“It was red and gold tonight.” Jane’s voice startled Hamilton. He turned to face her as she set a small plate with fruit, cheese, and crackers in front of him. He hadn’t even noticed that someone had taken away the dessert plates.
“W-what?”
She gave him a soft smile and lifted her chin toward the windows. “The sunset. Tonight, it was apple red and the kind of gold you might see if you were looking into flames. A little bit of deep purple toward the end, and now it’s fading into a rich, velvety blue.”
Her words were like a caress, reaching deep into a part of his soul that Hamilton didn’t even know existed. As best she could, Jane brought him color. No one else had ever tried. And that meant more than he could even put into words.
“What color is your h-hair?” Hamilton whispered, unable to stop himself. “I imagine it as the color of wheat.”
Jane reached a hand up, brushing back a few strands that had escaped her ponytail. The pencil was gone, replaced with a dark elastic.
“Close,” Jane said. “Very close. Actually, it reminds me of your eyes. The same honey tone, but blonde, not brown.”
She noticed my eyes. The thought made him ridiculously happy, far more than it should.
“Is your date coming back?” Jane glanced toward the main doorway.
Hamilton shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m sorry.”
Jane didn’t really look all that sorry. Which made Hamilton even happier. Had she been jealous? His pulse raced unsteadily at the thought.
“I’m not … sorry,” he said.
Hamilton met and held her eyes, pleased to see her smile, even though she bit her lip as though to contain it. He hadn’t been imagining the connection between them, either in his room earlier or at dinner when their eyes had first met. Something real and alive seemed to hang in the air between them, so tangible that Hamilton wondered if he could catch and hold it in the palm of his hand.
Almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Jane’s smile fell. Her eyes darted from one side of the room to the other as she began backing away.
“I have to go. I’ve already stayed too long.”
Hamilton lifted his hand, moving to grab hers, but she shook her head and stepped just out of reach.
“I’ll lose my job,” Jane whispered. “Goodnight, Hamilton.”
Her voice was steady and firm but tinged with regret. When his date for the evening had disappeared, he only wanted to call her back out of a sense of politeness. As he watched Jane cross the room, every cell in his body seemed to war against his decision to stay seated.
Hamilton didn’t want Jane to get in trouble. But he determined in that moment that he wouldn’t give up on her.
Without a date, there was no reason to linger at dinner, so he pushed his chair back and left the dining room. Hopefully, he could track Jane down. Discreetly, so she wouldn’t get in trouble. Hamilton made his way outside the building to the large stone terrace that lined one side of the main building. Where might he find Jane?
The evening was warm and balmy, and a few couples walked along the stretch of beach in the moonlight. A soft giggle caught his attention, and with a start, he realized that in the shadows at the other end of the terrace, another couple snuggled together in a lounge chair.
Without much thought for where he was going, Hamilton made his way down the terrace steps. The path below forked, one direction leading to the beach and another headed through the trees at the back of the resort. Maybe to the stables? He hadn’t fully familiarized himself with the resort’s layout yet. But the staff quarters would likely be somewhere away from the beach.
The path leveled out and Hamilton strolled along, a warm breeze skimming over his cheeks and neck. He removed his jacket and tie, draping them over one arm, and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, rolling the sleeves up a bit. If it hadn’t been against the La Vida dress code, he would have changed into shorts and a T-shirt before taking a walk.
Hamilton shook his head. What had he been thinking coming here? None of this was like him—the formality, the over-the-top luxury. Yes, he could afford fine dining and fancy suits. He certainly didn’t mind the resort’s amenities. But he didn’t want to have to pretend. To dress a certain way and present himself like this.
When a newly married business associate had recommended La Vida, Hamilton had been feeling particularly desperate. He had just met with his mother’s doctor, and those conversations never went well. They reminded him how short time might be.
So, when Thomas gave La Vida glowing praise, saying that he’d met and fallen for his wife there, Hamilton had submitted an application on a whim. He had forgotten all about it until Mrs. Morgan followed up. When they spoke on the phone, he’d felt a nagging sense of discomfort, but wrote it off. After all, he did want to get married, and it didn’t seem to be happening on its own.
Had he expected to fall in love? Not really. He’d thought that maybe he would find someone that he could live with. A companion. Someone he might have the possibility to fall in love with over time.
Everything about the idea of love felt uncomfortable to him. They called it falling, for heaven’s sake. That alone should be enough to warn people off. Hamilton didn’t like disorder or discomfort. The idea of slowly stepping into love—that’s what he’d imagined for himself. Choosing a woman based on logic, and letting love develop over time.
Instead, he felt distinctly uncomfortable with the La Vida women so far. Maybe they all did have their own wealth, but he’d realized quickly that didn’t mean they weren’t still eager for more. So far, they were as forgettable and undesirable as the other women he’d met in his life.
Except for the one.
Thinking of Jane, Hamilton realized that he didn’t mind the idea of falling anymore. Not if it was with her. His pulse raced at the thought, even as he tried to tell himself that it was ridiculous to trust his feelings. But wasn’t it his gut instinct that had helped him take his family’s company to new heights? Why shouldn’t it be the same with love?
Just ahead on a connecting path, Hamilton spotted a familiar figure. Her back was to him, but it was most certainly Jane. She walked alongside another La Vida staff member, twins in their dark pants and light shirts. The other woman had dark hair that curled down her back.
Jane threw her head back, laughing, and Hamilton’s gaze fell on the curve of her neck, so pale and perfect in the moonlight.
“Jane!” he called out before he even realized that he meant to.
Both women stopped in the path, turning toward him with matching expressions of surprise. Jane’s friend smirked, whispering something before taking off down the path. Hamilton jogged over to meet her, feeling a stupid smile cross his face.
“Hi,” he said.
“What are you doing back here?” Jane dipped her chin, staring up at him through her lashes. Hamilton had seen women use this as a flirtatious move before, but it didn’t feel that way from Jane.
“I was just g-going for a … w-walk.”
She gestured to the low bungalows nestled in the trees a little distance away. “This is where they keep the help.” She grinned at him, seeming to gain a little more of her confidence. “I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed. Mrs. Morgan would have your head. Or maybe suck out your soul.”
Hamilton laughed. “She does have that l-look about her. Out of curiosity, why do you work here if you d-don’t like her?”
“You’ve never had a boss that you couldn’t stand?”
Hamilton shook his head, not wanting to tell her yet that he’d only worked for his father and the family business.
Jane wrinkled her nose. It was an adorable look on her. And for the second time that day, Hamilton thought about kissing her. His heart thrummed in his ears. If they kept standing here, he was going to do something stupid.
As she opened her mouth to answer, Hamilton spoke first. “Want to answer w-while we … walk?”
Jane smile
d. “I’d love to. Maybe I should lead the way, since you clearly have no idea where you’re going?”
“Please.” Taking a deep breath, Hamilton held out his elbow to Jane and she linked her arm through his.
No sooner had they started than she stopped, tugging him to a halt as well. “I’d love to change quickly. If you don’t mind. I could also leave your jacket and tie in my room, so you don’t have to carry them.”
“Lead the way.”
It was a quick walk down to the bungalows. Jane’s building was at the very end. From a distance, they looked fine. Fresh paint and window boxes full of flowers made them look more suited to the resort. At closer inspection, the buildings were little more than cheaply built shacks hidden among the trees.
He eyed the building with a narrow gaze. “You’re staying here?”
“It’s not so bad,” Jane said, unlinking her arm from his. She held out her hand and he gave her his jacket and tie. “But don’t be offended if I don’t invite you in. There’s hardly room for one person to stand inside.”
“Oh! I w-w-w-wasn’t trying to—”
Jane pressed her palm flat against his chest. Every single muscle in Hamilton’s body stilled at her touch. When she smiled up at him, it felt like a piece of his heart shifted. He could hardly breathe from the beauty of her in the moonlight.
“I know you weren’t, Hamilton. That’s why I trust you enough to even bring you here. I may not know you well … yet, but I get the impression that you’re a gentleman.”
Jane pressed her hand against him more firmly before turning for the door. As though he were somehow tethered to her, his body leaned after her. He planted his feet, sliding his hands into his pockets.
“No lock?” Hamilton asked, watching Jane turn the doorknob.
“Oh.” Jane laughed and turned to look at him, her profile lit up in the light from inside the bungalow. “I guess I feel safe here. Other than from Mrs. Morgan. Give me a minute.”
Hamilton caught a glimpse of a neatly made bed with a white comforter before Jane closed the door. Letting out a slow breath, Hamilton began pacing slowly in front of the row of buildings.
“She’s a great girl, you know.” The dark-haired woman who had been walking with Jane a few minutes before spoke from the front of another bungalow. “I’m Marisa.”
She held out her hand and Hamilton shook it. “Y-y-you were my server at … the beginning of the n-night.”
“I was. Then Jane almost spilled a drink on someone and Mrs. Morgan made us switch. Worked out well, I see.”
Marisa tilted her head and Hamilton turned to see Jane coming toward him. His heart seemed to climb up into his throat at the sight of her knee-length floral sundress. He tried not to stare at the smooth line of her calves, but everywhere he looked, his eyes drank in the sight of her. Her light hair hung loose around the curve of her bare shoulders in the sleeveless sundress she wore.
“Wow,” he breathed.
“Just take good care of her,” Marisa said softly. “She’s been through a lot.”
Hamilton dragged his eyes away from Jane long enough to meet Marisa’s gaze. What had Jane been through? The thought sent protectiveness surging through him. He gave her a quick nod. “I w-will.”
“All set,” Jane said, stopping a few feet from Hamilton. She smoothed a hand down the front of the dress and brushed her hair back from her face, studying him. “Is this too much?”
Hamilton fought the urge to laugh. He didn’t want her to get the wrong impression. Compared to the other women here, Jane was like breathing fresh air after being sealed up in a room for weeks. “You’re p-p-perfect.”
Unlike me, he thought, clenching his teeth. I can’t even compliment her without stuttering.
Jane smiled and took his arm again, leading him back toward where they came after giving Marisa a final wave. They didn’t speak this time, the silence between them comfortable, yet also filled with a good kind of tension, as though the pull between them charged the air around them.
Jane leaned closer into him, until her cheek was pressed against his shoulder. “It’s light blue,” she said.
Hamilton glanced at her. “What?”
“Sorry.” She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “My dress. It’s an early morning blue, crisp and bright. The flowers are pale pink. Like a blush.”
Her thoughtfulness made his chest tighten. He had been color blind for so long that he didn’t often think about colors. Not until Jane. Her descriptions invited him back into a world that he felt like he had lost for so long. “Thank you,” he said. And without thought, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
They both stiffened, and Hamilton wanted to kick himself for overstepping. Until she tilted her head up and gave him a full smile. He might not be able to see the color in them, but he could read the flush in her cheeks.
When the path split, she nudged him to the right. “There’s a lovely stretch of beach this way,” she said. “We’re not likely to run into anyone.”
“Don’t want to be s-seen with me?” Hamilton teased.
“No! But only because I could lose my job. Anyone would be lucky to be seen with you.”
If only that were true. Still, Hamilton warmed at her compliment. “As long as you think so,” he said.
Moments later, the path opened up before them. The stones stopped where the grass met the edge of a sandy beach. Jane discarded her sandals, and Hamilton followed suit. He was surprised at how cool the sand felt against his toes, the soft grit of it reminding him of his childhood trips with his parents to Hawaii and Belize. They had loved the beach. He missed them both so much.
Some of the joy he felt at being in Jane’s presence slipped at the thought. But then she darted ahead, her dress whipping around in the breeze from the ocean. Her laughter carried on the wind, reaching him over the sound of the pounding waves. She stretched out her arms, tipping her head back as she spun. When she stopped, she stumbled a little, and Hamilton reached out to steady her.
Laughing, Jane grasped his arm, then slid her hand down until they were palm to palm. Hamilton swallowed, then laced their fingers together. It felt as natural to him as breathing.
“Is this okay?” he asked.
The look on her face and the way she squeezed his hand made him think it was. But Hamilton didn’t always feel like he read cues correctly. He needed to be sure. He wanted to know that she felt the same thing he did. Desperately, he craved hearing her say it.
“More than okay. Almost …” She trailed off, blinking up at him.
“Almost n-not enough?”
Jane nodded. “Crazy, right? I mean, we hardly know each other.”
“And y-yet that’s not how it … feels.”
The moment seemed to become greater somehow as they stood in the moonlight. Hamilton reached his free hand up to touch a strand of her hair as it whipped in the ocean breeze. Jane sighed, leaning closer to him, until he tugged her hand toward him, wrapping it around his waist. Only then did he unlink their fingers, letting his hand rest on her lower back.
“Still okay?” he asked.
Jane’s smile widened as she looked up at him. Before he even realized what was happening, she stood on her toes, leaning forward to brush her lips over his.
The kiss was soft and sweet, somehow both bold and shy. Her mouth barely skimmed over his, and Hamilton matched her slow, soft movements. At least, at first. Going purely on the instinct that had been drawing him to Jane from the start, Hamilton took control.
His hand slid from where he still held her hair to the back of her neck, gently tugging her closer. He kept the kiss sweet but deepened the connection. She sighed against his lips before he pulled back to rest his forehead against hers.
“Hamilton,” she whispered.
“Jane.”
He smiled when he said her name, closing his eyes to simply feel the connection where their foreheads touched, where his hands circled her waist, and where she now clutched at his shirt. When ha
d her hands moved there? He had been so lost in the kiss that he didn’t notice.
“We need to do something about our names,” Jane said.
“W-what?” Hamilton pulled back slightly, wanting to see her expression in the moonlight.
“Our names. Yours is so strong. So solid and powerful. Plus, three syllables. And it doesn’t lend itself well to nicknames. Ham. Hammy. Ton. Hamil.”
Jane wrinkled her nose, and Hamilton leaned forward, kissing just the tip of it. She laughed, and he did it again.
“So, my name is a p-p-problem. Got it. What’s wrong with yours? Jane. It s-suits you.”
“Don’t say that! I’ve always hated my name. It literally rhymes with plain. It’s one syllable, and kind of comes out like a cough. Jane.”
She spoke her name like a cough, and now it was Hamilton’s turn to laugh.
“You,” he said, when he finished laughing, “are anything but plain. I’m supposed to be up there, mingling with women who have been v-vetted to be a p-perfect … match.” He rolled his eyes, then moved his hand from the back of Jane’s neck to cup her cheek. “But since you b-burst into my room earlier with fresh towels, y-you have been all I could … think about. You, Jane.”
He let her name spill from her lips like a caress, and she closed her eyes, sighing again. “Maybe my name isn’t so bad. Not when you say it.”
“Then I won’t stop.”
Jane tugged his hand as she sat down on the sand, just out of the shallows. Hamilton sat so close their hips were touching, and curled an arm around her back, pulling him close. He heard her sigh as her head rested against his collarbone.
“So, Jane. T-tell me about yourself. I feel l-like I know you somehow … yet I don’t know much about you a-at all.”
She drew in a breath. “How much do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. My life hasn’t been full of pleasant memories,” she said.
“I’m n-not going anywhere.”
Maid for the Billionaire Page 3
