Page 29 of Hired Help

“Why, thank you, Daegan,” she says, curtseying. “You brushed up pretty good yourself.” Her gaze homes in my loose tie. “Oh, I can get that for you.”

She steps towards me, going on tiptoes to reach the trailing ends, a gust of her sweet perfume wafting forth as she expertly pulls it into place.

“Thanks,” I say, patting the resulting arrangement. “I’ve never worn one of these before.”

“No problem. My stepmother taught me how to tie them. Part of her learning sequence on how to make a rich man happy.”

A blush catches on her cheekbones, flooding with colour so strong it can easily be seen through the careful shading and toning of her foundation. Doubt pulls at her forehead, drags at the corners of her eyes.

I touch her, knowing it will push back whatever internal voice nags about her shortcomings, brushing a knuckle along the curve of her jawline, eyes zeroing in as her lips part, as her tongue darts out to lick them.

“Well, you’ve made this moderate-income man happy,” I assure her, watching as the words are absorbed. Her nose scrunches, a smile hovering just out of reach. “Shall we go?”

She nods and I flick the catch on the door, letting it lock behind me as I hold out my arm for her to take.

There’s a limo and driver waiting. I make sure she’s seated with her dress safely inside before moving around to the opposite side. Her hand rests on the cushion a few inches from her body and I cover it with mine, giving a squeeze of reassurance.

Reassurance she doesn’t often need. Tonight, her nerves are on full display.

I shuffle as close to her as the seatbelt allows, moving my hand to rest against her back, finding an open seam there. She wriggles her shoulders and I laugh as the vent opens wider.

“Call the dressmaker. Somebody missed a few stitches.”

She smiles, but the gesture doesn’t reach her eyes. They’re still pinched with worry. After spending so much time with her in a far more relaxed state, the change alarms me.

“What’s the plan for the dance? I never went to mine.”

“The venue’s in town. They have a DJ and a dancefloor and a bar. We all get sorted into tables, but no one cares too much if we switch.”

I brush the knuckle of my forefinger along the curve of her shoulder blade. “Sounds nice.” Also sounds far too blasé for the stress she appears to be under. “Are many people you know going to be there?”

Her face drains of colour and I pull my hand away from her back, concerned. She nods, then shakes her head, turning to look out the passenger side window. “Yeah. My friend Floss and her brother Kaden are attending. They’re good fun.”

Fun.

Said with the same intonation medieval peasants must have used when talking about the plague.

“You know I’m completely at your disposal, right?” When she turns to me with arched eyebrows, I elaborate, “We don’t have to go tonight if you don’t want to. If you’re having second thoughts and would prefer to go alone, that’s also fine.”

“I don’t want to go alone,” she manages in a strangled tone, turning her worried gaze back to the window.

For the first time in years, I feel awkward, like I’m out of place. Brooke is so far out of my league that this entire charade is bizarre.

When she meets me for sex, I’m in my element. I’m the one in charge, something she responds to more than any of my previous partners.

But tonight, I’m in uncharted territory. I need clarification before her nerves transmit to me and we both start freaking out.

“What do you expect from me at the dance?”

Her eyes stutter over my body on the way to meet my gaze. Her expression is winsome, like there were a thousand ways this evening could have gone, and she preferred the other nine hundred and ninety-nine options.

My thumb strokes the back of her hand, the skin plump and flesh with that gorgeous elasticity of youth.

“I don’t…” she falters and shakes her head. “Really, I just want you to stay beside me and talk to me.” Her expression alters to pleading. “Is that the kind of thing you meant?”

“Yes,” I say because she needs the reassurance. “But there’s also things like what should I tell people is my profession if they ask? Do you want me to spin a story about how we met? That kind of thing.”

“Oh.” She turns to glance out the passenger window, withdrawing her hand from mine. I rub my palm against the seat, the buzz from touching her still echoing through the thick skin. “I didn’t think about that. Are you okay to not tell them?”

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