by Coleen Kwan
He huffed out a breath, looking almost regretful. “Yeah, they probably would.”
She should’ve grabbed his offer as soon as he’d made it. But that would’ve been reckless. “I don’t want people to think I’m any different from the last maid you had.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “The last maid was a bodybuilder who could whip this place into shape in a few hours without breaking a sweat. I doubt you could be any more different from her, but I get your point.” His hand dropped away, and Nina missed the contact, but at least she could breathe again.
Now that Joe wasn’t touching her, common sense returned. She hadn’t gone to all this trouble disguising her identity just to hook up with a hunky Italian who offered her free hot showers in his private home. Besides, Joe’s offer might be perfectly innocent. He might only be a concerned employer. He might not be attracted to her at all, because how attractive could she be in these icky clothes that she’d worn for two straight days? Suddenly self-conscious of her grimy appearance, she ran her fingers through her messy hair and tugged at her stained T-shirt.
“Are there any shops open tomorrow where I could get some cheap clothing? I really need to get out of these.”
She caught a sudden spark in his eyes, as if the idea of her getting out of clothes intrigued him. “Try the thrift store down the road.”
“Okay.”
“What size are you?” His gaze traveled lazily over her breasts and hips.
Nina concentrated on her breathing. “Why?”
“My sister, Carla, keeps clothes at my place. I could give you some of hers.”
“Wouldn’t she mind?”
“I doubt it. She took most of her stuff when she moved to New York a few months ago. Anything precious left behind she packed in boxes marked ‘Do not touch.’”
“Oh. Is she your only sibling?” Nina asked, curiosity overcoming her.
“Yup. Our parents died more than a decade ago, so we’re close.”
“I’m sorry about your parents. I lost my mom when I was thirteen.” She paused for a breath. “So what’s your sister doing in New York? College?”
“She graduated from Princeton this year. Now she’s taken an internship at the UN.” Pride animated his voice.
“Wow. She sounds like a go-getter.”
“That she is. She wanted to do the internship before entering grad school. She’s only twenty-two, but she’s always been interested in public policy. I wouldn’t be surprised if she ends up becoming the secretary-general one day.”
Carla Farina was younger than Nina, but it sounded like she’d had her act together for ages. Which made Nina feel like even more of an underachiever.
“Carla won’t mind if I give you a few of her things,” Joe continued, surveying her legs. “She’s a little taller than you, but just as thin.”
Joe had given her a job and a place to stay and loaned her money. If she started accepting clothes from him, she’d be in danger of becoming a complete charity case, and that wasn’t why she’d embarked on this lifestyle change.
“That’s very generous of you, but I can’t,” she said. “You’ve already done more than enough for me, but thanks for the offer.”
“Sure.” Joe lifted his shoulders. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
Wishing him good night, she inched past him.
When she’d hatched this crazy scheme, she hadn’t factored in the possibility of men, and even if she had, nothing in her past experience could have prepared her for the fizzing pull of attraction she felt every time Joe came near her, an attraction she couldn’t seem to suppress or control. She hadn’t felt that way since, well, forever. Even Oliver, her rat ex, whom she’d supposedly fallen madly in love with, had never affected her the way Joe did.
Which meant staying here in Hartley could do more harm than good to her emotional well-being. If she had any sense, she’d cut her losses and leave. But she knew she wouldn’t, and it wasn’t just because she was reckless and stubborn and the prospect of slinking back to her old life—a life she had to return to in three weeks’ time—left a bad taste in her mouth. Quitting now wasn’t an option. But neither was giving in to her pesky weakness for Joe.
…
The thrift shop smelled of musty books and old clothes, but Nina didn’t mind. She had Saturday afternoon off, and it was a relief to take a break and browse through the store. She’d already visited the general store and bought underwear and toiletries. Now she needed some fresh clothing and comfortable shoes.
After riffling through the racks, she had an armful of secondhand gear to try on. The friendly middle-aged lady in charge of the store directed her to a tiny cubicle screened off by a flimsy curtain. She had just struggled into black denim jeans and a snug-fitting, lemon-colored sweater when she heard the distinctive timbre of Joe’s voice greeting the store clerk.
“Morning, Mrs. Stewart. Just dropping off some extra linen from the inn.” There was the sound of a heavy bag landing on the counter.
“Oh, isn’t that sweet of you,” Mrs. Stewart said. “And how are you, Joe? How’s your grandmother and business at the inn?”
For a while the two chatted warmly. Nina had frozen the instant she recognized Joe’s voice. She’d hoped to remain in the changing cubicle until he left, but the way he and the shop clerk were chatting, she’d be stuck in here till Christmas. Oh, well, then, she’d just have to go out and face him, because there was no mirror in the cubicle. Drawing in her stomach muscles, she pushed the curtain aside and stepped out.
Both Joe and Mrs. Stewart turned to look at her, but it was Joe’s reaction that Nina sought out. He eyeballed the black denim that hugged her thighs and the lemon sweater that clung to her breasts. She wasn’t exactly well endowed in the bosom department, but the stretchy fabric and Joe’s keen inspection made her feel several cup sizes bigger. And more self-conscious, too. Which was weird. And weirdly exciting.
“Found some bargains?” Joe nodded at Mrs. Stewart. “Nina is my new maid at the inn. She was looking for some clothing, so I directed her here.”
Mrs. Stewart studied Nina with fresh interest. “You’re not a Hartley girl, are you, dear?”
Nina smiled. “No. I’m from San Francisco.”
“I see. It’s a permanent move, then?” Mrs. Stewart asked.
“I don’t think Nina’s made that decision yet,” Joe said. “Besides, she’s still on probation at the inn.”
“You’re lucky to have a job there,” the store clerk said to Nina. “Joe’s a good boss, and he’s an important fella in this town.”
Intrigued, Nina moved forward and rested her hip against the counter. “So Joe’s the big cheese around Hartley, is he?”
“That he is. We’re very lucky to have him.”
Nina sneaked a peek at Joe. Mrs. Stewart’s lavish praise made him look a little sheepish. Sheepish and cute. Aw, how adorable… She blinked in surprise at her thoughts. Adorable? Joe? How could that be?
“I suppose he’ll be running for mayor one of these days.” Nina decided to tease him.
Mrs. Stewart nodded, all solemn. “He’ll get my vote, that’s for sure.”
“I have no ambitions to run for mayor,” Joe cut in. “I don’t have the time, for one thing. Not when I have snarky new maids to supervise.”
Mrs. Stewart nudged him with her elbow. “Don’t tease the poor girl, she’s just started.”
“That’s okay, Mrs. Stewart.” Nina waved a nonchalant hand at Joe. “I know I’ve been giving him some attitude.”
His lips curved upward. “I can handle your attitude, sweet pea, as long as you get the job done.”
The “sweet pea” coupled with the grin he flashed her made her gulp. That lazy, sensuous smile of his was lethal. With Joe only a few feet away from her, there didn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the overcrowded little store.
Determined not to let him see how much he affected her, she flicked her fingers through her hair. “That’s good to know, becaus
e I’ve got plenty of attitude to spare.”
He laughed, a warm, indulgent chuckle. “Never a dull moment with you, is there, Nina?” Turning back to the shop clerk, he patted the counter. “Thanks, Mrs. Stewart, I’ll see you around.” As he made for the door, he nodded to Nina. “I like that yellow sweater. Highlights the snark in you.”
Nina couldn’t help staring after him as he exited the store. She continued to peer out the window as he got into his pickup truck and drove off.
Behind her, Mrs. Stewart made a little humming noise. “He’s a nice boy, that Joe Farina. And so hardworking. I don’t know how he manages.”
Nina played with a bowl of bracelets sitting on the counter. “Yes, he works long hours at the inn.”
“It’s not just the Comet Inn. He has his grandmother to look after. Oh, his uncle and aunt visit, but they have the farm to run, so poor Joe has the lion’s share of responsibility.”
“I knew about his sister, Carla, but not about his grandmother.” She shouldn’t be so interested in Joe’s personal life, but everything about him fascinated her, and clearly Mrs. Stewart had no qualms talking about her favorite Hartley citizen.
“She helped Joe raise his sister after their parents died. But about four years ago, just after Joe bought the Comet Inn, his grandmother had a bad car accident. Left her with long-term disabilities. Oh, she’s mobile enough, but she needs twenty-four-hour care, which is why she’s in a nursing home now. I volunteer there, too. Joe visits his grandma like clockwork.”
“Sounds like he has plenty of responsibilities.”
“He’s also on the business council, and this year he’s helping to organize the Food and Wine Festival, as if he doesn’t have enough to do.”
Nina nodded. Busy, busy, busy. That seemed to be Joe’s modus operandi.
“How old is he?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
“He turned thirty in July. His sister threw him a birthday party before she left.”
“That’s Carla, right? The one who’s interning at the UN?”
“That’s her.” Mrs. Stewart gave Nina a mischievous smile. “You seem mighty interested in Joe.”
Nina affected a nonchalant shrug. “Yeah, well. He sounds like a regular hero around here.”
She had to admit she was impressed. Joe was only five years her senior, and yet he already owned a thriving business. On top of that he had an ailing grandmother in what must be an expensive facility and had raised his younger sister after losing their parents. He’d achieved all this off his own sweat. Joe was a self-motivated, self-made success—the complete opposite of her—and that made her feel inadequate, if she were honest.
She bit her lip. Feeling inadequate didn’t lessen her attraction to him, though.
Mrs. Stewart clucked as she tidied a stack of flyers for the Hartley Food and Wine Festival on her counter. “One day that Joe Farina is going to make some lucky girl very happy, but it’s not going to happen anytime soon, I’m afraid.”
Nina pressed her lips together. She was not going to ask. She wasn’t…but it was too tempting. “Why’s that?” she blurted.
“Girls are always throwing themselves at him, but he rarely goes out with one for very long.” Shaking her head, Mrs. Stewart added darkly, “I blame it on his last steady girlfriend. They broke up not long after his grandmother’s car accident… That Deanne has a lot to answer for.”
Nina chewed on her lip as curiosity burned inside her. What had this Deanne woman done to make Joe gun-shy of relationships? Had he been head over heels in love with her? Had she broken his heart?
Nina put a clamp on her shameful inquisitiveness. She shouldn’t speculate about Joe’s love life. It was none of her business, and she was already too enthralled by him. He was just her boss, and that was the way it would stay.
“I’d better try on the rest of those clothes,” she said, heading for the changing cubicle.
She picked out a few more items and decided to wear the black jeans and lemon sweater instead of changing back into her dirty clothes. Next, she moved onto the rack of secondhand shoes but was appalled to find that the only comfortable shoes in her size were a pair of hideous turquoise Crocs. She winced at her dorky reflection in the mirror while Mrs. Stewart hid a smile.
“So practical for working at the inn,” Mrs. Stewart said. “Will you be taking them?”
Her ego said no, but her toes said yes, and for now her toes won. Nina sighed and nodded. “I’ll wear them. My boots are killing me.”
While Mrs. Stewart rang up her purchases, a couple of well-dressed, middle-aged ladies entered the shop. Judging by their country club outfits they were clearly donors, not customers. They placed their bulging shopping bags on the counter and peered at Nina with expectant curiosity.
Mrs. Stewart lost no time in providing them with details. “This is Nina. She’s Joe’s new maid at the Comet Inn.”
The ladies murmured greetings and studied Nina with keen interest.
“Just moved into town, then?” one of them asked, and Nina nodded.
“A permanent move, is it?” the other asked.
Boy, how inquisitive these people were. Making a noncommittal reply, Nina backed away. Was it just Hartley, or were all country towns so into other people’s business?
“Oh, my.” One of the ladies stared at Nina’s Crocs. “How…er, colorful.”
Her friend nudged her. “Come on, Babs. She can’t help it. This is why we donate our old things.”
A hot flush engulfed Nina’s face. Like these well-to-do women, she’d donated a lot of her belongings to thrift stores, but now she knew what it was like receiving charity out of necessity, and she’d never felt more humbled.
Nina made a polite excuse and quickly exited the store, feeling everyone’s eyes fixed on her. Outside, she sucked in a deep breath and tried to shake off the sensation of suffocation that had come over her. The women in the store, including Mrs. Stewart, were friendly enough, but they took an awful lot of interest in other people’s business.
What if someone here in Hartley discovered who she really was? Her dad wasn’t exactly a secret millionaire, or a discreet one. Over the years he’d ruffled a few feathers, caused a stir with some of his more controversial developments. Like his mega golf course resort in nearby Sonoma County.
When she’d been there a few days ago, she’d learned how the resort almost hadn’t happened. The locals had campaigned vigorously against the proposed development a few years back, and some of the protests had gotten quite nasty. Carson Beaumont hadn’t been afraid to show up at some of the heated town meetings and speak his mind. He’d made some minor concessions, but the resort had been built, despite the strong opposition. Even now resentment still lingered in the community, and these small country towns had long memories. If people found out she was Carson Beaumont’s daughter, she’d be about as welcome as an outbreak of lice.
She walked farther down the block. Around her, people strolled along the sidewalks, and most stores were open. It was midday Saturday. This might be Hartley’s busiest day of the week, but to her it suddenly struck her as empty, isolated, and a long, long way from everything she was used to. She’d never consciously labeled herself a city girl, but now she had a sudden biting need for crowds, traffic, and noise.
She glanced over her shoulder at the thrift store she’d just left. The store clerk and the country club ladies were still squinting at her through the window. What were they saying about her? She’d thought she could forget who she was in this small country town, but now tongues were clacking. People might not know her true identity, but they were still talking about her, and it made her uncomfortable. Maybe it had been a mistake to think she could reinvent herself here.
She walked to the end of the street, where the beach stretched out, and sat on a bench. As the wind whipped her hair around her cheeks, a sense of loss and loneliness welled up inside her.
Who was she kidding, hiding out in Hartley? She couldn’t escape being a Beau
mont. She couldn’t suddenly change her identity on a whim. She couldn’t be someone else just by wearing secondhand clothes and pretending to be a maid.
And Joe only made things worse. She couldn’t think straight around him when her body reacted so strongly to his presence. The more time she spent with him, the more she’d succumb to his charms, but having an affair with him was out of the question. He didn’t know who she was, and he was so different from her, so embedded in the fabric of this sleepy little coastal village. She didn’t belong here, and she shouldn’t be hanging around Joe any longer.
She leaped to her feet and hurried back up the main street. In five minutes she reached the Comet Inn. Feeling like a thief, she dashed inside and scurried past the lobby, hoping to catch Joe alone in his office. But his office was empty. Disappointed, she sagged against the doorjamb.
“What’s up, sweet pea?” Joe said from behind her.
She whirled around, her heart jerking. That was the second time today he’d called her sweet pea. As Joe advanced, her libido surged in a sudden, violent flood, and she couldn’t drag her gaze away from him—didn’t want to, either.
Joe. Shirtless. Showing off a sleeveless white undershirt that clung to the strongly defined muscles of his chest. A few streaks of grease were smeared on his undershirt and face. His right biceps gleamed as he gripped a heavy-looking wrench. His flash of white teeth got her pulses fluttering.
“I’ve fixed the faucets in the bathroom. You’ll be able to have all the hot showers you want now.”
“Th-thanks.” Oh, God, why did he have to go and do a nice thing like that for her? And why did he have to look so hot and hunky and stripped-down gorgeous? As he lifted an arm to wipe his cheek, the muscles in his shoulder rippled and her heartbeat stammered.
He transferred the wrench from one hand to the other, slowly looking her over. “Glad you took my advice on the clothes.”
Her body tingled where his gaze lingered as if he’d touched her. He shouldn’t be looking at her like that. He shouldn’t be having this effect on her, damn it.
