His Millionaire Maid(10)

The ladies murmured greetings and studied Nina with keen interest.

“Just moved into town, then?” one of them asked, and Nina nodded.

“A permanent move, is it?” the other asked.

Boy, how inquisitive these people were. Making a noncommittal reply, Nina backed away. Was it just Hartley, or were all country towns so into other people’s business?

“Oh, my.” One of the ladies stared at Nina’s Crocs. “How…er, colorful.”

Her friend nudged her. “Come on, Babs. She can’t help it. This is why we donate our old things.”

A hot flush engulfed Nina’s face. Like these well-to-do women, she’d donated a lot of her belongings to thrift stores, but now she knew what it was like receiving charity out of necessity, and she’d never felt more humbled.

Nina made a polite excuse and quickly exited the store, feeling everyone’s eyes fixed on her. Outside, she sucked in a deep breath and tried to shake off the sensation of suffocation that had come over her. The women in the store, including Mrs. Stewart, were friendly enough, but they took an awful lot of interest in other people’s business.

What if someone here in Hartley discovered who she really was? Her dad wasn’t exactly a secret millionaire, or a discreet one. Over the years he’d ruffled a few feathers, caused a stir with some of his more controversial developments. Like his mega golf course resort in nearby Sonoma County.

When she’d been there a few days ago, she’d learned how the resort almost hadn’t happened. The locals had campaigned vigorously against the proposed development a few years back, and some of the protests had gotten quite nasty. Carson Beaumont hadn’t been afraid to show up at some of the heated town meetings and speak his mind. He’d made some minor concessions, but the resort had been built, despite the strong opposition. Even now resentment still lingered in the community, and these small country towns had long memories. If people found out she was Carson Beaumont’s daughter, she’d be about as welcome as an outbreak of lice.

She walked farther down the block. Around her, people strolled along the sidewalks, and most stores were open. It was midday Saturday. This might be Hartley’s busiest day of the week, but to her it suddenly struck her as empty, isolated, and a long, long way from everything she was used to. She’d never consciously labeled herself a city girl, but now she had a sudden biting need for crowds, traffic, and noise.

She glanced over her shoulder at the thrift store she’d just left. The store clerk and the country club ladies were still squinting at her through the window. What were they saying about her? She’d thought she could forget who she was in this small country town, but now tongues were clacking. People might not know her true identity, but they were still talking about her, and it made her uncomfortable. Maybe it had been a mistake to think she could reinvent herself here.

She walked to the end of the street, where the beach stretched out, and sat on a bench. As the wind whipped her hair around her cheeks, a sense of loss and loneliness welled up inside her.

Who was she kidding, hiding out in Hartley? She couldn’t escape being a Beaumont. She couldn’t suddenly change her identity on a whim. She couldn’t be someone else just by wearing secondhand clothes and pretending to be a maid.

And Joe only made things worse. She couldn’t think straight around him when her body reacted so strongly to his presence. The more time she spent with him, the more she’d succumb to his charms, but having an affair with him was out of the question. He didn’t know who she was, and he was so different from her, so embedded in the fabric of this sleepy little coastal village. She didn’t belong here, and she shouldn’t be hanging around Joe any longer.

She leaped to her feet and hurried back up the main street. In five minutes she reached the Comet Inn. Feeling like a thief, she dashed inside and scurried past the lobby, hoping to catch Joe alone in his office. But his office was empty. Disappointed, she sagged against the doorjamb.

“What’s up, sweet pea?” Joe said from behind her.

She whirled around, her heart jerking. That was the second time today he’d called her sweet pea. As Joe advanced, her libido surged in a sudden, violent flood, and she couldn’t drag her gaze away from him—didn’t want to, either.

Joe. Shirtless. Showing off a sleeveless white undershirt that clung to the strongly defined muscles of his chest. A few streaks of grease were smeared on his undershirt and face. His right biceps gleamed as he gripped a heavy-looking wrench. His flash of white teeth got her pulses fluttering.

“I’ve fixed the faucets in the bathroom. You’ll be able to have all the hot showers you want now.”

“Th-thanks.” Oh, God, why did he have to go and do a nice thing like that for her? And why did he have to look so hot and hunky and stripped-down gorgeous? As he lifted an arm to wipe his cheek, the muscles in his shoulder rippled and her heartbeat stammered.

He transferred the wrench from one hand to the other, slowly looking her over. “Glad you took my advice on the clothes.”

Her body tingled where his gaze lingered as if he’d touched her. He shouldn’t be looking at her like that. He shouldn’t be having this effect on her, damn it.

“I didn’t have much choice at the thrift store.” She lifted one foot to show him the Crocs. “As you can see.”

His lips twitched. “You still look good.” His expression grew a little more sober, as if he sensed something was off kilter. “What did you want to see me about?”

Joe thinks I look good. Not the most lavish compliment she’d ever received, but it threw her so completely that for a moment she forgot what she’d rushed inside to tell him. Then it came back to her—she was quitting, leaving Joe, the job, and Hartley after all.

She swallowed, conscious now of the seriousness of what she was about to do. Joe hadn’t thought much of her in the beginning, but over the past two days she’d sensed his opinion changing. So much so he’d even fixed the shower for her. That meant he wanted her to stay, didn’t it? If she resigned now, he’d be annoyed, scornful. He’d accuse her of wasting his time again, of being fickle and unreliable. It shouldn’t matter, because once she left she’d never see him again, but deep down it did. Despite her reasoning, Joe’s opinion mattered to her.

“I, er…” She hunted for something—anything—to say. “I went for a walk down to the beach. It’s, uh, pretty around here.”

“Glad you noticed.” His eyes narrowed. “Is that what you came rushing in to tell me?”

“I…guess so.”

He watched her, the relaxation ebbing from his stance. “You weren’t by any chance coming here to tell me you were quitting? Again?”

Her heart thudded heavily. Joe’s stare seemed to swamp her so she couldn’t focus on anything except the probing look in his eyes.

“Why are you always so quick to believe the worst of me?”

“Is that what you think I’m doing right now?”

“Well, aren’t you?” She lifted her chin, defiant. In her experience, attack was always the best form of defense.

Joe hauled in a deep breath, his undershirt stretching taut across his impressive pectorals. “I’m not wedded to my opinions. I’m prepared to change my mind about you—if you’re willing and able to persuade me.”

The challenge in his eyes struck sparks in her. The old, familiar recklessness stampeded to the fore, but this time she was rushing in with her eyes wide-open. She knew staying here was a mistake. She knew she should turn around and get out of here. And she knew she was staying because of Joe, because of how he made her feel, all breathless and wired and thrumming and alive—and that was her biggest mistake of all.

But she ignored all the flashing warnings, stared into Joe’s wickedly tempting eyes, and said, “Joe, I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I can persuade you into anything.”

He sucked in a breath. “Anything in particular?”

The heat in his eyes hit her, made her wonder if she’d gone too far. “What I meant was, changing your opinion of me. I’m not quitting. I’m staying right here.”

He rested his forearm against the door frame, leaning into her until his in-your-face masculinity enveloped her. “Are you always such a tease with men? Or is it just me?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well, know this. I have my limits. Dangle some bait in front of me long enough and I’ll bite.”

He leaned in even closer until she thought for sure he was going to kiss her. And she didn’t move. Didn’t want to move, because all she could think about was his mouth pressing down on hers, scorching and sensuous and thrilling. His shadow fell over her as he closed in, and her heartbeat fluttered in her throat, wild with anticipation…

But then he pulled back, a gleam in his eyes. “Let me know if you have any more trouble with that shower.” He walked away, whistling casually.

Dizzy, she stared after his retreating denim-clad ass. Damn him, who was teasing now? And she’d played right into his hands. Why hadn’t he kissed her? Why had he pulled back at the last moment? Was it because… Lifting an arm, she gave herself an experimental sniff. Thank God he’d fixed the shower, because she was in desperate need of one.