Husband For Hire Read online

  Harrison effectively dumped her twice.

  Maggie put her chin on her hand and leaned forward on the counter, watching her grandmother stir green stringy things with yellow round things. She thumped the counter, then held up her hand. "I swear on Grandpappy Joe’s grave I won’t date my boss ever again."

  "Good for you."

  Maggie watched Gran add a handful of brown thingies. "Okay, I give up. What the heck is this stuff?"

  "Dinner."

  "You got this from the home shopping channel, didn’t you?"

  Gran stirred in some white chunks. "What if I did? I’ve always wanted a wok."

  "But do you know what you’re cooking?"

  Gran harrumphed and turned a narrowed gaze on her. "Missy, I’ve been cooking for sixty-seven years. I don’t need your smart-aleck advice. Why don’t you see if Alex has arrived yet?"

  "Alex?" Unease skittered down her spine. She hadn’t seen him since yesterday’s ladder incident. According to Gran, Alex Ross had arrived to check out the house to see what needed attention.

  "He’s moving in today. I invited him to eat with us."

  Maggie clutched the counter. "What do you mean moving in? He’s going to live here?"

  "In the garage apartment. Won’t it be nice to have a man at our beck and call?"

  Renewed suspicion coursed through Maggie. "How much are you paying him?"

  "None of your business," Gran sniffed. "That’s between me and Alex."

  "For heaven’s sake!" Maggie rolled her eyes.

  The sound of tires crunching on gravel alerted them to the arrival of a car.Alex . Maggie stiffened, her disbelieving gaze clashing with Gran’s determined one. "I don’t like it."

  "My house, my rules. Now go see if Alex needs help."

  "Help Alex? That would be a switch." He made her feel antsy...nervous...vulnerable. Okay, if she were a teensy bit honest with herself, she’d admit her unease had to do with the way her pulse jumped when she thought about him.

  Stop being silly, Maggie.He’s just a handyman. Probably. Maybe he was a con man. Elderly people were easy targets for society’s leeches. Maybe he planned to suck as much money as possible from Gran before moving on to his next victim. For some reason, her brain wouldn’t reconcile this image with Alex Ross. Try harder, she ordered herself.

  She had lousy judgment when it came to men. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have fallen for a jerk like Milton. And if she started getting mushy toward Alex, she’d lose sight of his potential villainy.

  Maggie left the kitchen, taking reluctant steps toward the front door. The doorbell rang. At least he hadn’t walked in like he owned the place.He had manners , a tiny, chiding voice said,unlike you.

  To catch the warm spring breeze, the front door had been propped open. Alex waited on the other side of the screen door, a duffle bag in his right hand and a suitcase in his left. His mere presence sent a jolt of awareness through her. Damn. Villain, she reminded herself. Until he proved otherwise.

  "Hello, Ms. Conrad," he greeted as she pushed open the screen door. He stepped inside, his chest brushing against hers as he angled through sideways. Tingles of sensation fluttered across her. Maggie drew a deep breath. She saw Alex’s lips quirk.

  "How’s it hanging?" he asked.

  "Ha. Ha." Maggie let go of the metal handle and the door banged shut. She folded her arms over her chest and silently dared him to tease her again.

  His half-smile slid into a grin. He held up one bag.

  "Where to?"

  "Follow me." Maggie led him down the hallway and into the kitchen. Gran had disappeared, and the contents of the wok had been dumped into a green bowl shaped like a fish.

  "That smells...interesting," said Alex.

  "You probably don’t want to know what it is."

  They entered the screened porch, and Maggie opened the back door, jumping over the three concrete steps. She heard Alex’s sneakers squeaking through the dewy grass as she led him across the yard.

  Though dusk still stretched purple fingers across a gold and red streaked sky, night sounds had already emerged, the typical Oklahoma symphony of chirping crickets, wind-rustled grass, and old-house creaks.

  The artist in Maggie loved when beauty surprised her senses, wrapping around her, singing to her soul. She paused, closed her eyes, and breathed in the moment.

  "Beautiful view."

  Maggie opened her eyes. Alex’s blue gaze was focused on her, though she was sure he’d been talking about the sky. "Dusk is my favorite time of day."

  "How do you feel about mornings?"

  Something about his gaze made her cheeks heat. "Next favorite."

  "I’ll remember that."

  Maggie and Alex crossed the yard, then climbed the rickety wood staircase attached, barely, to the outside of the garage. The door protested its opening with a loud screech. Maggie went inside, flipping on the light switch next to the door. When had Gran cleaned up the place? The simple furnishings sparkled and glimmered. A bed, dresser, and desk made up the front area. In back was a small utilitarian kitchen. Maggie pointed to another door. "That’s the bathroom. Your closet’s over there."

  Alex placed the bag on the bed and the suitcase near the dresser. "You don’t like me, do you?"

  "I don’t know you."

  He crossed his arms, and the muscles bunched nicely.

  Goodness, the man was built. His knowing smile made her squirmy, so she turned and checked the dresser for dust.

  "I’m a decent guy."

  "That remains to be seen," said Maggie. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she twisted her hands.

  He stared at her, his blue eyes wide with a sudden understanding. "I make you nervous."

  "Do not." The childish retort left her mouth before she could stop it. She put her hands on her hips. "You don’t make me nervous. I’m just a cautious person. I reserve judgment."

  "Good for you." His smile might have mocked her, but the dimple ruined the effect. Made him cute instead, darn it.

  He went to the bed and unzipped the duffle bag. She watched him take out folded t-shirts and jeans. A pair of high tops. An alarm clock. Already familiar--too familiar--with his front, Maggie felt compelled to check out his backside. After all, she wanted to have a balanced view. It was only fair.

  His brownish hair, slightly long, looked silky, soft. The muscles in his back moved under his tight white T-shirt. Maggie’s gaze dropped lower. His jeans fit perfectly around his rear end and the material molded to his thighs.

  He straightened swiftly and looked at her. Heat rose in her cheeks when his lips curved upward. It’s almost as if his expression said,Like what you see? There’s more.

  She swallowed her embarrassment, feeling like she’d been caught peeping at him naked through a window. She hugged herself and stepped backwards. "I guess...um...I’ll go now."

  "So soon?"

  Maggie nodded, then raised her chin. "Unless you need help getting the rest of your things?"

  "This is it."

  "Not a lot," she commented, still wrestling with her mortification and the funny, wiggly, hot feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  "I only have a few basic needs."

  "Uh, right. Don’t we all." Maggie slapped a hand to her mouth and stifled a groan. "I mean, you know, food and shelter."

  "Right." He stepped closer to her. "Food and shelter are very important."

  He stood just within her space, close enough to touch, and Maggie sucked in a breath. All the air in the room seemed to disappear. She felt like she stood inside a vacuum, her shallow breathing the only sound, Alex’s blue mesmerizing eyes the only sight.

  "Villain," said Maggie.

  "What?"

  The spell between them broke, almost with an audible snap. Maggie felt like she’d escaped from a life-threatening experience. Relief shuddered through her and she inhaled deeply. Then she realized what she’d said. "Vanilla.Do you like vanilla ice cream?"

  She noticed Alex’s expression. His e
yes gleamed--much the way a lion’s did when looking at a particularly succulent gazelle. Then he shook his head, as if clearing away a thought, and the gleam disappeared. However, his slow smile did nothing to reassure her.

  "I love vanilla ice cream."

  "Good," said Maggie. "We have chocolate."

  Alex laughed. "I like you Maggie Conrad. Would you like to go out?"

  "Outside?"

  "To dinner."

  "No," she said hastily. No way. He was a heartbreak waiting to happen.

  "Why not?"

  "I...I...just broke up with someone and I’ve been recovering."

  His gaze softened. "Broken heart, huh?"

  She nodded, unable to verbalize the lie. Harrison had never possessed her heart. He’d just held the keys to her heart’s dreams. "So, you see, I can’t," she finished, opening her arms in a gee-there-it-is gesture.

  Alex leaned closer and she caught another whiff of his woodsy aftershave that did nothing to disguise his pure masculine smell. He had a strong jaw line, high cheekbones, straight nose, and that dimple.

  "The best way to get over a heartache to move forward."

  Her gaze jerked from his chin to his eyes. "Forward?"

  "A date. Dinner, dancing...and so on."

  And so onsounded much too vague to Maggie. She couldn’t believe she was even having this conversation. She looked at his face again, unable to keep from staring at his lips. Strong, firm looking, designed for kissing the daylights out of someone. She stifled a sigh. Harrison had had enthusiasm but no technique. Maggie knew Alex probably had a technique designed to curl a woman’s toes.

  She realized Alex stood mere inches from her, his face lowered, his eyes flickering with amusement and some other emotion. What did she know about this man? Nothing. He was a handyman. Probably a drifter. With great lips.

  "Sorry, not interested," she said flatly, feeling sharp regret at ending all possibilities of trying out Alex’s lips. Kissing Alex would be like sampling one nibble of a Go diva chocolate...it would lead to partaking of the whole box. She knew it would be fulfilling and decadent. Then she’d feel guilty for indulging herself and swear off candy...only to go back for more later.

  Yep. Alex was a Godiva chocolate...and she was on a diet.

  He drew back. "Well, that’s plain enough, Ms. Conrad. Maybe some other time--when you’ve recovered sufficiently from the relationship blues."

  "Don’t count it," she warned. She tried to squelch all thoughts and sensations, but her body refused to take orders and continued to react to Alex’s presence.

  "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes," she said. "Be sure to wash up. Gran’s been known to check under fingernails."

  "Yes, ma’am," Alex said, saluting her.

  She nodded, ignoring his twinkling gaze and smiling mouth. "See you downstairs, then." Maggie turned, telling herself she was not walking faster than usual, and hurried down the stairs.

  ***

  Alex turned on his side and plumped the goose down pillow. The bedsprings squeaked and he grimaced. The quiet dark of the room engulfed him and he stilled, looking out the open window at the night.

  In deference to his new living arrangements, he wore boxer shorts, but he usually slept in the nude. He missed his waterbed. A lot.

  In fact, he wished now he had turned down Mrs. Simms...Victoria, he mentally amended, when she’d offered room and board.

  At the time, he thought the arrangements proved ideal. He’d be able to legitimately come and go in the house and not be under suspicion. He hadn’t counted on Maggie.

  He sighed, adjusted his position again, and tugged at the annoying boxer shorts. Maggie. His body reacted to the mere thought of the bewitching woman. He’d wanted to kiss her this afternoon.

  He’d never reacted to a woman with such...intensity. He had felt lust before. Hell, he would even admit to falling in love a time or two. But none of it had felt like this.

  Alex pounded the pillow again, and gave up trying to fluff it. He scooted off the bed and moved to the window, looking out into the backyard. The branches of a huge oak tree rose to meet the night sky; it’s leafy foliage blocking part of the glittering stars. The creak of a rope made him peer closer and he saw an old tire swing twirling. His imagination conjured a view of a naked Maggie, slipping long, tan legs through the tire, her firm bottom flexing as she adjusted to a comfortable position. She’d grab the rope, and hang back, just enough to show pert, beautiful breasts.

  She’d wear those lacy red thong panties, he mused, and he’d push her on that silly swing, higher and higher.... Alex cursed as he realized the effect his little fantasy was having on his body.

  Hellfire.

  Think ice, he told himself. Glacier. North Pole.Antarctica . The whole concept of ice did nothing to cool his ardent response to the image he had of Maggie. Stop it, Alex. She’s not interested. Hot sex with her isn’t going to happen.

  He waited, emptying his mind of other lurid thoughts, allowing the tepid breeze to wash over his body. Maybe he just needed a cold drink with a hundred ice cubes. Maybe a two-day cold shower. Alex smiled ruefully. Yeah, right. He’d asked her out without thinking it through. He hadn’t accepted a job he didn’t need so he could date Maggie. He had work to do.

  Despite her strong reaction to him, Alex knew Maggie suspected him of some chicanery. She wouldn’t be pleased with his false pretenses.

  Anyway, Alex sensed Maggie was not a one-night stand kind of woman. He suspected she wasn’t even a have-an-affair kind of woman. No, Maggie Conrad had an invisible sign that read "For Long Term Commitment Only."

  Alex avoided marriage-minded women. Especially after Shannon. And Amanda. And Cecily.... Alex frowned. The list of women trying to get their hooks in him kept growing.

  Alex rubbed his chin and averted his gaze from the tire swing lest his mind create another Maggie fantasy. Tomorrow he’d begin his research. Maggie would, he hoped, have something to do other than stay around the house and watch him. At dinner, Victoria had mentioned attending an all-day "Ultimate Bingo" match tomorrow.

  Yawning, Alex crawled back into bed, making the mental lists he always did when he started a new project. When he fell asleep, however, the lists disappeared. Maggie invaded his dreams, a laughing, green-eyed nymph...who gleefully bashed him in the head with a tire swing.

  * * *

  Chapter Three

  "What are you doing?"

  Maggie’s suspicious voice startled Alex. Crouched on the kitchen floor, he’d been examining the rickety drawer slides. As he jerked up, his head connected with the underside of the drawer. Muttering a curse, he withdrew from the cabinet and looked up.

  Maggie stood less than a foot away, nibbling her lower lip. Her eyes sparkled with laughter, but she didn’t crack a smile. She wore pink shorts and a crop top. Her bare midriff was tan and lean. His gaze was drawn to the dimple of her belly button. Oh, man. He’d better not let himself think about anything below her belly button. Or anything above it.

  Alex rose, went to the refrigerator, and removed a tray of ice cubes. He popped out one, put it in his mouth, and returned the tray to the fridge. He’d been under Maggie’s surveillance all morning. This was his third ice cube in an hour.

  "Why don’t you go away?" he mumbled. The ice cube occupied his whole mouth. He crunched down, grateful for the coolness sluicing down his throat.

  Maggie put a hand to her ear. "What was that?"

  "Nothing," he said, swallowing the rest of the ice. She shrugged, and glanced at the cabinet. "If you’re looking for the Will, Gran keeps it in her bedroom closet. And she’s not the type to tape envelopes of cash under the kitchen drawers."

  "Darn." Alex snapped his fingers. "What about stocks or bonds? Gold coins?"

  Her eyes widened, then narrowed. "You’re joking."

  Yeah." He grinned. "You catch on quick."

  Red crept into her cheeks. She hadn’t yet gotten around to accusing him of taking the family silver, but he had a feeli
ng she would.