His Millionaire Maid(2)

Holy crap on a cracker. There was no time to think, let alone scream. With a huge splash, the car torpedoed into the water, and the air bag exploded in her face. Get out, get out, get out! her brain shrieked at her. The air bag deflated in her lap. She unbuckled her seat belt and instinctively grabbed her phone. Her tote bag had fallen to the floor. She bent to retrieve it, but the car tilted forward and slid deeper into the water.

Panic ruptured in her, but then she remembered an episode of Mythbusters she’d seen about what to do in this kind of situation and pressed the button to open her window. As water rushed into the car, accelerating its descent, she ordered herself to stay calm. She pulled herself through the window, kicked away from the sinking car, then splashed and spluttered to the shoreline. Panting, she dragged herself onto the weed-infested bank and watched as her car slowly disappeared beneath the surface.

“Nina? Nina? Talk to me, for God’s sakes.”

Incredibly, Lindsey was still on the phone, thanks to the wonders of state-of-the-art water-resistant technology. In a daze, Nina lifted the cell to her ear.

“I’m fine,” she said, thrusting her fingers through her soaked hair. “Just had a little, um, accident.” She picked a slimy bit of vegetation out of her hair and flicked it away.

“What! Are you hurt? What happened…”

Lindsey’s barrage of questions floated over Nina’s head as she watched bubbles popping on the surface, marking the watery grave of her BMW. Her car had sunk into what appeared to be a disused quarry. The water was deep and still, and her car had disappeared, leaving behind no trace except for a few skid marks.

“My car’s totaled, but I’m okay.” She flexed various muscles and squinted at herself. She was soaked but apparently unscathed.

“Don’t move,” Lindsey ordered. “I’m going to call your dad right now. He’ll come out and rescue you.”

Lindsey’s words pierced Nina’s daze. “No! Don’t do that. Don’t tell him anything.”

“Why not? He’ll be so worried about you. He won’t care if you’ve wrecked the BMW. He’ll just buy you another one.”

That was exactly what he’d do, and then she’d be right back where she started. She’d be rebellious little Nina again, but this time with a reputation for crashing expensive cars and wasting people’s time. No, she couldn’t stay on this hamster wheel for the rest of her life. She had to make a stand for herself, and right now was the perfect moment to start fresh.

Her car had sunk, taking everything with it. All she had now was her phone, the soaked clothes on her back, and a few dollars in her jeans pocket. No BMW, no fancy wardrobe, no credit cards, and most important of all, no identity. She was Ms. Nobody from Nowheresville. Just like she’d said she wanted not five minutes ago. Maybe fate had been listening to her after all.

“I think there’s a reason I crashed my car here,” she said to Lindsey. “This is my chance to find out what it’s like not to be me.”

…

Nina found a house about half a mile from the quarry, and it appeared no one was home. She crouched behind the bushes, rubbing her chilled arms. On the clothesline nearby flapped some women’s clothing—cheap, plain, chain store clothing—that looked about her size. She needed to change out of her clothes, not only because they were wet, but because the pricey labels would give her away if she was serious about going incognito.

Of course she was serious. To prove it to herself, she whipped out her cell phone and called her manager. She told him something unexpected had come up and she wouldn’t make it to the office this afternoon and needed tomorrow off, too. Harry didn’t make a big deal about it. After tomorrow, she was on vacation anyway, and there wasn’t anything urgent waiting for her at the office. Then again, Harry never reprimanded her, even when she made mistakes—because she was Carson Beaumont’s daughter.

“Harry,” she said, putting on a casual tone. “Just out of curiosity, why did you give me the promotion and not someone else like Ryan or Fiona?”

“Because you’re the most qualified, of course.” Harry gave a hearty, fake-sounding laugh that confirmed Nina’s worst fears. She wasn’t the best qualified, and Harry didn’t honestly believe she deserved the promotion. He was only doing it to impress the higher-ups, or because he’d been ordered to.

“I see. Okay. Well, thanks.” She couldn’t even pretend to be pleased, she was so nauseated, and quickly ended the call.

The sorry truth was, although she worked harder than her colleagues, she’d never pushed for that promotion because her heart wasn’t truly in her job. She’d taken it to mend fences with her dad, but now this promotion meant she was stuck there for the long haul.

Okay, that did it. She was even more determined to follow through with this screwball plan of hers.

After another quick scan of the deserted yard, she darted forward and snatched a few bits of clothing off the line before scampering back to the bushes. Her heart pumped with nervousness as she stripped and changed into faded jeans, a cheap T-shirt, and a scruffy denim jacket. She would leave her designer jeans and T-shirt hanging on the line for the owner; that would more than cover the cost of these Kmart threads.

The only clue to her former life lay in her striking, hand-tooled cowboy boots, now soggy and squelchy and uncomfortable. But she had no way of replacing them, so she’d just have to make do.

When she was fully clothed, she couldn’t resist taking a selfie and sending it to Lindsey. Lindsey clearly thought she was nuts, but she was used to Nina’s schemes by now, and she’d keep her secret.

She slipped the phone into her pocket, squared her shoulders, and stared at the road leading into Hartley, a place she’d never heard of. A place where she could be herself. Who knew what lay ahead for her? It could be disaster, embarrassment, or total failure. But she had to find out. Going back wasn’t an option anymore.

With fingers crossed, she took the first steps toward her new identity.

…

Joe Farina sat back on his heels and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension knotting his back. Some days, owning and running the Comet Inn was tough on a guy, and this was one of those days. One of the waitstaff had twisted an ankle, his chef was threatening to cut someone’s balls off, and the new temporary employee who was supposed to have arrived at two still hadn’t turned up. It was now after five, and since he was short staffed, he was on his hands and knees in the reception lobby cleaning up a bottle of lavender oil one of the guests had spilled.

The front door jingled as someone entered the inn. Joe stood and his gaze fell on a girl who didn’t look a day over eighteen. She was small and slim, with short blond hair and blue eyes almost too big for her face, like a doll. Judging by her faded jeans, cheap T-shirt, and scruffy denim jacket, she had to be the new temp.

“You’re here. Finally.” He couldn’t temper the frustration in his voice.

The girl stopped and raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

He strode forward, his mind leaping ahead to everything that still needed doing. “I’m Joe Farina, your new boss. You’re the temp I’ve been waiting for all afternoon.”

Her eyes widened as they fixed on his hands. Joe paused. He’d forgotten about the rubber gloves he was wearing. Big, blinding, flamingo-pink gloves. Damn.

She bit her lip as if trying not to smile. “Cute. Pink suits you.”

He tore off the gloves and tossed them next to his bucket, feeling strangely flustered. “I’m allergic to lavender,” he said stiffly. “And those were the only gloves I could find.” Why did he need to explain himself to her? “You are my new maid, right?”

She tugged at her jacket. “Uh…your new maid…yeah. Right.”

Joe bit back a groan. She wasn’t slow-witted, was she? She didn’t look slow-witted. Her eyes were deep blue and curious as she glanced between him and the reception area. Her stance was wary, as if she wasn’t sure she should be here.

He waved a hand impatiently. “You were supposed to be here at two. I can’t have employees who turn up late, especially on their first day.”

She jutted her chin as if ready to argue with him. “I’m not—” She stopped abruptly, looking conflicted.

A beat of silence passed as they sized each other up. At first glance, he’d thought she was a teenager, but now that she was closer, he revised his estimate to early twenties, no more than twenty-five. Her hair was several shades of blonde, from ice to honey to caramel, and it was messy and slightly damp, as if she’d been swimming recently. Her mouth was wide and sensual, balancing out a stubborn chin. He liked what he saw, he realized, especially that bold curve to her jaw.

His gaze caught on a weird bit of green stuff tangled in her hair. Was that a fancy barrette? No, it looked more like some kind of vegetation.

“What?” She shifted uncomfortably. “Is there dirt on my face?”

“No, something in your hair.” He reached out impulsively and snagged the damp piece out of her hair. “What is this? It looks like…duckweed?”

Her cheeks turned bright pink—almost as pink as his embarrassing gloves—as she snatched the sliver from his fingers. “No, it must have fallen off a tree, but thanks.”