Maid for the Millionaire (5 page)

“Sure.”

Because Amanda had stopped listing repair items, Cain finally glanced up. “That's it?”

“Isn't that enough?”

“It's plenty. In fact,” he said with a wince, “if those water marks are roof leaks, we've got a problem.”

“Why?”

Cain caught Liz's gaze and her insides turned to gelatin again. But not because of chemistry. Because of fear. His eyes were soft, his expression grave. He wanted to do a good job. But he also had to be honest.

She'd only seen him look this way once. When she'd told him she couldn't plan a huge Christmas party he'd wanted to host for his business associates. She'd been afraid—terrified really—that she'd do something wrong, something simple, but so awful that she'd embarrass them both. He'd been angry first, but that emotion had flitted from his face quickly and was replaced by the expression he now wore. It had disappointed him that she couldn't do what he needed, but he had to be honest and admit he still wanted the party. So he'd hired someone to plan it for him.

He'd moved beyond it as if it wasn't a big deal. But the disappointment he'd felt in her lingered. Even now it reminded her that he knew they weren't good for each other as a couple. They didn't match. He wouldn't want to start something with her any more than she'd
want to start something with him. No matter how sexually compatible they were, he wasn't here to seduce her. She actually felt a little foolish for even thinking it.

“A roof isn't a one-man job. Even with a crew a roof takes a few days. At the very least a weekend.” He looked at Amanda. “But I'll choose the crew with care.”

Amanda looked at Liz.

“We'll talk it over with Ayleen, but we can trust Cain. If he says he'll figure out a way to keep all this confidential, he'll do it.” When it came to work Cain was as good as his word. “Plus, if Cain's okay with it, we'll only work weekends and you can take the kids to the beach or something. Not be around. Just to be sure no one sees you.”

Amanda nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Cain rose. “Let me take a quick look at all these things then I'll make a trip to the building supply store.”

 

“Toilets are fixed. Showers all work,” Cain said, wiping his hands on a paper towel as he walked into the kitchen.

Amanda had made grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for lunch. Liz already sat at the table. Amanda was happily serving. He took a seat and Liz smiled at him. After walking through the house with him behaving like a contractor, not her ex-husband, not the man she shared unbelievable chemistry with, Liz was slightly annoyed with herself for even considering he was only here as part of a plan to seduce her. His work here might have begun as a way to thank her for caring for him, but now that he was here, he clearly
wanted to do a good job. It almost seemed he'd forgotten their chemistry or that she had imagined his reaction as they stood in the hallway that morning.

Which was good. Excellent. And took her back to her plan of behaving like his friend.

“So this afternoon we paint?”

“I'd like to get the painting done before we put up new baseboards. With all the rooms that need to be painted, it's going to take a few days. So it would be best if we started immediately after we eat.”

“Okay.”

Liz took a sandwich from the platter Amanda passed to her and handed it to Cain. Things were good. Relaxed. The more she was in his company this way, the more confident and comfortable she felt around him.

“I'll do the ceilings,” Cain said, taking three sandwiches. “You guys handle the walls.”

Amanda grimaced. “I'm sorry. I scheduled a playdate for Joy. I didn't realize you'd need me this soon.”

“It's all right,” Liz said easily. “Cain and I will be fine.”

She genuinely believed that, until Amanda and Joy left and suddenly she and Cain were alone with two gallons of paint, two paint trays and a few brushes and rollers. Why did fate always have to test her like this? Just because she'd become comfortable around him, that didn't mean she had to be tested an hour after the thought had formed in her brain.

“What's the protocol on this?” she asked, nervously flitting away from him.

“First, we put blue tape around the windows and doors and existing baseboards so we don't get any paint where we don't want it. Then I'll do the ceiling and you do the walls.”

He went out to his truck and returned with a roll of blue tape. Swiftly, without a second thought and as if he weren't having any trouble being alone with her, he applied it on the wood trim around the windows.

“Wow. A person would never guess you hadn't done that in about ten years.”

He laughed. “It's like riding a bike. It comes back to you.”

He
was
at ease. He wasn't seeing her as anything but a work buddy. Surely, she could follow suit.

“I know but you really look like you were born to this. It's almost a shame you don't do it anymore.”

“My end of things is equally important.” He turned from the window. “Come here. Let me show you how simple it is.”

She walked over to the window and he positioned her in front of it. Handing her the roll, he said, “Hook the end of the tape over the edge of the top molding and then just roll it down.”

She did as he said but the tape angled inward and by the time she reached the bottom the edge was still bare.

“Here.” Covering her hand with his, he showed her how to direct the roll as she moved it downward, so that the side of the woodwork was entirely covered by the tape.

Liz barely noticed. With his chest brushing her back and his arm sliding along her arm, old feelings burst inside her. The scent of him drifted to her and she squeezed her eyes shut. She had never met a man who caused such a riot inside her. She longed to turn around and snuggle into him, wrap her arms around him, simply enjoy the feeling of his big body against hers.

She stiffened. She had to get beyond this! If he could treat her like a coworker, she could treat him like a friend.

As if unfazed, he pulled away and walked to the paint. He poured some of the gray into one of the trays and white into the second one.

“Okay. I'm ceilings. You're walls. But first I'm going to do the edge where the wall meets the ceiling.” He nodded at the tray of gray paint. “You take that and a roller and go nuts on the walls. Just stay away from the edges.”

“With pleasure.” She managed to make her voice sound light and friendly, but inside she was a mess. Especially since he seemed so cavalier. All this time she'd believed his attraction to her fueled her attraction to him. Now, she wasn't so sure. Oh, she still believed he was attracted to her. His attraction simply didn't control him.

And by God she wasn't going to let hers control her, either!

For the next ten minutes they were quiet. Cain took a brush and painted an incredibly straight, incredibly neat six-inch swatch at the top of the wall, ensuring that Liz wouldn't even accidentally get any gray paint on the ceiling.

Deciding she needed to bring them back to a neutral place or the silence would make her nuts by the end of the day she said, “How do you do that so fast, yet so well?”

“Lots and lots of practice,” he said, preoccupied with pouring more white paint into his tray. “Don't forget I did this kind of work four summers in a row. That was how I knew I wanted to run a construction company. I learned to do just about everything and I actually knew the work involved when I read plans or specs.”

“Makes sense.” She rolled gray paint onto the far wall. She'd heard that story before, but now that she was a
business owner she understood it and could respond to it.

“In a way, I got into cleaning for the same reason. Once I realized what would be required of my employees, it was easy to know who to choose for what jobs and also what to charge.”

“And you did great.”

His praise brought a lump to her throat. In the three years they were married he'd never praised her beyond her looks. He loved how she looked, how she smelled, how soft she was. But he'd never noticed her beyond that.

She cleared her throat. “Thanks.”

Occupied with painting the ceiling, Cain quietly said, “You know this is going to be more than a one-day job.”

“So you've said.”

He winced. “More than a two-week job.”

She stopped. “Really?”

“Because we can only work weekends, I'm thinking we're in this for a month. And we're kind of going to be stuck together.”

“Are you bailing?”

“No!” His answer was sharp. He stopped painting and faced her. “No. But I have to warn you that I'm a little confused about how to treat you.”

Relief stuttered through her. She didn't want him to seduce her, but she certainly didn't want to be the only one fighting an attraction. “I thought we were trying to behave like friends.”

“I'm not sure how to do that.”

“Most of the day you've been treating me like a coworker. Why don't you go back to that? Forget I'm your ex-wife.”

He glanced over at her and all the air evaporated from Liz's lungs. The look he gave her was long and slow, as if asking how he could forget that they'd been married, been intimate.

Maybe that was the crux of their problem? Every time she looked at him something inside her stirred to life. She'd lived for three years without thinking about sex, but put him in the room with her and she needed to fan herself. Worse, through nearly three years of a bad marriage, they'd already proven they could be angry with each other, all wrong for each other and still pleasure each other beyond belief.

It was going to be difficult to pretend none of that mattered.

But they had to try.

She cleared her throat. “I could use a glass of water. Would you like one?”

“Please.”

In the kitchen, she took two bottles of water from the refrigerator. She pressed the cool container against her cheek. Late March in southern Florida could be hot, but being in the same room with Cain was turning out to be even hotter.

Still, A Friend Indeed needed his help. Amanda deserved a pretty home for herself and her kids. Liz was also a strong, determined businesswoman who had handled some fairly tough trials through the three years of running her company. One little attraction wasn't going to ruin her.

Feeling better, she walked back to the living room, but stopped dead in the doorway. Reaching up to paint the ceiling, with his back to her, Cain stretched his T-shirt taut against his muscles. His jeans snugly
outlined his behind. She swallowed. Memories of them in the shower and tangled in their sheets flashed through her brain.

She pressed the water bottle to her cheek again, pushing the pointless memories aside, and strode up behind him.

“Here.”

He turned abruptly and a few drops of paint rained on her nose.

“Oops! Sorry. You kind of surprised me.”

“It's okay.”

He yanked a work hanky from his back pocket. “Let me get that.”

Enclosing her chin in his big hand to hold her head still, he rubbed the cloth against her nose. Memories returned full force. Times he'd kissed her. Laughing on the beach before running into the house for mind-blowing sex. Falling asleep spooned together after.

He blinked. His hand stilled. Everything she was feeling was reflected in his dark eyes.

The world stopped for Liz. Holding his gaze, knowing exactly what he was remembering, feeling the thrum of her own heart as a result of the memories that poured through her brain, Liz couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

For ten seconds she was absolutely positive he was going to kiss her. The urge to stand on her tiptoes and accept a kiss was so strong she had to fight it with everything in her. But in the end, he backed away, his hand falling to his side.

Turning to the wall again, he said, “Another twenty minutes and I'll have the ceiling done. If you want to go put blue tape around the windows in the dining room we could probably get that room done today, too.”

She stepped back. “Okay.” She took another step backward toward the door. “Don't forget your water.”

He didn't look up. “I won't.”

Relief rattled through her. He'd just had a golden opportunity to kiss her, yet he'd stepped away.

She definitely wasn't the only one who wanted them to be friends, not lovers, or the only one who'd changed.

 

When Liz was gone, Cain lowered himself to the floor. Leaning against the old stone fireplace, he rubbed his hand down his face.

He could have kissed her. Not out of habit. Not out of instinct driven by happy memories. But because he wanted to. He
longed
to. She'd hardly left the house for their entire marriage. Now she was a business owner, a volunteer for a charity, a confident, self-sufficient woman. This new side of Liz he was seeing was very appealing. When he coupled her new personality with his blissful sexual memories, she was damned near irresistible.

But the clincher—the thing that almost took him over the top—was the way she looked at him as if she'd never stopped loving him. As if she wanted what he wanted. As if her entire body revved with anticipation, the way his did. As if her heart was open and begging.

He'd always known he was the problem in their marriage. And now that he was older and wiser, he desperately wanted to fix things. But he didn't want to hurt her again. He saw the trust in her eyes. Sweet, innocent trust. She was counting on him to do the right thing.

Part of him genuinely believed the right thing was to leave her alone. Let her get on with her life. Become the success she was destined to be.

The other part just kept thinking that she was his woman, and he wanted her back.

But he knew that was impossible.