The Maid and the Millionaire

by Myrna Mackenzie

“But not for me.” He gave her a long, assessing stare, and Anna felt awkward, transparent in her eagerness to please. She was thankful that she wasn’t a blusher.

  “You gave me two weeks, but my job of making sure the house is secured from intruders and that the pipes don’t freeze in winter is essentially ended now that you’re here. I’m just improvising during the interim. I can take the food away.”

  “No.” He made a slashing movement with his hand. “You made it. It would be a shame to waste it. I’m…appreciative, but perhaps I should make arrangements for my meals.”

  Anna looked down at the slightly lopsided omelet. “It may be unattractive, but I promise you it’s not poisonous.”

  She glanced up and thought she caught the ghost of a grin on his face. “I believe you,” he said. “I’ll risk it, but my point was that I didn’t hire you to be a cook.”

  She wanted to blurt out that she could do that, but it would soon be obvious that she couldn’t.

  “I’ll find someone,” she said, her voice softer than she liked. Disappointment lanced though her. Stupid. She had known from the start that she couldn’t be the cook, but with the advent of his hiring a cook, her employment options were narrowing.

  “I’ll find someone,” he said. “Or at least my assistant in Chicago will. It’s not your job to do extras.” He stared at her, a frown forming between his eyes. Anna realized that she was twisting her hands nervously.

  “Don’t do that,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.” His words were emphatic, louder than necessary.

  Anna took a deep breath and raised her chin. “I never thought you would.”

  But he was still frowning. “I can pay you for the two weeks. You don’t need to stay.”

  No, no, no, her mind screamed. I can’t go yet, because if I go, I can’t make myself indispensable.

  She stared straight into his eyes. “I have experienced charity, Mr. Barrett, and I’ll never go that route again unless I’m totally desperate. I’m not wealthy, but I’m not desperate. You said I could work for two more weeks, and I intend to work.”

  “It wouldn’t be charity. It would be…a bonus for a job well done.”

  “It would be charity to me.” Okay, she was pushing it here, being a bit too self-righteous when she could see that he was just trying to do the right thing. “I’d like to stay, and I intend to work at whatever tasks are necessary to the successful running of the household. I’ll call your assistant and help her locate a cook.”

  “Ah yes, you know the town.”

  “I do. There’s no place like it on earth, I don’t believe.” True, she had experienced painful moments here, but she had also found acceptance and friendship and roots. “Even though the population of Lake Geneva swells with tourists, especially on the weekends, there are really just over seven thousand people who live here year-round. They’re wonderful, for the most part. I know them, and I promise you that I’ll find someone talented for the position.”

  “I don’t need much. I may not be at home all that often.”

  Anna was reminded once again that Donovan Barrett was from a different world. He was used to parties filled with wealthy guests, jewels, bright gowns, the scent of money, the aura of those who could have—or buy—anything they wanted.

  Even babies.

  The thought came unbidden. She fought her frown and kept her face impassive. It had been an unfair thought. Donovan couldn’t be held responsible for her own barren state or her struggle to raise enough money to achieve her goals.

  “I’ll take care of everything,” she promised.

  She turned to go.

  “Are you always this accommodating?” she heard him ask. She looked over her shoulder to see that he was frowning at his plate.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’ve just volunteered to do extra work, and you haven’t even asked for extra pay. Do you always let people take advantage of you this way?”

  She didn’t. It was just that she was concentrating so hard on staying here and getting paid.

  “I never let people take advantage of me,” she assured him, holding her head as regally as possible given the fact that she had egg yolk spilled on her apron.

  His gaze locked with hers. “Good. I’m not known for my sensitive ways. I’m assuming you’ll let me know if I’m too demanding an employer.”

  “I will.” But the truth was that he couldn’t demand enough of her during these next two weeks.

  As for the money for extra work…

  I’ll cross that bridge if I manage to secure the position, she promised herself when she had left the room and returned to making a list of tasks.

  She tried not to hope too hard about the future.

  That kind of thing could only get a woman in trouble, and the last thing she wanted was to be in trouble with Donovan Barrett.

  Donovan finished his breakfast and tried not to listen for the sound of Anna working elsewhere in the house. Even though the place was palatial, there was something about the woman that made him too aware of her. Maybe her tough I’m-a-survivor attitude, or the fact that she seemed insistent on staying and giving him his money’s worth.

  Or maybe the fact that now and then during that last conversation, he’d thought he saw a hint of vulnerability in her expression.

  “Ridiculous,” he told himself while wandering the house and getting the lay of the land. The rooms here were huge, with golden oak floors that clicked underfoot. But despite the sound of his footsteps, he could hear Anna in another room. It sounded as if she was moving furniture. He almost wanted to demand that she stop doing whatever she was doing. She was far too small to move anything heavy without hurting herself.

  He clenched his hands at his side and managed to stop himself.

  As he entered a long, gold and blue and white kitchen with a massive island in the center, he could hear the sound of thudding and pounding, followed by a metallic tap.

  “What on earth is the woman doing?” he wondered, irritated that he was even wondering. Thudding? Pounding? That might mean messy repairs, wrestling with nails and splintering wood, getting puncture wounds, cuts and bruises.

  When he heard the unmistakable sound of a hammer against wood and then a distant “ouch” he turned toward the sound and started up the stairs.

  Her laughter followed, melodic feminine stuff that spun through his senses and made his blood heat.

  Donovan halted. Obviously Anna wasn’t hurt badly.

  His concern turned to anger. Anger at himself. He had come here to disengage. He’d come here for mindless pleasure, to lose himself. Consorting with the hired help wasn’t what he’d had in mind and it wasn’t acceptable in the least. As the one holding the power and the money, he had to watch out for his employees and hold himself to a higher standard when dealing with them. Getting close wasn’t smart and wasn’t allowed.

  She laughed again.

  Donovan growled and turned back toward the sunroom. He pushed open the French doors and stepped onto the two-level deck, following the steps down to the lawn.

  He needed to get away from Anna. Remembering her eyes, he winced. A man like him could easily hurt a woman with eyes like that.

  Immediately, he realized how ridiculous his thoughts were. Just because he had hurt Cecily and Ben and others by his single-mindedness, he was starting to imagine that he was a danger to everyone. Which was idiotic. Anna Nowell wasn’t even going to be here that long.

  He breathed in the fresh scent of mown grass, summer blossoms and open water as he continued down the lawn toward the lake. To his left, most of the town was hidden by the curve of the shore, but on the East Coast was a huge and impressive white stone building.

  Lost in his thoughts, he nearly walked into a man bending over a bed of red and yellow zinnias.

  “Stone Manor,” the man said.

  “What?”

  “That’s what it’s called. Stone Manor. The original owner made his fortune by buying up land on State Street after the
Great Chicago Fire. I’ve lived here all my life but I’m still impressed whenever I look at it.”

  Donovan nodded. “Are you Clyde?” he asked.

  The man smiled. “You must have talked to Anna.”

  His words sent Donovan looking over his shoulder. He could see Anna at an upstairs window. She must have finished whatever she had been doing. She was on a ladder again, dusting a high shelf.

  He frowned. “I told her not to do that.”

  Clyde chuckled. “Telling Anna ‘no’ doesn’t do much good. If she thinks something needs doing, she does it.”

  “I’m sure that’s beyond the job of a house sitter.”

  “She wants to earn her way. You should hire her for something else.”

  It occurred to Donovan that his gardener was giving him advice…and that he was listening. He frowned at Clyde.

  The man coughed. “Sorry. Anna’s almost like a daughter. I feel protective. She needs steady, good paying work.”

  “I’ll give her a recommendation.”

  “Why not keep her on here?”

  Good question. He had just asked her to find him some workers. But what he had meant was find me some invisible workers, workers I won’t know or care about. Not someone young with eyes that spoke to him and reminded him that he was still a man.

  “I don’t think that will be possible.”

  “That’s too bad. Anna needs the money for her baby.”

  Donovan’s breath caught and stuck in his throat. Pain lanced through him like a heated sword. “She has a child,” he finally managed to say.

  “She wants a child, and Anna will do almost anything to get one.”

  Donovan’s chest felt tight. He was still having trouble breathing. An image of Anna begging a man to give her a child invaded his thoughts and he tried to ignore it. He fought to get back to the matter at hand.

  “She needs work because she wants a child?”

  “So she can afford to have one.”

  And she would risk having her heart broken, shattered, lacerated. The thoughts tumbled through Donovan’s consciousness. Visions of Ben filled his head. Emotion assaulted him and he nearly stumbled.

  Anna wanted a baby. She would do whatever she could to get a baby, which meant, in time, she would have one.

  Being around her had just gotten more uncomfortable.

  “Thank you,” he said to Clyde as he turned and left. Donovan knew the man didn’t know what he was being thanked for. He also knew Clyde would hate to discover what Donovan intended.

  He veered toward the house, slammed through the door.

  “Anna,” he called, pounding up the stairs, directed by what he had seen through the window and by the sound of her humming. Her voice was low and husky.

  That thought only fueled his determination. Right now they were going to end this. He would insist that she leave here.

  Today.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ANNA was humming a favorite song. She had finished dusting the top of the high bureau and was down on her hands and knees, peering beneath the bed when she heard Donovan bellow.

  She raised her head quickly, bumping it on the metal rail that held the mattress in place. Blinking back tears, she was kneeling, rubbing her head when Donovan came through the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  She gestured toward the bed. “Dust bunnies. You have some. I need to get rid of them.”

  “You need to stop climbing on ladders.”

  She tried not to look guilty, but didn’t succeed. “You saw.”

  He gave her an accusing look.

  “It was necessary,” she argued.

  “You could have fallen and hit your head. Killed yourself.”

  The words hung between them. Anna knew he must be thinking of his son.

  “I’m always careful, and the ladder wasn’t that high. Mr. Barrett, I need to do these things.”

  “Because you want to feel you’re earning your money.”

  “Yes.” She refused to say more.

  “Clyde tells me that you want to have a baby, that you need the money to have one.”

  Anna blinked. “Clyde is a traitor.” But she couldn’t manage to sound mean. She loved Clyde like a father. “And anyway, he didn’t mean…what it sounded like. I’m—” she didn’t want to say it “—I’m trying to adopt a baby. I’m incapable of having my own. An accident long ago followed by surgery.”

  To her relief, while Donovan looked horrified, he didn’t ask any questions.

  But he was going to let her go. She could see it in his eyes. She knew it was because of the baby. Of course, it would hurt him to even think of children after his loss. She cared about that, she worried about that, but it didn’t change her own situation.

  “Please,” she said. “I need the work. Let me stay. I won’t mention my reasons, ever. I’ll work harder than anyone you’ve ever known. I’ll be the perfect employee. You’ll get results and I’ll be invisible.”

  She hated to beg, but Clyde was right. She needed the money and would do whatever was necessary to get it.

  “Please, this job pays better than any I’ve ever held.”

  He raised his head. “I could get you work in Chicago. The pay would be good.”

  A deep pain went through her. She had been to Chicago once. With Brent, her fiancé, the man whose betrayal had hurt the worst. She didn’t want to go back there and leave the life she had made behind. Lake Geneva was her home. She had friends who cared about her and would love her child. She was not alone.

  “I don’t want to leave. If I had to, I would, but I’m hoping I don’t have to.”

  Her words were a plea.

  Donovan blew out a breath. “All right, we’ll try. It’s obvious that you’ve taken good care of the house and that you’re attentive to details. But when I’m home I need to be alone.”

  Anna gave him a grateful smile. “I’ll be completely invisible.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted in disbelief.

  “All right, I’ll try to be invisible,” she amended. Despite the hammering of her heart at Donovan’s smile and his low “thank you, Anna,” Anna told herself that she had gotten past the biggest hurdle.

  But that was before the doorbell and the telephone started to ring over and over again. The neighborhood women had discovered that there was a new single male in town.

  And all that stood between this reclusive man and them was Anna.

  Donovan was in the dining room having lunch when he noticed the golden bowl in the middle of the table. Anna had obviously hired a talented cook. The food was delicious, but the bowl didn’t contain food. It was filled to overflowing with envelopes.

  He dragged it toward him and picked up the first one. Heavy cream-colored vellum, he held it in his hand and breathed in some expensive scent. He broke the seal.

  You are cordially invited, it began.

  He picked up the next and the next and the next. All invitations. All addressed to him.

  He hadn’t met a soul in town yet outside of Anna and Clyde and Linette, the cook. But obviously his neighbors knew that he was here. They were extending their hospitality.

  For half a minute, he was tempted to pitch the whole batch in the garbage, but hadn’t he come here for mindless escapism? And hadn’t he been here for three days in which he’d done nothing but explore his immediate surroundings and try to ignore his—for lack of a better word—housekeeper?

  That hadn’t been working all that well. Donovan was constantly aware of Anna. That had to stop.

  He looked at the invitations spread out before him, then picked up the first one. A family picnic, the pale script said.

  “No.” He placed it to one side.

  The next was for a cocktail party at a neighboring mansion. “Yes.” It went in another pile.

  He was reaching for the third invitation when the doorbell rang. For the past couple of days Anna had been answering the door. He’d heard her light step as she moved from the s
tairs to the wooden floor to the marble entrance. But today she’d left a note that she had to run an errand, some piece from the hardware store that she needed to pick up.

  Donovan blew out a breath and walked to the front door. He swung it back.

  A woman stood on the doorstep holding a plant. When she saw him, she smiled, revealing teeth too perfect to be natural. She had blond hair that curled precisely at the curve of her jaw, flawless makeup, and she wore a tasteful gold rope at her throat that was echoed in a matching bracelet.

  Donovan saw all these things in an instant, his physician’s tendency to assess a situation kicking in. This woman was of his world. He had met hundreds like her over the years. Tanned, perfectly coiffed and dressed, and wearing just the right amount of scent. If she had come in a box, it would be an expensive one.

  “Dana Wellinton,” she said holding out one slender hand.

  “Donovan Barrett,” he answered automatically, shaking her hand.

  “I’m your neighbor,” she said. “Two lots over. I’ve been trying to reach you, but you haven’t been home.”

  “I’m home now,” he said, perfectly at ease. Dana Wellinton was, as he’d thought, like a copy of many other women he’d met in his lifetime. Her smile was practiced; her eyes were unreadable; her beauty was partially owed to money. She posed no threat whatsoever to his sanity.

  Until she held out the plant. That’s when Donovan saw that she was pregnant. A child was growing inside her, an innocent. He struggled to keep breathing normally.

  It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen many pregnant women in his time. It was just that since Ben’s death he hadn’t been this close to one. The desire to go back in time to when Ben had still been waiting to arrive was almost overwhelming. He would do so many things differently if he could be where this woman was today.

  Donovan forced himself to keep functioning. He took the plant, not looking down.

  “Thank you. That’s very nice of you.”

  “It’s an orchid. Delicate. Exotic. I refused to leave it with your housekeeper.”

  He almost said that he didn’t have a housekeeper, but for now he guessed he did.