Out Of The Smoke (3 page)

A quick shake made her want to rub the layers of grime off her fingers, but she didn’t want to offend the man before he gave her a dollar amount, so she just waited.

Bill reached for a calculator with his left hand while once again glaring through the magnifying glass with his right. He turned the diamonds every single direction possible and studied them at great length, measuring them with a tiny instrument. A few quick pokes on the adding machine and he beamed up at her. “I’ll give you two thousand for the pair.”

Wow. That much? She was shocked. All these years she’d assumed the earrings were fake, just a sentimental token of her mother’s sad life. How twisted to find that her marriage was the complete sham and her mother actually owned something of value.

She must have paused too long because his smile fell just a little and he continued, “Twenty-five hundred. But I can’t go any higher than that.”

Liz raised the corners of her mouth in an unfamiliar expression and nodded in agreement.

“Do you need me to hold them back for you?” Bill asked.

“What do you mean?” She tipped her head to the side in confusion.

“Hang on to them. Did you want them back? Sometimes people hawk something they don’t really want to part with and I hold it in the back to sell back to them, ten percent interest of course.”

Finally, the light dawned. “Oh, no. Definitely not. I don’t need them back. I just need the money.” Might as well make a clean break from everyone in her life. No need to harp on the past and some bond she’d never had with her mother even when she was alive.

“Fine. Let me just ring this out for you.” Bill headed over to the cash register and punched several buttons to open up the machine. “I assume you want cash?”

“Please.” This was so much easier than she’d expected.

After the largest sum of money Liz had ever held was carefully counted into her hand, she shoved the wad into the inside pocket of her sweat pants, walked out the door, and tossed the ugly hateful purse lock stock and barrel into the first dumpster she came across.
Good-bye, Beth
.

Parting with thoughts of the past, Liz heaved her tired body off the couch and headed for the phone. It was Sunday. With any luck, she’d line up that new job for tomorrow and be back on track without missing a beat. Her biggest concern these days was getting robbed. She kept every penny hidden in her tiny apartment located in a rough part of town. Well hidden, but still…

The place had been the cheapest she could find when she arrived and it simply hadn’t ever seemed necessary to move. She’d have difficulty transporting her meager belongings anyway at this point, even though her sparse furnishings consisted of a worn old sofa, a twin mattress on the floor, a small chipped table and two chairs. She shook her head thinking about the futility of having two chairs even. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d even needed the second one, and all those times had been when Dory had barged in to ramble about the latest loser she was dating.

She liked Dory, really she did. It was frustrating not to have any friends to confide in, but she couldn’t risk it. Fear ruled her world. Sometimes she even wondered if it was all worth it, but then she relived the abuse she’d gone through for five long years, and breathed a sigh of relief at the freedom she had now. Even if that freedom consisted of little more than just the knowledge she could return home at the end of each day without getting yelled at or beaten, eat whatever she wanted, wear whatever she wanted, and for God’s sake, clean whenever she wanted. It was a literal breath of fresh air.

Liz reached for the only phone she had, a wall unit with an actual cord. She’d gotten it at a thrift store. Sure, it was obsolete, but it worked. She had no reason at all to own a cell phone. Who would she call?

She dialed the number scrawled on the gum wrapper and hoped she was reading it correctly. After three rings, a breathy voice picked up. “Alan McCarthy here.” So formal.

“Hello, this is Liz…Liz Parker. Dorenda Ikeman gave me your name.” Liz swallowed. She always hated these initial calls and meeting new clients. Sometimes people could be extremely rude and condescending to their hired help.

“Yes? How can I help you?” She realized he had no idea who Dory was. Hadn’t she said his friend gave her the number? He probably didn’t have a name attached to the friend’s cleaning lady, let alone her own.

“She said you were in need of a cleaning service and asked me to call you.” It always sounded nicer to refer to herself as a “service” rather than the usual “cleaning lady”. As though she weren’t a one-woman operation.

“Ah, yes. That’s right. My friend Jake was trying to hook me up.” His voice was low and fun loving. “Frankly, to be honest, I didn’t expect you to, um, well, speak English.” He laughed. “Sorry. That must sound crass.”

“Not at all. I get a lot of that.”

“Well, my apologies anyway.” Alan cleared his throat.

“So, I happen to have Mondays free right now. Would you be interested in my coming tomorrow for a trial?” Would he think she charged too much? She kept upping the amount with each new client. She knew she was good. She knew her references would say she was thorough and worth the money. She needed the extra cash. It was the only way she could eventually move on with her life. She was so close.

“Sure. I have a three bedroom home. Three thousand square feet. There’s an office in the front, which I just started working out of. I promise it isn’t a disaster, but my friends have encouraged me to pay someone to come in once a week and clean so that the place always looks incredible for clients.”

“Well, I can certainly do that. You won’t be disappointed. I can be there first thing tomorrow morning and get right to work. I charge a hundred dollars a visit for a home that size and prefer payment in cash. You would provide the supplies. I’d let you know whatever is missing or needs to be replaced as we go along. Does that sound okay?” Liz bit her lower lip and waited. She couldn’t stand the business end, but it couldn’t be avoided. It was a common practice for cleaning help to be paid in cash and most people were used to the idea.

Of course,
most
cleaning ladies liked cash in order to avoid taxes. In Liz’s case she’d always felt rather guilty evading the government in such a way, but she wasn’t
most
. She was trying to stay under the radar.

“Perfect.”

Chapter Two

At eight a.m. sharp, there was a knock at his door. Hmm. Punctual. He was pleased already. Just to be sure, Alan peered through the peephole and almost didn’t see her at first. She wasn’t very tall.

When he opened the door, she stood up straighter. She almost reached his chin if she tried really hard. The breath whooshed out of him. The most stunning woman stood on his doorstep. Huge green eyes stared up at him. Her face was so smooth and soft with hardly a trace of makeup covering a sparse sprinkling of freckles. When she reached to tuck a loose strand of long silky brown hair behind her ear, he had the distinct urge to do it for her, to feel the softness of it flow through his fingers.

This beauty couldn’t be here to clean. Maybe she was a new neighbor or a potential client needing legal representation. Hopefully that was the case, because he couldn’t imagine her coming over every Monday with her sexy good looks and cleaning around him while he tried to work. The distraction would be hell on his nerves.

“Mr. McCarthy?” Liz cocked her head to the side and leaned toward him slightly. He strained to identify the distinctively pleasant smell that wafted off her skin. He inhaled long and slow without thinking. Soap? Perhaps it was just that simple. Her own personal aroma mixed with that of the brand she used. Or the shampoo.

“Sir?”

Crap. “Sorry. Can I help you?” He’d glanced past her and wondered where Liz-the-cleaning-lady was. No one was behind the mystery visitor.

“I’m Liz. Am I early?” She nibbled on her lower lip and gazed up at him in trepidation.

This woman cleans houses? Seriously?
She looked more like a debutante than a cleaning lady. Hell, even if she couldn’t clean for shit, she would at least be nice to look at.

“Sorry. Come on in.” He backed up and held the door open. “I was expecting…”
What, someone less gorgeous?

Liz raised her eyebrows at him. “Someone…taller?” She laughed.

His face heated. Had he spoken those words out loud? Shit.

“Uh, I guess. Well, I don’t know what I was expecting.”
But it wasn’t you.

She practically floated on dainty feet. He could picture her in cute little sandals with sexy pink toenails. Maybe barefoot, just carrying the sandals. The current outfit she wore didn’t do her justice. Cheap tennis shoes, khaki pants, and a white polo that had seen better days. The clothes didn’t quite fit her. In fact, they didn’t seem to be hers at all. Did she shop at the local army surplus?

She was a puzzle. That was for sure. And since when did he care about puzzling women who cleaned houses? Or any women at all for that matter. Hadn’t he just three days ago declared himself a perpetual bachelor, not interested in getting involved with anyone?

“What a nice house you have.” Liz looked around the entry that led into a great room and Alan turned to see the space through her eyes. It looked drab actually. Boring. He found himself feeling embarrassed on his own behalf as though she were someone he needed to impress and he’d failed miserably.

Alan cleared his throat. “Thank you. I haven’t really done that much to it yet. I suppose it’s rather uninteresting.”

“Not at all,” she said politely.

Alan chuckled and glanced at her profile again. “Well, someday…” He trailed off.
Someday what? Someday you can decorate it for me?
What the hell was he thinking?

You’ve sworn off women
. Before Claire, there’d been two others since law school. It seemed they only cared about how much money he made. And telling him how to use it. He wanted to concentrate entirely on getting his private practice off and running.

“So, I understand you haven’t had a cleaning service before? Is that right?”

“No, I haven’t ever thought much about it. My friends pressured me into this.” He grinned, but then pulled up short at the unamused look on Liz’s face. “Not to say that I don’t want someone to help out, mind you. I just haven’t ever, gotten around to it I suppose.”

“So, I guess you don’t have an idea of what you want me to do? How about if this first day I do a regular thorough cleaning and then we’ll see how you feel about it and we can talk about more specific needs for next time. Does that sound all right with you?” Liz continued to look around at her surroundings, probably weighing the options of just where to begin. She was too poised, too proper. Hell, she wasn’t what he expected.

“Perfect, actually. I’m in the process of transitioning to my home office, so I’ll be in there if you have any questions or need anything.” Alan pointed to the left behind Liz at the messy arrangement of books, papers and file folders cluttering the office space. Suddenly the room looked horrifically uninviting to him.

When Liz turned to confront the room herself, she visibly cringed for only a fraction before regaining her professional persona.

Alan laughed again. “Now that you’re standing here, I’m thinking that doesn’t really look like a relaxing atmosphere for a client. Good thing the only clients I’ve had so far have been people I already know. Are you any good at organizing?” He knew he was putting the proverbial cart before the horse, but he had a good feeling about this woman. She may not look the part, but she was confident. If only he could get over the idea that he’d rather sleep with her.

She seemed far more educated than he would expect from someone in her profession. Judging from her jargon and accent, he guessed her to be from the East. Her speech was sophisticated. Her stance professional. Her meager clothing tidy.

“I’m sure we can work something out and make this office area more attractive. Will your clients come in through this front door?” She pointed behind her. “Or do you have another entrance?” Her voice was so tender and sweet.

She was so composed. Where had he been meeting the women he’d dated that were bossy, demanding, and rude?

“No. They come right in the front and through to the office.” He looked around, realizing the extent of his personal life that was on display for any and all persons visiting. Even the few steps it took to get to the spacious office afforded his clients a thorough view of his great room and the kitchen attached to it.

“In that case, everything they see between the front door and the office creates an impression on them before you’ve even begun your meeting.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to insult your home. Just an observation…”

“No, not at all. Any help I can get is greatly appreciated. I never realized how utterly boring this place is. I don’t expect you to tackle my office today. I know it’s overwhelming. Maybe next week after you have the lay of the land. And perhaps I’ll even have made more progress organizing by then.” Alan wrinkled up his face and glanced back at the pixie beside him. Her full lips pulled up at the sides when she smiled warmly back at him.

Alan felt a little ill at ease. Perhaps they just needed to break the ice.
Why? She isn’t here to date you. She’s here to clean, bozo. And you’re not interested, remember?

“Shall we get a cup of coffee first?”
Now why the hell would you ask that? This isn’t a social call
. Riiight. Under any other circumstances in any other venue in a past life, he would assuredly be hitting on this woman and asking for her number.

Never mind that he’d already had a cup of coffee and put everything away. He just wanted desperately to engage her in conversation a bit longer. Couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“Oh, of course. I’m so sorry.” Liz looked around, and headed toward the kitchen while speaking over her shoulder. “Where do you keep the coffee? I’ll get that started for you right away.”

Shit again. She’d misunderstood. And she was so endearing scurrying around. His pulse raced. Did he want her to clean his house or did he want to kiss her?

Liz peaked in cabinets and reached for mugs. He watched frozen at the entrance to the kitchen as she reached up on tiptoes, her slender frame pressed against the counter. He had the urged to grip her ass with both hands. Her waist dipped in so small his hand could probably span it. His arousal increased with each passing moment and he couldn’t bring himself to stop her and ruin the view.

Alan licked his lips and spoke in a rough voice that didn’t sound like his own. “No. I didn’t mean…I was just suggesting that…Liz?” She finally turned to look at him. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to imply that you had to fix
me
coffee. I just thought you might like a cup before you get started. It’s, well, freakishly early for most people.” He pulled out a chair for her, hiding his burgeoning erection behind it. “Sit. Before you make me dizzy.”
And notice my hard on
.

“Oh, I couldn’t. Really.” He watched her throat as she swallowed hard. Liz backed toward the living area. “I should get to work.” She flashed him what she couldn’t possibly know was the most sensual smile he’d seen in a long time.

His dick got harder. The flush of her embarrassment at their misunderstanding was sexy. Would she have a similar flush while he sucked on her clit? Would she maintain the business façade, or let go and scream her pleasure under his ministrations?

“Are you sure?” Anything to keep her engaged for a few more minutes. Perhaps he could pretend they were at an outdoor café somewhere enjoying each other’s company. Of course, his daydream involved his hand roaming under the table to caress the crease in her pants where her leg joined her crotch. Could she gaze into his eyes without letting her leg bounce? He could practically feel the wetness seeping through her pants. What was with him today? “I personally can’t function until after the first cup of coffee gets into my blood stream.” He smiled at her imploringly. He felt more like a desperate teenager asking for a date to the prom. Even his palms grew sweaty where he gripped the chair back.

“To be honest, I don’t drink coffee.” She grit her teeth and her face scrunched up in disgust.

The tension finally broke and Alan laughed. “I’ve never known anyone who didn’t drink coffee. Especially New Yorkers. You are from New York, right?” Her accent was sexy as hell and every time she spoke, he felt his heart rate increase.

Liz went wide-eyed for just a moment. Had he seen a spark of fear in her eyes? Did he say something wrong?

Perplexing really. “Do I have it wrong? New Jersey maybe? I don’t always pick up all the nuances of the northeast. Sorry, if I offended.”

“Oh, right. I guess I do have an accent.” She visibly relaxed a tiny bit. Her shoulders dropped a mere inch.

Ya think
? Alan chuckled at her naiveté. “Well, just a small one.”

“Yes, near New York. Originally.” She smiled again, although it appeared forced, and she said nothing else. Not much information and she didn’t at all indicate where she came from precisely
now
. She clearly had no intention to, so he dropped the subject.

“I’ll let you get to work then. Follow me. I’ll show you around.”

*

Lord
. How was she possibly going to get anything done? She’d never shown up at a house before and found herself attracted to the occupant. In fact, she’d had a standing rule for the last two years to not date anyone at all. Men had tried from time to time, God only knew why. But Liz had only one goal in mind at the present, save money and move again. She was getting nervous being in one place so long.

Liz did not date. In fact, she did not even look twice at any man. She couldn’t even remember the last time she found anyone so attractive. Alan was beyond attractive. He was a god. Even his back was sexy, she’d thought, her gaze traveling the length of him as she’d followed him through the house.

Thankfully, he’d finally gone into his messy office and left her to get to work. Her hands were actually shaking. Why did he have to be so damn nice? Of course, Matthew had been nice in the beginning too. Nice shouldn’t mean anything to her. On the flipside, most men she worked for had an air of pretentiousness about them that suggested they were better than her and they knew it. Alan McCarthy did not. He was completely down to earth from his stylish wavy brown hair to his faded blue jeans.

His gorgeous home was a story and a half. Liz headed upstairs first to get as far away from Alan as possible and slow her heart rate down a bit. The second floor had a huge game room that appeared to rarely be used. The focal point was a pool table that made a shiver run down Liz’s spine as she remembered the times she’d gone to sports bars with Matthew while she’d been in college. She’d had the job of standing in the shadows to hold his beer and his cue. She’d felt so important. Back then she’d been young and in love. Lusted after him. It was hard to believe there’d actually been a time when her husband seemed like the perfect gentleman. Or so she’d thought. Now Liz knew better. He’d been grooming her. Manipulating her into being the kept woman he intended her to be for the rest of her life.

When the job of cleaning houses presented itself, it was the perfect solution. Matthew had always demanded perfection from her in the home. She was good at it. It wasn’t like she could’ve gotten a job in accounting. Although it had only been a few years since she’d graduated, there would’ve been questions, forms, ID’s needed. A social security card. She’d had nothing but the borrowed clothes on her back and the wad of cash in her pocket.

Liz worked frantically all morning, dusted and vacuumed the upstairs and then got nitpicky. She was a perfectionist in every way, making sure baseboards and window blinds were as spotless as the tile behind toilets. That was what made this business work so well for her. That and the ability to get paid in cash. Her clients revered her work. She gave them more than they asked for and charged a fair price. After only a few weeks in town, she’d gotten calls to do enough homes to pay her rent. Within months, she’d been booked solid. Business was a boon.

It had been a relief considering what she’d had to live on when she’d arrived.

By eleven o’clock Liz finished the main floor guest bath and headed down the hall for the three bedrooms. A gasp made her jump and turn around mid-stride.