Maid for the Millionaire. SUSAN MEIER
“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
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