SUSAN MEIER - Housekeepers Say I Do! - Maid for the Millionaire / Maid for the Single Dad / Maid in Montana

The expression on her face clearly said she wanted to argue, but in the end, she turned and walked to the far side of the table, away from him. “Suit yourself.”

She began stacking plates and gathering silverware at the head of the table. Cain did the same at the opposite end.

Though she hadn’t argued with his decision to help her, she made it clear that she wasn’t in the mood to talk. They worked in silence save for the clink and clatter of silverware and plates then he realized something amazing. She might be wary of him, but she wasn’t afraid of his fancy silverware anymore. Wasn’t afraid of chipping the china or breaking the crystal as she had been when they were married.

Funny that she had to leave him, become a maid, to grow accustomed to his things, his lifestyle.

“It seems weird to see how comfortable you are with the china.”

She peeked up at him. “Until you said that, I’d forgotten how uncomfortable I had been around expensive things.” She shrugged. “I was always afraid I’d break them. Now I can twirl them in the air and catch them behind my back with one hand.”

He laughed, hoping to lighten the mood. “A demonstration’s not really necessary.”

She picked up a stack of dishes and headed for the kitchen. He grabbed some of the empty wineglasses and followed her. If discussing his china was what it took to get her comfortable enough to open up, then he wasn’t letting this conversation die. “I never did understand why you were so afraid.”

“I’d never been around nice things.”

“Really?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Liz, your job took you all over the place. You yourself told me that you had to wine and dine clients.”

“In restaurants.” She slid the glasses he handed her into the dishwasher. “It’s one thing to go to a restaurant where somebody serves you and quite another to be the one in charge.”

“You wouldn’t hesitate now.”

“No. I wouldn’t. I love crystal and china and fancy silver.”

The way he was watching her made Liz selfconscious, so embarrassed by her past that she felt the need to brag a little.

“I’m actually the person in charge of A Friend Indeed’s annual fund-raiser.” Her attention on placing dishes in the dishwasher, she added, “When we were married, I couldn’t plan a simple Christmas party, now I’m in charge of a huge ball.”

“There’s a ball?”

Too late she realized her mistake. Though she wanted him to know about her accomplishments, she wasn’t sure she wanted him at the ball, watching her, comparing her to the past. As coordinator for the event, she’d be nervous enough without him being there.

“It’s no big deal,” she said, brushing it off as insignificant. “Just Ayleen’s way of getting her rich friends together to thank them for the donations she’ll wheedle out of them before the end of the evening.”

She straightened away from the dishwasher and headed for the dining room and the rest of the dirty dishes.

He followed her. “I know some people who could also contribute.” He stopped in front of the table she was clearing and caught her gaze. “Can I get a couple of invitations to this ball or is it closed?”

Liz stifled a groan, as his dark eyes held hers. There was no way out of this.

“As someone working for the group, you’re automatically invited. You won’t get an invitation. Ayleen will simply expect you to be there.”

But he would get invitations to Joni’s barbecue and Matt’s Christmas party. As long as he volunteered for A Friend Indeed, he’d be connected to her. She had to get beyond her fear that he would be watching her, evaluating her, remembering how she used to be.

The room became silent except for the clang of utensils as Liz gathered them. Cain joined in the gathering again. He didn’t say anything, until they returned to the kitchen.

“Are you going to be uncomfortable having me there?”

She busied herself with the dishwasher to cover the fact that she winced. “No.”

“Really? Because you seem a little standoffish. Weird. As if you’re not happy that I want to go.”

Because her back was to him, she squeezed her eyes shut. Memories of similar functions they’d attended during their marriage came tumbling back. Their compatibility in bed was only equaled by how incompatible they’d been at his events. A Friend Indeed’s ball would be the first time he’d see her in his world since their divorce. She’d failed miserably when she was his wife. Now he’d see her in a gown, hosting the kind of event she’d refused to host for him.

“This is making you nervous.” He paused, probably waiting for her to deny that. When she didn’t he said, “Why?”

She desperately wanted to lie. To pretend nothing was wrong. But that was what had gotten her into trouble with him the first time around. She hadn’t told him the truth about herself. She let him believe she was something she wasn’t.

She sucked in a breath for courage and faced him. “Because I’ll know you’ll be watching me. Looking for the difference in how I am now and how I was when we were married.”

He chuckled. “I’ve already noticed the differences.”

“All the differences? I don’t think so.”

“So tell me.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be reminded of the past.”

“Maybe if you told me about your past, you wouldn’t be so afraid. If what you’re fearing is my reaction, if you tell me, we’ll get it out of the way and you won’t have anything to fear anymore.”

He wasn’t exactly right, but he had made a point without realizing it. Maybe if she told him the truth about her humble beginnings and saw his disappointment, she could deal with it once and for all.

She returned to the dining room and walked around the table, gathering napkins as she spoke, so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

“When I was growing up my mom just barely made enough for us to scrape by. I’d never even eaten in a restaurant other than fast food before I left home for university. I met you only one year out of school. And though by then I’d been wining and dining clients, traveling and seeing how the other half lived, actually being dumped into your lifestyle was culture shock to me.”

“I got that—a little late, unfortunately—but I got it. We were working around it, but you never seemed to adapt.”

“That’s because there’s something else. Something that you don’t know.”

Also gathering things from the table, he stopped, peered over at her.

Glad for the distance between them, the buffer of space, she sucked in a fortifying breath. “I…um…my parents’ divorce was not a happy one.”

“Very few divorces are.”

“Actually my mom, sisters and I ran away from my dad.” She sucked in another breath. “He was abusive.”

“He hit you?” Anger vibrated through his words, as if he’d demand payback if she admitted it was true.

“Yes. But he mostly hit my mom. We left in the night—without telling him we were going—because a charity like A Friend Indeed had a home for us hundreds of miles away in Philadelphia. We changed our names so my dad couldn’t find us.”

He sat on one of the chairs surrounding the table. “Oh.” Processing that, he said nothing for a second then suddenly glanced up at her. “You’re not Liz Harper?”

“I am now. My name was legally changed over a decade ago when we left New York.”

“Wow.” He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s certainly not your fault that my father was what he was or that I lived most of my life in poverty, always on the outside looking in, or that I didn’t have the class or the experiences to simply blend into your life.”