by J. S. Scott
“What do you want?” I asked belligerently. I was curious, but not enough to deal with somebody invading my space. I cursed my brothers for sending me a female. Not that I wanted a guy at my door. I actually didn’t want anybody here.
“I’m Sam. Your new housekeeper.”
“You’re not a guy.” It wasn’t a brilliant conclusion, but it was exactly what I was thinking.
She held a hand over her eyes, shielding her face from the sun. “I never claimed to be male,” she said calmly as she brushed by me to enter.
I had wanted to close the door in her face, but she’d been too stealthy. Not to mention the fact that when her body had briefly caressed mine, I’d been momentarily distracted. “You need to go. I told Julian not to send you here. And I sure as hell didn’t know that you were a woman.”
She calmly reached behind me and closed the door. “You’re letting the flies in. Judging by the smell of your house, I think it’s already a breeding ground for bugs.”
“I don’t care. Get. Out,” I told her, my teeth clenched together in irritation.
“Nope. Sorry. I need this job,” she answered as she pulled her suitcase through the foyer and into the family room. “God, you really are a pig.”
Intrigued, I followed her. Not once had she flinched at the nasty scars on my face. I had several, the two worst ones running from my temples and down both of my cheeks. “It doesn’t matter if the place is a mess. You won’t have to clean up.”
She turned and put her hands on her curvy hips, causing the thin yellow sundress she was wearing to bunch up and show a little more of her bare legs. “I’m staying. I told you I need this job. You can either show me to my room, or I’ll find it myself.”
“Leave,” I said in a graveled, irritated tone.
She lifted an eyebrow. “Make me. What are you going to do? Throw me out on the doorstep? Go ahead. I’ll just sit out there until you let me in. Of course, it’s hot and humid, so I could dehydrate. But I’m sure you’d call an ambulance once I lost consciousness.”
The woman was challenging me, and I knew it. “I won’t know. I wouldn’t worry about you.”
She wouldn’t really sit on my doorstep, right? I looked her up and down, noticing the determined tilt of her chin and stubborn expression, deciding she just might.
Turning her back on me, she left the family room and wandered around the bottom floor, dragging the suitcase behind her. I didn’t say a word as she explored, the disgusted look on her face saying everything she wanted to say out loud, but didn’t. Finally, she found the elevator to the top floor, stepped into it, then punched one of the buttons.
“Dinner will be at eight o’clock. I need to clean up the kitchen before I cook.”
“You need to leave . . .”
Before I could tug her out of my elevator and throw her bossy ass outside, the door to the lift whooshed closed.
“Goddammit!” I cursed her curvy blonde ass as I headed toward the stairs.
Maybe Sam the woman had surprised me, but she wasn’t about to best me. It was my house, and I didn’t want her here.
I hightailed it upstairs by taking the steps, determined to get her out of my home before she even had a chance to see the bedrooms.
I need to get her out of here. I don’t want her around.
If she really thought she was staying, she was delusional.
There wasn’t a damn thing she could say to make me change my mind.
CHAPTER 3
SAMANTHA
There was a time in my life when I’d loved Xander Sinclair’s music. It had been my solace, my one guilty pleasure. His style had been unique, not quite metal, but expressive rock with some thoughtful ballads thrown into the mix.
His words had reached out and spoken to me when he sang. They’d touched my heart and gotten me through some of my darkest days.
Meeting him now, even several years after he’d recorded his last song, I couldn’t believe the man and his music were so very different.
Shaking my head and longing for the days when Xander had been my hero, I walked into a bedroom, knowing immediately that it was a guest room. Everything was in its place, and it was tidy. Obviously, the owner had spent no time in this space.
Hefting my suitcase onto the bed, I tried to focus on what I needed to accomplish. Before I could get anywhere, I needed to clean up the mess Xander had made of the house. The place looked like a tornado had struck and nobody had ever done cleanup.
If I lived in a house this messy, I’d probably be depressed, too. My mild OCD with having everything organized and tidy might not always be healthy, but there was no way I could live in a place like this. Maybe I had my quirks, but I was well aware of them, and tried to keep them under control.
“I thought I told you to get your ass out of here?”
It wasn’t like I wasn’t expecting him, but Xander’s husky voice still startled me. I knew very well that he was behind me, but I didn’t turn around. I didn’t react. I just started to open the zipper on my suitcase so I could unpack.
“I heard your request,” I admitted. “I’m just not heeding it. You need me. This is a beautiful home, and you’re completely destroying it. Your brother built this house for you. Don’t you want to take care of it?”
He moved closer. “I don’t give a shit. It’s just a place to live,” he growled. There was a hesitation before he asked, “How did you know he built it?”
“I got information from your brothers. I was warned. It’s not like I was sent here blindly. I already knew you were acting like an asshole. I knew what I was getting into. And judging by the state of this house, I deserved to know, and I’ll earn every penny they’re paying me.”
He moved closer, and I could see him cross his arms over his broad chest from the corner of my eye.
“So they told you I’m trying to recover? That I’m a drug addict and an alcoholic?”
“Yes.” I wasn’t starting this relationship with any more lies.
“Then why in the hell do you want to work here? Who wants to live with a miserable fuck like me?”
“Me,” I answered simply.
“Why?”
“I need a job. You need my services. The situation is perfect for both of us right now.”
“Jesus! Are you always this bossy?”
I bit back a smile. “Most of the time. And I don’t consider it bossy. I like to think I’m assertive.”
“You’re annoying as hell,” he said with a scowl.
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard somebody tell me that, so the insult didn’t hit home. It rolled right off my back quite easily.
I moved back and forth from the dresser and closet to my suitcase, putting away clothing. If Xander wanted me gone, he’d have to physically overpower me and throw me out. “You’re not exactly pleasant, either.”
That was putting it mildly. Xander was a jerk, but no matter how much he vented or grumbled, I was fairly certain he wasn’t violent. He was a big man, and he could have very easily manhandled me out the door. But for some reason, he hadn’t. Well, at least not yet.
“How much money do you need to leave?” he rumbled. “I’ll pay it. I’ll give you the cash just to get you the hell out of my house. I don’t want you here.”
I turned to him. “I don’t want money for nothing. I can’t take it. All I want is honest work. What do you care if I clean your house?”
His body was tense and defensive as he answered, “What female doesn’t want money? I’m offering to pay you without having to do the job. A year’s pay. That’s fair.”
It was more than generous, which told me that Xander had a conscience, but it wasn’t happening. I’d always had a good work ethic, and I wasn’t leaving. I was staying here, no matter what it took to keep me from being thrown out bodily.
“I won’t do it. I’ve never taken anything I didn’t earn, and I’m not starting now,” I answered stubbornly.
I sized him up now that I was facing him. Even
with the scars on his face, he was still handsome. For me, the scars were a symbol of his courage, and just made him look more rugged and powerful. I was guessing he had a workout room somewhere in the home, judging by his ripped appearance and powerful biceps. The T-shirt he was wearing did very little to hide how muscular he was, or that he was obviously in very good physical shape.
His hair was a little bit shaggy and long, and his jaw was covered in dark scruff. As I looked up at him, I could tell he was over six feet tall. Usually, I wasn’t the kind of woman who liked tattoos, but the intricate black markings on his biceps actually suited him. His eyes were dark brown and currently angry as hell. Really, the whole Xander package should have been frightening, but he wasn’t. Not to me.
I couldn’t exactly put a finger on why he didn’t scare me. It was completely gut instinct, since he hadn’t given me a single reason why I shouldn’t be running away as fast as my little white sandals would carry me.
His voice was still belligerent as he said, “I don’t want you here.”
“So you’ve said. Then what do you want?” I asked. “You’re obviously not happy.”
“What the hell do you know about happiness?” he growled.
I knew quite a bit about it, actually. I’d spent most of my life without it, so I’d learned to appreciate every single bit of happiness I could get now that I was all grown up and in charge of my own life. “I know it isn’t always easy to find,” I confessed. “Xander, just let me stay. Give me a week. Tell me what you want, and I’ll try to accommodate you.”
“Enough whiskey to make me forget who I am.”
“Can’t do that.”
“You asked what would make me happy,” he argued.
“Think of something else. I’ll cook. I’ll clean.”
“The only two things that I want right now are to get laid or get drunk or stoned.”
I was ready for his comment. Over the course of my conversations with Micah and Julian, I knew that was often Xander’s irritated response.
Time to call him on his statement. I couldn’t give him the substances he wanted to escape, but I could grant his other wish. And I’d do it if it just kept me here for a while.
“Okay,” I agreed compliantly, then turned back to my suitcase to finish unpacking.
“What do you mean by . . . ‘okay’?” His voice sounded slightly confused and taken aback. “What kind of response is that?”
I went to hang up a sundress, then went back for some jeans. “I agree. I can’t give you the alcohol. But I get wanting to have sex. It’s a normal bodily urge for a guy your age. I get it.”
“I’m glad you get some, because I don’t,” he said with a humorless laugh.
I ignored the fact that he’d misquoted the words I’d said. I reached into the rear zipper pocket of my suitcase, and then turned toward Xander again.
“Here.” I shoved the box into his hand.
“What the hell is this?” He accepted it like it was a snake.
“Condoms. Safe sex.”
He tossed the box on the bed. “Keep it. No woman would have me right now.”
“I will,” I offered. “If you were to be nicer to me, I’d have sex with you. I find you attractive. But I don’t do stinky guys who haven’t showered.”
His eyes grew wider as he stared at me like I was crazy. “Lady, you’ve got a problem.”
I shrugged. “You think so? What’s wrong with being honest? You’d be pretty hot if you’d shower and take care of yourself.”
“What about all the things women care about?” He looked seriously confused as he gaped at me.
“Love? Dating? Flowers?”
“Yeah, yeah. All of that stuff? I don’t do that stuff. I fuck. That’s it.” He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
“Guys have sex just for pleasure, right? Is it so bad that I’m willing to do the same thing?”
Actually, I didn’t run around looking for a guy just to get laid, and every one of the few sexual encounters I’d had in my life had meant something to me. I didn’t have no-strings-attached, casual sex. I’d never experienced the visceral, immediate reaction of my body the way it was responding to Xander. I had a vibrator to satisfy my needs when I wasn’t in a relationship. But I wasn’t about to let Xander know that.
“All women want something,” he grumbled.
“Not me. No strings attached. I just need sexual chemistry.” It was every guy’s dream, right? A woman who wanted nothing but sex? I knew Xander needed a whole hell of a lot more than that, but I’d start there.
“And you feel that? With me?” He sounded like he didn’t believe what he was hearing.
My heart clenched as I recognized the slight vulnerability in his tone. I was attracted to him, and I wasn’t all hung up on needing a committed relationship to have sex. My past had made me learn never to take a single day for granted. Even though I’d never done it before, I was willing to try no-pressure sex with Xander.
I was just that desperate for him to let me stay.
“Yes.” I didn’t elaborate.
“You realize you’re crazy?” he asked hesitantly.
I smiled. “Maybe.”
His lips twitched as he moved to the bed and picked up the box of condoms. “Magnum? Is that wishful thinking?”
I didn’t answer.
“And why in the hell are you carrying around an economy-sized box of rubbers?”
I still didn’t answer.
To be honest, I was uncommonly uncertain what to say. Normally, I didn’t carry a box of raincoats. It had been an impulse buy, a gut instinct before I came here, and I had no idea what was economy sized. Obviously, the box I’d bought was overkill.
Maybe I’d been hoping I’d meet a nice guy and have a fling while I was in a beach town where most people were hanging out to have a nice time. I’d definitely learned that even committed relationships didn’t always last, and weren’t always good.
I shrugged. “Why not?”
He shook his head, but he kept the box as he headed toward the door. “You can stay. One week. We reevaluate after that.”
He didn’t sound happy about the situation at all, but at least he wasn’t going to throw me out of his house. Muscles that I didn’t realize were tense suddenly relaxed. “Thanks.”
“My decision has nothing to do with the sex,” he added hastily.
“Of course not,” I agreed. “And I haven’t told you exactly when I’d decide to have sex with you. I’m waiting to see your kinder side.”
“Then tell me now.” His nostrils flared with irritation or something like it as he stared at me. “And just FYI . . . this is my nicer side.”
“I can’t tell you when we’ll have sex. I only know I want to.”
He turned and started to leave the room without saying a word.
“Where are you going?” I asked curiously.
Without turning back toward me, he mumbled, “To take a damn shower.”
I let out a relieved breath as he disappeared from sight, wondering what the hell kind of devil’s bargain I’d just made with Xander Sinclair.
CHAPTER 4
XANDER
I woke up the next morning, surprised to see that I’d actually slept the entire night without getting out of bed and pacing the floor. That was usually how I spent my nocturnal hours, tossing and turning, so damn ramped up that I wasn’t able to get more than a few hours of sleep at one time. I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling.
I felt . . . rested, and it wasn’t a feeling I was used to experiencing.
I knew there was every possibility that the woman staying down the hall in the guest room of my home was completely certifiable.
Sure, she’d acted pretty normal last night as she’d sped through the place like she owned it, cleaning up the kitchen, vacuuming, and even dusting. I’d felt kind of bad when she’d started coughing from the dust, but not bad enough to do it myself. I’d taken out the trash that she’d continue
d to hand me during several trips to the big can outside. I wasn’t sure why I’d done it, but it had seemed easier to just do it than to argue with a woman like Samantha.
Damn. The woman was ornery. But I had to admit, she worked hard.
Dinner had been the best I’d had for years, and it was just a pasta dish and vegetables. But it was the first thing I’d eaten in a long time that wasn’t fast food or microwaved.
I hadn’t said much, but I’d kind of enjoyed listening to her rattle on about how much she liked Amesport, and what she wanted to see. Mostly, she sounded like she enjoyed water sports and being outside. Hell, she even fished.
But the thing that kept coming back into my brain time after time was trying to figure out her motive in offering me sex with no attachments.
What woman does that unless she’s drunk, high, or incredibly horny? Samantha didn’t seem to be any of those things. Honestly, she seemed . . . nice. Okay, she was bossy, but last night she’d worked her ass off to clean things up, and I realized she was no slacker. So the sex thing had thrown me for a loop.
Oh well, if she was nuts, it would just be one more fruit loop in the loony bin. It wasn’t like I was exactly sane.
Welcome to Insanity Central.
I grimaced as I crawled out of bed and headed for the shower.
I came out shaved and clean as I made my way to the closet to grab jeans and a T-shirt, ignoring the fact that it was the first day in a long time that I’d actually gotten up, showered, shaved, and dressed like a normal person. It was also the first time I’d been motivated to do anything since I’d lost my mind and my sobriety several years ago.
It’s because I know somebody else is here. I can hear her banging around in the kitchen.
The commotion should have irritated me, but oddly, it didn’t.
Most days, I got up and slept wherever and whenever I wanted to, and I went days without showering because nobody was here to smell me.
Today, I actually welcomed a regular routine.
Not that I really want her here. It isn’t that. I don’t want anybody here. I’d rather be alone, but I want to figure out her motivation first. Then I can kick her ass onto the doorstep.
