The Millionaire and the Maid

‘That’s right.’

She finally turned. The dark circles under her eyes made him wince. She nodded at his shopping list.

‘So I’m afraid you’ll have to get your own groceries.’

A knife pierced through the very centre of him. She couldn’t leave! Just because they couldn’t be together in the way they wanted it didn’t mean she had to go.

She set the toast on the table and then two plates laden with bacon, eggs and beans. She’d made enough for him too. Maybe she’d had the same thought—that he hadn’t eaten much at dinner last night either. It warmed some of the chill out of him, but not for long.

When she indicated he should do so, he sat. He stared at his plate. He forced himself to eat, but all the while his mind whirled. Jo couldn’t leave. He needed her here. She—

She needs to eat. Wait until after she’s eaten.

Two rashers of bacon, a piece of toast and a fried egg later, he pushed his plate away. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

He waited until she’d finished before speaking again. ‘Why are you leaving?’

She took their plates to the sink. She wore a pair of jeans that fitted her like a glove. Had she worn them deliberately to torment him? He gulped down his orange juice but it did nothing to quench the thirst rising through him.

She pushed a mug of coffee towards him, cradling another mug in her hands and leaning against the kitchen bench.

She took a sip before finally meeting his eyes. ‘I’m leaving, Mac, because I refuse to watch you sacrifice yourself on the altar of guilt and misplaced responsibility.’

He swallowed back his panic. ‘I prefer to call it duty.’

‘You can call it what you like. Doesn’t change the fact it’s messed up.’

His head rocked back.

‘And I’m not going to support you in that delusion.’

Jo might not understand what drove him, but it didn’t mean she had to leave! ‘You haven’t learned how to make the macaron tower yet.’

She shrugged. ‘I did that stupid vocational test of yours again last night.’

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, concentrated on breathing.

‘I considered each of the questions as honestly as I could and you know what? It came back with the perfect job. So thanks for the tip.’

How would he cope out here without her?

He forced his eyes open. ‘What job?’ he croaked, a fist tightening about his chest.

‘Paramedic.’

Saving lives? Dealing with emergencies?

She’d saved Russ’s life, and probably Bandit’s. She’d forced Mac to turn his life around. Her practicality, her strength, her ability to respond quickly, it made her... Perfect. The single word rang a death knell through hopes he hadn’t realised he still harboured. Impossible hopes.

Jo deserved to get on with her life.

Without him.

He just hadn’t known that letting her go would tear the heart from his chest.

‘The NSW Ambulance Service is recruiting soon, so I figured it’s time I got on with things.’

Mac found himself on his feet, moving towards her. He cupped her face. Her skin was warm and soft and alive against his hands.

‘Stay,’ he croaked. ‘Please. Just another week.’

In another week he’d find the strength to let her go, but please God don’t ask him to relinquish her today. Please.

Her eyes melted to emerald for a moment before she blinked them back to a smoky sage. ‘If I stay we’ll become lovers,’ she whispered.

‘Sounds perfect to me.’

He ached to kiss her, but she planted a hand on his chest and forced him back a step.

‘To you it probably does, but I’m not going to settle for second best. I will never come first with you, Mac. Ethan always will.’ She swallowed, her face pale. ‘I deserve to come first with the man I choose to share my life with.’

Her words forced him back another step. His heart burned. Ethan had to come first. He had to look after the other man until he was back on his feet, and there was no telling how long that would take.

If he made a lot of money—millions of dollars—he could set up a trust fund to take care of Ethan, and then he’d be free to follow his heart.

If.

He stared down at his hands. Jo had no intention of waiting around to find out if he could manage that. He couldn’t say he blamed her.

She cleaned the kitchen. He’d have told her not to bother except that would only mean she’d leave sooner. He took her bags out to The Beast and stowed them in the back. He rested his head against the doorframe before striding back into the kitchen.

‘What about Bandit?’

She lifted a hand to her temple and rubbed it, making him wonder if she had a roaring headache too. ‘I thought you wanted to keep her?’