“You wouldn’t happen to be doing laundry first, would you?” Cain asked.

“Why?”

“I sort of made fifty percent of my underwear pink.”

Liz laughed. Visions of other times, other laughter, assailed her, and she felt as if she were caught in a time warp. Their marriage had ended so badly she’d forgotten the good times, and now suddenly here they were—all at the forefront of her mind. But that was wrong. Six years and buckets of tears had passed since the ‘good times’ that had nudged them to get married the week they’d accompanied friends to Vegas for their elopement. Only a few weeks after their hasty wedding those good times had become few and far between. By the time she’d left him they were non-existent.

And now she was his maid.

Maid for the Millionaire

by

Susan Meier

www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author

SUSAN MEIER spent most of her twenties thinking she was a job-hopper—until she began to write and realised everything that had come before was only research! One of eleven children, with twenty-four nieces and nephews and three kids of her own, Susan has had plenty of real-life experience watching romance blossom in unexpected ways. She lives in Western Pennsylvania with her wonderful husband Mike, three children, and two over-fed, well-cuddled cats, Sophie and Fluffy. You can visit Susan’s website at www.susanmeier.com

Cleaning houses used to be a chore for friends Liz and Ellie. Now it’s their new business venture and their path to independence…and romance!

Follow their stories in Susan Meier’s new duet:

HOUSEKEEPERS SAY I DO!

In August, read all about Liz and Cain in

MAID FOR THE MILLIONAIRE

Don’t miss Ellie’s story,

MAID FOR THE SINGLE DAD, coming next month

Miami’s newest maid service is open for business!

Special thanks to Denise Meyers, who lets me talk out my ideas.…

Chapter One

PINK UNDERWEAR?

Grimacing, Cain Nestor tossed his formerly white cotton briefs into the washing machine and slammed the door closed. Damn it! He should have stopped at the mall the night before and bought new ones, but it had been late when his private plane finally landed in Miami. Besides, back in Kansas he had done his own laundry plenty of times. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten so much in twelve years that he’d end up with pink underwear, but apparently he had.

Tightening the knot of the towel at his waist, he stormed out of the laundry room and into the kitchen just as the back door opened. From the pretty yellow ruffled apron that was the trademark of Happy Maids, he knew that his personal assistant Ava was one step ahead of him again. He’d been without a housekeeper since the beginning of February, three long weeks ago. Though Ava had interviewed, he’d found something wrong with every person she’d chosen—his maid lived in and a man couldn’t be too careful about whom he let stay in his home—but the lack of clean underwear had clearly proven he’d hit a wall.

Leave it to his assistant to think of the stopgap measure. She’d hired a cleaning service.

Ready to make an apology for his appearance, Cain caught his once-a-week housekeeper’s gaze and his heart froze in his chest. His breathing stopped. His thigh muscles turned to rubber.

“Liz?”

Though her long black hair had been pulled into a severe bun at her nape and she’d lost a few pounds in the three years since he’d seen her, he’d know those catlike green eyes anywhere.

“Cain?”

A million questions danced through his head, but they were quickly replaced by recriminations. She’d quit a very good job in Philadelphia and moved with him to Miami when she’d married him. Now, she was a maid? Not even a permanently employed housekeeper. She was a fill-in. A stopgap measure.

And it was his fault.

He swallowed. “I don’t know what to say.”

Liz Harper blinked a few times, making sure her eyes were not deceiving her and she really was seeing her ex-husband standing wrapped in only a towel in the kitchen of the house that was her first assignment for the day. He hadn’t changed a bit in three years. His onyx eyes still had the uncanny ability to make her feel he could see the whole way to her soul. He still wore his black hair short. And he still had incredible muscles that rippled when he moved. Broad shoulders. Defined pecs. And six-pack abs. All of which were on display at the moment.

She licked her suddenly dry lips. “You could start by saying, ‘Excuse my nakedness. I’ll just run upstairs and get a robe.’”

Remarkably, that made him laugh, and myriad memories assaulted her…

The day they’d met on the flight from Dallas to Philadelphia…

How they’d exchanged business cards and he’d called her cell phone even before she was out of the airport…

How they’d had dinner that night, entered into a long-distance relationship, made love for the first time on the beach just beyond his beautiful Miami home, and married on the spur of the moment in Las Vegas.

And now she was his housekeeper.

Could a woman fall any farther?

Worse, she wasn’t in a position where she could turn down this job.

“Okay. I’ll just—”

“Do you think—”

They stopped. The scent of his soap drifted to her and she realized he hadn’t changed brands. More memories danced through her head. The warmth of his touch. The seriousness of his kiss.

She cleared her throat. “You first.”

He shook his head. “No. Ladies first.”

“Okay.” She pulled in a breath. She didn’t have to tell him her secrets. Wouldn’t be so foolish again as to trust him with her dreams. If everything went well, she wouldn’t even have to see him while she did her job. “Are you going to have a problem with this?”

He gripped his towel a little tighter. “You working for me or chatting about you working for me while I stand here just about naked?”

Her cheeks heated. The reminder that he was naked under one thin towel caused her blood to simmer with anticipation. For another two people that might be ridiculous three years after their divorce, but she and Cain had always had chemistry. Realistically, she knew it wouldn’t simply disappear. After all, it had been strong enough to coax a normally sensible Pennsylvania girl to quit her dream job and follow him to Miami, and strong enough that a typically reclusive entrepreneur had opened up and let her into his life.

“Me working here for you until you hire a new maid.” She motioned around the kitchen. The bronze and tan cut-glass backsplash accented tall cherrywood cabinets and bright stainless-steel appliances. “Is that going to be a problem?”

He glanced at the ceramic tile floor then back up at her. “I’ve gotta be honest, Liz. It does make me feel uncomfortable.”

“Why? You’re not supposed to be here when I am. In fact, I was told you’re usually at the office by eight. It’s a fluke that we’ve even run into each other. And I need this job!”

“Which is exactly why I feel bad.”

That changed her blood from simmering with chemistry to boiling with fury. “You feel sorry for me?”

He winced. “Not sorry, per se—”

“Then sorry, per what?” But as the words tumbled out of her mouth she realized what was going on. Three steps got her to the big center island of his kitchen. “You think I fell apart when our marriage did and now I can only get a job as a maid?”

“Well—”

Three more steps had her standing in front of him. “Honey, I own this company. I am the original Happy Maid.”

She was tall enough that she only had to tilt her head slightly to catch his gaze, but when she did she regretted it. His dark eyes told her their closeness had resurrected their chemistry for him, too. Heat and need tightened her insides. Her breathing stuttered out of her chest. The faint scent of soap she’d sniffed while at the door hit her full force bringing back wonderful, painful memories.

He stepped away and broke eye contact. “Nice try.”

“Call your personal assistant.” When her voice came out as a breathy whisper, Liz paused and gulped some air to strengthen it. “I’m the one she dealt with. I signed the contract.”

“If you’re the owner, why are you cleaning my house?” He stopped. His sharp black eyes narrowed. “You’re spying.”

“On you? Really? After three years?” She huffed out a sound of disgust and turned away, then whirled to face him again. “You have got to be the most vain man in the world! I was hired through your assistant. She didn’t give me your name. She hired me to clean the house of the CEO of Cain Corporation. I never associated you with Cain Corporation. Last I heard your company name was Nestor Construction.”

“Nestor Construction is a wholly owned subsidiary of Cain Corporation.”

“Fantastic.” She pivoted and walked back to the center island. “Here’s the deal. I have six employees and enough work for seven. But I can’t hire the people I need and work exclusively in the office until I get enough work for eight.” She also wouldn’t tell him that she was scrambling to employ every woman from A Friend Indeed, a charity that provided temporary housing for women who needed a second chance. He didn’t understand charities. He most certainly didn’t understand second chances.

“Then my profit margins will allow me to take a salary while I spend my days marketing the business and the expansions I have planned.”

“Expansions?”

“I’m getting into gardening and pool cleaning.” She combed her fingers through the loose hair that had escaped the knot at her nape. “Down the road. Right now, I’m on the cusp with the maid service. I seriously need thirty more clients.”

He whistled.

“It’s not such a stretch in a city like Miami!”

“I’m not whistling at the difficulty. I’m impressed. When did you get into this?”

She hesitated then wondered why. It shouldn’t matter. “Three years ago.”

“You decided to start a company after we divorced?”

She raised her chin. She would not allow him to make her feel bad for her choices. “No. I took a few cleaning jobs to support myself when I moved out and it sort of blossomed.”

“I offered you alimony.”

“I didn’t want it.” Squaring her shoulders, she caught his gaze. Mistake. She’d always imagined that if she ever saw him again, their conversation would focus on why she’d left him without a word of explanation. Instead the floodgates of their chemistry had been opened, and she’d bet her last cent neither one of them was thinking about their disagreements. The look in his dark eyes brought to mind memories of satin sheets and days spent in bed.

“In a year I had enough work for myself and another maid full-time. In six more months I had four employees. I stayed level like that until I hit a boom again and added two employees. That’s when I realized I could turn this business into something great.”

“Okay, then.”

“Okay?”

“I get it. I know what it’s like to have a big idea and want to succeed.” He turned away. “And as you said, our paths won’t cross.”

“So this is really okay?”

“Yeah. It’s okay.” He faced her again with a wince. “You wouldn’t happen to be doing laundry first, would you?”

“Why?”

“I sort of made fifty percent of my underwear pink.”

She laughed, and visions of other times, other laughter, assailed her and she felt as if she were caught in a time warp. Their marriage had ended so badly she’d forgotten the good times and now suddenly here they were all at the forefront of her mind. But that was wrong. Six years and buckets of tears had passed since the “good times” that nudged them to get married the week they’d accompanied friends to Vegas for their elopement. Only a few weeks after their hasty wedding, those good times became few and far between. By the time she left him they were nonexistent.

And now she was his maid.

“Is the other fifty percent in a basket somewhere?”

“Yes.” He hooked a thumb behind him. “Laundry room.”

“Do you have about an hour’s worth of work you can do while you wait?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll go to your office or study or to your bedroom to do that.”

“I have an office in the back.”

“Great. I’ll get on the laundry.”

A little over an hour later, Cain pulled his Porsche into the parking space in front of the office building he owned. He jumped out, marched into the lobby and headed for the private elevator in the back. He rode it to the top floor, where it opened onto his huge office.

“Ava!”

He strode to his desk, dropping his briefcase on the small round conference table as he passed it. He’d managed not to think about Liz as she moved around his home, vacuuming while the washing machine ran, then the dryer. To her credit, she hadn’t saunteered into his office and dumped a clean pair of tidy-whities on the document he was reviewing. She’d simply stepped into the room, announced that the laundry had been folded and now sat on his bed. But it was seeing the tidy stack on his black satin bedspread that caused unwanted emotions to tumble through him.

When they were married she’d insisted on doing laundry. She hadn’t wanted a maid. She had stayed home and taken care of him.

As he’d stared at the neat pile, the years had slid away. Feelings he’d managed to bury had risen up like lava. She’d adored him and he’d worshipped her. He hadn’t slept with a woman before her or one since who had made him feel what Liz could. And now she was in his house again.

Which was wrong. Absolutely, totally and completely wrong. For a woman who’d adored him and a man who’d worshipped her, they’d hurt each other beyond belief in the last year of their marriage. She hadn’t even left a note when she’d gone. Her attorney had contacted him. She hadn’t wanted his money, hadn’t wanted to say goodbye. She simply wanted to be away from him, and he had been relieved when she left. It was wrong—wrong, wrong, wrong—for them to even be in the same room! He couldn’t believe he’d agreed to this, but being nearly naked had definitely thrown him off his game.

Underwear in his possession, he had dressed quickly, thinking he’d have to sneak out, wondering if it would be prudent to have Ava call her and ask her to assign another of her employees to his house. But as she promised, she was nowhere to be seen when he left.

“Just a bit curious, Ava,” he said when his short, slightly chubby, fifty-something-assis-tant stepped into his office. “Why’d you choose Happy Maids?”

She didn’t bat an eye. “They come highly recommended and they’re taking new clients.” She peered at him over the rim of her black frame glasses. “Do you know how hard it is to get a good maid in Miami?”

“Apparently very hard or I’d have one right now.”

“I’ve been handling my end. It’s you who—” Her face froze. “Oh.” Her eyes squeezed shut. “You were there when the maid arrived, weren’t you?”

“Naked, in a towel, coming out of my laundry room.”

She pressed her hand to her chest. “I’m so sorry.”

He studied her face for signs that she knew Liz was his ex-wife, but her blue eyes were as innocent as a kitten’s.

“I should have realized that you’d sleep late after four days of traveling.” She sank to the sofa just inside the door. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No. Seriously. I am sorry. I know how you hate dealing with people.” She bounced off the sofa and scampered to the desk. “But let’s not dwell on it. It’s over and it will never happen again.” Changing the subject, she pointed at the mail on his desk. “This stack is the mail from the week. This stack is the messages I pulled off voice mail for you. This stack is messages I took for you. People I talked to.” She looked up and smiled. “And I’ll call the maid and tell her not to come until after nine next week.”

“She’s fine.” She was. Now that his emotions were under control again, logic had kicked in. The fact that she wasn’t around when he left the house that morning proved she didn’t want to see him any more than he wanted to see her. If there was one thing he knew about Liz, it was that she was honest. If she said he’d never see her, she’d do everything in her power to make it so. That, at least, hadn’t changed. Though she was the one to leave, the disintegration of their marriage had been his fault. He didn’t want to upset her over a non-problem. He’d upset her enough in one lifetime.

“No. No. Let me call,” Ava chirped happily. “I know that you don’t like to run into people. You don’t like to deal with people at all. That’s my job, remember?”

“I can handle one maid.”

Her expression skewed into one of total confusion. “Really?”

The skepticism in her voice almost made him want to ask her why she’d question that. But she was right. Her job was to keep little things away from him. Not necessarily people, but nitpicky tasks. It was probably a mistake that she’d said people. But whatever the reason she’d said it, it was irrelevant.

“I won’t have to deal with her. I’ll be out of my house by seven-thirty next week. It won’t be a problem.”

“Okay.” She nodded eagerly, then all but ran from the room.

As Cain sank into his office chair, he frowned, Ava’s words ringing in his head. Had it been a mistake when she said she knew he didn’t like dealing with people or was he really that hard to get along with?

Once again, irrelevant. He got along just fine with the people he needed to get along with.

He reached for the stack of mail. All of it had been opened by Ava and sorted according to which of his three companies it pertained to. He read documents, correspondence and bids for upcoming projects, until he came to an envelope that hadn’t been opened.

He twisted it until he could read the return address and he understood why. It was from his parents. His birthday had come and gone that week. Of course, his parents hadn’t forgotten. Probably his sister hadn’t, either. But he had.

He grabbed his letter opener, slit the seal and pulled out four inches of bubble wrap that protected a framed picture. Unwinding the bubble wrap—his dad always went a bit overboard—he exposed the picture and went still.

The family photo.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbed his hand across his chin.

The sticky note attached to the frame said, Thought you might like this for your desk. Happy birthday.

He tried to simply put it back in the envelope, but couldn’t. His eyes were drawn to the people posing so happily.

His parents were dressed in their Sunday best. His sister wore an outfit that looked like she’d gotten it from somebody’s trash—and considering that she’d been sixteen at the time, he suspected she might have. Cain wore a suit as did his brother, Tom, his hand on Cain’s shoulder.

“If you get into trouble,” Tom had said a million times, “you call me first. Not Mom and Dad. I’ll get you out of it, then we’ll break the news to the wardens.”

Cain sniffed a laugh. Tom had always called their parents the wardens. Or the guards. Their parents were incredibly kind, open-minded people, but Tom loved to make jokes. Play with words. He’d had the type of sense of humor that made him popular no matter where he went.

Cain returned the picture to its envelope. He knew what his dad was really saying when he suggested Cain put the picture on his desk. Six years had gone by. It was time to move on. To remember in a good way, not sadly, that his older brother, the kindest, funniest, smartest of the Nestors, had been killed three days before his own wedding, only three weeks after Cain and Liz had eloped.

But he wasn’t ready.

He might never be.

Chapter Two

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” Carrying boxes of groceries up the walk to the entrance of one of the homes owned by A Friend Indeed, Ellie “Magic” Swanson turned to face Liz. Her amber-colored eyes were as round as two full moons.

“Nope. My first client of the day was my ex-husband.”

She hadn’t meant to tell Ellie about Cain, but it had slipped out, the way things always seemed to slip out with Ellie. She was a sweet, smart, eager twenty-two-year-old who had gotten involved with the wrong man and desperately needed a break in life. Liz had given her a job only to discover that it was Liz who benefited from the relationship more than Ellie did. Desperate for a second chance, Ellie had become an invaluable employee. Which is why Liz didn’t merely provide cleaning services and grocery delivery services for A Friend Indeed, she also tried to give a job to every woman staying at the shelter homes who wanted one. She firmly believed in second chances.

Ellie shouldered open the back door, revealing the outdated but neat and clean kitchen. “How can that happen?”

“His assistant, Ava, hired us to clean the house of the CEO of Cain Corporation.”

“And you didn’t know your ex-husband was CEO of Cain Corporation?”

Liz set her box of groceries on the counter. “When we were married he only owned Nestor Construction. Apparently in three years he’s branched out. Moved to a bigger house, too.” In some ways it hurt that he’d sold the beach house they’d shared, but in others it didn’t surprise her. He’d been so lost, so despondent after the death of his brother, that he’d thrown even more of into his work than before. The much larger house on the beach had probably been a reward for reaching a goal.

Ellie walked out of the pantry where she had begun storing canned goods, her beautiful face set in firm lines and her long blond curls bouncing. “I’ll take his house next week.”

“Are you kidding? He’ll think I didn’t come back because I was intimidated.” She pointed her thumb at her chest. “I’m going. Besides, I have something else for you.” She opened her shoulder-strap purse and rifled through its contents. After finding the employment application of a young woman, Rita, whom she’d interviewed the night before, she handed it to Ellie.

“What do you think?”

“Looks okay to me.” She glanced up. “You checked her references?”

“Yes. But she’s staying at one of our Friend Indeed houses. I thought you might know her.”

Ellie shook her head. “No.”

“Well, you’ll be getting to know her next week. As soon as we’re through here, we’ll drop by the house she and her kids are using and tell her she’s got the job and that she’ll be working with you.”

“You want me to train her?”

“My goal is to get myself out of the field and into the office permanently.” Such as it was. The desk and chairs were secondhand. The air-conditioning rarely worked. The tile on the floor needed replacing. The only nice features of the crowded room were the bright yellow paint on the walls and the yellow-and-black area rug she’d found to cover most of the floor. But she was much better off than the women who came to A Friend Indeed, and working with them kept her grounded, appreciative of what she had, how far she’d come. It wasn’t so long ago that her mom had run from her abusive father with her and her sisters. The second chance they’d found because of a shelter had changed the course of not just her mom’s life, but also her life and her sisters’.

“To do that, I have to start teaching you to be my new second in command.”

Pulling canned goods from the box on the counter, Ellie glanced up again.

Liz smiled. “The promotion comes with a raise.”

Ellie’s mouth fell open and she dropped the cans before racing to Liz to hug her. “I will do the best job of anybody you’ve ever seen!”

“I know you will.”

“And seriously, I’ll take your ex-husband’s house.”

“I’m fine. My husband wasn’t abusive, remember? Simply distant and upset about his brother’s death.” She shrugged. “Besides, our paths won’t cross. We’ll be fine.”

Liz reassured Ellie, but she wasn’t a hundred percent certain it was true. Though she and Cain wouldn’t run into each other, she’d be touching his things, seeing bits and pieces of his life, opening old wounds. But she needed the job. A recommendation from Cain or his assistant could go a long way to getting the additional clients she needed. She wanted to expand. She wanted to be able to employ every woman who needed a second chance. To do that, she had to get more business.

Liz and Ellie finished storing the groceries and made a quick sweep through the house to be sure it was clean. A new family would be arriving later that afternoon to spend a few weeks regrouping before they moved on to a new life.

Satisfied that the house was ready for its new occupants, Liz led Ellie through the garage to the Happy Maids vehicle. The walk through the downstairs to the garage reminded her that she was content, happy with her life. She was smarter now and more confident than she had been when she was married. Surely she could handle being on the periphery of Cain’s life.

The following Friday morning when it was time to clean Cain’s house again, she sat in the bright yellow Happy Maids car a few houses down from Cain’s, telling herself it wouldn’t matter what she found. If the cupboards were bare, she wouldn’t worry about whether or not he was eating. She would assume he was dining out. If his mail sat unopened, she’d dust around it. Even if there were lace panties between the sheets, she would not care.

Fortified, she waited until he pulled his gorgeous black Porsche out of his driveway and headed in the other direction. But just as their encounter the week before had brought back memories of happier times, see-ing him in the Porsche reminded her of their rides along the ocean. With the convertible top down. The wind whipping her hair in all directions.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Their marriage had been abysmal. He was a withdrawn workaholic. Though his brother’s death had caused him to stop talking almost completely, she’d seen signs that Cain might not be as involved in their relationship as she was during their six-month courtship. Canceled plans. Meetings that were more important than weekends with her. It had been an impulsive, reckless decision to marry. When she was his girlfriend, he at least tried to make time for her when she visited from Philadelphia. When she became his wife, he didn’t feel the need to do that and she’d been miserably alone. When they actually did have time together, he’d been antsy, obviously thinking about his company and the work he could be doing. He’d never even tried to squeeze her into his life. So why wasn’t she remembering that?

Fortified again, she slid the Happy Maids car into his drive and entered his house. As she’d noticed the week before, there were no personal touches. No pictures. No awards. No memorabilia.

Glancing around, she realized how easy it would be to pretend it was the home of a stranger. Releasing any thought of Cain from her mind and focusing on doing the best possible job for her “client,” she cleaned quickly and efficiently. When she was done, she locked up and left as if this job were any other.

The following week, she decided that her mistake the Friday before had been watching him leave for work, seeing him in “their” beautiful Porsche. So she shifted his house from the first on her list to the second, and knew he was already gone by the time she got there. As she punched that week’s code into the alarm to disable it and unlocked the kitchen door, she once again blanked her mind of any thought of Cain, pretending this was the house of a stranger.

Tossing the first load of laundry into the washer, she thought she heard a noise. She stopped, listened, but didn’t hear it again. She returned to the kitchen and didn’t hear any more noise, but something felt off. She told herself she was imagining things, stacked dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on.

She spent the next hour cleaning the downstairs in between trips to the laundry room. When the laundry was folded, she walked up the cherrywood staircase to the second floor. Humming a bit, happy with how well she was managing to keep her focus off the house’s owner, she shouldered open the master bedroom door and gasped.

Damn.

“Who is it?”

The scratchy voice that came from the bed didn’t sound like Cain’s at all. But even in the dim light of his room, she could see it was him.

“It’s me. Liz. Cleaning your house.”

“Liz?”

His weak voice panicked her and she set the stack of clean laundry on the mirrored vanity and raced to the bed. His dark hair was soaked with sweat and spiked out in all directions. Black stubble covered his chin and cheeks.

“My wife, Liz?” he asked groggily.

“Ex-wife.” She pressed her hand to his forehead. “You’re burning up!”

Not waiting for a reply, she rushed into the master bathroom and searched through the drawers of the cherrywood vanity of the double sinks looking for something that might help him. Among the various toiletries, she eventually found some aspirin. She ran tap water into the glass and raced back to the bed.

Handing two aspirin and the water to him, she said, “Here.”

He took the pills, but didn’t say anything. As he passed the water glass back to her, he caught her gaze. His dark eyes were shiny from the effects of the fever, so she wasn’t surprised when he lay down and immediately drifted off to sleep again.

She took the glass downstairs and put it in the sink. Telling herself to forget he was in the bedroom, she finished cleaning but couldn’t leave in good conscience without checking up on him.

When she returned to the bedroom, Cain still slept soundly. She pressed her hand to his forehead again and frowned. Even after the aspirin, he was still burning up and he was so alone that it felt wrong to leave him. She could call his assistant but somehow that didn’t seem right, either. An assistant shouldn’t have to nurse him through the flu.

Technically an ex-wife shouldn’t, either, but with his family at least a thousand miles away in Kansas, she was the lesser of two evils.

Sort of.

Tiptoeing out of the room, she pulled her cell phone from her apron pocket and dialed Ellie.

“Hey, sweetie.” Ellie greeted her, obviously having noted the caller ID.

“Hey, Ellie. Is Rita with you?”

“Sure is. Doing wonderfully I might add.”

“That’s good because I think I need to have her take over my jobs this afternoon.”

“On her own?”

“Is that a problem?”

Ellie’s voice turned unexpectedly professional. “No. She’ll be great.”

“Good.”

“Um, boss, I know where you are, remember? Is there anything going on I should know about?”

“No. I’m fine. I just decided to take the afternoon off.” Liz winced. She hadn’t actually lied. She was taking time off; she simply wasn’t going to do something fun as Ellie suspected.

“No kidding! That’s great.”

“Yeah, so I’ll be out of reach for the rest of the day. Give the other girls a call and instruct them to call you, not me, if they have a problem.”

“On it, boss!” Ellie said, then she laughed. “This is so exciting!”

Liz smiled, glad Ellie was enjoying her new responsibilities. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She closed her cell phone then ambled to the kitchen. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t care if he had food or not, but with him as sick as he was, he had to at least have chicken broth and orange juice. Finding neither, she grabbed her purse and keys and headed to the grocery store where she purchased flu medicine, orange juice, chicken broth and a paperback book.

She put everything but the flu meds and book away, then she grabbed a clean glass from the cupboard and tiptoed upstairs again. He roused when she entered.

“Liz?”

“Yes. I have flu meds. You interested?”

“God, yes.”

“Great. Sit up.”

She poured one dose of the flu meds into the little plastic cup and held it out to him. He swallowed the thick syrup and handed the cup back before lying down again.

As she took the medicine to the bathroom, a bubble of fear rose up in her. Caring for him had the potential to go so wrong. Not because she worried that they’d get involved again. Tomorrow, she would forget all about this, if only because even pondering being involved with him would bring back painful memories.

But she knew Cain. He hated owing people, and if she stayed too long or did too much, he’d think he owed her. When he believed he owed somebody he could be like a dog with a bone. Being beholden made him feel weak. He was never weak. Which made her caring for him when he was sick a double threat. Not only had he been weak, but she’d seen him weak. He’d have to make this up to her.

Of course, with him as sick as he was, she could hope he wouldn’t remember most of this in the morning.

Everything would be fine.

With a peek at the bed to be sure he was asleep, she left the room and went to the Happy Maids car. In the trunk, she found a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. She changed out of her yellow maid uniform in one of the downstairs bathrooms then she took her book and a glass of orange juice into the study. Reclining on the sofa, she made herself comfortable to read.

She checked on him every hour or so. Finding him sleeping soundly every time, she slid out of the room and returned to the study. But just as she was pulling the door closed behind her on the fourth trip, he called out to her.

“Where are you going?”

She eased the door open again and walked over to the bed. “Cain? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He sat up. “Come back to bed.”

Realizing the fever had him hallucinating or mixing up the past and present, she smiled and went into the bathroom to get him some water. She pressed the glass to his lips. “Sip.”

As she held the glass to his mouth, he lifted his hand to the back of her thigh and possessively slid it up to her bottom.

Shock nearly caused her to spill water all over him. She hadn’t even dated since she left him, and the feeling of a man’s hand on her behind was equal parts startling and wonderful.

He smiled up at her. “I’m better.”

Ignoring the enticing warmth spiraling through her, she tried to sound like an impartial nurse when she said, “You’re hallucinating.”

His hand lovingly roamed her bottom as his fever-glazed eyes gazed up at her longingly. “Please. I seriously feel better. Come back to bed.”

His last words were a hoarse whisper that tiptoed into the silent room, the yearning in them like a living thing. She reminded herself that this wasn’t Cain. The Cain she’d married was a cold, distant man. But a little part of her couldn’t help admitting that this was the man she’d always wished he would be. Loving. Eager for her. Happy to be with her.

Which scared her more than the hand on her bottom. Wishing and hoping were what had gotten her into trouble in the first place—why she’d married him that impulsive day in Vegas. On that trip, he’d been so loving, so sweet, so happy that she’d stupidly believed that if they were married, if she didn’t live a thousand miles away, they wouldn’t have to spend the first day of each of their trips getting reacquainted. He’d be comfortable with her. Happy.

And for three weeks they had been. Then his brother had died, forcing him to help his dad run the family business in Kansas through e-mails and teleconference calls, as he also ran Nestor Construction. Their marriage had become one more thing in his life that he had to do. A burden to him.

That’s what she had to remember. She’d become a burden to him.

She pulled away, straightening her shoulders. She wasn’t anybody’s burden. Not ever.

“Go back to sleep.”

She returned to the study and her book, but realized that in her eagerness to get out of the room she’d forgotten to give him another dose of medicine. So she returned to his room and found him sleeping peacefully. Not wanting to disturb him, she took a seat on the chair by the window. The next time he stirred, she’d be there to give him the meds. She opened her book and began to read in the pale light of the lamp behind her.

Cain awakened from what had been the worst night of his life. Spasms of shivers had overtaken him in between bouts of heat so intense his pillow was wet with sweat. He’d thrown up. All his muscles ached. But that wasn’t the half of it. He’d dreamed Liz had taken his temperature, given him medicine and walked him to and from the bathroom.

With a groan, he tossed off the covers and sat up in bed. He didn’t want to remember the feeling of her palm on his forehead, the scent of her that lingered when she had hovered over him or the wave of longing that swept through him just imagining that she was back in his life. He pulled in a breath. How could he dream about a woman who’d left him without a word of explanation? A woman who was in his bed one day and gone without a word the next?

Because he’d been a fool. That’s how. He’d lost her because he was always working, never had time for her, and grieving his brother. No matter how she’d left, he couldn’t blame her. She was innocent of any wrongdoing…and that was why he still wanted her.

As his eyes adjusted, he noticed soft light spilling toward him from across the room. He must have left the bathroom light on. He looked to the left and saw Liz watching him from his reading chair.

He licked his dry lips. She was so beautiful. Silhouetted in the pale light from the bathroom, she looked ethereal. Her long black hair floated around her, accenting her smooth, perfect alabaster skin. She wore sweatpants and a tank top, and he realized she’d turned off the air-conditioning. Probably because of his shivering.

Still, her being in his bedroom didn’t make sense. They’d divorced three years ago.

“Why are you here?” he demanded. “How are you here?”

“I’m your maid, remember?”

“My maid?”

“Your assistant hired Happy Maids to clean your house once a week—”

He closed his eyes and lay down again, as it all came back to him. “Yeah. I remember.”

“You were pretty sick when I got here Friday morning.”

“Friday morning?” He sat up again and then groaned when his stiff muscles protested. “What day is it?”

“Relax. It’s early Saturday morning.”

He peered over. “You’ve been here all night?”

She inclined her head. “You were very sick. I didn’t feel comfortable leaving you.”

He fell back to the pillow. “Honest Liz.”

“That’s why hundreds of people let me and my company into their homes every week to clean. My reputation precedes me.”

He could hear the smile in her voice and fought a wave of nostalgia. “I guess thanks are in order.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And I probably owe you an apology for fondling your butt.”

“Oh, so you remember that?”

This time she laughed. The soft sound drifted to him, smoothed over him, made him long for everything he’d had and lost.

Which made him feel foolish, stupid, weak. She was gone. He had lost her. He could take total blame. But he refused to let any mistake make him weak.

“You know what? I appreciate all the help you’ve given me, but I think I can handle things from here on out.”

“You’re kicking me out?”

“I’m not kicking you out. I’m granting you a pardon. Consider this a get-out-of-jail-free card.”

“Okay.” She rose from the chair. Book under her arm, she headed for the door. But she stopped and glanced back at him. “You’re sure?”

He’d expect nothing less from her than absolute selflessness. Which made him feel like an absolute creep. He tried to cover that with a smile so she wouldn’t even have a hint of how hard just seeing her was for him. “I’m positive. I feel terrific.”

“Okay.”

With that she opened the door and slipped out. When the door closed behind her, he hung his head. It had been an accident of fate that he’d gotten the flu the very day she was here to clean his house. But he wasn’t an idiot. His reaction to her proved that having her back in his life—even as a temporary employee—wasn’t going to work. The weeks it took Ava to find a permanent maid would be filled with a barrage of memories that would overwhelm him with intense sadness one minute and yearning for what might have been the next.

He should get rid of her. That’s what his common sense was telling him to do. But in his heart he knew he owed her. For more than just staying with him while he was sick. He should have never talked her into marrying him.

Chapter Three

IT WAS FIVE O’CLOCK when Liz finally fell into bed. Ellie called her around eleven, reminding her that they were taking Amanda Gray and her children, the family who had moved into the Friend Indeed house the weekend before, to the beach.

She slogged out from under the covers and woke herself up in the shower. She pulled a pair of shorts and a navy-blue-and-white striped T-shirt over her white bikini, and drove to Amanda’s temporary house. Ellie’s little blue car was already in the driveway. She pushed out into the hot Miami day and walked around back to the kitchen door.

“Mrs. Harper!” Amanda’s three-year-old daughter Joy bounced with happiness as Liz entered and she froze.

Liz had been part of the welcoming committee when Amanda and her children had arrived at the house, but until this very second she hadn’t made the connection that Joy was about the age her child would have been.

Her child.

Her heart splintered. She should have a child right now. But she didn’t. She’d lost her baby. Lost her marriage. Lost everything in what seemed like the blink of an eye.

Swallowing hard, she got rid of the lump in her throat. The barrage of self-pity that assailed her wasn’t just unexpected; it was unwanted. She knew spending so much time with Cain had caused her to make the connection between her baby and Joy. But that didn’t mean she had to wallow in it. Her miscarriage had been three years ago. She’d had therapy. She might long for that child with every fiber of her being, but, out of necessity, she’d moved on.

Amanda, a tall redhead with big blue eyes, corrected her daughter. “It’s Ms. Harper, not Mrs.”

“That’s okay,” Liz said walking into the kitchen, knowing she had to push through this. If she was going to work in the same city as her ex, she might not be able to avoid him. She most definitely couldn’t avoid all children the same age her child would have been. Being in contact with both might be a new phase of her recovery.

She could handle this. She would handle this.

“Smells great in here.”

“I made French toast,” Ellie said, standing at the stove. “Want some?”

“No. We’re late.” She peeked into the picnic basket she’d instructed Ellie to bring. “When we get to the beach, I’ll just eat some of the fruit you packed.”

“Okay.” Ellie removed her apron and hung it in the pantry. “Then we’re ready to go.”

Amanda turned to the hall. “I’ll get Billy.”

Billy was a sixteen-year-old who deserted them the second the two cars they drove to the beach stopped in the public parking lot. Obviously expecting his desertion, Amanda waved at his back as he ran to a crowd of kids his own age playing volleyball.

Amanda, Ellie and Liz spent the next hours building a sand castle with Joy who was thrilled with all the attention. Around four o’clock, Ellie and Amanda left the sand to set up a picnic under their umbrella.

Joy smiled up at Liz. “Do you like sand?”

She gazed down at the adorable cherub. The wind tossed her thin blond locks. Her blue eyes sparkled. Now that Liz was over the shock of realizing Joy and her baby would have been close to the same age, she felt normal again. Strong. Accepting of that particular sadness in her life. That was the difference between her and Cain. She’d dealt with her loss. She hadn’t let it turn her into someone who couldn’t connect with people.

“I love the beach. I’m happy to have someone to share it with.”

Joy nodded enthusiastically. “Me, too!”

They ate the sandwiches and fruit Ellie had packed for dinner, then Joy fell asleep under the umbrella. Obviously relaxed and happy, Amanda lay beside her daughter and closed her eyes, too.

“So what did you do yesterday?” Ellie singsonged in the voice that told Liz she knew something out of the ordinary had happened the day before.

Liz peered over at Ellie. Did the woman have a sixth sense about everything? “Not much.”

“Oh, come on. You never take a day off. I know something happened.”

Liz grabbed the bottle of sunscreen and put her attention to applying it. Knowing Ellie wouldn’t let her alone unless she told her something, she said, “I was taking care of a sick friend.”

Ellie nudged her playfully. “So? Who was this friend?”

“Just a friend.”

“A man!”

“I said nothing about a man.”

Ellie laughed. “You didn’t need to. The fact that you won’t give me a name or elaborate proves I’m right.”

How could she argue with that?

Ellie squeezed her shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Ellie laughed gaily. “Let’s see. You not only took a day off, but you were with a man and I’m not supposed to make a big deal out of it?”

“No, you’re not. Because I’m never going to see him again.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know.”

“Okay, then.” Ellie closed her eyes and her face scrunched comically.

“What are you doing?”

“Wishing that you’d see him again.”

“You might not want to do that.”

“Oh, I think I do.”

“The man was my ex.”

Ellie’s eyes popped open. “Oh, Liz! Damn it.

You should have told me that before I wished. You know how powerful my wishes can be.”

“That’s why I told you now. You need to take it back.”

“I can’t.”

“Yeah, well, you’d better or you’re going to break your record of wishes granted. Because I’m not going to see him again.”

Stupidly, that made her sad. She’d loved Cain with her whole heart and soul, but his brother had died and he’d gone into his shell. She’d tried to hang in there with him, to be there when he reached the point that he could work through his pain and withdrawal, but he never had. And then one day she realized she was pregnant. She knew in her heart that Cain wasn’t ready for a child, so she’d waited a few weeks, hoping that if she were further along the pregnancy would seem more real to him. Maybe even be a cause for joy.

But she’d miscarried before she’d had a chance to tell him and suddenly she was the one unable to function. She knew she needed help. At the very least she needed someone to talk to. She couldn’t talk to Cain. She wouldn’t have been able to handle it if he had dismissed the loss of the little life so precious to her. So she’d gone. Their marriage had been in shambles anyway. The miscarriage simply pointed out what she already knew. Cain wasn’t emotionally available.

Ending their marriage had been the right thing to do. She’d gotten therapy, moved on and made a wonderful life for herself.

And he’d moved on. Achieved the success he’d always wanted.

There was nothing to be sad about.

She spent most of the rest of the day in the ocean with Joy, until all thoughts of her miscarriage and her ex-husband had receded. Through the week, occasionally something would remind her of her short pregnancy or her doomed marriage, but she ruthlessly squelched the urge to feel sorry for herself until by Friday, she didn’t have a second thought about going to Cain’s house to clean. The past was the past. She’d moved on, into the future.

Assuming he’d already gone to work, Liz simply pulled the Happy Maids car into his driveway, bounced out and let herself into his kitchen.

But when she turned from pulling her key from the door, she saw Cain standing over a tall stack of waffles.

“Good morning.”

She froze.

They weren’t supposed to run into each other. That was why she thought she could keep this job. But three of her four cleaning trips to his house, he’d been home. Without even knowing it, he’d dredged up memories that she’d had to deal with. Emotions she’d thought long dead. Now here he was again.

Still, she wouldn’t make an argument of it. She could say a few words of casual conversation, as she walked to the door on the other side of the kitchen and slipped out of the room to clean another section of the house.

“You must be really hungry.”

He laughed. “I am. But these are for you.” He shrugged. “A thank-you for helping me last weekend.”

She froze. She should have expected this. She had expected this. She knew he hated owing anyone.

She sucked in a quiet breath. Not only did she not want to spend time with him, but she hadn’t eaten waffles since their fateful trip to Vegas. Mostly because she didn’t want to remember that wonderful time. That Cain wasn’t the real Cain. Neither was this guy who’d made her waffles. He didn’t want to thank her as much as he felt guilty that she’d helped him the week before and wouldn’t let that “debt” go unpaid.

“That’s not necessary.”

“I know it’s not necessary, but I want to thank you.”

“You did thank me. The words are enough.”

He sighed. “Just sit down and have a waffle.”

“No!” Because the single word came out so angrily, she smiled to soften it. “Thanks, but no.”

Their gazes held for a few seconds. She read the confusion in his dark eyes. He didn’t understand why she wouldn’t eat breakfast with him. They’d been so happy the one and only time they’d had waffles together. And maybe that’s why he’d chosen them?

Regret rose up in her, but regret was a foolish emotion. She couldn’t change who he was. She couldn’t change the fact that she’d lost their child. And she refused to be pulled into believing the nice side of him was in control. That would only lead to more heartache. Neither one of them wanted that.

She turned and walked away. “I’ll get started upstairs while you eat.”

Cain pretended her refusal to eat his thank-you waffles hadn’t bothered him. Being incredibly busy at work, it was easy to block out the memory. But Saturday morning he took his boat out, and alone on the water with nothing to keep him company but his thoughts, he was miserable.

Liz was without a doubt the kindest woman in the world and he had hurt her. He’d hurt her enough that she couldn’t even force herself to be polite and eat breakfast with him.

When she’d left him three years before, he’d experienced a bit of remorse, but mostly he was relieved. He’d quickly buried both emotions under work—as he always did. But sitting on the ocean, with the sun on his face and the truth stirring his soul, he knew he had to make it up to her. All of it. The quick marriage, the horrible three years together, the bitter divorce and probably the pain she’d suffered afterward.

He owed her. And he hated owing anyone. But her refusal had shown him that she didn’t want a grand gesture. Hell, she didn’t want any gesture at all. Still, he needed to ease his own conscience by doing something for her. And he would. He simply wouldn’t let her know he was doing it.

On Sunday morning, he got her phone number from Ava and tried calling her. He needed no more than a ten-minute conversation with her. He was very, very good at figuring out what people wanted or needed. That was part of what had made him so successful at negotiating. In ten minutes, he could figure out what anyone wanted or needed and then he could use that knowledge to negotiate for what he wanted. The situation with Liz was no different. He wanted to ease his conscience and could do that by simply finding a need and filling it for her. Anonymously, of course. Then his conscience would be clear. He could fall out of her life again, and they both could go back to the new lives they’d created without each other.

His call went directly to voice mail, so he tried calling her on Monday morning. That call also went to voice mail. Not wanting to make a fool of himself by leaving a hundred unanswered messages, he waited for Friday to roll around. She might not take his calls, she might not have eaten the breakfast he’d prepared the week before, but she couldn’t avoid him in his own house if he really wanted to talk to her.

And he did. In only a few minutes, he could ascertain what was important to her, get it and ease his conscience. If he had to follow her around while she dusted, he would.

Realizing she might not enter if she saw he was still home, Cain stayed out of sight until he heard the bip, bip, bip of his alarm being disabled. He waited to hear the back door open and close, then he stepped into the kitchen.

“Liz.”

The woman in the yellow maid’s apron turned. “Mr. Nestor?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Well, if that didn’t take the cake! Not only had she refused his thank-you waffles and ignored his calls, but now she’d sent someone else to clean his house?

He sucked in a breath to control his temper so he could apologize again to Liz’s employee, then he drove to his office. He was done with pussyfooting around. Now, she’d deal with him on his terms.

He kept the five o’clock space on his calendar open assuming she and her employees met back at her office for some sort of debriefing at the end of the work week. At the very least, to get their weekly paychecks. Ava gave him the business address she’d gotten for Happy Maids and he jumped into his black Porsche.

With traffic, the drive took forty minutes, not the twenty he’d planned on. By the time he arrived at the office building housing Happy Maids, he saw a line of women in yellow aprons exiting. He quickly found a parking place for his car, but even before he could shut off his engine, Liz whizzed by him in an ugly green car.

Damn it!

Yanking on the Porsche’s gearshift, he roared out of the parking space. He wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea to follow Liz home. She might take that as an invasion of privacy, but right at this moment, with the memory of her refusal to eat his waffles ringing in his head, and his embarrassment when he realized she’d given the job of cleaning his house to one of her employees adding fuel to the fire, he didn’t give a damn.

He wanted to get this off his conscience and all he needed were ten minutes. But she wouldn’t even give him ten minutes. So he’d have to take them. He wasn’t sure how he’d explain his presence at her door, but he suddenly realized he had the perfect topic of conversation. He could calmly, kindly, ask her why she’d left their marriage without a word. Three years had gone by. The subject wasn’t touchy anymore. At least not for him. He knew why she’d left. He’d been a lousy husband. This should be something she’d want to discuss. To get off her chest.

He wouldn’t be mean. He’d say the words women loved to hear. That he wanted to talk. To clean their slate. For closure. So they could both move on completely. Actually, what he was doing was giving her a chance to vent. She’d probably be thrilled for it.

He grinned. He was a genius. Mostly because Liz was the kind of woman she was. She didn’t rant and rail. Or even get angry. She’d probably quietly tell him that she’d left him because he had been a nightmare to live with, and he would humbly agree, not argue, showing her he really did want closure. All the while he’d be processing her house, looking for clues of what mattered to her, what she needed. So he could get it for her and wipe this off his conscience.

He wove in and out of traffic two car lengths behind her, not surprised when she drove to one of Miami’s lower-middle-class neighborhoods. She identified with blue-collar people. Which was one of the reasons their marriage had been so stressful. She’d been afraid to come out of her shell. Afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing with his wealthy friends. Afraid, even, to plan their own parties.

She pulled her car onto the driveway of a modest home and jumped out. As she ducked into the one-car garage and disappeared, he drove in behind her.

He took a second to catch his breath and organize his thoughts. First he would apologize for being presumptuous when he made the waffles for her. Then he’d give her the spiel about wanting a clean slate—which, now that he thought about it, was true. He was here to help them move on. Then he’d do what he did best. He’d observe her surroundings, really listen to what she said and figure out what he could do for her.

Taking a few measured breaths, he got out of his car and started up the cracked cement sidewalk. He was amazingly calm by the time a little girl of about three answered the door after he rang the bell.

“Mom!” she screamed, turning and running back into the dark foyer. “It’s a stranger!”

Cain blinked. His mouth fell open. Then his entire body froze in fear. Liz had a child? A child old enough to be…well, his?

Oh, dear God. That would explain why she’d left without a word. Why she’d avoided him—

Liz and a red-haired woman Cain didn’t recognize raced into the hall leading to the foyer. The red-haired woman pushed the little girl behind her in a move that very obviously said this was her child, not Liz’s.

Chastising his overactive imagination, Cain forced his breathing back to normal but it wasn’t so easy to get his heart rate off red alert.

And Liz still barreled up the hall, looking ready for a fight. She was only a few feet in front of him before she recognized him.

“Oh. It’s you.” Sighing heavily, she turned to the redhead. “This is my ex-husband, Cain.”

Still coming down from the shock of thinking he was a dad, he quickly said, “I’m here to apologize about the waffles last week.”

“Apology accepted. Now leave.”

Wow. She was a lot quicker on her feet than he’d remembered. “No. I can’t. I mean, you didn’t have to send another employee to clean my house today.” Embarrassment twisted his tongue. He wasn’t saying any of this well. Where was the control that helped him schmooze bankers, sweet-talk union reps and haggle with suppliers?

Gone. That’s where. Because Liz wasn’t a banker, union rep or supplier. She was a normal person. His ex-wife. Now he understood Ava’s comments the day he’d discovered Liz was his temporary maid. He wasn’t good at ordinary conversation with ordinary people. Business was his element. That was why he didn’t have a personal life.

Still, he needed to talk to her.

He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “Could you give me ten minutes?”

“For what?”

He smiled as charmingly as he could, deciding to pretend this was a business conversation so he’d get some of his control back. “Ten minutes, Liz. That’s all I want.”

Liz sighed and glanced at the woman beside her.

She shrugged. “You could go outside to the patio.”

Cain blanched. “This isn’t your house?”

“No.”

He squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment, then addressed the redhead. “I’m sorry. Ms.—”

“It’s Amanda.” She shrugged. “And don’t worry about it. It’s not really my house, either.”

“Then whose house is it?”

Liz motioned for him to follow her down the hall and into the kitchen. “I’ll explain on the patio.”

The little girl with the big blue eyes also followed them to the sliding glass door. Liz stopped short of exiting, stooping to the toddler’s level. “Joy, you stay with your mom, okay?”

Grinning shyly, Joy nodded.

Liz smiled and hugged her fiercely, before she rose. Something odd bubbled up inside Cain, something he’d never once considered while they were married. Liz would make a wonderful mom. He’d known she’d wanted children, but after his brother’s death, they’d never again discussed it. Was that why she’d left him without a word? And if it was—if what meant the most to her was having a child—how could he possibly make that up to her?

Without looking at him she said, “This way.”

She led him to a small stone patio with an inexpensive umbrella-covered table. There was no pool, no outdoor kitchen. Just a tiny gas grill.

She sat at the table and he did the same. “Whose house is this?”

“It’s owned by a charity.” Lowering her voice to a whisper, she leaned in closer so he could hear her. “Look, Cain, I really can’t tell you much, except this house belongs to a charity for women who need a second chance. They stay at houses like this until they can get on their feet.”

Cain didn’t have to work hard to read between the lines of what she’d said. He frowned. “She’s been abused?”

Liz shushed him with a wave of her hand and whispered, “Yes.” Lowering her voice even more she added, “Look, we don’t like talking about this when we’re with the clients. We’re trying to establish them as any other member of their community. Not someone being supported by a charity. We want them to think of us as friends, not benefactors.”

Following her direction to keep the conversation more private, Cain leaned closer to Liz. The light scent of her shampoo drifted over to him. The smoothness of her skin called him to touch. Memories tripped over themselves in his brain until he remembered this was how she’d been the day he’d met her on the plane. Sweet. Kind. Shy. Reluctant to talk. He’d had to draw her out even to get her to tell him the simplest things about herself.

That day he hadn’t been bad at normal conversation. He’d wanted to sleep with her enough that he’d pushed beyond his inability to chitchat.

He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. That was a bad connection to make with her sitting so close, smelling like heaven, while his own blood vibrated through his veins with recognition that this woman had once been his.

He cleared his throat. “So, this is a charity?”

“Yes.” She winced.

He glanced around, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“Happy Maids donates housecleaning services when one of the Friend Indeed houses becomes vacant. I also stock the cupboards with groceries and cleaning supplies. I’m part of the committee that welcomes a woman to her new house and stays in her life to help her acclimate.”

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