by Lacey Legend
Walking into the bathroom to grab the laundry basket, she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror.
“No wonder Spencer barely acknowledges my existence,” she thought as she examined her reflection.
The crisp white polo shirt with the agency emblem on the breast pocket, coupled with blue jeans and a blue apron were not particularly flattering to the figure.
“Practical – yes! Seductive – No!” thought Jenna. “Maybe the idea of these uniforms is to prevent us teasing the carnal urges of male clients. Although the idea of Spencer being so overcome by lust he takes me roughly in the kitchen isn’t the worst scenario I can imagine. I’d happily trade this uniform in for a tacky French maid’s outfit if it meant luring Spencer in the bedroom.”
Jenna realized even with Spencer absent from the apartment, she was still fixated on him and wondered how she might catch his attention. Shaking her head, as if to rid the billionaire from her mind, Jenna lifted the dirty clothes basket. She made her way to the laundry, hidden subtly behind sleek timber doors. As the majority of Spencer’s suits were dry clean only, she was fortunate, as there wasn’t an abundance of washing to do. Separating the colors from the whites, she began to load the washing machine.
Pausing before starting the cycle, she knew there was another room she needed to check for dirty laundry before she pressed the start button. With heavy feet, Jenna made her way to Spencer’s bedroom. Her stomach felt knotted as she stepped in. She realized her eyes were closed.
Spencer Lawson’s bedroom really was the most depressing scene, in Jenna’s opinion. There was a reason her services were required six mornings a week. Spencer pretty much had a different partner every night; hence, fresh sheets were required daily. As one glamorous woman left the revolving door of the main reception of Spencer’s high-rise building, a new one would be making her way in with an overnight bag to entertain the billionaire for an evening. Jenna wondered if the women were aware they had a twelve-hour expiration date in Spencer’s life. Possibly they did.
Opening her eyes, she leaned against the doorframe of his bedroom. Weirdly, she wasn’t jealous of the stream of wealthy, model-esque looking women he entertained. Sure, they might get to have sex with the dashing and debonair bachelor, but that was all. It appeared they meant very little to him emotionally.
“If I got Spencer, it wouldn’t be for just a night,” decided Jenna. “It’d be for life. What does it say about a woman who thinks of herself as nothing more than a one-night fling? No wonder he discards them like tissues.”
She stripped the bed, hoping she wouldn’t come across any women’s lingerie caught up in the sheets that were twisted and disheveled from some seedy sex session. A smile spread across her face as the sheets appeared to have nothing more in them than a handkerchief embroidered with Spencer’s initials.
As she started walking out of the room to take the sheets to the laundry, she heard something break underfoot of her practical black sneaker. Staring down at the floor, Jenna lifted her foot to see lipstick smeared on the bottom of her shoe and on the polished wooden floors.
Angrily she snatched up the plastic pieces of the lipstick tube and flung them in the nearby waste basket in the bedroom.
He had been with yet another woman last night.
“At least the floor’s polished. I wouldn’t want to be on my hands and knees attempting to get that shade of violent red lipstick out of carpet.”
Returning to the laundry, she set the machine in motion and retrieved her cleaning materials.
Debating on whether to start with the bathroom or kitchen, Jenna’s least two favorite jobs, she opted for the en-suite bathroom. She plugged in the headphones of her iPod and set to work. Busying herself to the beats of her favorite playlist, Jenna was finally able to focus on the task on hand.
A hand on her waist made her yelp in shock and surprise. Spinning around and yanking the headphones from her ears, she was greeted by the vision of Spencer Lawson.
“Sorry to frighten you.” he apologized in a warm baritone.
“No. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” he asked directly.
The dark brown of his eyes was so intense Jenna was barely able to mutter a coherent sentence. He was right. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Why did she feel the need to apologize? Spencer was staring at her, waiting for an answer. Jenna had been hoping the question was rhetorical.
“The headphones,” she finally blurted out.
Spencer raised a quizzical eyebrow. Jenna’s mind raced in a bid to justify her statement.
“It’s only, I’m not sure I’m actually supposed to listen to music while I’m at work. If I hadn’t had my headphones in I’d have heard you enter and made myself scarce.”
“I certainly don’t remember reading anything in the fine print of my contract with Supreme Cleaning Services stating that employees are forbidden from listening to music on personal devices,” he said drily.
“No? Looks like I’m not on the firing line with Ms. Princely, then.”
“Even if you were, I doubt it’s a hanging offense.”
“I suppose not.”
They stood looking at one another in silence. My first real conversation with Spencer Lawson and I come across as a ditzy moron, thought Jenna.
“Anyway, my plans for the day have been altered and I’ve had to come home early. I’ll do my best to keep out of your way.” Spencer’s voice was cool, but not unfriendly.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Jenna automatically, in a polite detached tone.
Spencer’s chocolate eyes seemed to have a heat to them that was making her uncomfortable. They remained facing one another. Jenna wondered if she should just barge by him.
“What’s your name?”
Jenna felt crushed. She’d been telling Kelly that Spencer barely recognized her existence on the planet, but deep down she’d been desperately hoping she’d made some kind of impression on him. That one question could only mean Spencer genuinely had no knowledge or interest in Jenna.
“It’s Jenna. Jenna King.”
“Jenna King, if you’ve finished in here and it appears you have, then I would very much appreciate the opportunity to use my en-suite. There’s very little point in me sitting around the house all day in a three piece suit.”
“Geez, sorry. Of course,” blabbed Jenna.
The hint of a smile played on Spencer’s kissable lips. The bottom lip was a touch thicker than his upper lip and when one side curved upward he looked positively dreamy.
Spencer took a step forward. Jenna failed to anticipate which direction he was going to take and found herself colliding with him as she stepped out of the bathroom. Crashing against his six foot two frame, she felt pure muscle underneath the tailored suit. Spencer immediately had one hand on her waist and the other on her upper arm to steady Jenna. He might not be able to see her blushes, but Jenna knew he could feel the heat of her embarrassment emanating from the pores of her skin.
“I’ll leave you to get on with things, Jenna King.”
Completely flummoxed, Jenna wasn’t sure where to start. At that precise moment, she was imagining a naked Spencer changing his clothes in the bathroom and that mental image had her hot and bothered. What did billionaires do with their days off when at home? Should she clean the bedroom in case he wanted to put his feet up? Was it best to start on the living room if he wanted to waste the day watching sports on TV? Perhaps he enjoyed cooking, in which case the kitchen would need to be done promptly.
This is a joke, thought Jenna, sitting on a couch, how on earth do I get this man to notice me when I fall to pieces the first time we exchange words.
“Right, I’m off to the gym.”
Jenna looked up from the couch. Spencer was dressed in baggy knee length shorts and a tight sleeveless shirt. She could see how toned his legs were and the top stretched across his torso hinted at a flat stomach and pumped chest. Realizing she was staring in awe at Spencer from his couch
, she jumped up from the sofa straight away.
“Sorry, I actually don’t spend my time listening to music and resting on your couch when I’m supposed to be working.”
Spencer laughed and the sound was musical to Jenna’s ears. There was a richness and warmth to it. “As long as the apartment’s clean, that’s all I care about. If you do that by lying on my couch and casting a spell whereby the hoover and mop work without human interaction, that’s fine by me.”
“Sadly I’m at NYU, not wizardry school.”
“I suspect both of those education institutions would have their benefits,” grinned Spencer.
“Wizardry school might be more fun,” said Jenna lightly, enjoying the idea of creating a love potion to slip to Spencer.
“Possibly. What are you studying at NYU?”
Oh my days, he’s asked a question about me that isn’t to do with work, Jenna thought excitedly.
“I’m completing a bachelor of science, specializing in social work.”
“That’s...commendable.”
Jenna felt a flicker of annoyance. Was he mocking her?
“I’m not looking for praise. I’m looking to contribute to society,” she responded sharply.
Spencer saw she was stung by his comment. The silly schoolgirl air he’d detected earlier had been abandoned completely. The cleaner obviously took her studies seriously.
“I wasn’t being flippant,” he remarked. “I think any individual taking time out to study in the heady days of their late teens or early twenties and placing themselves in debt as a means of contributing positively to society is a commendable act.”
Jenna wasn’t sure what to say. It dawned on her that she’d come close to reprimanding her employer for a perceived judgment on her career choice. This was not remotely close to Ms. Princely’s ethos of being seen and not heard.
“I should probably get on with cleaning,” started Jenna in a composed manner. “The sooner I get this done, the sooner I’m out of your hair.”
That lovely thick, curly brown hair I want to run my fingers through, she thought, damn him for being so attractive I can’t be angry by his patronizing air.
“It’s no problem. Take your time. I’ll be at the gym anyway.”
*
The spacious apartment was borderline pristine. Jenna was taking her frustration regarding her earlier interaction with Spencer out on her cleaning. She scrubbed so hard; the place was sparkling. Had Spencer’s ominous return been imminent, she would’ve sat on the black leather sofa and put her feet up to recover from her exhaustive bout of cleaning. Instead, she stomped to the laundry to replace every bottle of bleach, every tin of spray polish, every rag and every piece of cleaning equipment. Having taken out the final load of clothes from the dryer, she slammed the laundry door shut.
“You’re very enthusiastic with your work, aren’t you,” came a familiar voice.
Now he is mocking me, grimaced Jenna.
“I aim to please and those laundry doors can get awful sticky sometimes.”
“On rollers? Do I need someone to come in and oil them up so that they roll smoother? If it requires that much effort to close them, perhaps I should get a handyman in to take a look. I don’t want you exerting yourself any more than you do with your thorough cleaning.” He knew her temper got the better of her and was calling her bluff.
“Would you prefer it if I was lackadaisical and slap dash with my work?” she challenged.
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t trash my apartment in the process,” he countered.
“I’m just fed up,” she snapped.
Spencer found the revelation both shocking and refreshing. He wasn’t used to the hired help being brutally honest with him. His previous cleaner glided in and out of his apartment like a ghost. Frankly speaking, he enjoyed the arrangement.
Spencer wasn’t the type to get too embroiled in anyone’s life. This cute Afro-American girl had an undeniable sparkle that made him curious about her. He wasn’t, however, going to encourage her emotional outburst by asking what made her fed up.
His quiet stillness irritated her.
“Don’t you get fed up?” she asked, mystified that he could remain emotionally detached.
“No.”
“Not ever?” she pressed.
“Not ever.”
“Geez. How does that work?”
Spencer wasn’t the type to discuss his personal life with the hired help, but manners dictated he couldn’t ignore her question.
“Because I manage my life effectively. I’m organized and in control. I make sure no situation arises that can make me ‘fed up’.”
“You weren’t fed up when your plans today were cancelled?” she enquired slyly.
“No. I’m always sure to consider any potential or unexpected changes in strategies. I have a contingency plan to fall back on if events result in me straying from my original plan.”
“I’m not sure if that means you lead a very boring life or a very secure one.”
“Let me assure you, Jenna King, my life is far from boring.” replied Spencer curtly.
“Don’t I know it!” commented Jenna in reference to his bedroom that seemed to operate like a busy airport terminal.
The tension mounted considerably after Jenna’s offhand remark. That kind of sass was a disciplinary offense. She had no right to discuss or assume anything about her client’s lifestyle that she may have attained from cleaning the premises. Jenna was loathe to apologize, although she recognized she’d crossed a line.
She was proud of the fact that she worked to support herself and contribute to her family. There was no shame in cleaning, but she did object to anyone that considered her “lesser” because her employment was considered menial. She couldn’t afford pride to stand in the way of keeping her job. She swallowed down her anger and did her best to look contrite.
“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“No, it’s not.” agreed Spencer, his voice icy.
His pompous attitude irked her.
“Just like it’s none of your business what I’m studying at university.”
“I don’t suppose it is.”
Spencer’s tone was one of disinterest. He turned his back on Jenna and walked down the hallway to his bedroom.
Jenna was finished, but wasn’t quite sure how to conclude her shift. Should she slip out quietly, locking the door behind her as was her usual practice? That custom seemed fine when she and Spencer never conversed. Having broken the ice with a prickly conversation, it appeared rude to leave without a verbal goodbye.
Bracing herself for another one of Spencer’s dismissive interactions she made her way to his bedroom. Knocking lightly on the door she discovered he was no longer there.
I’m not in the mood for a game of hide and seek, she thought. She tiptoed toward the study where the door was half closed. Mustering her courage, her fist rapped hard on the doorframe.
“You’re off?”
“Well you didn’t invite me to stay for coffee,” said Jenna.
She could sense a change in Spencer’s posture. He’d relaxed. Slowly he twirled his seat around. Stretching out his long legs clad in beige chinos he smiled softly at her.
“It wouldn’t be the done thing would it?”
Is he implying under other circumstances he would like to share a coffee, thought Jenna.
“I’m not sure. My mum spends a lot of time gassing with the people she cleans for. Sometimes I think they look forward to her company more than her actually cleaning.”
“Does your mum work for Supreme Cleaning Services, too?”
Jenna knew Spencer was highlighting the difference in class of her mother’s customers and the high-class clients Supreme Cleaning Services catered to.
“No. She’s an independent woman. Never had to rely on a company finding work for her. She was perfectly capable of getting off her own butt to find a job.”
“You admire her?”
“Yes.
And I adore her.”
“Evidently,” muttered Spencer.
Jenna guessed she’d shamed Spencer somewhat.
“I only came to tell you I’d finished and ask if there was anything further you needed doing.”
He shook his head and his curly brown locks fell in his eyes.
“I’ll be in on Monday morning and I’ll be sure to keep my professional distance.”
Spencer opened his mouth and shut it quickly. Whatever goodbye he’d deigned to utter died on his lips. His brown eyes followed her out of the room and he listened carefully until he heard the front door lock. Shaking his head, he put his head in his hands. Jenna King was not the kind of girl for him to be targeting as a conquest.
Chapter Two
“Liana,” called Jenna as she entered the small two-bedroom apartment her family shared in the Bronx.
“Shhhh. I’ve just put the baby down.”
Jenna nodded at her younger sister, acknowledging the requirement to keep her voice low.
“How was work?” whispered Liana.
“It was work.”
“Don’t be weird. What kind of an answer is that?”
“The kind that tells you I don’t want to talk about it.” .
“More racy thongs found in Mr. Billionaire’s bed sheets?” teased Liana.
Jenna could never stay in a bad mood for long.
“No. But I did crush some poor random woman’s lipstick and smear it all over the wooden floors.”
“And this is a guy you have a crush on?”
“I’m not sure I do anymore.”
“Why?”
Jenna shrugged her shoulders. She loved her sister to death, but Liana had a habit of telling her mum every little secret Jenna disclosed to her.
“Sis, I’ve just got in from work. I’m not in the mood for the Spanish inquisition.”
“I was only showing an interest in my big sister’s life.”
Jenna felt bad. Liana had somehow managed to get herself pregnant during freshman week. Liana had been the brains of the family and obtained a scholarship to Stanford University. Becoming pregnant meant she couldn’t keep up with her studies and had to leave the prestigious university.
