Susan Carlisle - One Summer At The Lake - Maid for Montero / Still the One / Hot-Shot Doc Comes to Town

‘Surely there is someone more suitable who could take care of these children?’ He scanned her up and down and shook his head.

‘My sister was my only family and Dan didn’t have any family. It’s me or social services.’ She’d do what it took to stop that happening. The children would enjoy the sort of childhood she’d had…It was far too short as it was.

Zoe closed her eyes, remembering Laura’s face the day she met Dan, and swallowed, concentrating on the anger, not the pain, as the same old question followed—why? Why Laura of all people in the world? Why did it have to be her?

He eyed her beautiful face cynically. ‘I am assuming that housekeeping was not a career choice for you.’

Zoe moistened her lips, trying to decide what the right answer to this question was. In the end she kept it simple and honest.

‘I never really knew what I wanted to do with my life.’

There had never seemed any hurry to make up her mind. She liked to travel; she liked new experiences and meeting new people.

Well, now it was her turn to step up to the mark and, yes, she would beg and be tearfully grateful to this awful man. She would grovel if necessary, even if it killed her. She would do whatever it took to keep her family together.

She gave a quietly confident smile. ‘But I never give any less than a hundred per cent, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep this job…Anything,’ she added fiercely.

‘Anything…?’

Something in the way he said it made her feel less secure, but she wouldn’t back down—she couldn’t. She nodded.

‘Absolutely.’

Expression impassive, he brushed an invisible speck off his dark top with long brown fingers.

‘“Anything” covers a lot of territory so if you’re offering sexual favours I should tell you I normally get it for free.’

Zoe’s hands curled into tight fists at her sides as she breathed through the energising rush of anger. He was taunting her, but he knew full well she couldn’t respond and in her book that made the man a bully. She rubbed the hand that tingled to slap the expression of amused disdain off his smug, impossibly handsome face, and tilted her chin to an enquiring angle.

But would she…?

She pushed away the question and willed herself not to blush, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm. At least she was safe from any unwanted attentions—the man was obviously too much of a snob to consider sleeping with the help.

But if he did?

Her body reacted to the unspoken question and Zoe had no more chance of halting the visceral chain reaction than she did stopping her fingers jerking back from a hot object.

Taking a deep breath, she brought her lashes down in a protective sweep and wrapped her arms across her middle in a hugging gesture, glad that she was wearing a loose-fitting top. She was saved the added embarrassment of having her shamefully engorged nipples on view, but it didn’t stop her being painfully conscious of the chafing discomfort of her bra or the heavy liquid ache low in her pelvis.

Closing down this internal dialogue as her temperature rose, Zoe managed to break contact with his disturbing steely stare and lifted her shoulders in a tiny shrug.

‘Jokes aside, I can promise you I shall be totally professional.’

He arched a brow and didn’t look convinced by her claim. She felt panic trickle down her spine and thought, God, please don’t let him change his mind.

‘You won’t be sorry.’ Her fingernails gouged crescents into the soft flesh of her palms as she held her breath awaiting his response, feeling like a prisoner in the dock waiting to hear his sentence read out.

His tall figure framed in the doorway, Isandro turned. He already was regretting it.

‘I am sorry for your loss, but I have to tell you I do not allow sentiment to sway my judgement, so do not expect any special favours here.’

Just how well would his judgement withstand the pressure of great legs and a stupendous mouth?

Her smile was cold and proud. ‘I won’t expect any.’

‘We’ll see. I judge by results, not promises.’ Or lips, he thought as his gaze made an unscheduled traverse of the lush pink curve of her wide mouth before he could think better of it.

‘I never had any complaints.’ The unintentional innuendo after his previous comment brought a flush to her cheeks. ‘In any of the jobs I’ve had,’ she added hastily.

‘That cannot be many. How old are you?’

‘Twenty-two, and actually—’ She lifted a hand, about to list the jobs she had done, and dropped it again, not wanting to give the impression that she didn’t have staying power. As it happened, it was too late, as his next disturbingly perceptive remark revealed.

‘What is the longest time you have remained in one job?’

Outwardly cool, inwardly thinking, Why, oh, why can I never keep my big mouth shut? she furrowed her smooth brow. ‘Is that relevant?’

‘It is if you walk after a week.’

‘I have done a number of jobs, it’s true, but who hasn’t in this job market?’ As if he knows such a lot about this job market. He may employ a lot of people in his various empires, but to him they are statistics on a chart. ‘I’ve never left anyone in the lurch. I’m totally reliable.’

‘But you don’t like to stay in one place long? You have no staying power?’

‘I have…’ She forced her lips into a smile and bit back a retort even though it choked her to do so. ‘Please don’t judge me on first impressions. I have responsibilities now that I did not have previously.’

‘We’ll see.’ He flicked his wrist and glanced at his watch. ‘My chef will be here later. You will make the arrangements.’

She nodded and produced a smile that oozed professional confidence. ‘Of course.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘What arrangements would they be?’

Unable to decide if she was joking, he regarded her with an expression of stern disapproval. ‘This is not a work experience position, Miss Grace.’

‘Of course not, Mr Monster…Montero.’ Thrown into confusion by the horrifying Freudian slip, she almost fell over in her haste to get to the door before him to open it.

‘I do not require grovelling. I require efficiency.’

She tipped her head meekly. ‘Of course.’ What he required, in her opinion, was taking down a peg or several hundred. She just hoped she was around to watch when it happened.

Passing through the door, Isandro revised his month estimate. She wouldn’t last a week. If she had mouths to feed that was not his problem—he was not a charity.

IF HE FOUND so much as a curtain fold out of place she’d eat her rather grubby trainers, Zoe decided, doing a final survey of the room.

The army of volunteers had cleared away any sign of yesterday’s festivities in the grounds. The word had got around that the boss had put in an unexpected appearance the previous day and the staff had really gone the extra mile on the house. The rest of the rooms were equally pristine, about as lived-in as your average museum, but presumably cosy was not what he wanted.

Thinking the word ‘cosy’ in the same thought as Isandro Montero made her lips quirk, but not for long. She had spent a really awful night reliving yesterday’s encounter, by turns breaking out in cold sweats when she thought of how close she’d come to losing the roof over their heads and seething with resentment that she’d had to crawl to keep it.

The couple of times she had managed to drift off she hadn’t been able to escape the awful man who held their fate in his elegant, over-privileged hands. Shivering, she pushed her fingers into her hair and shook her head. Typical. She normally forgot the contents of her dreams the moment she woke up. But the dark erotic images from last night remained disturbingly fresh, as did the lingering shivery feeling in the pit of her stomach that did not diminish with each subsequent flashback.