And Chloe’s words were suddenly right there. ‘She mightn’t mind being his mistress.’
What sort of dangerous game was this?
Somehow she managed to tug away. She was released in an instant. She sat staring at him and thought... He looks almost as stunned as me.
‘No,’ she stammered.
‘No?’
‘I... You’re employing me. This is... You have no right.’
‘I don’t.’ But he sounded regretful.
‘It won’t work if you...if you take liberties.’
And the ready laughter flashed back. ‘Liberties? If I’m not mistaken, you were kissing back.’
She couldn’t deny it. Nor did she want to, but some things had to be set straight.
‘Enough.’ She rose and brushed her hands on her jeans as if wiping away a stain. ‘That was an aberration.’
‘There’s a big word.’
A big word. Whoa?
And reality slammed right back, as it always did. She was the dumb one, the kid who’d hardly been to school, the one who’d been lucky to get a job as a hotel cleaner. What right did she have to use big words?
What right did she have to kiss this guy and, if she did, what would he expect in return?
‘Yeah, I must have read it on the back of a cornflakes packet,’ she muttered. ‘Aberration. Deviation from the norm. Beware, there’s the odd cornflake in here that might not meet expectations. Just like me saying aberration.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He got her anger. ‘Sunny, I didn’t mean...’ He started to rise but she backed away.
‘I accept your offer of a job,’ she told him. ‘My family’s right; it’s an awesome offer too good to refuse. And I’ll do my best. I’ll care for Phoebe as I’d care for my own family, but that’s all I’m committing to. I’m staff, Max Grayland, the hired help, so don’t you dare try anything on with me.’
‘I wouldn’t...’
‘You just did.’
‘Wasn’t it consensual?’
‘There’s another big word,’ she snapped. ‘That’s beside the point. I’m the hired help, got it? Stay clear of me, Max Grayland. I’ll work for you, I’ll care for Phoebe and I’ll probably enjoy it, but if you touch me again I’ll tell you where you can put your consensual. Now, goodnight. Christmas is over and I’m done. Oh, and I’ll do Phoebe’s next feed. I’m paid staff, remember, and I start being treated as paid staff right now.’
* * *
Paid staff.
He’d kissed her and she didn’t feel like paid staff at all.
He had no idea what she felt like. He tried to analyse it and all he could come up with was...different. The bland adjective didn’t begin to describe his reaction.
No one like Sunny had ever come into his orbit. She was a hotel cleaner and yet she wasn’t. Or she was, but she was so much more. He was seeing beneath the outer layer but there were more layers concealing what lay underneath, complexities he had no way of knowing.
Did he want to know?
He didn’t. Of course he didn’t, because he had no wish to become involved.
Forty-eight hours ago a baby had been thrust into his life, making him more involved than he’d ever wanted to be. Threatening his precious independence. And here was Sunny...threatening the same?
Except she wasn’t. Sunny knew the rules.
‘I’m paid staff, remember, and I start being treated as paid staff right now.’
So what was he doing, kissing her? He’d pushed hard to get her to come to New York. It was a sensible plan to solve his problems, not a first step in making more.
Kissing her made more.
No. Feeling as he did made more. The touch of her...the taste of her lips...the warmth of her body...the twinkle, the strength, the love...
Love. There was a scary word. She had it in abundance, he thought—love to share.
He wanted it for Phoebe so he was paying for it, but he didn’t want it for himself. He knew the perils of loving and he had no intention of going there. Kissing Sunny had risked his perfectly crafted plans for nothing.
‘So keep your hands to yourself.’ He said it out loud and then noticed the open window and wondered if Sunny was inside—if Sunny could hear.
So what? Let her think what had happened was simply a boss makes an inappropriate move moment. He’d apologise in the morning, trust she didn’t sue for sexist harassment in the workplace and move on.
But the way the kiss had made him feel...
‘Move on,’ he told himself, again out loud, roughly, harshly. ‘You have enough complications without that.’
‘Oi!’ The voice above his head startled him. It was Tom, leaning out of an upstairs window. ‘Are you enjoying talking to yourself or would you like company?’
‘Thanks but no.’ He rose and walked down the steps so he could grin ruefully up at Tom. ‘Sorry to disturb you.’
‘You sure you don’t want a mate to drink with?’
‘Thank you but no. I’m heading to bed and I’m happy on my own.’
‘People who talk to themselves aren’t happy on their own,’ Tom said sagely. ‘Just lucky our Sunny’s going back to New York with you.’
‘Yes, it is,’ he agreed and headed inside.
But should he have agreed? His head—and his body—were starting to have all sorts of doubts.
Was it lucky that Sunny was coming back with him?
It was sensible, he told himself. But it also felt...
Risky.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE FLIGHT TO New York was awesome, though it might just ruin her for flying for ever. How could she ever appreciate cattle class now? Her first ever time in an aeroplane was a first class flight, with extra seats booked for Phoebe and her baby gear.
Max Grayland was obviously a platinum flyer, privileged beyond belief. Every time he blinked—or Sunny blinked—someone was there to help. Who knew what the flight attendants thought of her, but not by a twitch of their perfectly groomed faces did they show how out of place her faded jeans and discount store jacket looked in this place.
For the most part Max stayed engrossed in his work. It was urgent stuff, she gathered, by the way his fingers flew over the keyboard and by the amount of paperwork littered around his seat. But he was taking her stipulation seriously. When Phoebe was awake he’d leave his work and take the baby from her. He’d dandle her and smile and play, and Sunny watched him and thought she was almost redundant.
Except...she was included too. They had four seats, two pairs across the aisle from each other. When Phoebe was awake Max moved to the seat next to hers. He chatted to his little sister, he told her all the treats that were in store for her in New York, but he included Sunny in the conversation.
‘It’ll be cold,’ he told his little sister. ‘Really cold. That’s the first thing we need to do, get you some warm baby clothes. And Sunny too. A decent down jacket, I think, and some fur-lined boots so you two can explore together.’
‘I can...’ Sunny started but she knew she couldn’t. She didn’t have the wherewithal to buy her own down jacket and she’d have no clue as to where to buy a cheap one.
‘You probably could,’ Max agreed gravely, giving her her dignity. ‘But it would be my privilege to buy them for you. Besides, girls like shopping and it’ll be fun watching you two hit the stores.’
‘Fun?’ She didn’t believe him.
‘Okay, I have no idea if it’ll be fun,’ he admitted. ‘But grant me the privilege of finding out.’
And then they were landing. A chauffeur met them and a limousine took them straight to Max’s apartment. She had a brief impression of a vast park on one side of the street, with old stone buildings on the other, solid and imposing. Then they were ushered inside and Sunny
could barely take in such luxury. A housekeeper with a smiley face and a head full of tight white curls greeted them with pleasure.
‘Supper or bed?’ Max asked Sunny, and the care and empathy in his smile was almost her undoing. For despite the luxury, despite the attention—or maybe because of it, because it had left her in a limbo of tension as she’d tried to figure what her role was—she was exhausted.
‘I...just a cup of tea and bed,’ she told him. ‘But I’ll settle Phoebe...’
‘How about a toasted cheese sandwich and cocoa in bed?’ Max asked. ‘Eliza and I can look after Phoebe, can’t we, Eliza?’
And Eliza was nodding and smiling, scooping Phoebe out of her carry capsule and cradling her with care. Making Phoebe even less sure of her role.
‘We certainly can. I’ll show you to your bedroom, Miss Raye. May I suggest a bath—a nice long soak—and then supper and bed?’ And she smiled at Max and she smiled down at Phoebe. ‘Oh, Mr Grayland, this is going to be fun.’
* * *
So she lay in a king-sized tub with bubbles up to her neck and tried to figure what was going on. She was ensconced in luxury and Max Grayland had a housekeeper who looked like everyone’s favourite granny.
How could she be needed? Phoebe was just one little girl...
Who was wailing. Maybe she’d been in the bath a tad long. Maybe she’d almost snoozed. She dried fast and wrapped a bathrobe round her—hey, Max had those fancy hotel-type robes, only better. She wrapped her wet hair in one of his gorgeous towels and padded out to see.
Max was pacing the floor with Phoebe, encouraging her to take the bottle. Phoebe, however, was having none of it.
For a moment she stood in the doorway and watched him. The living room was enormous, with vast plate glass windows showing the skyline of practically all of Manhattan. The room itself was amazing, luxury meshed with indescribable comfort. It was a living room with a kitchen/dining area. There were vast planked benches, a polished wood floor with tapestry rugs, sofas and chairs you’d just want to sink into, a planked table that matched the benches with twelve leather chairs, a fireplace with a crackling fire augmenting the obviously very efficient central heating...
And a man who couldn’t handle a baby.
‘Drink it, sweetheart.’ He was almost pleading. ‘We need to show Sunny we can cope.’
His hair was ruffled, his shirt was half out and he looked...baffled? He was a man in unfamiliar territory. But he lived here, she reminded herself before taking pity on him.
‘Do you need help?’
His expression of almost pathetic gratitude made her laugh. ‘Yes. Please.’
‘Hey, it’s not that bad.’
‘She says it is.’
‘Where’s Eliza?’
‘She finished at seven. She comes in for an hour in the morning and then for a couple of hours in the evening. She makes me supper and leaves it in the warming drawer. Which reminds me, your toasted cheese sandwich is in the oven.’
‘I’ll have it later.’ She scooped Phoebe out of Max’s arms and cradled her against her breast, gently rocking. ‘Hey, sweetheart. Hey, little one.’
Max proffered the bottle but she shook her head. ‘She won’t take it like this. I need to calm her down first.’ She kept on rocking and crooning while she looked out of the window at the truly amazing view and thought that this man had everything...
Everything? A housekeeper who leaves his supper in the warming drawer?
‘Eliza seems lovely,’ she said, while Phoebe hiccupped life’s tragedies into her shoulder. ‘Surely she could help you look after Phoebe.’
‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘How do you mean? She seems caring.’
‘I’ve only met her twice.’ Max sounded almost goaded. ‘I met her when I hired her and gave her the key to the apartment. Her references were great, her cooking’s excellent and she cleans efficiently. That’s hardly enough of a reference to leave Phoebe with her, even if I knew she had time to spare. I know nothing about her personal life.’
‘But if you did?’ Privately she felt okay that he had qualms. He wouldn’t leave Phoebe with just anyone, but instinct told her Eliza was solid. ‘You could check her out and I could go home now.’
‘Do you want to?’
Well, there was a question.
She’d seen the bed she’d be sleeping in. It was the king of plush, luxurious beyond measure. Outside the windows of this magnificent apartment stretched all of Manhattan. Of course she didn’t want to go home.
But it was more than that.
Max was standing by the window, seemingly as exhausted as she was, and suddenly she thought... He seems alone.
It was a weird thing to think. This man had the world at his feet. The Grayland Corporation employed thousands worldwide. He could snap his fingers and have a dozen employees here to take care of Phoebe right now.
But... His housekeeper came in while he was at work, made him dinner and left it in the warming drawer and he didn’t know her. This place was designer perfect but, glancing around, she saw no signs of personality. There were no photographs, no silly souvenirs or fridge magnets. She thought of the jumble of detritus in her grandparents’ house and she thought...
Maybe she was lucky?
The thought came from out of left field, so unexpected that it almost blindsided her. For the past few years—okay, maybe for all her life—she’d existed by doing what came next. The arrival of her grandparents on the scene had seemed a miracle. The worst of the threats had disappeared and she’d been loved and protected ever since. But it hadn’t stopped the grind of daily life. Ruby and John were living in a tumbledown home they didn’t own. They had life tenure so they couldn’t sell it, and there was no way they could afford to rent a home that’d be big enough for all of them. Their daughter had robbed them blind and put them deep in debt during her early drug-taking years and they had no money, so Sunny was forced to keep on working, putting one foot in front of the other as she did what she’d sworn to do. She’d get her siblings an education. She’d see them safe.
But she’d missed out herself. Apart from the blessings of having Gran and Pa on the scene, she’d never once thought she was lucky.
But now, standing in this grand apartment, looking at this man standing solitary against windows overlooking the world, she thought maybe she was.
And she thought...a month. Maybe in a month she could show him...fun. In her arms she held the embryo of a family. Max’s family. With luck Phoebe could grow to be a bouncy, happy toddler, a cheerful little girl, a child who’d greet her big brother with joy when he got home every night. He could be a big brother who’d collect her from school, who’d attend interminable school concerts, who’d commiserate over broken love affairs and bad hairstyles.
He didn’t have a clue, she thought, and she had a month to teach him.
Phoebe had settled to the stage where her sobs were simply hiccups of exhaustion. Sunny sank onto one of the massive down-filled armchairs and held her hand out for the bottle. Max handed it to her and then perched on the chair’s wide arm and watched while Phoebe fed.
‘You make it seem easy.’
‘I make it seem like I’ve done this before.’
‘For all your siblings?’
‘As far as I remember. I was only five when Daisy was born so Mum must have been around, but I still remember making bottles in the middle of the night.’
‘Hell, Sunny...’
‘I loved them,’ she said simply. ‘It’s easy when you love. I learned that early.’ She smiled down into Phoebe’s face, now tightly screwed up in concentration as she sucked. ‘I’d take Daisy into bed with me and cuddle her and we’d go back to sleep together. She was better than a doll.’
And it was much better than being alone. She remembered tha
t too, the sound of the door slamming as her mother left for the night, and the warmth of the baby in her arms. She’d been something to hold onto.
What did Max hold onto?
He was right by her. His hip was brushing against her arm. She could...
She couldn’t.
‘So what shall we do tomorrow?’ she asked, forcing a brightness she didn’t feel.
‘Sleep?’
‘Will you sleep?’
‘Probably not. I’m used to crossing time zones. But I’ll work from home while you catch up on Zs. I won’t wake you unless I need you.’
‘Wake me anyway. I’m only here for a month and I don’t want to miss a minute. Besides, two people giving cuddles are much better than one.’
There was a moment’s silence. He was looking down at her and the feeling was...weird? She glanced up at him and then looked away.
She didn’t understand what was happening. She’d never felt like this and it frightened her, but the look on his face said he was almost as confounded as she was.
‘Let’s take tomorrow as it comes,’ he said. ‘It’s Saturday. Eliza won’t be here so I may well need you.’
‘I hope you do.’ But then she thought should she have said that?
She was in unknown territory and she didn’t have a clue where to take it.
Take it to bed, she thought. Bed was good. Time out, in her gorgeous bedroom.
Phoebe had finished her bottle. She hoisted her onto her shoulder and rubbed her back and was rewarded with a satisfactory burp. ‘You have somewhere for this little one to sleep?’
‘I had Eliza organise it.’ He rose and she followed, carrying the sleeping Phoebe. He opened the bedroom door next to hers and it was all she could do not to gasp.
Okay, she did gasp. It was an ode to pink and silver, a baby’s nursery like no other. The wallpaper was embossed with pink and silver elephants. Pink curtains covered the windows and lush pink carpet covered the floor. A magnificent cot stood at one end, white and silver with pink bedding. There was a pram that looked like something Mary Poppins would push, a true English perambulator. A baby bath on a stand. A myriad of beautiful mobiles hanging from the ceiling. An open wardrobe full of pink.
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