His Millionaire Maid(4)

“Oh.” Good question. “I don’t know. I just got in this afternoon.”

“Yeah?” His eyes narrowed on her. “The agency must’ve interviewed you by phone if you’ve only just arrived in Hartley?”

“Uh-huh. I, er, caught the bus in.” She pushed her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket.

“No luggage?”

She’d prepared for that question. “I feel a bit stupid,” she said, lifting her shoulders in a self-deprecating manner. “I fell asleep on the bus, and when I woke up all my stuff had disappeared. I made the bus driver stop and search the bus, but the thief must have already gotten off, because we couldn’t find anything, and by that time some of the passengers were upset with me for making them late.”

Joe let out a soft whistle. “That’s a lousy way to arrive in town.” He looked her over again. “So that’s all you have with you? Not even a purse?”

“Not even a purse. That’s why I can’t show you any ID. All I have is my phone and a few dollars in my back pocket. I don’t suppose there’s a youth hostel around here?”

“Not in Hartley.” He riffled his hair and sighed. “Look, there’s a room next door you can have. It’s nothing fancy, but I won’t charge you for it until you’re back on your feet.”

She lit up, surprised and touched by his offer. “Oh, that would be fantastic! Thank you, that’s really generous of you.”

Good-looking and kind to strangers. Joe was pretty awesome. But, more importantly, she now had a job and a place to stay. That wasn’t so hard. Things were looking up.

“You don’t happen to have a universal phone charger, too, do you?” she asked. “The jerk took everything.”

“Sure, we keep a few spare for guests.” He rummaged in his desk drawer and handed her a charger.

“Thanks.” She sighed in gratitude. “You’re a lifesaver.”

He shrugged. “Let me show you your room.”

Joe led her out of his office and back into the corridor. “Like I said, it’s nothing fancy. No en suite, but there’s a bathroom down the hall—not renovated like the others but usable. And you don’t have to worry about guests here, because this section of the inn isn’t for public use.” He opened the neighboring door and gestured her to go in. “No one’s used this room in a while.”

Nina walked into the room and stopped dead. God, he hadn’t been kidding when he said it wasn’t fancy. Dull gray walls, scuffed floorboards, a single bed, a scratched desk, and a sagging armchair. A narrow window looked out on the service yard where the trash bins were kept. No private balcony. No stunning beachfront view. The room was clean and habitable, but about as welcoming as a prison cell, and a million miles away from her bright, comfy apartment back in the city.

As she looked around, Joe’s gaze zeroed in on her. He was waiting for her reaction. Maybe he expected her to complain. She took a breath, searching for something positive to say, but failed.

“Well, okay,” she muttered.

Joe stepped forward. She sensed him weighing her up. “Is there a problem?”

No problem at all. Except her car was at the bottom of a quarry, she had fewer friends than she’d assumed, and she was diving headfirst into her craziest scheme ever. A sense of loneliness hit her, making her shiver, but she pushed away the vulnerability.

“It’s been a long day.” She shrugged.

He didn’t speak for a while, and the silence crackled with tension.

“Are you in trouble with the law?” he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

“What? N-no!” she spluttered. He sensed something didn’t add up, she realized, and she had to give him a plausible story. “I’m not running from the police. It’s more of a…a family issue. I had to get away for a while, and this job came up…” She silently prayed that whoever had really been sent to this job would never turn up. “I’ll admit I don’t have much experience cleaning or busing tables, but I’m a fast learner. Please, I could use a break.”

And Joe was a good guy. Even though she’d only met him half an hour ago, there was something intrinsically trustworthy about him.

He studied her a moment more and then released a sigh. “I might regret this later, but okay, I’ll give you a chance.”

She grinned at him, unable to hold back her relief. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”

“You’d better not. I don’t have time for games.”

“Doesn’t that depend on the game and who’s playing?” Her smile widened.

Joe blinked at her, and that spark between them was back, flashing in the air, too obvious to miss.

“Uh, yeah.” He coughed, shifted on his feet. “Well, you’re welcome to this room for as long as you need it. Linen and blankets are in the supply room. And like I said, bathroom’s down the hall. Come on, I’ll show you around the bar and introduce you to the rest of the staff.”

He walked out, leaving Nina to stare after him. He really had the cutest ass in those tight jeans. She couldn’t stop smiling. Joe had no idea who she was. She had flirted with him with impunity, and her name and wealth had nothing to do with his reaction. Not that she was purposely going to flirt with him, though, because he was her employer and she wanted to make a good impression. But it didn’t hurt that he was the hottest guy she’d come across in a long while. Not one bit.





Chapter Two

Beggars can’t be choosers, Joe told himself. He needed a maid, and Nina was here, so he would let her stay. It all made sense. But deep down, he didn’t feel sensible. He felt like an idiot. Because of her. Because of how she made him feel when she tipped those bright blue eyes and slanted that sexy, mischievous smile at him.

After all these years, he hadn’t thought it possible that a woman could get him so hot and bothered, but Nina did something to him, got him doing and thinking crazy things, and he wasn’t sure he liked that.

“So tell me more about the Comet Inn,” Nina said as she caught up with him.

They were back in the reception lobby, and Joe paused to take in the cozy, wood-paneled interior. No matter how many times he saw this place, he always felt a thrill from knowing he was the owner. When he was fifteen, he’d gotten his first job here as a lowly kitchen hand; then five years ago, he’d bought the historic but dilapidated inn and worked his butt off bringing it up to scratch.

“As you can see, it’s pretty old.” He gestured at the timber beams and windows. “About a hundred years. Originally built to accommodate sailors, but we get most of our trade on weekends and vacations. Accommodation upstairs for eight couples. We don’t do breakfast, but there’s a good coffee shop on the corner. Nowadays most of our revenue comes from the bar and restaurant. We’re open for dinner six nights a week, and the kitchen does a bar menu, too.”

He led her through stained-glass doors into the bar, a spacious area with exposed brick walls, a long, polished counter, and French doors exposing the view to the courtyard.

Vince, his bartender and friend, nodded at him from behind the counter. “Hey, how did it go at the bank today?”

Joe shook his head. “Not so great. I’ll fill you in later.”

But Vince wasn’t paying him much attention. His focus had slid past Joe and fastened on Nina. Joe gestured to her.

“Vince, meet Nina Summers. She’s new in town and will be cleaning the rooms, busing tables, and helping out in the kitchen. Nina, this is Vince Nucifora, the guy in charge of the bar.”

The bartender wiped his hand on a cloth before eagerly shaking hands with Nina.

“Hey, Nina. Welcome to Hartley and the Comet Inn.” Vince winked at her. “You’ll like it here, as long as you don’t mind having a slave driver for a boss.”

“A slave driver, huh? I never would have guessed.” Nina peeked impishly at Joe.

She likes to tease, Joe thought, refusing to react. “I’ll take you through to the kitchen and introduce you to Sarah.”

When Joe had started turning a profit at the inn, he’d built an extension to house the restaurant and fitted out a brand-spanking-new kitchen. This was now the undisputed domain of Sarah Wainwright, his exacting, talented head chef. As they entered the kitchen, Sarah was complaining loudly, and when she spotted him, she marched over.

“Look at these.” She thrust a handful of mushrooms in his face. “That Greg has some nerve, trying to pass this garbage on to me. They’re not even good enough for soup. I’m going to call him right now and give him hell.”

Joe didn’t feel much sympathy for Greg. Every supplier to the restaurant knew Sarah’s rigorous standards.

“Go ahead and call him,” he said, “but first I’d like to introduce you to a new employee.” He made the introductions. Unlike Vince, Sarah greeted Nina with some reserve.

“Have you worked in hospitality long?” Sarah asked, eyeing Nina’s disheveled appearance.

Nina cleared her throat. “About eighteen months. I was waitressing down in San Francisco.”

“Where in San Francisco?”

“A coffee shop,” Nina said.