Clearly the waiting game was over.

To top it all off, I’d smashed my thumb at the shop fixing my bike because I’m a fucking dumbass. Now my thumb hurt like hell and the bike still wasn’t up and running. On the bright side, watching me cuss and punch the walls in frustration seemed to entertain the guys.

Nice to provide some comic relief, I guess.

When I pulled up to the house, all I wanted was a hot shower, followed by a cold beer and maybe some TV. We’d already had church that afternoon—just a quick meeting to cover events down south—but there wasn’t anything else going on tonight and I needed some time to myself. Normally I’d bring some bitch home for a fuck after a crap day, but Pepper put a stop to that. She’d been the last girl in my bed.

Pretty sure she shot up in my bathroom, too, now that I thought about it.

That’s when I saw the goddamned minivan in my driveway. Shit. The Ice Princess had said she’d be out by early afternoon, and I wasn’t in the mood to listen to her prissy voice while staring at her off-limits boobs.

“God damn it,” I muttered, slamming my hand down on the steering wheel for emphasis. That sent a wave of pain shooting up from my swollen thumb and I stiffened, groaning.

Could anything go right today?

When I walked into the house I froze, disoriented. I smelled food cooking—good food. Some kind of savory chicken thing filled the air and my stomach growled. What the hell?

“London, you in here?” I called, throwing my shit down on the couch and moving toward the kitchen. No answer … but up on the kitchen counter I spotted the biggest Crock-Pot I’d ever seen full of whatever the hell smelled so good. I looked around for her, then moved toward my bedroom. The bathroom door was closed and I heard the shower running.

Still cleaning. I decided I’d forgive her for being so late, seeing as she’d cooked. I went back into the kitchen and pulled the lid off the Crock-Pot, taking a deep whiff.

Holy fuck, that was amazing.

Thirty seconds later I had a giant bowl of bubbling chicken and dumplings in one hand and a beer in the other, ’cause I don’t believe in fucking around when it comes to food. I went back to my room and sat back on my bed, leaning against the pillows she’d artfully arranged over the comforter. I hadn’t even known I had that many pillows.

The shower was still running. Interesting. I swapped the beer for a remote and flipped on the set. Then I took a bite and actually moaned, because the food was that fucking good.

Christ, I’d needed this. I had no idea what’d compelled her to fix me dinner, but the woman was a goddess and I regretted every nasty thing I’d ever thought about her. The shower turned off, and I heard her singing softly to herself. My dick perked up as I took another bite.

Fuck it, because I really didn’t regret any of the nasty shit I’d thought about her … at least not the screwing-her parts, which had been the nastiest of all. The only thing better than eating this food would be if she fed it to me naked.

After a minute the bathroom door opened and London stepped out, a towel wrapped loosely around her body. She saw me and screamed, which made her tits jiggle in a way that was nothing less than outstanding.

She’d been taking a shower. In my room. Naked.

I set the bowl down and rose to my feet, stalking toward her. Clearly London operated a full-service business.

Beautiful.

LONDON

Crazy day.

Not one single thing had gone right … No, that wasn’t true. The doctor’s trip yesterday had been great. All good with Jess, no signs of complications and no need to come back in for another six months unless she had symptoms. It was easy to lose perspective on how far we’d come over the years, get impatient with her for doing stupid things. The fact of the matter was she’d been born a miracle baby and now she was a miraculously healthy adult.

I needed to remember that.

That morning I’d been scheduled to finish at Hayes’s house, but I’d gotten called to the hospital instead. One of my girls was pregnant and she’d gone into preterm labor at four a.m. It looked like she’d be on bed rest for the duration, which wasn’t exactly good news for me but at least she was doing okay. Fortunately I’d gotten six applications in this week, and I’d already set up interviews with two of them. Hopefully one or both would work out—they both looked good on paper.

That left me in a bind with Hayes. I had to bring food for the potluck at six, and there was no way I’d be able finish up at his place and get back home in time to fix it, let alone make myself presentable, so I’d thrown the chicken into a Crock-Pot and grabbed the ingredients for biscuits to take with me. I figured I could clean, throw together the biscuits, and then take a quick shower before grabbing the pot and running out the door.

Was it appropriate? Not even a little, but beggars can’t be choosers and it’s not like he was paying me. Fortunately he wasn’t even home, so it seemed to be a non-issue. The last of the cleaning went smoothly enough, and showering at his place was a treat. The house might be old, but he’d gone all out in the addition and the bathroom was luxe.

Beyond luxe, actually. It was big, almost as big as one of the little bedrooms upstairs. There was a sunken tub built for two and a large, glassed-in shower stall with one of those fancy adjustable shower heads that go up and down. I’d lowered it for myself, making careful note of where he’d had it set. I’d make sure it was back where it was supposed to be when I finished, but it was still a pleasure to use a shower that was actually the right height for me.

By the time my hair was all washed and I stepped out, I was in a pretty good mood. I couldn’t wait to see Jessica in her element at the community center again. Life with her was a series of ups and downs, but I had a good feeling about tonight.

Maybe she could even get a job down there, because for all her faults she really did have something to offer those kids that a more typical young woman wouldn’t bring to the table. Maggs Dwyer might be new, but she was smart. When she looked at Jessica, she saw the same potential that I did.

My mood stayed good as I toweled off my hair, and then I looked around for my backpack and realized I’d left it in the bedroom. Humming brightly, I opened the door and screamed.

Reese Hayes was sitting back on his bed holding a bowl of food, eyes trailing down my figure speculatively. A slow, predatory smile crossed his face and he set the bowl on the bedside table, pushing to his feet.

Run! my brain screamed, but my feet didn’t move. Seriously. No movement at all, just like in one of those dreams where a giant dinosaur suddenly appears in the grocery store parking lot and you can’t seem to start running away or even throw a package of chicken thighs to create a diversion, no matter how hard you try.

Chicken thighs? Where did that come from? Why couldn’t I focus?

Hayes stalked toward me, and then one of his fingers slid down the front of my towel, right between my breasts. My nipples perked up, acting against orders. He tugged gently at the fabric, and finally my body started listening to me. I clamped down my arms against the towel, holding it firm as I took a step back.

He let me go, a strange smile teasing his lips.

“Don’t be shy,” he said. “Wet and naked’s a good look on you. Gotta say, between this and the food you’ve turned my day right around.”

Food?

I glanced over at the bowl, then realized he’d been in the chicken and biscuits. Crap. I loved it when the biscuits formed a perfect, unbroken layer across the top while the broth bubbled up along the edges. Now there’d be a gap. Of course, I couldn’t exactly begrudge the man some dinner, given that I’d essentially taken over his house without permission.

In retrospect, I think I might have subconsciously set myself up. From the beginning he’d fascinated me … He scared me, too, but he’d also gotten under my skin like a bur. Maybe if I hadn’t been so out of practice, I’d have figured it out sooner.

Holding the towel firmly, I gave him a tight smile.

“Sorry. I got delayed this morning. One of my employees is in the hospital, and I have a potluck after this. I figured you wouldn’t mind, seeing as I didn’t even charge you for the cleaning …”

A flash of pain crossed his face.

“Had an employee in the hospital this morning myself,” he said. “Hope yours turned out better than mine. If you aren’t gonna take off that towel, then you should get dressed now, I think.”

“That’s the goal,” I said dryly, deciding not to follow up on the hospital comment. It didn’t sound like a happy story.

I didn’t want to get involved.

“Can you hand me my bag?” I asked, nodding toward the backpack I’d left sitting near the door. He walked casually over to grab it, and I couldn’t help but watch the movement of his legs under those jeans. His thighs were thick, and not with fat. He had a tight butt, broad shoulders, and a back that I wanted to rub my cheek against.

When he turned back toward me, my eyes widened. I have a thing for muscular men, no question, and his body pushed every one of my buttons. Broad chest, thick arms and thighs … And his stomach? Holy cow, I just knew that under that tight black shirt would be the perfect six-pack. The man’s body was ideal—not like a twenty-year-old’s, though. No, he had the solidity that only comes with age and endurance and maturity.

My eyes had just drifted lower, below the belt, when he spoke.

“How important is this potluck thing?” he asked softly. Huh? I blinked, then glanced back up at his face. Oh, wow. He’d totally caught me checking him out. He liked it, too. I saw heat in his eyes, the kind of heat that only means one thing. This is why I shouldn’t be let out in public, I decided. I just couldn’t be trusted to handle myself.

“Why?” I asked, my throat ever so slightly dry.

“Because if you look at me like that for even one more second, I’m gonna throw you down on that bed and fuck every part of you, starting with your tits. Unless that’s on the menu, you need to grab your shit and leave while you still can. This is the only warning you’ll get.”

I gave a strangled gasp, because there was absolutely no question he was dead serious. I reached out for my pack, which he handed over wordlessly. Then I turned and bolted back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it. I heard him laugh behind me, but there wasn’t even a hint of humor in the sound.

“Don’t think a lock could keep me out, sweetheart.”

Ha. No danger of me feeling safe in his home anyway. Five minutes later I was dressed and ready to go. I’d planned to wipe down the bathroom after I finished, leave it perfect so he’d never know I’d taken advantage of the situation. Unfortunately that ship had well and truly sailed, so I decided escape was probably more important than preventing water spots.

Like he’d notice them anyway …

Thankfully Hayes wasn’t in the bedroom when I cautiously stepped out again, and I didn’t find him in the kitchen, either. Perfect. I took my damp towel and wrapped it around the Crock-Pot, preparing to haul it to the car.

“We need to talk,” he said behind me.

I froze. Was the man a ninja? “I think we’ve talked enough. I’ve finished the job for you and it’s really time for me to get going.”

I heard him step forward, then felt his heat surround me. Big hands came to rest against the edge of the counter on either side of me and his breath whispered across my ear.

“You should come back here next week,” he said, his voice low and growly. It slithered down my spine, sending tendrils of heat swirling through me.

No, I definitely shouldn’t come back. Not even a little bit.

“I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” I said quickly. “You probably don’t remember, but I actually have a boyfriend. We’re starting to get serious.”

“I didn’t mean you should come back to fuck, although I’m all over that idea, too, if you change your mind. Don’t give a damn about your boyfriend, either, that’s between you and him. Nope, I want you back to clean again, maybe make more of that food. It’s really fuckin’ good, and tonight I realized just how much nicer it is to come home to a house that smells like people actually live here.”

My brain froze.

“I don’t do houses,” I said. “I mean, this was a special deal. But I run a commercial business and I use crews. I manage things and fill in—I’m not interested in being someone’s housekeeper.”

“Two days a week,” he murmured. I felt his lips brush and it took everything I had not to moan. “You come here two days a week and I’ll make it worth your while.”

He leaned into me, and I felt his hardness touch my rear so lightly I wondered if I’d imagined it. This was not a legitimate business proposition. I needed to tell him where to go. Unfortunately my mouth wouldn’t work. It was too busy imagining what licking his nipples would feel like.

Bad London!

“Your crew came in and did cleanup after that last big party at The Line, remember? Did a real good job, too.”

I nodded, still unable to speak.

“I think Gage mentioned we might be looking for a long-term contract,” he continued. “Something more regular so we don’t have to count on the waitresses to shut down at night.”

“You should really consider it,” I answered quietly. “A business like that needs to be cleaned thoroughly every day if you want to keep it up right.”

“Contract’s all yours if you do my house, too. You cook two meals a week and you’ll do some grocery shopping. I’ll make it worth your while.”