by Sam Crescent
“Good,” Damian Harker said. “Then let me ask you, Ms. Evangeline. Do you like animals?”
Chapter Two
With a silent reminder to keep her breathing steady, Layla replied, “I love them. My favorite coffee shop is that downtown cat café, Cat-Ppucino. And my favorite Disney movie is 101 Dalmatians.”
The corner of Damian’s lips twitched for a split-second, as if she’d said something funny. Then his expression fell back to unreadable. “You understand the job you’ve applied for is a little more involved than just playing with cute cats and puppies, right?”
Only because her uncle had so thoughtfully emailed her the information she needed after his surprise visit. “Yes, of course,” she said. “You need a full-time caretaker. I’m assuming to keep your pets from interfering with your regular staff’s daily duties, and to keep them from growing restless and becoming destructive.” Also because he was insanely wealthy and could afford something like a caretaker for his houseful of pets, when he already had who-knew-how-many people on his staff. But that was none of her business.
“Something like that, yes,” Damian said. “The estate is fully fenced, so the dogs are free to go outside and run off their energy. But the cat is strictly indoors, and she’ll fight you on that. I also have a large saltwater aquarium you’d be in charge of maintaining, as well as taking care of the fish inside. All dietary instructions and routine regimens will be written down for reference until you can memorize them. None of which matters, of course, if the dogs don’t like you.”
At that Layla couldn’t help but smile. He wouldn’t hire her if his dogs didn’t take to her. She completely understood the importance, considering the ridiculous job she was applying for, but it was kind of endearing at the same time. “Does that mean I get to meet them?”
“We’ll get to that.” Damian was quiet a moment, but he didn’t look away. He studied her, eyes faintly narrowed, sweeping up and down her frame blatantly. “Tell me about yourself, Layla Evangeline. Who are you? Why do you want this job? Why should I hire you?”
You actually shouldn’t. But she couldn’t say that. In truth, on the surface, there was a lot of appeal in the job being discussed. She just had to ignore the details of how she got the interview and what was expected of her in return. “Truthfully, Mr. Harker, I’m not anyone special. But you probably know that. However, I always do my best, and I’m loyal to a fault.” That was the most honest thing she would probably ever tell him. “It would be kind of a dream to spend my days caring for and entertaining your pets.”
Damian made a small, almost absent gesture with his fingers. “I’m sure the benefits I’m offering don’t hurt.”
“Of course not,” Layla replied with a stifled, awkward laugh. “But everyone’s looking for a job with good benefits, right?” She pursed her lips for a second, debating the wisdom of the next thought that had popped into her head. “I guess I don’t really know how to interview for a position like this. Normally I would prattle about my work experience, but maybe you could tell me what you’re looking for? I know my responsibilities would be to provide daily care for the household animals, and I presume there would be some sort of provision included for emergency veterinary care. But what are you looking for in me?” She didn’t really care if he thought she was presumptuous with her question. Part of her wanted to bomb the interview, but she couldn’t do it in a way that was too obvious.
Damian tapped his fingers along the arm of his chair exactly twice. “Your previous work experience is irrelevant in this situation. But your presumption is correct. The limitations of your authority would, of course, be discussed upon hiring. As to your actual question, what I’m looking for is someone who will provide companionship to my two dogs and one cat. Someone who is comfortable wearing a layer of fur on their clothes and getting dirty. If you can take that sort of job seriously, that’s what I’m looking for.” He paused and uncrossed his legs, holding her stare effortlessly. “Ares, Tank, and Elsa are my family. The ideal candidate will love them the same.”
So, in short, he was looking for a pet-nanny-slash-playmate. Well, I can do that.
“Does that clear it up for you, Ms. Evangeline?”
“Yes,” Layla said. “Very much.” She offered him a smile. “It sounds more than doable. I pretty much love all animals by default. They actually have to work to get me to unlove them.” An image popped into her head, and her mouth opened before she could think better of it. Which was fine, really. “Well, I don’t necessarily feel that way about spiders and snakes. I would have a problem with those. I should probably mention that.”
This time he visibly smirked. The expression was simultaneously arrogant and sexy, a combination she didn’t fully understand. Other than that it was sitting right across from her. “So if I get an impulse and come home with a boa constrictor one day, you’ll quit?”
“Almost certainly,” Layla replied. “I’ve read stories about those, you know.”
He ignored her comment. “What about a tarantula?”
She suppressed a shudder. “On the spot. Loudly.”
His smirk broadened, and she had the distinct impression he was considering it. Or at least entertaining the fantasy.
“If that’s a likelihood, perhaps I should—”
“No,” Damian said, his smirk vanishing. “I assure you, I’ve already been instructed by several members of my staff that snakes, spiders, and vermin are crossing an unforgiveable line.” His eyes glittered, as if dancing with leftover amusement. “I was just enjoying watching your facial expression.”
Layla gaped at him. “My—”
Damian pushed to his feet and rebuttoned his suit coat. “Now, come with me. It’s time for the test.”
Test? Wait, did that mean he was going to introduce her to the animals already? Just like that? Layla grabbed her purse and jumped to her feet to follow him as he left the room. “Mr. Harker, I do have a question,” she said as she caught up with him. “It occurs to me I don’t recall hearing what, precisely, my hours would be?”
“During the probationary period I’ll expect you to arrive no later than 7 AM Mondays through Saturdays,” Damian replied. “Saturdays will be half-days. You’ll be free to leave between noon and 1 PM, depending on when you’ve completed the necessary daily chores. Monday through Friday you’ll be here until I come home. That varies, but twelve-hour days won’t be unusual.”
Layla’s eyes widened. Was that kind of schedule even legal?
“Limitations, off-days, vacation allowances, and holidays will all be negotiated in the contract which we’ll sign before you begin,” Damian said as they rounded another corner. “But you can see why it’ll be easier to simply reside here.”
They stepped into a massive sitting room, and the conversation, as well as the renewed concept of moving, fell from Layla’s mind.
The room alone was at least the size of her apartment, if not larger. It was definitely taller. A gorgeous crystal chandelier hung over the exact center of the seating area, reflecting light even while it was off. Plush furniture, what had to be a custom coffee table made of cherry-stained oak or something even more fabulous, matching side tables, and a suitably-sized wall-mounted television adorned the room. There was an inset fireplace beneath the television, currently closed with a gate so clean it was practically shining. The walls were spotted with photographs, and Layla was momentarily surprised by the lack of a clichéd family painting.
Until she remembered what little she knew about Damian Harker’s story.
“You’re not a tourist, Ms. Evangeline,” Damian said as he crossed the space, en-route to the large sliding glass door beyond. “Stop gawking.”
Layla snapped her mouth shut, embarrassed to realize it’d even fallen open, and continued to follow after him. She thought she caught a glimpse of movement in an adjacent hall across the room in the other direction, but when she turned her head, she saw nothing. The cat, maybe? Or snoopy staff. He had a butler, and probably a maid
or who knew what else.
Damian unlatched the sliding glass door and swept it open. With his free hand, he gestured through. “Step outside.”
Layla did as she was asked, stepping onto a beautiful stone landing, and moved aside. She let herself look around when she realized he’d taken her to his backyard. Or what he probably called his backyard, at least.
It was as glorious as she would’ve expected if she’d spent any time thinking about it. More healthy green grass, more trees, more flower bushes along the far fence line. A large pool with sparkling blue water that shouldn’t have looked so inviting. The pool even had a hot tub attached at one end, though that was covered up. She assumed because the dogs were allowed to roam the space.
Damian walked past her, to the edge of the shade provided by his pergola, and let out a single sharp whistle.
Layla followed him only halfway, not wanting to crowd him in case his dogs were protective. She didn’t have any idea what sort of dogs he had. Was he a clichéd billionaire pet owner with tiny little dogs she could fit in her purse? Did he have big dogs to take up his giant yard? A combination of both? All she knew was that the next couple of moments were crucial. If the dogs liked her, it sounded like she might just get this job.
This job working for the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on.
This job that required her to spend all her time catering to animals.
This job that would force her to move.
This job her uncle had set her up for, so she could do his corporate espionage for him.
The telltale rattling of dog tags reached her ears moments before a pair of deep, happy woofs. Big dogs, then. A determination that was confirmed when two large, tail-wagging dogs bounded into view, on a collision course with Damian.
Layla’s eyes widened. They’re huge!
The first dog, slightly ahead of and smaller than the other, was an all-black German Shepherd. The second was a tan-bodied, black-faced Bullmastiff. Both neutered males. Both, apparently, very happy to see Daddy. The Shepherd even jumped, though he didn’t quite land on Damian.
“Sit.” Damian’s command was so sharp Layla turned her head to look for a chair before she realized he was talking to the dogs, both of whom promptly put their butts on the ground. Then Damian knelt, putting himself practically at eye-level with them, and scratched them both on the head. “Good boys.” After a lingering moment he stood, smoothed out his pants, and turned to the side enough to look toward Layla. “You can approach. They won’t bite.”
Layla settled her purse properly over her shoulder, took a breath, and stepped cautiously forward. He might be confident his dogs wouldn’t bite her, but she wasn’t going to rush forward like some overeager fool. Both those breeds were known for being protective, and the dogs in front of her had to weigh at least half her bodyweight each. So she aimed for the calm, respectful approach and made sure to still keep the majority of arms’ length between herself and the seated pair.
The Shepherd’s ears were spiked and facing her. Both his and the Bullmastiff’s eyes were locked on her. But neither moved or made a sound.
Damian inclined his head, as if he were satisfied with her choice, when she stopped moving. He reached down and ruffled the Shepherd’s ears. “This is Ares. He’s eight, as of last month. But he doesn’t know it.”
Her eyebrows rose on her forehead again. That beautiful, ebony-furred dog was already eight? He didn’t look it. From what little she’d seen, he didn’t act it, either.
Damian moved his hand to the Bullmastiff’s head and rubbed it along the shorter, coarser fur. “This is Tank. He’s six and a half, and according to my vet, aging gracefully.”
A smile lifted the Bullmastiff’s naturally wrinkled face, as if he understood his master’s words.
Layla couldn’t help but smile. She’d have guessed half those ages for both of them. “They’re very handsome.” Not unlike their master.
Damian released Tank and held out his other hand. “Give me your hand.”
“Huh?”
He gave her a pointed look.
Layla put her hand in his. His grip was warm, strong, and immediately sent tingles across her skin and dancing up her arm. It was exactly the wrong thing to be thinking about at this moment in time. So was the fact that he smelled good.
He angled his fingers up and slid his thumb around the outside of her wrist, so that he was holding her hand by the base of her wrist, and deliberately lowered their joined hands toward the waiting dogs. “Hold still while they take in your scent.”
As if she could pull out from his grip.
Layla swallowed, but the butterflies in her stomach had nothing to do with nerves.
Ares and Tank leaned in, sniffing audibly. Noses brushed against her skin, cool and wet, and her lips twitched. She wanted to pet them so badly, but she held still.
Damian released her and straightened.
Layla remained in position but slid her gaze sideways, eyebrows up, in silent question. While her attention was on the well-built, well-dressed man, one of the dogs took advantage and licked her hand. She jumped, startled at the sensation, and snapped her focus back to the canines.
“Looks like you’ve passed the test,” Damian said as her heartrate resettled. And … was there a laugh in that tone?
That did not bode well for their future working relationship.
Chapter Three
“I don’t believe in waiting until the following Monday just because it makes the paperwork easier,” Damian said after he’d handed his lint roller back to Raymond. The butler made himself scarce, and Damian returned his focus to the woman seated in front of him. Layla Evangeline. “You’ll start tomorrow. Or do you need longer to read and sign two pieces of paper?”
Layla looked up from the paper in her hands, her brown eyes wide with surprise. The brown sparkled in the lighting of the room, the same room they’d met in a short while earlier. “Tomorrow? I— Is there a uniform? If there’s a uniform, I need time to—”
Damian lifted a hand to stop her. “Your job is to take care of my pets. There’s no uniform. Yes, as someone on my payroll you represent me, so I expect you to dress with some level of decency. But outside of that you can wear whatever you want. Most of your time will be spent in the privacy of my home, anyway.” Where he could keep an eye on her.
“I guess … that makes sense.” Her words were slow, as if she were thinking, and she looked down at the contract in her hand again.
Damian studied her as silence filled the room.
He’d done his homework on Layla Evangeline before he’d allowed her into his house. She was little more than half a year younger than he was, putting her at twenty-seven, and physically she seemed to be in good health. He’d seen photographs, so he knew she had a lithe, athletic body, long legs, and perfectly curved hips. But he hadn’t expected her to be as attractive as she was in person. Something about her called to him in a way he’d never experienced. Arguably, that made her dangerous. He wasn’t hiring her to have fun. He didn’t need a distraction. It was just the opposite. She was a crucial piece in a complicated puzzle.
He couldn’t afford to forget that. Nor could he afford to let her know it.
As far as she was concerned, she’d landed this interview through questionable means that he was unaware of. She was earning this job on her own merits. The job didn’t exactly require a bachelor’s degree, which she didn’t have. And it wasn’t as though he was sacrificing his animals. He’d have found another way to get the information he needed if Ares and Tank had rejected her.
Elsa … Elsa was a cat. Cats were notoriously finicky. Elsa would warm up to her.
Damian watched as Layla nibbled on her bottom lip while she read over the contract. She was actually reading it; that was smart. She had a good head on her shoulders from what he’d seen. It would take time to get the information he needed from her, but that was okay. He was prepared to wait. He’d already invested years into the mystery. He couldn’t affo
rd to let his eagerness to put it all together cost him the win.
He just had to be careful not to hurt this innocent, beautiful woman in the process.
Layla lifted her head, her lip falling from her teeth. “So, when it says this agreement can be cancelled at any time by either party, do I need to be concerned about that?”
Damian offered her a small, brief smile of reassurance. “That’s in there for your protection. This way we have equal power to end our professional relationship and you, hopefully, don’t feel trapped.”
Layla pursed her lips. “That’s great and all, but if I’m living here, I’m going to feel kind of stuck. Like I should at least be sneaking around in my off-time to find, maybe start, another job so I can get a new place first. Otherwise I’d be homeless.”
Damian matched her stare. “Perhaps you should keep reading.”
She arched a brow but dropped her gaze back to the paper. A few seconds later her cheeks turned a noticeable shade of pink. “Oh. I see how that would be helpful.”
“Living here under my employ also makes me your landlord,” Damian said, now that he knew she’d read the part that explained the thirty days she would have to move out on her own if or when the contract was terminated. “In turn, that means I have to adhere to landlord laws. Such as minimum required notice.”
Layla swallowed visibly, and Damian tried not to watch. “That … also makes sense.” Her words were quieter, almost mumbled, an audible admission of her embarrassment. She flicked a glance up at him but quickly looked away. “Sorry.”
Damian folded his hands over his lap. “Never sign a contract you don’t understand, Ms. Evangeline.”
Her lips twitched in a smile.
Something inside him flickered in response. He ignored it.
“Right,” she said. After another long minute, she picked up her pen and scribbled what he could only presume was her name on the proverbially-dotted line. Once she was done, she lowered the papers to her lap and met his gaze again. “So, I start tomorrow?”
