She closed the blinds a little, blocking the sun. After a final glance around the room, she turned off the light and headed for the cottage, but before she reached it, a truck pulled in, a trailer full of gardening tools hitched behind it. She changed direction and headed for the truck. A man climbed out of the vehicle, thirtyish, not overly tall, brawny. His dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail and tied with a leather thong. His T-shirt hugged his torso, his jeans were torn in interesting places, his boots well worn. He looked like the kind of bad boy that teenage girls go for before they learn that good men make better partners. Bad boys—the kind of man Valerie had gone for. Gotten pregnant by. Although he’d been less rough around the edges than this guy. “You Valerie?” Bad Boy asked, his fingers splayed low on his hips, a knee cocked, challenge in the stance. She kept her voice pleasant. “Yes.” He angled his head toward the big house. “David says I take my orders from you now.” “What’s your name?” “Joseph McCoy.” She offered her hand. “I’m looking forward to working with you.” His belligerent pose eased a little, but he wore sunglasses, hiding much of his expression. He shook her hand. “I’ll get my notes,” she said. “Be right back.” She didn’t wait for him to respond but headed for the cottage. “You want to swim?” she asked her daughter as Belle slunk off the couch. “Yes!” “Go change. I’ll be outside talking to the gardener.” She grabbed a notepad from the kitchen counter and left. Joseph was leaning against his truck, arms crossed. He didn’t acknowledge her, even though he couldn’t have missed hearing her footsteps. She tapped his arm with her notepad. “Yeah, boss?” he asked. Not a promising start. “This is my vision,” she said, holding out the notepad for him to take, ignoring his hostility. He gave her design a cursory look but didn’t take the pad from her. “No flowers.” “Why not? Won’t they survive the weather here?” “Most things survive with proper tending. But in this case David specifically said no flowers.” “He didn’t tell me that.” “He told me.” “I think the garden needs more color variation.” “You can do that with plants. There’s lots to choose from. All shades of green. Yellow. Red.” “Why haven’t you used them?” She mimicked his hostile pose now, tired of his attitude. “He never said to.” “You’re the expert.” “Look, lady, David and I have been friends since second grade. He would’ve said something if he didn’t like what I was doing.” “Mom! Can I get in the pool?” “Just a second.” As Valerie turned back, Belle came running, but straight to Joseph. “Hey, girl. You’re home.” He crouched and gave the dog a good rub. Belle pushed herself against him, knocking him down, making him laugh. “We need to continue our conversation by the pool so that I can watch my daughter,” she said, heading that way, expecting him to follow. “Yes, ma’am.” She stopped, turned around and looked down at him, speaking quietly so that Hannah couldn’t hear her. “Look, I don’t know what bee got in your bonnet but don’t take it out on me. I’m your partner in this project, not your enemy. I think the place could look spectacular. It’s a good basic design. It just needs…refinement.” He seemed to be glaring at her, but how could she tell with his sunglasses in place? Belle looked back and forth between them. He said nothing. She threw up her hands. “Fine. I’ll be your boss, then. Follow me. I’ll give you your orders.” She climbed the path, gestured to Hannah, who was dancing pirouettes around the pool, that she could dive in, then sat on a lounge chair and waited for Joseph to join her. He took the chair next to hers. “Bee in my bonnet?” he repeated. She couldn’t gauge if he was making fun of her. “It’s just an expression.” “One that grandmothers use.” Before she could say anything, he held up his hands. “Truce.” “Why should I agree?” “I was taking out my bad mood on you. I apologize.” She eyed him for a few seconds, then shrugged. “Okay.” “Thanks.” “Don’t do it again or I’ll fire you.” She grinned. He gave her a slight salute and reached for her notes and preliminary drawing. “Were you mad because David put me in charge or because I was critical of how the property looked?” she asked. “Wow. You’re direct.” “Saves time and energy.” Hannah called Belle into the water. Her daughter’s laughter was contagious. “Dixie—my girlfriend—walked out on me this morning.” Valerie angled her head toward him. She wasn’t surprised he confided in her, as many people did. She didn’t know what it was about her, but even strangers, like this Joseph, poured out their hearts to her. “Then two of my employees didn’t show up for work. Then David called and said I needed to fix the yard, and I should do whatever you said.” Valerie chose the issue that probably bothered him the most. “I’m sorry about your girlfriend.” “She’ll be back. It’s a pattern. Except she was a little more ticked off than usual this morning.” She wanted to direct the conversation away from his problems. “As for doing whatever I say, that’s not true, Joseph. I have a vision, but I don’t even know if it’s doable. We need to work together.” “I got it, okay? Teamwork.” Then he pulled a pencil from his back pocket and redesigned her entire plan. David chose to drive the Falcon so he could feel the wind in his hair. He’d been shut in the office with Valerie too long for comfort. She’d smelled good, but not flowery. Not like perfume, but soap. Fruity soap. And woman. He downshifted hard as he headed into a turn, an image of her burned into his memory. She’d worn a proper outfit of cotton slacks and a blouse, buttoned to the neck, her hair twisted into some kind of knot, a plastic clip holding it in place. Which left her neck exposed, long, slender, that fruity scent drifting… Peaches, maybe? |
