“You Want To Do What?”

“Desensitize you.”

Considering the scandalized look on Ty’s face, this was going to be a tougher sell than Tina anticipated. To make this work, he would have to relinquish control, and it was pretty clear that he thrived on being in control.

“I’m afraid to ask what that means,” Ty said.

“In essence, you’ll have to unlearn everything you’ve learned about sex and start over.”

“And how would I do that?”

“Well, we would start with the basics, like holding hands. And when holding hands no longer makes you feel anxious, we move on.”

His brow furrowed. She had his attention now. “Move on to what, exactly?”

“Well, sitting close. Kissing would probably be next.” And boy, did Ty know how to kiss. Toe-curling, bone-melting, knock-your-socks-off-fantastic kisses.

“And then?” he asked.

“Touching.”

He cleared his throat. “And, um, where exactly will we be touching each other?”

She shrugged, and tried to keep her voice casual. “Eventually, everywhere.”

Dear Reader,

This May, Silhouette Desire’s sensational lineup starts with Nalini Singh’s Awaken the Senses. This DYNASTIES: THE ASHTONS title is a tale of sexual awakening starring one seductive Frenchman. (Can you say ooh-la-la?) Also for your enjoyment this month is the launch of Maureen Child’s trilogy. The THREE-WAY WAGER series focuses on the Reilly brothers, triplets who bet each other they can stay celibate for ninety days. But wait until brother number one is reunited with The Tempting Mrs. Reilly.

Susan Crosby’s BEHIND CLOSED DOORS series continues with Heart of the Raven, a gothic-toned story of a man whose self-imposed seclusion has cut him off from love…until a sultry woman, and a beautiful baby, open up his heart. Brenda Jackson is back this month with a new Westmoreland story, in Jared’s Counterfeit Fiancée, the tale of a fake engagement that leads to real passion. Don’t miss Cathleen Galitz’s Only Skin Deep, a delightful transformation story in which a shy girl finally falls into bed with the man she’s always dreamed about. And rounding out the month is Bedroom Secrets by Michelle Celmer, featuring a hero to die for.

Thanks for choosing Silhouette Desire, where we strive to bring you the best in smart, sensual romances. And in the months to come look for a new installment of our TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB continuity and a brand-new TANNERS OF TEXAS title from the incomparable Peggy Moreland.

Happy reading!

Melissa Jeglinski

Senior Editor

Silhouette Books

Bedroom Secrets
Michelle Celmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MICHELLE CELMER

lives in southeastern Michigan with her husband, their three children, two dogs and two cats. When she’s not writing or busy being a mom, you can find her in the garden or curled up with a romance novel. And if you twist her arm real hard you can usually persuade her into a day of power shopping.

Michelle loves to hear from readers. Visit her Web site at: www.michellecelmer.com, or write her at P.O. Box 300, Clawson, MI 48017.

To my great-nephews, Thomas Zachary

and Connor Michael. Welcome to the world, guys.

Contents

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

One

She didn’t have enough money.

Tina DeLuca studied the change in her hand, dread creeping in to seize the empty space in her stomach the measly bowl of soup hadn’t filled. It had been the cheapest thing on the menu with any nutritional value. What she hadn’t counted on was the sales tax.

Not only did she not have money for the check, she wouldn’t have enough to use the pay phone on the off chance that she’d found her father. She’d hoped to call first rather than just showing up on his doorstep. Then she could at least determine if he was the correct Martin Lopez before she went barging in on his life.

And if he wasn’t? If this was another dead end? That feeling of dread swept back in. She was out of money with not a soul on earth to call for help. She had reached the end of the line. She could only hope the city had some sort of shelter she could spend the night in.

Or a jail, which is exactly where she would wind up if she couldn’t pay her bill, or somehow con her way out of paying it. But the only thing she hated more than being homeless and penniless was lying.

“Wherever God closes a door he opens a window,” her mother had written in her journal. Which had Tina wondering if the restroom had a window she could slip through.

No. She’d come this far without lying or cheating anyone. She would just have to be honest and hope the kind-faced woman took pity on her.

“You sure I can’t get you anything else, hon?” The kindly old waitress she suspected was the “Mae” of Mae’s Diner hovered by her table and Tina’s heart began to pound. Her hands shook so badly some of the change she’d been holding dropped and scattered across the table.

Mae’s face went from mildly confused to downright concerned. “Are you okay?”

Tina felt like the world’s biggest phony. How could she look this thoughtful woman in the eye and tell her that not only was she not going to get a tip for her exemplary service, she was going to be shortchanged on the check.

Tina had to come clean.

Her nearly empty stomach pitched and rolled, and she felt light-headed. Just do it.

“I don’t have enough,” she said, but it came out so softly and her voice was quivering so badly that Mae didn’t understand her.

“What was that, hon? You don’t what?”

“Have enough money,” she said more loudly, and the two women seated in the next booth turned to look at her with unmasked distaste. Tina’s face burned with shame. Could this be any more humiliating? “I thought I would have enough,” she explained. “But I forgot the sales tax. I’m twenty cents short.”

Mae lifted one penciled-in brow. “Twenty cents, huh?”

Tina felt tears welling in her eyes and fought to hold them in. This wasn’t the time to throw herself a pity party. She didn’t want Mae to think she was some kind of con artist. “I’ll do dishes,” she said. “Or I can cook. I’m a great cook.”

Mae frowned. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

Tina shook her head.

“Come with me.” Mae stepped aside so Tina could get out of her seat. Then she added, “To my office.”

This is it, Tina thought, her heart sinking so low she could feel the persistent throb of her pulse all the way down to her toes. Mae was going to call the police. Oh well, a jail cell was better than sleeping on the street. And if Ray reported what had happened last week, there was no doubt she would be arrested—for assault.

Tina stood on wobbly legs and grabbed her backpack from the bench seat. Holding her head high despite the look of pure disdain from the women in the next booth, she followed Mae to the front of the restaurant. She tried to see herself through their eyes. Her clothes were rumpled and dirty from several days without seeing the inside of a washing machine. She probably looked like one of the homeless people she’d seen sleeping at the bus station. She was homeless.

Mae led her through the busy kitchen, and Tina’s stomach rumbled from all of the magnificent smells lingering there. It had been days since she’d had a real meal. To stretch her limited funds she’d existed on a meager diet, one that consisted primarily of soup and crackers.

Mae led her into a tiny office near the back and gestured to one of the metal chairs opposite a small cluttered desk. “What’s your name, hon?”

“Tina,” she said, lowering herself into the chair closest to her and resting her bag against her legs. “Tina DeLuca.”

“Well, Tina DeLuca, you wait here.” Mae left, closing the door behind her and Tina steeled herself for what was to come. She looked up at several decades’ worth of Chamber of Commerce awards and a poster boasting Mae’s pastries to be the best in Michigan. Dozens of framed photos of what must have been Mae’s children and grandchildren lined the wall. Everyone looked so happy.

A big, happy family. Tina was a stranger to the concept. After she’d lost her mother, it had been only her, Aunt Louise and cousin Ray.

Some day I’ll have a real family, she thought. She would find the right man, settle down and have lots of babies. If she was patient, it would happen.

After she got out of prison.

She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. Lord, she was exhausted. She hadn’t slept more than a few hours a night since she’d left Philadelphia. She wondered if the beds in jail were more comfortable than a bus seat.

The door opened and a ripple of fear turned her limbs to jelly. She waited for the inevitable. For Mae to tell her the police were on the way.

Instead the woman set a plate down on the desk in front of Tina. A plate piled high with French fries and an enormous cheeseburger. Next to it she set a large glass of soda.

Mouth gaping, all Tina could do was stare. Why was Mae bringing her more food when she couldn’t even pay for her soup?

Mae circled the desk and took a seat, sliding the top drawer open. She rifled through it for a moment, then looked up at Tina, her brow raised. “Are you just going to stare at it?”

“But…”

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

Mae wasn’t calling the police. She was going to help her. Tina’s fear melted away and tears welled in her eyes. She hadn’t known such kindness existed anymore.

“Is there someone I can call for you, hon?”

Tina shook her head. “There’s no one.”

“I didn’t think so. Go ahead and eat it while it’s hot.” She returned her attention to the open drawer. “Now, I know that card is in here somewhere.”

Tina picked up a French fry and bit off a piece. It was greasy and salty and the most heavenly thing she’d ever tasted, and she could hardly swallow past the lump of emotion in her throat.

“Ah, here it is.” Mae pulled a slightly worn business card from the drawer and slid it across the desk.

Tina picked it up and read the name—Tyler Douglas. There was no title. Just an address and phone number.

“My sister, bless her decrepit soul, has worked for Tyler for years cleaning his rental properties. Well, her sciatica has gotten pretty bad this past year, and she can’t manage all the bending and stretching anymore. Especially in the cold weather. Just yesterday she told Tyler she had to quit, so I know for a fact he’s looking for someone to fill the position.”

When God closes a door he opens a window.

“A job?” Tina asked.

“You tell him Mae sent you over and he’ll set you up.” Mae stood, smoothing the front of her uniform. “You go ahead and finish your lunch, then you can let yourself out the back door.”

“Thank you. I’ll pay you for the food as soon as I can,” Tina assured her.

Mae just smiled. “I know you will.”

As Mae disappeared through the door, Tina could swear she saw the hint of a halo just above the woman’s silvery hair. And somewhere in the back of her mind she could hear the faintest sound of a window sliding open.

Tyler Douglas was putting his foot down.

Emily was his sister, and he loved her, but he had to draw the line at this. “There is no way in hell I’m standing up in your wedding with a guy.”

“But you’re the best man and Alex is my best friend,” Emily said, as if it was a completely logical deduction. “You have to stand up together.”

“Alex is gay.”

There was a pause then, “So?”

“What do you mean, so? What if people think we’re…together?”

“Alex was right—you are homophobic.”

“I wouldn’t walk down the aisle with any guy: gay, straight or undecided. And what does Mom think about you having a man for a maid of honor?” When she didn’t answer, he laughed. “You haven’t told her yet, have you?”

“It doesn’t matter what Mom thinks. It’s my wedding.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

“Just think about it, okay? Hey, and while I’ve got you on the phone, Matt said there’s a new secretary at the high school. Blond, big breasts, shallow—just the way you like ’em.”

“You’re not winning any points here.”

“I’m just kidding. Matt said she’s very nice. And single. We could double.”

“No, thanks.”

“Are you going through some kind of romantic dry spell or something?”

Her question hit home like a dynamite blast, making him wince. Dry spell didn’t begin to describe it. But things would get better. In time, he would be back to his old virile self.

He hoped.

“You know,” Emily said, “if there’s something wrong, you can talk to me about it.”

“There’s nothing wrong.” Nothing a few years of intense psychotherapy wouldn’t cure. No way in hell he could talk to his sister about that.

“Ty, since middle school you’ve always had a girlfriend. Sometimes two or three at a time.”

The outer office door jingled and he silently thanked whoever it was for the interruption. “Hey, someone’s here. Gotta run. I’ll call you later.”

“Ty—”

“Say hi to Matt for me. Love you.” He hit the disconnect button and set the phone down. That was a close call, and knowing Emily, he hadn’t heard the last of this. Though they weren’t identical, they were still bound by that cosmic connection twins often have. Depending on the circumstances, that could be a good or a bad thing.

“Hello?” a voice called from the lobby.

A female voice. Damn.

“In here,” Ty called back. He really needed to get a new receptionist to screen his visitors. Preferably an ugly receptionist. Or better yet, a man.

The source of the voice, who appeared in his office a second later, was neither ugly nor male. One look at her dark, inquisitive eyes, flawlessly smooth olive skin, and he instinctively took a step to the left, behind the safety of his desk.

Damn, it was really getting out of control when he couldn’t be in the same room with a beautiful woman without running for cover. Three months ago, he would have met her by the door and taken her hand, simply for the pleasure of testing the softness of her skin. There was a time when he’d loved everything about women. The way they smelled, the way they tasted, the silky softness of their hair.

Now he viewed them as the enemy. And he knew with no small measure of certainty, this woman could push all the right buttons if he let her.

“Are you Tyler Douglas?” she asked.

He pasted on a charming smile. “The one and only. What can I do for you?” Please let it be something quick and painless.

She returned the smile times ten. “Mae sent me over. She said you’re looking for a cleaning lady.”

Oh man, was she beautiful. And so young. He felt like a degenerate for the thoughts tumbling through his depraved brain. Things like the fullness of her breasts cupped into his palms, her slender fingers tunneling through his hair as he plundered her lush mouth with passionate kisses. She would taste sweet and tangy and…and oh man, he needed to stop this right now or he would be sorry. He could already feel the shift in his breathing, the familiar tug in his groin.

She stepped closer and his pulse began to accelerate. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead and his head began to spin.

Relax. Breathe, in and out.

“My name is Tina DeLuca,” she said, holding out a hand for him to shake. He dreaded the words he knew were coming next. “I’d like the job.”

Two

Brad Pitt, eat your heart out, Tina thought as she tried her best not to stare. They sure knew how to grow them in Chapel, Michigan. For some reason she’d been expecting someone older. Someone not so strikingly handsome or built to complete physical perfection.

Someone who wouldn’t look at her as if…she was a leper.

He retreated a step and waved away her extended hand. “We don’t stand on formality here,” he said.

Oookay.

She let her arm fall to her side. Not quite sure what to do with her hands, she clasped them behind her back. She’d never gone on a job interview before and wasn’t sure of the proper etiquette. Since the time she was old enough to have a real job, she’d been taking care of Aunt Louise. Her people skills were a tad rusty.

“Is the position still open?” she asked.

“Yes, but uh, the pay is pretty low.”

It couldn’t be any lower than the nothing she was currently earning. “That’s okay.”

“I mean really low, like minimum wage.”

“Minimum wage works for me.”

He frowned, his blond brow dipping low over his eyes. “It’s really lousy work.”

She tried to keep her voice cheerful when inside her heart was plummeting. Mae had made this sound like a sure thing. If she didn’t get this job, she wasn’t sure what she would do. Where she would go. She had no place to stay, no place to sleep. “I like to clean. And I have a lot of experience,” she added.

“A pretty girl like you? Wouldn’t you be happier as a model or something?”

A model? Was he kidding? At five foot two and 111 pounds, she wasn’t exactly runway material. “Mr. Douglas—”

“Ty,” he said, then winced, as though revealing his name had been some sort of fatal error. “Everyone around here calls me Ty.”

“Ty, I’m a hard worker.”

“I’m sure you are, Miss…?”

“Where I’m from, people call me Tina.”

“I don’t doubt that you are, Tina. I’m just not sure it would be a very good idea.”

He wasn’t going to hire her. She could tell by the look on his face. He was going to tell her no.

In the back of her mind she could hear the window again, but this time it was slamming shut. All she could do now was stick her fingers in the way and hope they weren’t lobbed off.

She took a deep breath, gathering all her courage, but still her voice shook when she spoke. “I really need this job. I’m desperate.”

“I understand.” He shrugged sympathetically. “I wish I could help you.”

The last bit of strength she’d been clinging to crumbled away, and the dam on her emotions broke. She was so tired of being lonely and afraid and hungry. She was just plain tired.

And she couldn’t be strong another minute. She crumpled into a chair, dropped her face in her hands and started to cry.

Aw, man, he’d made her cry. Ty looked helplessly around, wondering what he should do now. Seeing her bawling, knowing it was his fault, was even worse than the dizziness and the cold sweats.

Well, maybe not worse, but almost as bad. And it could have been avoided if he wasn’t so selfish. He hated what was happening to him, but he didn’t have a clue how to stop it—to fix it. His original plan—ignore it until it goes away—didn’t seem to be working very well.

And now, not only was he miserable, he was dragging other people down with him.

He grabbed a tissue and leaned over his desk to press it into her hand. “Here.”

She took it, wiped her eyes and nose. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to fall apart. It’s been a really bad week.”

“I can relate,” he said. More than once in the past three months he’d felt like sitting down and bawling, too.

“Just give me a minute to pull myself together and I’ll be out of your hair.” As she wiped away fresh tears, he realized there was no makeup on her face to smear. No mascara running down her cheeks. Hers was a natural beauty. Her face didn’t get all blotchy and red when she cried either like a lot of women he’d known. She might have looked wholesome had her dark features not been so exotic.

But she was just a kid. He was guessing no more than sixteen or seventeen. And she must have needed the job pretty badly to get this upset. She looked so lost. So…helpless.

Aw, hell.

“Can you start tomorrow morning?”

She looked up at him, lower lip still quivering. “You’ll hire me?”

She had trouble written all over her. But could he help that he was a sucker for a woman in distress? He knew it was a huge mistake. But it wouldn’t be his first, or his last.

Ignore it until it goes away.

Yeah, right.

He jotted an address on a slip of paper and located the correct key from the top drawer of his desk. He handed them both to her. “Everything you need is at the house. Cleaning supplies, vacuum, mop. The painters finished up two days ago, so everything should be dry by now.”

“I’m doing the entire house?”

“Top to bottom. Is that a problem?”

She shook her head. “No. No problem at all.”

“I want to start showing the property to renters as soon as possible, so try to get it done tomorrow if you can. When you’re done, I’ll come inspect it, and if everything looks good, I’ll cut you a check. If it works out, I have a small office building one block over I’ll need done later this week.”

She was actually smiling now. A brilliant smile that lit her whole face and warmed him from the outside in. He liked too much that he could make her that happy so easily. It shouldn’t have mattered how she felt.

At least he seemed to be over his initial anxiety. As long as he didn’t get too close to her he should be okay. But man, she was pretty. And vulnerable.

What the hell was he doing?

“Thank you Mr.—I mean, Ty. Thank you so much for giving me a chance. You won’t be sorry.”

He almost laughed. He was sorry already.

Tina gazed up at the brick bungalow that matched the address on the slip of paper Ty had given her. It had taken her a long time to find it in the unfamiliar city. So long it was already growing dark. Icy wind whipped around her, penetrating her denim pants and thin nylon jacket and sending leaves scurrying down the street. She was cold and exhausted and ached for a restful night of sleep. And a hot shower would be heaven. She hadn’t showered in days, only cleaned herself up as best as a person could in a bus station restroom. Which wasn’t all that great. Her skin felt grimy and her hair dirty and her scalp was itching like crazy.

She couldn’t believe what she was considering doing.

It wasn’t exactly breaking and entering, because she had a key. And it would be for only one night. Tomorrow she would have money for a motel. And a meal. And, of course, she would go back to the diner and pay Mae. If it wasn’t for the kind old woman, Tina wouldn’t have a place to sleep tonight. Or food in her belly.

And Tyler, well, she hadn’t quite figured him out yet. If she didn’t know any better, she would think he was afraid of her. Which didn’t make any sense at all. A man so physically beautiful couldn’t possibly be insecure. Everything about him screamed all-American hero.

Lord knows, he was her hero.

And how would he feel if he knew she was seriously thinking about crashing in his rental house? She would be violating his trust.

Well, not exactly, because technically he never said she couldn’t sleep here tonight. And what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Right? This way, she could get an early start on the cleaning and have it done in plenty of time. Then he would be more likely to give her another building to clean.

She had to make up her mind soon, or people would start to notice her standing there and get suspicious.

Sleep on the street in a box somewhere in the freezing cold, or in a warm house? Wow. That was a tough one. She took the key from her pocket and started up the cement walk to the front door.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she’d slipped the key into the lock, turned the knob, opened the door and stepped inside.

The room smelled of latex paint and new carpet and the air was chilly. With the blinds closed, it was dark, so she felt along the wall where she thought the light switches might be until she found one. She blinked against the sudden bright light and looked around. Beige walls, beige carpet. Small, but cute. It was so clean, she wondered what it was she was expected to do. But when she looked more closely she noticed the blinds were coated with a thick layer of greasy dust. She suspected the windows could use a good polishing.

No problem.

An archway to the right led into a tiny kitchen and nook. In the corner sat all the supplies she would need. Cleaning solvents, buckets, rolls of paper towels and scrub brushes.

The floor in here definitely needed a thorough scrubbing and a coat of wax. The stove was crusted with baked-on food and grease. She pulled the fridge open and the rank odor seeping out nearly singed the skin off her face. Eew!

She slammed the door shut. That would need a major disinfecting and some serious airing-out.

Her bladder full to bursting, she decided her next stop would be the bathroom. She found it down the hall, next to two small bedrooms. Thank goodness, someone had left toilet paper on the roll and a bar of soap by the sink. But the room reeked of mildew. She pulled back the shower curtain and immediately realized why. Halfway up the tile wall the grout was black with it. She definitely had her work cut out for her. But she hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d told Ty she liked cleaning. As cooking and caring for her aunt had, it gave her tremendous satisfaction.

Her cousin Ray had wanted her to take care of him, too. In an altogether different way, she thought with a shudder of disgust. She wondered how long he’d spent sprawled and unconscious on the kitchen floor. And what his reaction had been when he’d realized she was gone. The memory of his meaty hands groping her, his rank breath on her face, turned her stomach.

That was all behind her now. She would find her father and start a new life somewhere. Maybe right here in Chapel.

She found the thermostat and cranked the heat up to a balmy seventy-five degrees. By the time she finished showering it was warm enough in the house to walk around in only a T-shirt. She threw what few clothes she had in the washing machine in the basement and settled into one of the bedrooms. She shut the light off and, using her backpack as a pillow, stretched out on the carpet. Her entire body sighed with fatigue. She couldn’t have lain there for more than five minutes before she was sound asleep.

Until she heard something.

She bolted upright, heart pounding, disoriented in the dark. She wasn’t even sure what had woken her, but she knew something wasn’t right. After years of caring for her elderly aunt, she’d trained herself to sleep lightly, to wake at the slightest hint of trouble, the faintest sound. She groped for the watch hooked on her backpack and lit the tiny face. Almost midnight. Then she heard it again. Footsteps.

Someone was in the house.

For a second she was frozen with fear, then instinct snapped in and she scrambled up, grabbed her backpack and headed for the closet. She pulled the door closed and it shut with a loud snap. She cursed silently, hoping the intruder hadn’t heard. It wouldn’t take them long to realize the house was empty and there was nothing to steal. Unless stealing wasn’t what they had in mind. Maybe someone had seen her enter earlier and knew she was here alone and defenseless. Had she even locked the door before she’d fallen asleep?

Heart sinking, hands trembling, she dug through the pack for her pepper spray. She closed her fingers around the small canister and flattened herself against the back wall. Through the cracks around the door, she could see the light come on and her heart seized, then restarted triple-time. She stood frozen with fear, finger on the trigger, ready to fire. The footsteps were closer, and a shadow fell over the door, then the door swung open—

Tina closed her eyes tight and shoved her finger down on the trigger, letting the pepper spray rip.

“Son of a—!”

Uh-oh. She recognized that voice.

She opened her eyes and the pepper spray dropped from her hand.

Spitting out a stream of curses, Tyler Douglas stood in the middle of the room wrestling a black leather jacket off his arms. He flung it to the carpet and clawed at his shirt. Buttons flew in all directions as he ripped it open and tore it off. The skin underneath was beet-red. That’s when she realized she must have sprayed him not in the face, but in the chest. Not surprising, considering he was at least a foot taller than her and she’d never thought to aim up.

“Damn, that burns,” he groaned.

She could see he was in agony, and snapped out of her shocked state when she saw him lifting his hands to his eyes. “Don’t touch your face! It’s pepper spray.”

“Pepper spray? What the hell—”

“The bathroom,” she said, leaping from the closet and grabbing his arm. “We have to wash it off you!”

She dragged him down the hall to the bathroom. Flinging back the shower curtain, she turned the cold water on full-blast and shoved him under it—clothes and all.

Ty gasped as the icy water nailed him in the chest, but at least it eased the burning sensation on his skin and the constricting ache in his lungs. His eyes were beginning to burn so he stuck his face under, too, filling his mouth with water and spitting it back out. He’d never been sprayed before, but he knew the logical thing to do was to wash as much of it off as possible.

When he looked out at Tina, she was staring at her hands, eyes wide, the color leached from her face. “It burns.”

Aw, hell. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the tub with him. When the first blast of cold water hit her she squealed and tried to break free, but he held on. He hugged her against his chest, tucking her head snugly under his chin. “Hold still.”

“Cold,” she gasped.

No kidding. He was soaked to the bone and shivering, but it sure as hell beat that agonizing burn. If he wasn’t so concerned about her welfare, he’d be ripping her a new one right now.

She stopped struggling and went very still in his arms. A moment later she said softly, “I feel better. You think maybe you could, um, let me go now?”

He looked down and realized his hand was cupped over her generous left breast. He abruptly let go and backed away from her. How in the hell had he gone from not being able to be in the same room with Tina, to groping her in the shower?

Excruciating pain maybe?

She bent over and shut the water off, then turned to face him. Her dark hair hung in damp ringlets around her face. Her T-shirt was dripping and hung heavy against her full breasts, outlining everything down to the finest detail, and considering the frigid water temperature, there was a lot of detail. And hey, she wasn’t wearing pants. Could this get any better?

At least she was wearing panties—skimpy pink panties with what looked like kittens on them. Jesus.

She looked damned appealing standing there. So why wasn’t his heart racing? Why wasn’t he sweating and short of breath?

Because he was blood-boiling, spitting mad, he realized. Despite the fact that he had a near-naked, soaking-wet, sexy-as-hell woman less than three feet away, this was the least arousing situation he’d been in his whole damned life.

Hallelujah, he was cured.

“I am so sorry,” she said, her lower lip trembling. It could have been from the cold, or fear. Frankly he didn’t care which.

He wiped away the water that was leaking off his hair and dripping into his eyes. “Is that so?”

“I can explain everything.”

“Good. Explain to me what the hell you’re doing in my house.”

Three

“C-could I dry off f-first?” Tina asked, her voice quivering. Not only were her lips trembling, they were turning blue.

“Yeah, sorry.” Ty stepped out of the tub, his tennis shoes squishing on the tile. He was pretty cold himself. But when he looked around for something to dry off with, he remembered the house was empty. There were no towels.

Great.

“P-paper towels in the kitchen,” she said, hugging herself.

Better than nothing.

His shoes making a loud sucking noise against his feet, he walked out to the kitchen and grabbed two rolls. Back in the bathroom he ripped one package open and tossed it to her, then opened the other for himself.

He pulled a handful of towels loose and dried his chest and arms. “Where are your clothes?” he asked.

She bit her lip. “In the washing machine.”

He closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. “Tell me they’re not wet.”

“They’re wet. I was going to put them in the dryer but I forgot.”

“Wonderful. You don’t have anything that’s dry?”

She shook her head.

“I have a gym bag in my truck. There’s probably something in there you could wear. While I’m getting it, do me a favor and put your clothes in the dryer. Okay?”

She nodded.

He left her in the bathroom and trudged out the front door, bare-chested and soaking wet, into the near-freezing air. When he’d driven past on his way home and seen the kitchen light blazing, he’d figured the painters or carpet installers had left it on. Never had he expected to find Tina hiding in the bedroom closet.

And he really hadn’t expected to be blasted with pepper spray.

He grabbed his gym bag off the front seat of his truck and jogged back up to the house. No way was he getting her out of here without dry clothes on. It was far too cold. She’d end up with pneumonia.

When he stepped back inside she was just emerging from the basement. He dropped the bag on the floor and dug through it until he found what he was looking for.

“I turned the heat up,” she said.

He handed her a T-shirt and drawstring running shorts. “Put these on.”

Tina looked at the clothes he’d handed her, then back at him. He was just as wet as she was, and that soaked denim couldn’t have been very comfortable. “What about you?”

“Boxers,” he said, holding up a plaid pair. Her surprise must have shown because he narrowed his eyes at her and said, “Is that a problem?”

“Nope.” She was just grateful he hadn’t tossed her out on her ear. Although, she was sure that was next. No way he would let her keep her job now.

And who was she to complain if he wanted to walk around in his underwear? She’d imagined what he might look like without his clothes on. How could she not? She’d just never thought she would ever see him that way. And so far she wasn’t disappointed. She could swear his shoulders were about a yard wide, and his pecs were downright enormous. He was big all over, but not an ounce of him appeared to be fat.

“I’m going to go downstairs and change and throw my pants in the dryer, then we’re going to have a talk about your future employment.”

In other words, there would be no future employment. She nodded and he disappeared down the stairs.

How had she managed to screw things up so badly? She could try crying again, but she doubted even that would work. Besides, she’d never been the type who could whip up fake tears on cue.

She locked herself in the bathroom and peeled off her wet clothes. The things Ty had given her were way too big, but they were dry and would keep her modestly covered until her clothes were out of the dryer.

She still couldn’t believe they’d stood in the shower together, semi-naked, and he’d had his hand on her breast. With the exception of her gynecological exam last year, she hadn’t been touched there since the summer before her senior year of high school, when she’d gone parking with Joe DeCaussin. He’d wanted to go farther, but she wouldn’t let him. She’d told him, next time, not knowing there wouldn’t be a next time.

Aunt Louise had had her second stroke the very next day, effectively putting an end to Tina’s social life.

Of course there was cousin Ray. He’d touched her breast, but that didn’t count since it had been revolting and against her will.

But Ty’s hand had felt really nice resting there, after her hands and eyes had stopped burning.

She hung her wet T-shirt over the curtain rod to dry and used paper towels to mop up the puddles of water on the floor.

She noticed the mildew again and wondered if there was bleach with the cleaning supplies in the kitchen. Then she remembered it wasn’t her problem to deal with any longer. She was once again out of a job and homeless with no one to turn to for help. She should have been scared to death, but for some reason she just felt numb. Maybe she could curl up, go to sleep and when she woke, everything would be okay again.

She heard Ty’s heavy footsteps on the basement stairs and, knowing she should just get this over with, opened the bathroom door and walked out into the living room where he was—oh boy—wearing nothing but boxer shorts. His legs were thick with corded muscle and covered with sandy-colored hair. She’d never seen a man this naked this close up before.

“They fit okay?” Ty asked, gesturing to the clothes he’d given her.

“Yes, thank you.”

“You may as well get comfortable,” he said.

He sat on the carpet, his back against the wall, so she sat a few feet away against the adjacent wall, tucking her knees up under her chin.

“So,” he said, “why did you feel it was necessary to douse me with pepper spray?” He said it so calmly, when he must have been furious with her.

“I didn’t know it was you. I thought it was an intruder.”

“I own the house. You were the intruder.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”

“Which brings me to my next question. What were you doing half-naked in my house in the first place? And don’t tell me cleaning.”

“I was sleeping. I needed a place to stay.”

Anger leaked into his voice. “So you never really wanted the job? You just needed a place to crash?”

“No! I did need the job. I do need it.”

“You said you know Mae. Was that a lie, too?”

“Of course not! I met her at the diner. She gave me your business card when—” she paused, still humiliated by the experience.

“When what?”

“When I couldn’t pay my bill. I forgot about the sales tax and was twenty cents short. She took me into her office and I thought she was going to call the police.”

“The police? For twenty cents? You’re not from around here are you?”

She shook her head. “Instead she brought me a hamburger and gave me your card.”

“Mae has a big heart.”

She nodded again, emotion catching in her throat.

He cringed. “You’re not going to cry again, are you?”

She swallowed hard and shook her head.

“I’m going to ask you a question and I want an honest answer, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Did you run away from home?”

“Sort of, I guess.”

He sighed and dragged a hand across his face. “Then we need to call your parents. They’re probably worried sick about you.”

He thought she was a teenage runaway? She nearly laughed. Did she really look that young? “Sorry, but that’s impossible.”

“No matter how bad things are, running away isn’t the answer. And I can get in a lot of trouble letting you stay here.”

“I doubt that.” At least not for the reason he was thinking. Harboring a fugitive maybe.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of statutory rape. I’m twenty-eight years old, and you’re what? Sixteen, seventeen?”

“Twenty-one.”

He lifted a skeptical brow. “Uh-huh. Sure you are.”

“Seriously, I am. My driver’s license is in my backpack in the bedroom closet. Go get it if you don’t believe me.”

He made no move to get up. “If you’re twenty-one, why did you run away from home?”

“I didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t my home anymore. My aunt died and my cousin…kicked me out. I have no money, no home and no family. And no, that’s not a sob story to make you feel sorry for me. It just is what it is.”

He was quiet for a minute, then he said, “What about your parents?”

“My mother died a long time ago and I never knew my father. I’ve been trying to find him, and I traced him to Chapel. That’s why I’m here.”

“But you don’t have any money?”

She shook her head, because it was too humiliating to say out loud.

“And how long ago did your cousin kick you out?”

“Five days. I figured I would have found my father by now and he could help me. But all I’ve found are a bunch of dead ends.”

“Why should I believe anything you say?”

“I guess you don’t have to. But if you have any compassion at all you won’t fire me. I need to pay Mae back and find my father. I need the job.”

He sighed again, rubbing his red-rimmed eyes. “I should boot you out on your behind, but for some reason I actually believe you, so I’ll let you keep the job. But only if you promise to be nice to me from now on.”

She froze and bile crept up her throat. No way. This couldn’t be happening to her again. And to think she’d trusted him. Would he try to force himself on her like Ray had, or did he just expect her to lie back and let it happen?

When she sprayed him earlier she should have run. She should have gotten out when she could. And now here they were, her in his clothes and him in his underwear. Why hadn’t she seen this coming? How could she be so foolish?

Ty leaned forward, as if he was going to get up, and Tina scrambled to the corner of the room, as far from him as she could get. “Don’t touch me!”

He looked up, surprised. “What?”

“I’ll leave as soon as my clothes are dry, just stay away from me.”

“Tina, what are you talking about? I said you could have the job.”

“I don’t care how bad I need it. I’m not having sex with you.”

He blinked, looking impossibly confused. “When did I ask you to have sex with me?”

She frowned. Why did he not seem to know what the heck she was talking about? “You said I had to be nice to you. I thought…”

“I meant nice like, you won’t attack me with your pepper spray again. Why would you think sex would be part of the bargain? I mean, besides the obvious, that I’m sitting here in my skivvies and I accidentally grabbed your breast in the shower?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. It was too humiliating. And she didn’t even have to, he figured it out all by himself.

He cursed and shook his head. “Who was it? Don’t tell me your cousin.”

“He’s a cousin by marriage. Not blood.”

He tossed his hands up. “Well, that makes it so much less perverse.”

“I should have seen it coming,” she said. “He always was kind of creepy.”

Ty said firmly, “Don’t you dare tell me it was your fault. No one should have to see something like that coming. What were you doing living with a guy like that anyway?”

“I wasn’t living with him. It was my aunt’s house. My cousin Ray told me I would get the house and half my aunt’s money when she passed away.”

“But you didn’t,” Ty said. It was stated as a fact, not a question.

“It was all a lie. He never intended to give me a dime. But at least I had a roof over my head and food on the table. Then I found out that came with a condition.”

“What kind of condition?”

“I had to be ‘nice’ to him.”

“Sick bastard.” Ty tunneled his fingers through his damp hair. He’d figured when she showed up in his office that she was pretty desperate for a job. He just hadn’t realized how desperate.

And it occurred to him suddenly that he’d been sitting in the same room with her for a while now, in his underwear no less, and he hadn’t once felt even a hint of anxiety. He still found her attractive, but he was feeling this brotherly protectiveness toward her that overshadowed any romantic feelings. “So, you think your father is here in Chapel?”

“I hope so.”

“This is a pretty small city. Maybe I would recognize his name.”

“Martin Lopez?”

“Doesn’t sound familiar to me, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t live here. I’ve got a P.I. I use for background checks. I could have him look into it.”

Her eyes lit for a second, then the hope fizzled away. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t have money for that.”

“I didn’t ask you for money.”

“I can’t take charity from you.”

“You were planning on staying in my house tonight, weren’t you?”

“That’s different. You were going to pay me to clean it. And it was that or sleep on the street.”

“And what about tomorrow night and the next?”

“I was going to get a motel room.”

“There’s only one motel in walking distance and it’s not exactly cheap.”

She chewed on her lip. “I’ll figure something out. Maybe I can find a shelter.”

“Not in Chapel. This is a small city. We don’t have the funding for that—or the need.”

She began to wring her hands together and he could tell she was on the verge of panic.

“Tell you what,” he said. “You can come home with me.”

“With you?” she said warily.

If someone had told him yesterday that he would make her an offer like that he’d have laughed at them, but was it really such a bad idea? He could be in the same room with her and not hyperventilate. Maybe they could spend some time together and in doing so he could work through this anxiety thing. Maybe this was exactly what he needed.

Not only that, but he liked her. And admired her bravery. The women he dated wouldn’t last an hour on the street. This girl—woman—was tough. But soft and sweet around the edges.

“I have a vacant flat above my garage. You can stay there as long as you need to.”

She looked as if she was seriously considering it for a second, then shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I have no way to pay you.”

“So you’ll pay me later, when you have money.”

“Suppose I never have enough money? What then? I couldn’t take advantage of your hospitality. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

She shook her head. “Forget it. It’s a dumb idea.”

“Tell me.”

“I was thinking, maybe if you needed a cook…”

He leaned forward. “You can cook?”

She gave him an indignant look. “I’m half Italian. Of course I can cook.”

The only thing Ty enjoyed more than a beautiful woman was a home-cooked meal. Unfortunately, he hated cooking and the food his mother prepared typically had the flavor and consistency of cardboard. “What are we talking here? Just dinner, or do I get breakfast, too?”

“Do you want breakfast?”

“Hell, yeah. I’d say breakfast and dinner every day are definitely worth a month’s rent. To be fair, I should probably give you the house and I’ll take the flat.”

“Oh.” A shy smile curved her mouth. “The flat is fine. I don’t take up much space.”

“Okay, but I’m definitely getting the better end of the deal.”

“And I still get to keep the cleaning job?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re not going to change your mind in a month and tell me I have to sleep with you?”

That’s the one thing he could offer without a hint of hesitation. “I am not going to ask you to sleep with me.”

She gave him a scrutinizing look. “You promise?”

“Yes, Tina DeLuca, I promise.”

Four

Ty smelled fresh coffee.

He rolled over in bed, peering with one eye at the clock. It wasn’t unlike his mother to pop over unannounced and cook for him, but at seven-thirty in the morning?

He stretched and scratched his chest, wincing as the tender skin smarted under the scrape of his nails, and he remembered the fiasco last night. Then he smelled something cooking, something mouthwateringly wonderful, and realized that it definitely wasn’t his mother in his kitchen.

He sat up, salivary glands tingling in anticipation.

Bacon. It was definitely bacon. And despite the fact that he’d gotten less than six hours of sleep, he was out of bed and heading for the shower in a heartbeat. Within ten minutes he’d showered, shaved and dressed, and was pounding down the stairs to the kitchen.

Tina stood at the stove, poking at something in a frying pan with a wooden spoon. She saw him standing there and flashed him a bright smile. It had been close to one-thirty in the morning when he’d gotten her settled in the one bedroom flat above his garage, but she looked well-rested. Her dark hair was damp and pulled back in some sort of clip thingy, but tendrils hung loose around her face. In jeans, tennis shoes and a pink sweatshirt, she didn’t look a day over seventeen. And cute. She looked damned cute.

He hadn’t broken out in a cold sweat at the sight of her there and his heart rate was steady and normal.

So far so good.

“Good morning,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in. I wanted to get started on breakfast.”

“Works for me,” he said, taking a cup down from the cupboard and pouring himself coffee. “How’s the flat? Are you comfortable?”

She breathed a blissful sigh. “It was heavenly. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in days.”

He stirred creamer into his cup and took a sip. Not too strong, not too weak. She brewed a hell of a pot of coffee. He was really going to like this arrangement.

“There wasn’t much in the fridge so I had to improvise,” she said. “I hope you like omelets.”

“I’ll eat pretty much anything. When you have a mother who cooks like mine, you either starve or develop an iron stomach.”

Her eyebrows rose a notch. “She can’t be that bad.”

“She’s worse than that bad. But she means well.”

She looked as though she didn’t believe him. “I made up a menu for you to approve, and I’ll need some supplies.”

He had figured she would just cook whatever, and he would eat it. He had no idea he would get to choose, or that she would take this so seriously. “I’m sure anything you make will be fine and after work today we can stop at the market and pick up whatever you need.”

“Have a seat, it’s almost ready.”

He watched from the table, practically drooling in anticipation as she rearranged the food on a plate—omelet dripping with melted cheese, strips of crispy bacon, golden fried potatoes. When she placed his plate at the kitchen table and he took his first bite, he felt like the luckiest man alive. “This is fantastic.”

Her smile positively beamed with pride, and he realized just how important it was to her that she’d please him. She had no idea.

When she didn’t join him at the table he asked, “You’re not hungry?”

She shrugged. “I had a little something before you got up. I didn’t want to impose.”

“It’s not an imposition. The only thing worse than my mother’s cooking is eating alone. Just ask my sister. I’m always mooching meals off her and her fiancé.” He gestured to the empty chair across from him. “Cop a squat, keep me company.”

Almost shyly, she lowered herself into the chair, propping her feet on the edge of the seat and tucking her knees under her chin. She was close now, only a few feet away. He caught the faintest scent of soap and shampoo, and felt the slightest quickening of his pulse.

Think of her as a sister, he reminded himself.

“So, Tina DeLuca, tell me about yourself. Where are you from?”

“I grew up in Philly,” she said.

“With your aunt?”

“Yeah, after my mom got sick. When she died two years later, Aunt Louise became my permanent guardian.”

“How did your mom die?”

“She had ALS—Lou Gehrig’s Disease.”

He put his fork down. “I’m sorry.”

He looked truly saddened by it. What saddened Tina the most was that so many memories of her mother had faded over the years until all that was left were vague impressions. “Aunt Louise was really good to me. That’s why, when she had her stroke, I wanted to help take care of her. I was only twelve, but I started cooking and cleaning. When I was seventeen she had her second stroke and needed round-the-clock care. I dropped out of school to stay with her.”

He took a sip of coffee, then picked up his fork and returned to his breakfast with gusto. He ate with the enthusiasm of a man who hadn’t had a decent meal in months. To say she was flattered was a major understatement. She was just glad she could do something nice for him. He’d practically saved her life, giving her a job and a place to stay. She shuddered to think where she would be right now if not for Mae’s kindness and Ty’s good nature.

“Did you ever finish high school?” he asked.

“I never went back, but I got my GED, and I took some on-line college courses in my spare time. For several years the Internet was my only outlet to the outside world. My cousin Ray promised me that when Aunt Louise died, he would give me the house and half of the money. I didn’t do it for the money, though. She did so much for me and my mom, I wanted to give that back to her.”

“But he lied,” Ty said.

She nodded. “Two weeks after she died there was a for sale sign in the window, and he was asking me to be ‘nice’ to him.”

“Sleazy bastard,” he muttered.

“I told him no way, and he told me I didn’t have a choice, I belonged to him, and he was going to take what was rightfully his.”

“Did he…?”

“He tried. But I…stopped him.”

“Stopped him?”

She caught her lip between her teeth. “You’re going to laugh.”

“I swear, I wouldn’t laugh about something like that.”

“I, um, hit him over the head. With a frying pan.”

The corners of Ty’s mouth twitched.

“A cast-iron frying pan,” she added.

He was trying really hard now not to smile.

“He was chasing me around the house, but he’s really fat so I was a lot faster than him. I ran into the kitchen, grabbed the pan off the stove, and when he barged in after me, I clobbered him. The pan made a loud bong against his head and he landed so hard the whole house shook. It was kind of like something out of a Road Runner cartoon.”

The amusement that had been tugging at his lips disappeared. “I guess it does sound funny when you think about it, but I’m sure it wasn’t at the time. You must have been really scared.”

“No, I was more disgusted than anything. I was scared after I hit him. At first I thought he was dead. When I realized he was still breathing, I knew he’d be really mad when he woke up. He’d call the police and they would probably take his side. I stuffed a couple of things in my bag, grabbed what money I had saved and got out of Dodge. I had a couple of leads on my father and figured it was the time to look. But the money went a lot faster than I thought it would. And here I am.”

“And all your stuff is still in Philly?”

“I’m sure if I try to go back and get it, he’ll have me arrested for assault.”

“After sexually assaulting you, I doubt he’d be dumb enough to file charges against you.” He balled his napkin and dropped it on his empty plate. “Breakfast was really good. Thanks.”

He smiled at her and she went all warm and mushy inside. She wondered if he knew how gorgeous he was.

There was no way he couldn’t know.

“You’re half Italian,” he said. “What’s the other half?”

“My mom said my father was Hispanic.”

“You never met him?”

“He doesn’t even know about me. My mom met him while he was on leave after boot camp. They only spent a weekend together, but she said she loved him enough for a lifetime. She said he gave her the most precious gift in the world. Me.”

“She told you all this?”

“No, I read it in her journal after she died. When she got sick, she started writing every day about her life, so I would never forget her. She gave it to my aunt to give to me when I turned thirteen.”

“What did you say your father’s name is?”

“Martin Lopez.”

He stood, carrying his plate to the dishwasher. “And you say you traced him here?”

“I found a Martin Lopez. I just don’t know if he’s the right Martin Lopez. All I know is his name, what year he was born, that he was born in Texas, and he was in the army and finished boot camp nine months before I was born.”

Ty refilled his coffee cup. “That’s a lot to go on.”

“You would think so, but you wouldn’t believe how many men are named Martin Lopez.”

“If he was in the army, can’t you find him through old military records?”

“The army isn’t exactly free with the information. You would have thought I was a Russian spy or something. But after two years of research, I narrowed it down to three possibilities. The first two weren’t him. The third looked promising, but the address I had is an old one. Someone different lives there now and they said the Lopezes didn’t leave a forwarding address, but they were pretty sure they live nearby. I looked in the phone book, but he’s not listed. That’s as far as I’ve gotten.”

Ty leaned against the edge of the counter, one foot crossed over the other, looking like a blond god. His jeans were relaxed fit, his flannel shirt on the loose side, but she knew first-hand the sculpted physique all that fabric hid. She’d thought about it a lot last night after she’d settled in. She’d lain in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Ty. She felt godawful for using the pepper spray on him, but she remembered the way his arms had felt wrapped around her in the shower. Solid and sure, but not intimidating. The memory of his hand cupping her breast had caused little tingles in the pit of her stomach.

But he was older and so much more sophisticated than her. To him, she was just a kid. Experience-wise, she was light years behind him.

“I’m going to make some phone calls today, see what I can find,” Ty said.

She shook her head. “I don’t want you calling your detective.”

He dumped the last of his coffee and set his cup in the sink. “I won’t need to. Real estate is my business. If your father owns a house, there has to be a deed. It shouldn’t be that hard to find him.”

“How long would that take?”

“A day. Two tops.” He said it casually, like it was no big deal.

To her it meant everything.

In a day or two he might bring to an end a search that had spanned over two years and brought her hundreds of miles from her home. He might find the one person left in the world who could possibly care about her. Be her family.

It was official, Tyler Douglas was her hero.

It was nearly four o’clock when Ty parked his truck in front of his rental house. He walked up to the porch, a spring in his step. He was about to make Tina one very happy woman.

Girl he reminded himself. He was definitely better off thinking of her as a girl—too young and naive. And he was old enough to know better.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside, rubbing warmth into his chilled hands. “Tina!” he called, to alert her to his presence. No way he wanted another run-in with her pepper spray.

“Back here,” she answered. “Cleaning the tub.”

He followed her voice through the house, noting her progress. The kitchen was spotless, and when he popped his head in the fridge it no longer smelled as if he’d been storing a corpse in it. The carpet had been vacuumed, the blinds and windows polished, and when he stepped in the bathroom, the tile was so gleaming white it nearly had him reaching for his Ray-Bans.

Kneeling next to the tub was Tina, bent over, jeans snug against her swaying backside, vigorously scrubbing the drain.

A sudden tug of arousal was answered by a stab of apprehension. If he didn’t get a grip he’d be breaking out in a cold sweat any minute now.

He was caught off guard, that’s all. He could control this.

“Everything looks great,” he said, looking anywhere but her curvy behind.

Tina looked up at him over her shoulder and smiled. “Thanks. I’m almost finished.”

Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes bright. Damn, she was pretty.

She turned the faucet on and rinsed the scouring powder down the drain. Her sweatshirt sleeves were pushed up to her elbows and yellow rubber gloves covered her to her forearms. When she was finished, she stood, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. Several spirals of hair fell across her forehead and she blew them out of her eyes. “All done.”

He pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket, peeled three twenties off and handed them to her. “I figured you’d prefer cash to a check.”

She stripped the gloves off and dropped them in the bucket at her feet. “I thought you said minimum wage.”

Yeah, that was when he was trying to get her not to want the job. “I said almost minimum wage. I paid my last cleaning woman seven dollars an hour.”

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