His Millionaire Maid(3)

It was definitely duckweed, but clearly she wasn’t going to tell him how it got in her hair, and he didn’t have time for this.

“Listen. I’m really busy. If you want the job, then come with me.” He moved toward the hallway leading off the reception lobby, throwing a glance over his shoulder to see if she followed. When she did, his small twinge of relief surprised him. He was glad to get another pair of hands, but was he also glad it was her?

He led the way into the linen room and grabbed a stack of clean sheets and towels. He dumped them into her arms.

“Got that?”

Her eyes widened above the stack of linen, but she didn’t complain, just nodded like she knew he was testing her. Okay, then. She’d passed.

He walked into an adjoining utility room filled with cleaning equipment.

“There are eight guest rooms that get dusted and cleaned every day, even when they’re unoccupied. I like to keep them ready to use at all times.”

He picked up a bucket filled with cleaning products and a mop. The temp shifted the pile of linen in her arms and waggled one hand at him. “I got that, too.”

She had spunk, he’d give her that. Her sharp blue eyes dared him, so he handed the bucket and mop to her. She winced as she struggled to balance her load.

“Maybe I should—” Joe began.

“No, no. I can manage. It’s the least I can do, seeing as I’m late.”

This could be interesting. At the back of his mind a warning buzzer sounded. He needed someone efficient, not interesting.

But he couldn’t resist gesturing at the hulking industrial-strength vacuum cleaner in the corner. “Think you can manage that, too?”

She gulped. “Uh, I might have to come back for it.”

“Well, since it’s your first day, I’ll carry it for you.”

He led the way upstairs and showed her into one of the vacant suites. The Lily room was light and bright, with blue-and-white wallpaper, a queen-size bed, a mirrored armoire, and a private balcony with stunning views of the Pacific coastline.

The temp set down her load with a sigh of relief before looking about her with interest. She ran her fingers over a maple dresser and nodded her approval before opening the door to the balcony and surveying the view.

“Pretty,” she said.

Hartley wasn’t a big town. From the balcony, they looked straight down the main street lined with stores and businesses. The street ended at the beach, and beyond that the ocean, now splashed with orange from a spectacular sunset.

“Nice little town you’ve got here,” she said, sounding surprised.

She was acting more like a guest than a casual cleaner.

“Glad you approve,” Joe retorted, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

She blushed and hurried on, “I mean, it’s so different from San Francisco.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

She hesitated before nodding.

“Well, don’t go thinking things are slow around here just because it’s quiet,” he continued. “I don’t allow laziness.”

She frowned at him. “What makes you think I’m lazy?”

The blue glitter in her eyes sent a strange frisson down his spine. Christ, what was that sensation? Excitement?

“You’re admiring the view instead of thinking about your duties.”

“I apologize. Please, let’s get back to my duties.” The corners of her lips curled up as if she were thinking of other duties she could perform for him.

Joe coughed. Her brief smile disappeared, and she pulled back her shoulders, but that only drew his attention to her breasts. She was small there, but that didn’t stop his imagination from freewheeling, wondering what she looked like naked. Slender like a dancer, with firm, perky breasts— Damn it, what was wrong with him? Annoyed with himself, he gestured at the adjoining bathroom.

“Your first job is to change the linen and clean the bathroom here and next door. But before you do that, I’ll take you through to the bar and restaurant and introduce you to the rest of the staff. Besides taking care of these rooms, you’re expected to bus tables in the bar and help out in the kitchen. Tonight you’re also on dish duty, since one of my kitchen hands is off.”

She blinked and faltered back. “Wow…uh, okay…”

Joe narrowed his eyes on her fingers as she toyed nervously with a pricey silver necklace strung around her delicate throat. Despite the blue-collar clothes, she seemed too fragile for hard physical labor, which the job required.

“Look.” He rested his hands on his hips, squaring his feet before her. “If you’re not up to it, just say so. I won’t hold it against you.” Although he’d have a few words to say to the employment agency. They’d been having trouble supplying him with reliable staff lately, but this time they’d really screwed up.

His words seemed to have an electrifying effect on her. She drew herself up to her full height, which wasn’t much.

“Who says I’m not up to it?” Her eyes almost spat with indignation. She was quite the fireball when she was riled. “I can handle a few bathrooms and clearing tables and washing dishes. I’m not some pampered rich kid with servants waiting on her hand and foot!”

He blinked at her outburst and bided his time until she’d calmed down.

“So,” he said, folding his arms. “Who are you, then? You never told me your name.”

…

Nina licked her lips that had suddenly dried at Joe’s question. She’d had the answers all figured out in her head, but having Joe stare at her made her thoughts scatter like that damned duck on the road that had started this weird chain of events.

This Joe Farina guy was one of the tallest, biggest men she’d ever come across. He towered over her, but in a good way—good to look at, at any rate. His broad shoulders and lean hips were accentuated by a tight black T-shirt and close-fitting jeans. His hair was thick and dark and tousled, his eyes were the deepest mocha brown, and his movie-star looks were enough to make a girl swoon—even when he wore pink rubber gloves. Her knees weakened, a bead of perspiration breaking out between her breasts.

Crap, this was no time to get all steamed up over a man, especially a man she was about to lie to.

She tilted her chin up and returned his blunt stare. “You didn’t give me a chance to introduce myself before you hustled me up here.” She cleared her throat, praying she wouldn’t stutter over her next words. “I’m Nina. Nina Summers.”

She’d been christened Annette Martha, after her two grandmothers, but she’d always called herself Nina, and Summers was her late mother’s maiden name. Half an hour ago, while walking into Hartley and concocting her cover story, she’d resolved not to stray too far from the truth. She was Nina Summers from San Francisco, a down-on-her-luck girl hoping to make a fresh start in a seaside community. She’d entered the Comet Inn hoping for information on possible employment in the area; she hadn’t expected to walk straight into a job, albeit on false pretenses.

Joe stuck his hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Nina. Sorry I hurried you in without a formal introduction. I’m Joe Farina,” he repeated, “owner of the Comet Inn.”

The unexpected thaw in his manner threw her, and when she clasped his hand, her wits were further confused by the sudden seductive warmth of his callused palm. Holy hell, this man had some kind of magic touch. For a few moments all she could think about was his hands drifting over her, heating her skin, pleasuring her senses.

She hurriedly pulled her hand away. “Farina? That’s Italian, right?” she asked in an effort to mask her discomfort.

“Yeah. I’m told I get a little hot tempered at times, so be warned.”

His mouth lifted in a quirky little smile that sent a tingle down to her toes. She groaned silently. Why did he have such a killer smile? Why him, the first person she had to convince of her new identity? If she couldn’t get past Joe’s guard, then she might as well give up right now.

“I don’t mind a hot temper.” She flicked her fingers through her hair. “I can get hot tempered myself sometimes.”

His eyebrows lifted, and the air between them quivered with an unmistakable spark, a sharp tug of mutual attraction. Joe must have felt it, too, because he stepped back, looking momentarily confused.

“Uh—” He cleared his throat. “Let’s go downstairs and do the paperwork so you can start on those guest rooms.”

Darn, she shouldn’t have done that hair-flicking thing. What was wrong with her? Less than an hour into her new identity and already she couldn’t help flirting with her sexy new boss. She really had to get a hold of herself if she wanted this to work. Biting her cheek, she followed Joe downstairs and along a passageway that led to the back of the building, which appeared to be a private section.

He led her to his office and took down her particulars.

“Got any ID on you?” he asked.

Back in college she’d had a fake ID in the name of Nina Summers, but she’d left that in San Francisco. She’d have to ask Lindsey to mail it to her.

She shook her head. “No, but I’ll get it to you as soon as I can.”

He nodded, wrote something, and then glanced back at her. “Where are you staying in town?”