Out Of The Smoke (4 page)

Alan stood in the hall staring into the bathroom.

Shit
.

“Is something wrong?” Liz chewed on her lower lip, a nasty habit she couldn’t seem to break. She hated to mess up on the first day. In fact, she’d never let any client down yet. Maybe he was overly particular.

“Wrong? Hardly.” He turned to her with a wry grin. “I’ve never seen the place looking so fantastic. I just came from upstairs and I couldn’t believe it. How’d you do all that in just a few hours?”

What a relief. Liz let out the breath she held. Her face grew warm at the compliment. “It’s what I do. Not a big deal really.” She shrugged and backed farther down the hall.

Being this close to Alan reminded her of his incredible physique. He was the sexiest man she’d ever set eyes on. Looked like a bodybuilder with his chest and shoulders bulging underneath his casual navy polo shirt. The jeans he wore fit low on his hips, well-worn and frayed slightly at the floor. He smelled fresh like the aftershave he must have used before she’d arrived. And he hadn’t bothered to put shoes on. Something about his bare feet padding around the house struck her as incredibly sexy and…domestic.

He peered at her over his shoulder. His head cocked slightly to the side.

“Well, I’ll just… I’m going to get back to work then.” Liz backed down the hallway and slowly turned in the direction of the bedrooms. As soon as she entered one and sucked in a lungful of air, she regretted her choice.

The room was clearly the master bedroom and undeniably occupied by Alan himself. His own personal musk filled the space and gave Liz the urge to press her face into the pillows and inhale his scent. Her nipples hardened as she pictured herself in his arms, naked across that huge expanse of silk lying in disarray and hanging over the edge. She couldn’t shake the image.
What the hell is the matter with you?
She hadn’t been this attracted to any man since…

“Is everything okay?”

Liz jumped a foot when Alan’s warm breath reached her ear. She hadn’t realized he was behind her, preoccupied as she was with thoughts of making love to him.
You need to get a grip
.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” Alan reached out to steady her. Liz nearly choked at the contact. It was the first time he’d touched her and it zapped her back to reality. His grasp on her bicep was gentle. Nothing like the grip Matthew had been accustomed to. There wouldn’t be any bruising.

A concerned expression zoned in on Liz from only inches away. Probably because she stood there like an idiot all tongue-tied. Her mouth was dry as she attempted to squelch her general fear of men. A few shallow breaths and then a deep one…

Rarely did anyone ever touch her, mostly because she never gave anyone the chance.

She raised her face up toward his. “I’m fine,” she mumbled. “Just…um…deciding where to begin is all.” Would he buy that?

Alan glanced into the room and winced. He looked back at her with raised eyebrows that begged her forgiveness. For what?

Liz managed to relax. He obviously wasn’t angry. She stared up into his eyes as he turned to look back down at her. Even after more than two years, she still found herself expecting the worst out of men. Assuming they were all angry and demanding.

“Pardon my mess. I just realized how disastrous this room must appear. I have to admit to being a confirmed bachelor. Not used to anyone seeing my room in order to care about its appearance. No wonder you can’t decide where to start.”

No one sees his room?
Why did that make her feel good? Alan finally let go of Liz’s arm and moved passed her to scramble around picking up clothes strung around the floor. He quickly shoved them in a hamper and turned back around. His cheeks were red…in embarrassment?

Hers were equally as hot thinking about his misunderstanding.

“You weren’t planning to do my laundry were you?” Alan gripped the basket and pulled it to the side of the room.

“Only if you want me to.” Suddenly the idea of washing Alan’s clothes seemed too personal. She did the laundry of other clients without flinching. Why were his different?

“No. No. That’s asking too much. I hadn’t expected half of what you have done.”

“Well, I’ll do whatever you’d like. That’s my job.” As strange as it suddenly seemed. “I will, however, be glad to wash your sheets each week if you want. That is, if you decide you’d like me to come weekly.” She silently hoped. For the money, of course. “Most clients like a nice clean bed to go with the house.”

“Sure. I guess I’m new at this. I don’t want to be different from whatever ‘most’ are doing.” He shrugged his shoulders and left her alone.

By five o’clock Liz had the entire house, with the exception of Alan’s office, in the best shape it had probably ever been in.

She knocked softly on the frame of his open office, hoped she wasn’t disturbing him. “I’m going to head out now. Would you like to look around and see what you think before I go? Or do you want some time to think about it before deciding on a future schedule?”

In truth, Liz was torn about this job. She loved the house and cleaning it would be a breeze. There were no messy children or toys lying all over the place. On the other hand, she couldn’t imagine coming here every Monday and sharing the space for eight hours with a man she was so undeniably attracted to.

“Oh, no. That’s not necessary.”

His cryptic answer left Liz raising her brows in uncertainty.

Alan was quick to realize his ambiguous response and rushed to explain as he stood and came toward her. “What I mean is that I’d love to have you come by weekly. Does this day fit your schedule on a regular basis?”

“It’s just fine.” Liz backed toward the front door as Alan approached her. She didn’t need to deal with his magnetic masculine scent any more today. In fact, what she needed was a long hot bath…and a shrink.

Nevertheless, Alan overtook her and opened the door in a gentlemanly manner. “Great. Thank you so much. I’ll see you next week then, and I promise not to leave my bedroom in such disarray.” He smiled appreciatively as he handed her a stack of folded bills.

“Not a problem at all. Don’t worry about it.” She squeezed by him sideways to escape without accidentally touching him and causing more of the electric shock that seemed to run through her every time they grazed each other.

Why was his touch any different from other men’s?

She didn’t even want to ponder why she was beginning to actually crave his smooth fingers on her skin instead of her usual repulsed reaction.

* * * *

Alan slouched down on the oversized couch in his great room, a beer in one hand and a bag of corn chips in the other. He couldn’t stop thinking about the woman who’d meandered through his life that day. He’d barely been able to get anything done in his office, and needed it desperately if he was ever going to start seeing more clients here.

It’d been hard to concentrate with that sexy little body flitting around his home. He had to get over himself. It wasn’t like he could have her. Of course, she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but surely with a body like that she had a boyfriend. But he couldn’t stop thinking that this life she was leading didn’t quite suit her. Why on earth was she cleaning homes for a living?

Besides, you don’t want a girlfriend, remember?
Alan groaned.

There was no comparison between the sweet, mild-mannered woman who’d graced him with her presence today and any of the so-called ladies he’d dated in the last several years.

Engrossed in speculation, Alan nearly jumped when the phone rang. He reached halfway across the couch for the receiver on the end table, glanced at the caller ID, and let himself lie back to stare at the ceiling while he connected with his best friend.

“Hey.”

“How’d it go?” Jake’s drawl sounded suspiciously filled with mirth.

“How’d what go?”

“The cleaning,
man
. How’s the house? Was it all I told you about?” Now Jake laughed outright. “She did come today, right?”

“Oh, yeah. It was fine.” What was he supposed to say?

“That’s all? Fine? No fireworks? No sparkly kitchen? No floors you could eat off? Dory does such a great job at my house.”

“Oh, there were fireworks all right. Dory wasn’t the woman who came. She was booked. She passed my name to a friend of hers. Liz. She was, well…” Should he tell his best friend of ten years that he was acutely attracted to the hired help? He didn’t want to be judgmental, but that couldn’t have been what Jake had in mind when he suggested a domestic employee.

“Pardon me?” There was a pause. “Alan? What aren’t you telling me?”

Alan said nothing. In fact, he sucked in a breath while he pondered what to tell.

“You slept with her! You rat bastard! Oh…my…God. How hot was she?” Jake was so animated, Alan had to pull the phone away from his ear as the volume increased with each detached statement.

“Of course not, you dolt.” How preposterous was that? Not very really.

“But you wanted to. Dude, you need to get laid, and fast, if the cleaning lady is getting you all hot and bothered.” Jake settled back down, but his voice was still loud.

“I do not need to get ‘laid’. And the ‘cleaning lady’ as you call her was not your ordinary hired help. She was…well…”

“Hot?”

“So what if she was? Is this an inquisition? You said yourself I need to get laid. But she was not that type, man. She was shy.”

“Alan? You totally fell for her. When does she come next? I’m stopping by to see this woman for myself.”

“Like hell you are. And I wouldn’t tell you anyway, jerk.”

“So now you can’t even share? What are you? Jealous? Think I might steal her for myself?” Laughter filled the line again.

“Hardly. What I think—know—is that you would embarrass me and yourself in the process.”

“Can’t wait until the guys find out about this racket. See you Friday?” Alan could hear Meredith in the background. Time for Jake to get off the phone and spend time with the old ball and chain.

“Of course, Friday.”

* * * *

Liz lay back in the tub, submerged in water as hot as she could stand. It was her favorite luxury. For only the small price of some extra water, she could spend a half hour each night with her eyes closed and pretend, for a short while at least, she was a wealthy heiress resting up for the late evening festivities. Tonight, however, her mind wandered to the hunk of man she’d spent the day skirting around.

She’d followed Alan down the hall on their tour, stared at his fine ass encased in the most perfect pair of jeans that hugged him to perfection. Unlike her own second-hand clothes, his fit like a glove, worn from years of molding his
own
butt instead of someone else’s. She had visions of herself pressed up against him, her breasts rubbing his chest, her hands reaching behind him to squeeze his firm cheeks.

She hadn’t had thoughts like that since…Matthew. The early days at least. When she’d still thought he walked on water. When she’d met Matthew, he’d wooed her and courted her falsely for some time. She’d been enamored with him. Just the idea of someone loving her had made her all starry-eyed. Then all hell broke loose. He’d wanted to
own
her,
control
her. That wasn’t love. She was just too damn naïve to realize it until it was too late.

She’d been so vulnerable. The only “love” she’d ever witnessed had been her mother’s various affairs over the years. She never ever wanted to be that sort of woman. So when someone came along and promised Liz the stars, she’d jumped on board. That was her first mistake.

Staying on board had been her second.

She hadn’t always been that person. Liz had known at an early age that she was going to persevere in spite of her upbringing. She worked hard in school, always got good grades, always did what she was supposed to. She was a goodie two shoes. It paid off when she got a scholarship and went away to college.

She earned a degree in accounting. However, Matthew never had any intention to allow her to actually use the degree. He’d forced her to take a job with his cousin so Andrew could “keep an eye on her sorry ass”.

Nobody wants a slut like you in their accounting department. Just stick with something you can handle and don’t cause me any problems
. A chill ran down her spine as she remembered his words.

She certainly wasn’t the poster child for abused spouses. Even though her mother had led a less than desirable life, tough-as-nails Geraldine Parker hadn’t been abused, at least not that Liz knew of. Sure, she slept around, always. She may have even been involved in drugs, but she’d been far too strong a woman to have been verbally or physically abused. She’d have kicked any bastard even attempting to do so to the street and not even cared whether the door “hit him in the butt on the way out”.

So why had Liz fallen into such a trap? She could only chalk it up to bad judgment. She’d been desperate to graduate from college, partially because her mother hadn’t believed she could and also to prove she could do better. No matter what background she came from.

Chapter Three

When Liz arrived at Alan’s the following Monday, he was already hard at work in the office. Through the huge bay window in the front of the house, she could clearly see him bent over some papers. As she approached the front walk, she quickly spit her double mint gum back into the wrapper and stuck it in her purse. It was her favorite little vice, but out of habit, she rarely chewed the stuff in front of anyone.

She knocked softly. He arrived at the door astonishingly quick and ushered her in with a big smile.

“Good morning,” Liz managed. She was distracted by the Twins T-shirt hugging his incredible frame and couldn’t seem to drag her eyes farther upward to meet his.

“Not a Twins fan?” He chuckled. “I can change if you’re that offended.” His voice was filled with teasing.

Liz was horrified at being caught outright staring at his pecs. She’d fervently hoped last week had been an anomaly and intended to arrive this morning unimpressed with his style and physique. She’d failed miserably.

“Change shirts I mean. Not teams. Once a Twins fan, always a Twins fan.”

All the lectures she’d given herself this morning flew right out the door and must have blown away with the breeze because as soon as Alan shut the door behind her she couldn’t remember a single one. The only thing she did know was he smelled fantastic and she had an urge to start with his bedroom this week instead of leaving it for last.

Liz took a deep breath, which didn’t help one bit, and ignored his chaff. “Do you have anything particular in mind you’d like me to do today?”

“Actually, would you mind working in my office this time? I need to start seeing clients here as soon as possible and, as you can tell, the place is a wreck. I seem to have no organizational skills. I don’t care if you don’t even get the rest of the house done today, as long as I can hold my head high when my accountant comes over tomorrow.” Alan paused in the office doorway with raised eyebrows. Liz realized she was still rooted to the spot right inside the front door.

“Of course.”
Not
. How the hell was she going to spend the day in the same room as him? His scent alone would drive her bonkers, and why did his voice always manage to sound so husky like they’d just engaged in some sort of sexual escapade?

As she followed him into the office, she stared at his back, not one bit less impressive in the body-hugging shirt than his front.

“What did you have in mind?” Liz dragged her gaze from the gym god to the room.

How could a man as impeccably put together as Alan have such a disastrous office space? Books stacked precariously all over the room, piles sat on the desk corners, an end table and even the floor like giant games of Jenga that would topple if the wrong one was removed. The shelves had plenty of space, but their contents had never been returned after being used. Or, judging by the dust, the heavy volumes may have never even graced the wooden bookcases. Files were in no better shape.

Liz reached out to finger a stack of manila folders on top of the desk. Where should she begin?

“Yeah, it’s kinda messy in here.” Alan rushed to move a few papers from one place to another as though that made all the difference in the world right now. “I don’t really have any specific ideas. I bought this fancy filing cabinet last week.” He indicated the mahogany piece of furniture that sat under the window, looking very regal. Alan set the forgotten stack of letterhead on its surface and gently smoothed his hands over the wood grain as though he caressed a prized possession.

Liz swallowed a knot in her throat. “It didn’t hold everything?” She slowly shuffled toward Alan, the glossy-finished wood a common magnet.

She trickled her fingers over it delicately. She envied its luster and wished she were the inanimate object fondled so skillfully by Alan’s touch. The juxtaposition of his strong masculine hands and the exquisite piece of furniture made her mouth go dry. She pictured herself sitting upon the brilliant surface, his palms moving over her curves with the same amount of precision as he exercised on the natural swirls marking the top of the cabinet.

Alan cleared his throat and reached for the top drawer handle to pull it open. “Who knows?” he asked with a shrug of his muscular shoulders. The scent of fresh sanded, expensive wood filled her nose.

When she glanced from the empty drawer to his face, he at least had a look of apology. His hand brushed her arm as he silently pushed the drawer back into place and Liz nearly jumped out of her skin. Every time they touched, it was as if fireworks went off and lit up the day. She wanted more. She needed more of his skin on hers like a driving life force.

“Sorry,” he apologized again. “I must have shocked you.”

She was shocked all right, yet not the way he meant. Did he realize that? After all, the electric spark between them hadn’t been an actual jolt, but more of a physical reaction.

Liz pressed her palm into the cool smooth hardwood surface of the filing cabinet, staring at her hand, almost white from the pressure. If she lifted her fingers, they would start shaking. The furniture literally anchored her. The deafening silence caused her heartbeat to pound in her ears. When she finally raised her gaze to Alan’s, his eyes glazed as he stared down at her. He breathed heavily, his lips slightly parted, his chest rising and falling under her perusal. Did she have the same effect on him as he had on her?

You knew coming back here again was a bad idea. Did you actually believe what you felt last week was just a fluke?

Heck, if she were perfectly honest there’d been no way she could have stayed away, if for no other reason than sheer curiosity. Hadn’t part of her tossed and turned all night in anticipation of coming back to find out if last week’s antics of the heart had been a figment of her imagination?

Not to mention the extra care she’d put into fixing her hair and even put on a little makeup this morning. She hadn’t donned cosmetics in more than two years, and hardly even then. And her hair? When had she last thought about it other than for the two minutes it took to tie it back into a ponytail?

She had to begin work, get her mind off Alan. He needed to back away. If only he wasn’t still standing two inches from her, closer than the average personal space would dictate acceptable. Of course, her feet were also rooted to the spot, sunk in some murky quicksand that made lifting them seem like too much effort.

The silence would be uncomfortable any second. It commanded her attention. It spoke volumes about their mutual attraction. Alan, still held his hand out in front of him, and glanced down at the appendage as if seeing it for the first time. The simple electrical shock caused by some combination of him shuffling across the floor and her grounding their contact with the file cabinet seemed more like a bolt of lightning.

Finally, Liz inhaled deep and was the first to find her voice, which crackled as though shards of glass filled her mouth. “Do you have any file folders?” It was the first thing she could think to say.

Two seconds later, Alan gave his head a quick shake and erased the strange tension in the room. “Yes, I do. I bought several boxes of them. I just never opened them.” He took the opportunity to bolt across the room at a rate that was in complete contrast with the past several minutes that had seemed to occur in slow motion. “Still in their wrappers,” he confessed, his nose pinched up when he lifted one corner of his mouth to smirk.

“I bet I can get them open,” she teased. “Perhaps you just needed a sharp object? A knife maybe? Or some scissors?”

“Ha ha.” Alan handed her two tidy boxes of folders. “Let’s just see,” he challenged, both eyebrows raised in jest.

“Challenge accepted.” Liz smiled. The ease and joy of the ribbing conversation tingled through her entire body as though they had known each other for years and always engaged in such friendly banter. She carefully ran one short fingernail silently down the seam of a box, pulled the cellophane wrapper away, and dangled the wisp of plastic in front of Alan.

“Anybody can do that. What I want to see is if you have the guts to open the box and figure out a way to make use of the contents,” he quipped.

“No problem. Step back and watch the master at work. You do realize they pay me to do this, right?” Thank God the sexual tension had been chipped away by their jests. Now she could finally get to work and make this office a warm inviting atmosphere in which his clients would feel relaxed to do business. Perhaps she was kidding herself. Had the sexual nature of their relationship diminished with the broken silence or ratcheted up a notch?

Either way, Liz had to turn her back on Alan in order to concentrate on the task at hand. She set the open box on the mahogany surface beneath her fingers and tossed words over her shoulder as she wandered over to the bookcase. “How about if I start with these dinosaur-sized books. And then when I’ve cleared a path at least big enough to see through, I’ll move on to the filing?” She immediately sucked in a breath and spun around to face Alan.

Those words had tumbled so easily over her tongue and past her lips. She hadn’t considered to suck them back, thinking she’d crossed a line between boss and employee with her jibe, until it was too late. “Did I say that out loud? Sorry, that was rude.”

“Hmm,” Alan glanced around the room. “I’m not sure you could have uttered anything more politically correct than that considering what you’re working with.”

“Well, poking fun of your earthquake hazard area hardly seems professional.”

And once again you’ve dug yourself a hole even bigger than the last
.

Was she goading him to see how he would respond?

“Earthquake hazard?” He smiled at her and shook his head. “Really? Is that the best you can come up with?”

Liz shrugged one shoulder, “Hey, I didn’t have time to plan that one. It’s on the house. Now get out of here and go work somewhere else so I can get something accomplished.”

Before I lose all ability to reason and actually reach up to run my palms down your pecs. Were they as hard as the volumes of law literature eating their way through the walls and floor and nearly the ceiling?

“Okay, okay. If you insist. But, feel free to yell if you need me.” Both hands raised in acquiescence, he backed out the door, his mumbled words fading. “Or if you get lost. Or hungry. Or…”

Whatever those last barely audible words were, they caused Liz to shudder. Did he say horny? She must have imagined that part. Her overactive imagination must be completely in overdrive from his proximity, the scent of his cologne, the tight stretch of his T-shirt. All of which had rendered her dumb.

Lord Almighty, how was she going to get anything done in this huge house that suddenly seemed to be closer to three hundred square feet than three thousand. He was all around her in the close proximity.

She started to arrange the books in front of the floor to ceiling built-in custom bookcases, but she swore she could hear him breathing as though he were still in the room. Every little noise in the house made her twist and imagine him behind her in the doorway. Or perhaps she just wished he were.

She flushed with the confusion of which she would prefer. To have him stand over her and make her ache with need, or have him completely out of her sight to avoid the sensation.

After several attempts to stack the thick texts by categories, she gave up altogether and opted to arrange them on the shelves alphabetically by title. If that didn’t work for him, she could always change it later.

In about an hour, the room looked much more presentable. Well, at least a person could walk through it. Now to tackle the files.

“Wow.” The expletive from the doorway made her spin around. How had he managed to sneak up on her?

Alan came into the room on a whisper, his bare feet making no sound. He stood before the bookshelves and moved his head from left to right, top to bottom as he gazed at the arrangement. “Perfect.”

“Glad you like it, ’cause those are the heaviest books I’ve ever had to manhandle into position. I’d hate to have to rearrange the buggers. I’ll start the filing now.”

“Love it.” He wandered to the desk. “Mind if I work a bit at the computer while you sort?”

“Not at all.”
Liar
. Sweat gathered on Liz’s palms as she considered his proximity.

The clickety clack of the computer keys filled the room like a rhythmic beat that increased Liz’s pace. She gathered up all the folders lying around in their ragged manila covers and replaced them with fresh new jackets.

“Damn,” Alan mumbled under his breath.

Liz glanced up to see him fumbling with a calculator.

“Sorry,” he raised his face, seemed to just realize he wasn’t alone. “Don’t suppose you’re good with math too?” He blew his bangs up at the rhetorical question and leaned back in his chair. “Set me in a two-hour law lecture any day of the week and I can keep up with the best of them, but God did not provide in the area of arithmetic.”

“What are you trying to do?”
What are you thinking, you dolt?
She ambled over to the desk. “I might know a thing or two about figures.”

Alan stared up at her. “Really?” He tipped his head to the side. “Hey, if you can make this add up, be my guest. No matter how many times I run the numbers, I get a different answer and my accountant doesn’t really care for my type of preparations.” He stood, held his arms up in defeat and motioned for her to take his spot.

“I’ll see what I can do. Maybe you just don’t have the knack for the keypad.”
Riight. That’s it
. “It’s all in the wrist.” Liz smiled up at him and started calculating the numbers in front of her.

She zoned into a world she was extremely comfortable with, grabbed a sharpened pencil and jotted figures on a stack of Post-Its as she went along. She stuck the pencil behind her ear in between scribbles, barely gave the action a single thought until she finished and lifted her gaze back to the man hovering behind her.

At least when she played with numbers she could almost erase the world around her for just a few minutes. She forgot everything but the soft breathing over her shoulder warming the side of her face, and the scent of mint and coffee. Now that she was done, it all slammed back into place and the jerk of her head sent the pencil careening to the floor behind her.