The Millionaire and the Maid

She shook her head. ‘Not until I have your house looking spotless.’ It would be a nice treat to spur her on. ‘Maybe the day after tomorrow.’

He merely shrugged and left the keys on the table.

* * *

After lunch, two days later, Jo made a pot of tea and poured a mug for both her and Mac. Mac reached across to rattle the keys to his car. For the last two days those keys had sat on the table, where they’d tempted, teased and cajoled Jo mercilessly. Neither she nor Mac had put them back on the hook

‘Does the house pass muster?’ he asked.

Yes, it did. And so did the driveway since she’d found a pile of blue metal gravel out behind the garage. She’d used it to fill in the worst of the potholes along the driveway.

‘You can retract your offer any time,’ she told him.

‘I’m not going to retract the offer, Jo. Go take the car for a spin and enjoy yourself.’

He tossed her the keys. She stared down at them, and then at him. ‘I won’t be gone long—maybe twenty or thirty minutes tops.’

He shrugged as if he didn’t care how long she’d be gone. ‘Just don’t get a speeding ticket,’ he tossed over his shoulder, before taking his mug and heading back upstairs to his mysterious work.

She wondered how on earth he could write recipes if he didn’t cook them first.

She wondered how he could bear not to take his beautiful car out for a drive.

She drained her tea and then headed straight out to the garage. Would she even fit into the low-slung sports car? She planted her hands on her hips. If Mac did then she would too. She folded herself into it and sat for a long time, revelling in the moment and familiarising herself with the dashboard, the gears, the fact the indicator was on the left of the steering wheel rather than the right.

She started it up and gave a purr of delight at the throaty sound of the turbo engine. Would the reality of driving this car live up to the fantasy?

She negotiated the driveway with ludicrous care. She had no intention of bringing this car back in anything but perfect condition. When she finally reached the open road she let out a yell of pure delight, relishing the perfect handling, the smooth ride and the responsive power of the car. A body could get addicted to the sheer exhilaration!

After her first initial experimentation with the accelerator she made sure to stick to the speed limit. Instead of speed she savoured the way the car handled the twists and turns of these old country roads.

Oh, how could Mac stand to leave this amazing car in his garage and not use it?

She explored the roads that branched off from Mac’s property, along with a couple of others that it seemed justifiable to explore, and discovered two tiny hamlets—Diamond Beach and Hallidays Point—both of which had tiny general stores if she needed to pop out for bread or milk. She also discovered more glorious coastal scenery.

Mac had certainly chosen a beautiful part of the world for his exile. Odd, then, that he didn’t seem to spend much time appreciating it, that he’d taken such pains to shut it out from his sight.

It was grief, she supposed. Grief at having lost the life he’d had. There was no denying that until six months ago it had been a charmed life. Maybe when his grief had had time to abate he’d see a way forward again. Perhaps he’d realise his old life wasn’t irrevocably lost to him forever.

Not if he refuses to cook.

She sighed, but a signpost pointing down another winding road had her slowing. ‘Dog Shelter’. A grin built through her and on impulse she turned down the road.

Mac will freak!

So what?

It’s his house.

Nothing had been said about not being allowed a pet.

She turned into the signposted driveway. She wasn’t the only person at the dog shelter. An elderly man emerged from the back of a small sedan as she pulled up beside it. A border collie leapt out behind him.

A woman dressed in overalls strode up from a nearby dog run. ‘Mr Cole? And I expect this is Bandit?’ She nodded to tell Jo she’d be with her shortly.

Mr Cole’s hand dropped to Bandit’s head and tears filled his eyes. ‘It breaks my heart to leave him.’

Jo’s throat thickened.

The woman glanced at the younger couple who had remained in the car. ‘Your family can’t take him?’

He shook his head and Jo had a feeling that won’t rather than ‘can’t’ was the operative word on that.

‘Please find a good home for him. He’s such a good boy and has been such a good pal. If I wasn’t going into a nursing home I’d...’

Jo couldn’t stand it any more. She leapt forward. ‘Oh, please let me take him. He’s beautiful and I promise to love him.’