Maid for a Magnate

No way in hell was he letting his father, or anybody else for that matter, dictate what he could and couldn’t do with Cat. Listening to his father’s instructions about his personal life was what got Will into this mess in the first place.

“Once we’ve officially signed with the Cherringtons, I’ll be sure to send them a nice vintage wine with a personalized note.”

Patrick came to his feet, rested his hands on his desk and leaned forward. “You’re changing the subject.”

“The subject of your staff or my personal life has no relevance in this meeting,” Will countered. “I’ll be sure to keep you updated if anything changes, but my assistant should have all the proper paperwork emailed by the end of the day.”

Will started to head out the door, but turned to glance over his shoulder. “Oh, and the next time Cat talks to you, I suggest you are polite in return and at least look her in the eye.”

Leaving his father with his mouth wide open, Will turned and left the office. Perhaps he shouldn’t have added that last bit, but Will wasn’t going to stand by and watch his father dismiss Cat like that. She was a person, too—just because she cleaned for Patrick and he signed her checks didn’t mean he was more important than she. Will had no doubt that when Cat worked for James, he at least treated her with respect.

Dammit. Why was he getting so defensive? He should be pissed she’d dumped his flowers onto his father. There was a twisted irony in there somewhere, but Will was too keyed up to figure it out. What was it about her blatantly throwing his gift back in his face that had him so turned on?

Will searched the entire first and second floors, but Cat was nowhere to be found. Granted, the house was twelve thousand square feet, but there weren’t that many people on staff. How could one petite woman go missing?

Will went back to the first floor and into the back of the house where the utility room was. The door was closed and when he tried to turn the knob, he found it locked. That was odd. Why lock a door to the laundry? He heard movement, so someone was in there.

He tapped his knuckles on the thick wood door and waited. Finally the click of a lock sounded and the door eased open. Cat’s dark eyes met his.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“Can I come in?”

“This isn’t a good time.”

He didn’t care if this was good or bad. He was here and she was going to talk to him. He had to get to another meeting and wasn’t wasting time playing games.

Will pushed the door, causing her to step back. Squeezing in, he shut the door behind him and flicked the lock into place.

Cat had her back to him, her shoulders hunched. “What do you want, Will?”

“You didn’t like the flowers?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door.

“I love flowers. I don’t like your clichéd way of getting my attention or trying to buy me.”

He reached out, grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. “Look at me, dammit.”

In an instant he realized why she’d been turned away. She was clutching her shirt together, but the swell of her breasts and the hint of a red lacy bra had him stunned speechless.

“I was trying to carry a small shelf into the storage area and it got caught on my shirt,” she explained, looking anywhere but at his face as she continued to hold her shirt. “I ran in here because I knew there was a sewing kit or maybe even another shirt.”

Everything he’d wanted to say to her vanished from his mind. He couldn’t form a coherent thought at this point, not when she was failing at keeping her creamy skin covered.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stop staring,” she told him, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t have time for games or a pep talk or whatever else you came to confront me about. I have work to do and boobs to cover.”

Her snarky joke was most likely meant to lighten the mood, but he’d wanted her for too long to let anything deter him. He took a step forward, then another, until he’d backed her up against the opposite wall. With her hands holding tight onto her shirt, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed, there was something so wanton yet innocent about her.

“What do you like?” he asked.

Cat licked her lips. “What?” she whispered.

Will placed a hand on the wall, just beside her head, and leaned in slightly. “You don’t like flowers. What do you like?”

“Actually, I love flowers. I just took you for someone who didn’t fall into clichés.” She offered a slight smile, overriding the fear he’d seen flash through her eyes moments ago. “But you’re trying to seduce the maid, so maybe a cliché is all we are.”