Page 3 of Worth Every Risk

A wave of self-consciousness washes over me.Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?He’s probably thinking I’ll exploit the generosity of my new employer by doing the bare minimum, and I can’t let that stand.“I’m going to work hard. I’m very good atmy job, even if I do look young. I’ll be worth every penny they pay me.”

He draws back slightly. “Okay.”

When it’s clear he has nothing more to say on the matter, I turn my attention back to trying to heave my suitcase up to the next step, but under his judgmental gaze, I’m getting stage fright. It takes a concerted effort to keep my voice casual when I glance at him and say, “Give a girl a hand?”

“Staff entrance is round the side.” He nods his head towards a path down the side of the house that I hadn’t noticed.

“Oh. Right.” I guess that explains the way he was looking at me earlier, but I can’t help feeling a touch annoyed that he didn’t tell mebeforeI began this lugging-the-biggest-case-in-the-world-up-the-steps endeavour. I blow out a breath and begin the process of getting my bag back down.

The gardener makes a move, quick and nimble, grabbing the case from me. “I’ll take it.”

“Thank you. That’s so kind.”Finally. Maybe he can be a gentleman, after all.

He huffs, shunts the retractable handle down and picks the bag up using the one on the side instead. The enormous case shifts orientation in one smooth movement. If I had tried that, it would have pulled me right to the floor along with it.

He strides past me up the steps to the front door.

“Wait, don’t we go in the side? You just said that’s the staff entrance.”

He stops and glances over his shoulder at me. "I don’t have the keys to the side door.”

Before I have a moment to query him, he’s off again, and I get the most glorious view of his arse in his jeans as he takes the steps ahead of me. There’s tight muscle in there that begs to be squeezed. His thighs, too, are dense. I can see the shape of his quads through the denim.

Just as I’m thinking how much I’m going to appreciate working here for the next few months—even if the guy is laconic, at least he’s good to look at—he reaches the top step and taps the suitcase down.

There’s a faint clicking noise and my stomach plunges.Oh, shit.The latches fly open and one side falls open, spilling the contents down the pristine stone steps. Balled up socks roll like boulders in a rock-slide onto the path, while the top step is splattered with my underwear and clothes. The gardener stares at the mess with a repulsed look on his face, as though I’ve vomited at his feet.

Thank goodness I put my dildo in the zip pocket.

“Ah!” I scoop up the runaway socks and scamper up the stairs, gathering items as I go. “Shit, sorry. It’s so old, this case. It does that sometimes if you set it down sideways. I should have mentioned it.”

My arms are bulging with clothes, but I can’t get them all, and I really don’t want this man seeing all my crappy, washed-out grey underwear. I should have bought some new stuff, but I figured I’d wait until after my first paycheck. Now, I’m wishing I’d planned in advance.

Oh, holy hell, he’s bending down, picking up my clothes.Helping me.His large hand hovers over a pile of faded knickers, his eyes widening a fraction as he realises what he’s about to grab. I freeze too, and for a few panicked moments everything moves in slow motion until his hand shifts over to a safer pile of t-shirts, and I sweep up the underwear and stuff it deep in the bag.

“You should get a new suitcase,” he says. “What if this happened on the flight?”

God, this guy is a real energy drain.But boy, does he have one luscious voice.It’s like melted chocolate dribbled all over a naked body.Yummy and hot.

“I didn’t take a flight.” My Scottish accent sounds even stronger compared to this gorgeous man’s dulcet English one. “I took the train from Edinburgh. The scenery is better.”

“Hmm.” He busies himself with stuffing clothes back in my bag, and we do that together until everything’s back in.

He lets me click the suitcase shut.

“Thanks,” I say.

“You’re welcome.”

My heart does a funny pitter-patter.Wow. How does he make‘you’re welcome’sound like a pickup line? If he didn’t look so grumpy, and his energy wasn’t so uninviting, I’d say he was doing it deliberately. But I suspect it’s accidental. The man is so sexy he’s doing it without effort.

I turn to him, one hand on my hip. “You could be one of those audiobook narrators, you know. You have a voice I could listen to all day. In fact, you should talk more. Waste of a great voice if you don’t.”

The front door clicks and he shunts it open with his shoulder as he heaves my bag inside. I glance around, wondering how he opened it. I didn’t hear a doorbell and there’s no one waiting inside for us. Must have been a keycode or something.

My breath catches at the sight of the inside of the house. The entrance hall is like a gymnasium, it’s so big. But with a marble floor, panelled walls, and modern art in sleek frames. A wide, carpeted staircase spirals up through the house, rising goodness knows how high.

“Audiobooks?” he repeats.

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