Книга - Spying On The Boss

Spying On The Boss
Janet Lee Nye


The new guy's turning her into a hot mess!A difficult childhood left Sadie Martin more interested in work than anything else, including romance. But she’d be a fool not to notice that her newest employee is scorching hot. As long as he works for her, though, he's off limits. Her company—sexy guys who clean houses—comes first. So why are Wyatt Anderson and his adorable niece always on her mind? When attraction turns into more, suddenly everything is a lot more complicated…and, frankly a huge mess. What Sadie and Wyatt need is a clean slate. For understanding…and love.







The new guy’s turning her into a hot mess!

A difficult childhood left Sadie Martin more interested in work than anything else, including romance. But she’d be a fool not to notice that her newest employee is scorching hot. As long as he works for her, though, he’s off-limits. Her company—sexy guys who clean houses—comes first. So why are Wyatt Anderson and his adorable niece always on her mind? When attraction turns into more, suddenly everything is a lot more complicated...and, frankly, a huge mess. What Sadie and Wyatt need is a clean slate. For understanding...and love.


Wyatt couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to Sadie.

She’d about taken his breath away when he’d walked into the kitchen. She wore a sundress, exposing her arms and legs. And they were mighty fine arms. And the legs, well, he couldn’t continue those thoughts while a guest at her table. She had her hair piled up in a haphazard bun at the back of her head. Several of the curls had escaped and one swayed against the nape of her neck, taunting him. He wanted to brush it aside and press his lips to the tender skin below it.

He looked down at his plate and sopped up sauce with a bit of bread. And you are a lying, deceitful spy who has no right to even think about her. Pretty soon, he’d “quit” and move on. She’d never know.

The idea of hurting her made him feel like an even bigger jerk.


Dear Reader (#ulink_cc413368-5b05-5799-b799-6e4e06683f7e),

It was just me and a few friends, chatting on Twitter about cute guys. “You should have seen the hot guy my cleaning company sent over,” she said.

“Hot? What? Please send us a picture!”

She didn’t send the picture, but later that day, when my partner came home from work, I said, “You know what I should do? Start a cleaning company. Hot guys cleaning houses.”

“I don’t know about starting a business,” he said. “You’re a writer. How about a book?”

That’s how all of this started.

Sadie, Wyatt and I have been on a long journey together. At one point, I even thought their story would end up under the bed, in a trunk of discarded papers, never to be seen again. Then I got the call from Mills & Boon through its SYTYCW (So You Think You Can Write) contest.

It’s always when it seems darkest that the light breaks through, isn’t it?

I hope you love Sadie and Wyatt as much as I do.

Thank you,

Janet Lee Nye


Spying on the Boss

Janet Lee Nye






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


JANET LEE NYE is a writer by day and a neonatal nurse by night. She lives in Charleston, South Carolina, with her fella and her felines.

She discovered romance with books she “borrowed” from her grandmother and renewed her love affair with the genre after stumbling upon Robyn Carr’s Virgin River series.

Rumors of her jelly bean addiction are completely exaggerated.


For Danny. Thanks for letting me be your mom.


Contents

Cover (#ucb604c1f-672a-5a94-aecb-560d9ca68b5d)

Back Cover Text (#u469e6b8d-1091-5d39-9b51-9f1223d9f92c)

Introduction (#ub8e4b93a-a8b2-5c87-a6bd-b7f98d9ead9c)

Dear Reader (#ulink_7bae04f9-3916-50c4-bc34-b2fa45487fa5)

Title Page (#ubfc09294-4c59-5e89-8c79-7c4f6409c011)

About the Author (#u4e265128-8ff4-5ccd-b801-0b0a8d1bd31b)

Dedication (#u6dad69e9-cf27-54ca-9a50-13af2d141d46)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_02b73250-de02-54cf-be18-0db178178397)

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_9c9e1b3d-2d1f-562d-b94c-384a56a66ddb)

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_163a2c1b-b2fc-5cc1-abec-3a489cbf56c1)

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_c41e871c-3e34-5906-a0de-2eb3d741294b)

CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_29c3c159-dc16-5d61-bc12-5b42f43cb8d3)

CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_db263cd9-1f52-5c31-abd7-798fb4371e30)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_1f8b6b03-9f16-5a95-932e-25be06157217)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_d696636a-af2d-552b-8ee5-b652802e5990)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_b7968c52-e8c7-554b-9133-2f4a2b161840)

FRIDAY SHOULD NOT start with a dead cat. That seemed more of a Monday sort of problem. Sadie ended the call and slumped back in her desk chair. Her black-and-white mutt, Jack, came over to sniff the phone dangling from her hand. “Seriously?” she asked the ceiling. “For real? This is happening?”

The ceiling didn’t answer and when Jack found no treat in her hand, he went back to his doggy bed with an aggrieved sigh. Sadie hauled herself out of the chair with her own sigh. Dead cat. Even worse, it was a client’s. She picked up her purse and pointed at Jack.

“Stay!”

He obeyed. Probably because he was already back to sleep. Sadie shook her head as she headed down the hall, digging in her purse for her keys. Dog never listens to a word I say anyway.

“Hey, Molly?” she called. “Rosie’s dead, and Heidi is flipping out so I’ve got to get over there and...”

The words stuttered to a stop as her mouth fell open. There was a man sitting in the small reception area. She glanced in the direction of her receptionist’s desk but it was empty. “Who are you?”

The man stood. “Wyatt Anderson. I have a nine-thirty interview.”

“Sorry. Hold on. I’ve got a bit of a situation.”

She turned and backtracked to the kitchen where she spotted Molly coming out of the supply room with a package of copy paper. “There’s a man out there.” Sadie whispered.

“Must be your interview. Is he cute?”

“No, he is not cute. He’s freaking gorgeous.”

Good-looking guys hanging out in her lobby was nothing new. Her entire company was built on them. The Cleaning Crew’s business model was simple: hot guys cleaned your house or business. But her guys were only that—guys. Young guys who were hot, just in the abstract. They were like her little brothers or something. But this guy was a blond, tanned, full-grown hunk of a man.

She and Molly returned to the reception area. The small space with the two wingback chairs and Molly’s desk seemed even smaller with him standing there. He was smiling somewhat uncertainly, laugh lines bracketing his eyes as twin dimples appeared in his cheeks. Sadie knew she should say something, but those dimples rendered her incapable of coherent thought. She’d never found blond men very attractive. They seemed too pretty. This man was not pretty. No, he was ruggedly handsome. His dark blond hair was wavy and a tad shaggy. Brown eyebrows arched over hazel eyes. His nose looked as if it had been broken in the past and his lips made a woman wonder how they might feel against hers.

Molly let out a quivering little sigh. That broke the spell and Sadie frowned at her. Molly was sixty years old. She’d been the second person Sadie had ever hired. She was a tiny, round woman with red hair fading to white and green eyes that missed nothing. She kept all the guys—and Sadie, too—in line with either grandmotherly love or sternness, whichever the situation required. But she could hardly blame Molly when her own mouth wouldn’t stay shut. She snapped to attention and took a step forward, shook his hand and managed to choke out, “Sadie Martin, nice to meet you.” A thrill raced from her palm up her arm at the touch. Holy cow.

She retrieved her hand. He’d followed the interview request to wear jeans and a white T-shirt. It was the Cleaning Crew uniform, although the official T-shirt had the logo on the breast pocket. She forced herself to focus. This is a job interview. He had the face. Her eyes swept over him. And he most definitely had the body.

She sucked at guessing people’s height, but she had to tilt her head up to look him in the eye and she was five-nine. The shirt was snug over broad shoulders and a solid chest, the sleeves tight around his biceps. It fell loose over his abdomen and she would bet the stash of jelly beans in the bottom drawer of her desk there was a nice six-pack under there.

And... Oh, shit! The cat. She turned to Molly. “I have to go. Josh needs help with Heidi Klingman. Rosie’s dead. She’s upset and Josh made it worse. It’s a mess. I’ve got to get over there and play St. Gertrude. Make a note to send her flowers and a card tomorrow.”

She turned and once again froze at the sight of Wyatt standing there with his arms crossed, all sexy forearms and bulging muscles. Oh, heck, the interview. She needed to get him on board. The clients would be fighting over him. If he passed the testing. Please, God in heaven, let him pass the testing, pretty please with jelly beans on top.

“Want to take a ride? We can do the interview on the way.”

“Sure.”

It seemed like a good idea until she was in the car with him. Strapped into the passenger seat, he made her Explorer feel claustrophobic. Her employees were college kids who needed the flexible hours of the job. He was her age, maybe a little older. She was unusually aware of his presence. Big and male and, damn, he smelled good. Like sunshine and salt water and man.

“It’s not far,” she said as she pulled out onto Savannah Highway. “Hopefully, I can get the situation under control quickly.”

“Who’s dead?”

He sounded serious and she remembered from his application that he’d been a cop. Yeah, that was interesting. A cop, then in the National Guard, and his last job was as a house painter. Not the typical career path. “A cat.”

“And St. Gertrude?”

Sadie laughed. “Patron saint of cats. I only know this because Heidi has an altar with her picture and the pictures of every cat she’s owned since she was, like, ten. There are a lot.”

She cleared her throat, trying to find her inner boss. Make this gooey girl melting over a man go away. Get it together. You can’t hire a man if he’s going to make you violate your number one rule. No fooling around, ever. Not in word, jest or deed. Interview. His hand was resting lightly on his thigh and she remembered the pleasant shock of his skin touching hers. She’d never felt that before. Stop it. Focus. You’re not picking him up in a bar.

“You were a police officer?”

He shifted in his seat so he was facing her. This was unfair. She could only steal glances while navigating traffic. He was looking right at her. She couldn’t remember if she’d bothered with makeup that morning. She glanced in the rearview, pretending to check traffic. Not too bad. Nothing hanging from her nose at least.

“That’s right.”

“Why’d you quit?”

“Did two tours in Afghanistan with the National Guard. After I got home, the whole law-and-order, stress-and-danger thing didn’t appeal to me.”

At the red light, she watched him carefully for a long moment. His body language and facial expression were relaxed. His tone of voice hadn’t changed. She nodded. “Here’s where I say thank you for your service and mean it but feel sort of dorky saying it.”

His laugh took her by surprise. It was lush and without restraint. “Here’s where I say thank you and feel slightly embarrassed about it for no particular reason.”

She smiled and some of her awkwardness slipped away. “So you started painting houses?”

“A guy I knew in the guard was kind enough to hire me.”

“Why are you applying with us?”

“With the economy, painting jobs are scarce. If we get a job, we’re there evenings, weekends. Whatever’s needed to finish. On the flip side, if the weather’s bad, no work. I need steadier hours.”

“That’s why you need a job. Why us?”

He held up a hand as he ticked off items. “Your reputation. Your salary. Your growing customer base.”

“And what can you offer us?”

“Strong back. Strong work ethic. Good organizational skills. Eye for detail. And I know how to handle a hysterical woman.”

She grinned. I’ll bet you do know how to handle a woman, hysterical or not. She forced those thoughts from her mind. Employee. Employee. If he passes the testing, he’s going to be an employee. Her brain was with the program. Parts south, not so much.


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_6c1d8d6f-ea75-5c22-abfd-39d26587fc5b)

AS THEY PULLED into a parking space in the upscale apartment community, Wyatt saw a guy sitting on the stairs. He wore the Cleaning Crew uniform of jeans and white T-shirt and when he stood, Wyatt noted he was about his own age. Since most of the employees seemed to be college age, this made him feel as if he might actually fit in. The man walked toward them as Sadie climbed from the car. Josh, he remembered she’d said.

“I haven’t even finished. She kicked me out. I left everything.”

Sadie put a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. Is she still crying?”

“No. She’s sitting in the living room and holding it. It’s creepy.”

“What did you say to her?”

“Nothing. I told her I thought something was wrong with the cat. She came in and starting screaming. I asked her if she wanted me to bury it or something.”

“Or something?”

Josh shrugged. “It’s a cat. The hell do I know what to do with a dead cat?”

“And I’m supposed to know?”

“You’re the boss.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” She glanced up at an apartment door on the second floor. Frowned. She looked at Wyatt. “Do you know what you’re supposed to do with a dead cat?”

“Bury it or something,” he said. He kept a straight face but put a humorous tone to his words. It was a risk, but the chance to get on the good side of one of Sadie’s guys couldn’t be missed. Josh snorted out a laugh. Her frown deepened and he felt a stab of worry.

“I see now why you left out problem-solving skills on that list you gave me.”

His worry subsided at the sarcasm in her voice and the exasperated roll of her eyes. It disappeared when Josh hooked an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, Sadie. That’s what everyone thinks you do with a dead cat. Bury it.”

Wyatt watched as Sadie’s expression changed to a careful neutral. Putting on her game face. She drew in a deep breath and let it out. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to find, but Sadie Martin wasn’t it. She was younger than he’d expected. And pretty. Her hair was tangle of black curls, barely contained in the ponytail spilling half way down her back. Her skin was a delicate shade of white that was rare in this southern climate and showed off her dark blue eyes and full lips. He’d heard the term Cupid’s bow before, but now recognized it in the shape of her mouth. He liked it.

“Wyatt?”

Come on. Pay attention. You’re here to get a job, not get laid. “Yeah?”

“Come on upstairs with us. I’ll talk to Heidi while you and Josh collect his stuff. If it seems like I’m going to be tied up awhile, I’ll have Josh take you back.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

She shook her head while staring up at the apartment door. “I hate this.”

“Dead cats?” Josh teased.

“Pain.”

Wyatt followed her up the stairs. She paused at the door, her head lowered. With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and went inside. She crossed the room to sit beside the woman cradling the body of an orange-and-white cat. “Oh, Heidi, honey,” she crooned. She hugged the woman who burst into a fresh torrent of tears. “Poor Rosie.”

Clearly, whatever reservations she’d had about dealing with the situation were gone. Her compassion was real. He’d seen enough fake compassion, doled out some of it himself when he wore a badge, to recognize the real thing. Sadie’s hand reached out to pet the cat and Josh turned away with a jerk. Wyatt followed him into the back room where he helped him gather the various supplies he’d left behind.

Heidi told Sadie how Josh found the cat and came to get her. Sadie’s voice was warm and sad. “She just slipped away from us.”

He was crossing the living room when Sadie let out a small laugh. “Remember when I first started cleaning for you? How she would follow me from room to room and we started calling her Inspector Rosie?”

He slowed his steps to look at the two women. Sadie had one hand on Heidi’s shoulder and the thumb of the other stroked over the cat’s cheek and ear. And damn if Heidi didn’t laugh, too. “Oh! And remember the time she hid in the closet and you thought she’d gotten outside and we spent an hour searching for her and when we came back in, she was sitting on the couch staring at us like we were crazy?”

Back in the parking lot, he helped Josh load the equipment into his car. Josh closed the trunk and leaned against the car. Wyatt pegged him to be late twenties. Dark hair and a strong build.

“You a new guy?” Josh asked.

“Don’t know. I was there for my interview when she got your call.”

“Sadie’s good people. You could do worse for a boss.”

“What about the clients?”

“Pretty cool. I mean, I know it seems weird. People think they hire us like we’re strippers or something. But it isn’t like that. Sadie screens the clients pretty well. Most of them know we do a good job. Having a guy clean your house is something to brag to their friends about.”

“So, no, uh, problems?”

Josh shook his head. “She’s got strict rules for us and the clients. It’s the one thing that will make her go ballistic. Instant termination if you break the rules.”

“That’s good to hear. I don’t need a hassle. Just a paycheck.”

He’d done some digging and what Josh was saying was consistent with everything he’d heard about the Cleaning Crew. They both looked up as Sadie came out of the apartment. She hurried down the stairs. Those luscious lips were pressed together in a tight line and he could see the tension in her shoulders. He wanted to touch her. “You were doing great up there,” he said.

“Thanks. Do you want the job?”

“Yes. Unless I have to bury the cat. I’d have to negotiate a bonus.”

He smiled when she laughed and her shoulders relaxed. Yes, those lips looked much better loose and smiling.

“There’s still testing to do before a final offer.” She turned to Josh. “Take him back and tell Molly to get started on the paperwork. I’m taking the cat to her vet so they can arrange a cremation. Oh, and have someone take Jack out.”

She held out a hand and smiled up at him. He shook her hand. His fingers tightened against hers for a second at the pleasant jolt of the touch.

“Welcome aboard,” she said.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

If only he wasn’t lying about everything. He was starting to feel bad about it.

* * *

SADIE PULLED INTO the parking lot and rested her head on the steering wheel for a moment. She’d delivered the cat to the vet. Freaking out the whole way, worried she’d get a ticket and have to explain why she had a dead cat in the car. She’d never had a pet until Jack, and it had taken everything she had to touch the too-still body of poor little Rosie. But one thing she understood quite well was the pain of being left alone. She had gone back to check on Heidi afterward. Found her tearful but coping. She wouldn’t go long without a cat. By tomorrow, she’d be looking at adoptable cats on the SPCA website.

She climbed out of the car and as she did, her eyes passed over the brick facade of the building. She still had trouble believing she owned the place. It wasn’t fancy, just a cracker box–style brick house, but it was hers. She’d bought the house six years ago after running the business out of her apartment for three years. The two-story brick building had been empty and neglected for several years. The stretch of Savannah Highway it sat upon was a short ride to downtown Charleston and the location—and price—had been perfect. She’d converted the second floor into an apartment where she lived and the downstairs was the Crew’s office.

A warm sense of pride and accomplishment filled her. She’d built this. Starting with her first job as a housekeeper, she’d put aside money and cultivated a customer base, hoping to one day work for herself. To be running the most successful, most sought-after maid service in Charleston blew her mind. And terrified her. Didn’t they know that every day she was winging it?

Jack barked happily when she let herself in the front door. He skidded down the hall and crashed into her. Eighty pounds of shaggy fur, lolling tongue and stupid. She grabbed his head between her hands. “Who’s a good boy? Who’s the best boy?”

His entire body wagged out his answer. Molly laughed from her desk. “And you wonder why he won’t behave for you. You encourage bad behavior. Jack. Sit.”

And he sat, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth and his tail swishing across the floor. Sadie leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “I think you’re the best boy,” she told him. “Granny Molly is just a meanie.”

“Your new hire is still in the back, taking the personality tests. I called his references, they check out. Told them to expect a call from you.”

Sadie took the handful of mail Molly held out to her. “Anything else?”

“Deanna Carter—”

“No.”

“—asked if you’d reconsider.”

“No.”

“Says she was under stress and is—”

“No.”

“—taking medication and has her issues under control.”

“Don’t care if God Himself writes her an excuse. She groped one of my guys. No.”

Molly held up her hands in surrender. “Only relaying the message. Don’t get mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you. I’m still mad at her.”

She bit back several colorful words. There was a new hire in the back. A new hire she wasn’t sure she should hire. He was too...too much. She went to her office and tossed the mail on the desk. Get it together. You can’t deny a man a job because he makes you remember you’re a woman. You’re an adult. You’re a professional. Deal with it. She pulled the band out of her hair and shook out the curls, running her fingers over her scalp, trying to ease the brewing headache. An unfamiliar creak on a hallway floorboard was the only warning she got before Wyatt appeared in her open doorway. He stood with an easy, relaxed confidence and it made her wonder what it would take to rile him up a bit. And the thought sent a delicious little wave of pleasure through her. She tossed the hair band on her desk and squared her shoulders. “All done?”

“I think so. Hope so. My eyes are about to fall out of my skull. Not used to staring at a computer for so long.”

He turned as she approached the door so she brushed lightly against his arm when she passed. Apparently all he had to do was stand there to rile her up. She shook her head as she walked down the hall. He followed and she swore she could feel his gaze on her back. She did what she always did when flustered—reverted to business mode.

“Have a seat,” she said, waving at one of the tables set up as desks. She remained standing until he sat. Only then did she sit across from him. “There’s a reason we do so much testing. The results will be calculated and I’ll get a report.”

“Seems to be pretty standard with any job application these days,” he said.

“True. It’s for everyone’s protection. My business model is a bit odd, some might say. So I make sure everyone, employees and customers alike, are on the same page about the services provided.”

He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table and distracting her with those tanned, muscled forearms, lightly dusted with sun-bleached blond hair. “And those services are?”

She snapped her eyes back to his. “We clean. Period. The end.”

“I understand you perfectly. Do the customers? I recently got custody of my eight-year-old niece. I’m her only living relative. I can’t afford any kind of accusation.”

It took a moment for her to answer. Eight years old. Only living relative. Her heart raced and she drew in a slow breath. She clasped her hands together, staring down at her fingers. She cleared her throat and forced the corners of her mouth up into a smile.

“A lot of our clients have been with me since before the Cleaning Crew existed. New customers come primarily from referrals. All new clients have a sit-down interview with me and they have to sign a behavior agreement as part of their contract. Employees sign one also.”

He rocked back in his seat. “That’s pretty thorough.”

“When we were first starting out, a woman made accusations. She fairly quickly confessed she’d made up the entire incident. She’d developed a crush on one of our guys, and when he did not reciprocate, she tried to get him fired by lying.”

She stopped there. It still made her furious. She took a few deep breaths so she could talk without her volume climbing to shouting range. “Even though it was straightened out right away, it scared me. Max was a college kid majoring in education. If there had been some sort of crime reported against him, it could have landed him on the sex offenders list and he would never have been able to get a job as a teacher. It could have ruined his entire life. So I take this very seriously.”

“Good. Exactly what I want to hear. I need a job and a paycheck. I don’t need to risk my future and my niece’s future.”

She stood and he followed suit. “I think you’ll be fine. I’ll get the results and call you tomorrow.”


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_9b8cf58c-06bc-5254-ba53-d61b400c65da)

THE DAY WAS pleasant and Wyatt would have chosen the outdoor seating, but Marcus Canard had already taken up residence in a corner booth at the Citadel Mall location of Sesame Burgers & Beer. The lunch crowd was beginning to thin out which troubled him a little. People in large noisy crowds were less likely to eavesdrop.

Wyatt hesitated, studying Marcus for a moment. He wore the Southern gentleman’s casual uniform of khakis and a polo shirt. But everything was a bit off. The shirt stretched over a too-large gut and one collar was frayed. The fabric of the khakis was stiff and shiny. By his appearance, he wouldn’t seem to fit with the business elite of Charleston, but he did.

He’d first noticed it when he’d been summoned to the office of Henry Moody to meet Marcus. The contrast between Henry’s Old World grace and Marcus’s crude appearance and speech was almost comical. Until you realized they were both rich and powerful men. And in the business world, money and power were all that really mattered.

Wyatt had taken this assignment when he really didn’t want to. The work he did for Henry’s insurance company was his main source of income. He couldn’t jeopardize that relationship. Not with Jules’s welfare to consider. So he was stuck with Marcus Canard. He crossed the room, pulling on his bland cop face.

“Did you get the job?” Marcus asked around a mouthful of fries as Wyatt sat across from him.

“Start on Monday. It’d be helpful if you told me exactly what it is you’re looking for.”

“Anything. I know that gal isn’t running a legitimate business over there. And what’s with the guy thing? Is that a gimmick or are those boys doing more than mopping?”

Wyatt corralled his irritation while he gave the waitress his order. Clients usually knew exactly what they wanted him to find. When he turned back to Marcus, he had it mostly under control. “You think there’s something illegal going on, then?”

“All I know is she charges twice what I do, and for what? So a good-looking guy can clean your house? Who cares what he looks like?”

A spark of interest flared at that and Wyatt leaned forward. “You think she’s running a male-prostitute service?”

“Why not? Women can pay for it now, too, right?”

“My preliminary investigation hasn’t turned up anything. Not even a rumor.”

“Find a rumor. Find something. Find anything. I want her out of business.”

“Why?”

“That’s nothing you need to know to do your job. Just do it.”

Marcus had barked out the order, but his eyes had slid away from Wyatt’s and lingered on the shoppers passing the window. His hands clenched into fists on the table. The man was angry. Anger was usually personal.

“You said she couldn’t run a legitimate business. How do you know that?”

Marcus looked back at Wyatt and the silverware clanged on the table as he slammed his fist down. “There is something going on. She’s nothing. A minimum-wage trailer-park maid. Thinks she’s something now.” He leaned forward and pointed his index finger at Wyatt. “I won that ridiculous City Paper award five years in a row. She took it from me. Now I’m losing customers. Find me something. Anything.”

And there it was. She was hurting him financially and now she’d publicly beaten him. The City Paper’s Best of Charleston Award may have been the catalyst for Marcus seeking revenge, but money was always the motivation for men like him. He shrugged. “I don’t think there’s anything going on, but if you want to continue the investigation, it’s your money.”

“Damn right, it’s my money. You find something. Anything. Be a shame if I had to tell Henry you let me down.”

Wyatt pressed his lips together. His first impulse was to get up and walk out. But there was Julietta to consider now. He couldn’t do anything to risk the stability he was trying to give her. If his relationship with Henry was damaged, he’d lose his biggest source of income.

He shrugged as he squeezed lime over his fish taco. “It’s your money.”

“And you’ll have a report for me next week.”

Marcus wiped his mouth and threw the napkin on his plate. He reached into his wallet and left a twenty on the table before lumbering away.

Asshole. Wyatt tried to finish his lunch, but the food tasted like sawdust and his stomach burned with frustrated anger. He shoved the plate away and smiled at the waitress to let her know he was ready.

He should probably try to dig a little deeper into the story of the woman who made the false allegation. Most likely a waste of time. He’d heard the passion and the fierce protectiveness in Sadie’s voice when she’d told him the story this morning. She wasn’t lying. She wasn’t stupid, either. There was more going on here than Marcus was telling him. His phone buzzed in his shirt pocket. The display read Springfield Elementary and everything else was forgotten in a wave of concern. Julietta.

“Mr. Anderson? This is Mrs. Rigby, the principal at Springfield.”

“Yes, ma’am. Is Julietta all right?”

“She’s having a bit of a rough time today. Would you be able to come to the school?”

“On my way.”

A bit of a rough time today. Poor kid had had a rough time the past six months. Her mother, Maddie, his baby sister, had been filling in for another flight nurse when the helicopter she was in went down in the Smoky Mountains. There had been no survivors. Julietta had been dropped off for school and had never seen her mother alive again.

He found her sitting in a chair in the school office, clutching her book bag to her chest. She sat perfectly still. No fidgeting, no swinging of the legs or tapping of feet. None of the constant motion you would expect from an eight-year-old. She didn’t smile at him, only turned those big, dark eyes in his direction. He squatted beside her and ruffled the black hair falling in a messy sheet down her back.

“Hey, Jujube. What’s up?”

She lowered her head to the book bag but her eyes, so full of a sadness he’d give anything to know how to relieve, never left his. “I want to go.”

She didn’t say she wanted to go home. In her mind, home was still in Asheville. Home was as dead and gone as her mother. He brushed back a lock of hair from her face.

“Okay, we’ll go. Let me talk to Mrs. Rigby first.”

“I’m sorry to have called you,” Mrs. Rigby said as he sat across from her. “Usually, if we give her a little quiet time in the library or here, she can regroup and go on with her day.”

“No, call me whenever you think it’s necessary. She’s my primary concern. Do you have any idea what may have upset her?”

“I think it was a geography lesson. Her teacher was talking about plains and mountains.”

Wyatt took in a deep breath. Mountains. Asheville. Home. Her mother. The child psychologist said it was normal. Anything could trigger a memory reminding her of the loss and all he could do was be supportive.

He’d spent hours on the phone with Maddie’s best friends trying to learn their rituals and habits and the things they celebrated so he could be prepared. That’s how he’d known Julietta got a new stuffed bunny rabbit for Easter every year, not candy. He’d worried it had been a mistake to try to replicate a gift from her mother when Julietta had stared silently at the bunny. After what had seemed like forever, she’d stroked the soft, plush fabric and given her uncle a hug. Wyatt had never had a better hug in his life.

“I’m going to take her home, then. School’s almost over for the day.”

“Is she still getting help?”

“Yes. We’re seeing the counselor twice a week. She’s making good progress. It’s slow, but steady. Due for some sort of breakthrough, the counselor thinks.”

“Good. If there’s anything we can do to help, please schedule a meeting with her teacher and me.”

He stood and shook her hand, thanking her. As he left, he held out a hand to his niece. “Come on, Jules, let’s hit the road.”

She stood and carefully, deliberately settled the book bag around her shoulders. After a moment she placed her little hand in his. He closed his fingers gently around hers and let out a breath as sadness washed over him. He wanted to see her have some sort of normal childhood. He simply had no idea how to get her there.


CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_07d39c69-e0d3-573e-8d82-6d3beceadba0)

A SLENDER HAND with golden-brown skin and a perfect manicure reached over Sadie’s shoulder and snatched the phone out of her hands. She reached to grab it back and noticed the jagged nail she’d forgotten to fix after breaking it while opening a box of mop tops.

“Magdalena!”

Her best friend slid into the booth across from her with a flounce of heavy dark hair and pinned her with nearly black eyes. She held the phone up. “Don’t try to piss me off by calling me that. You can’t distract me. Why were you looking at it?”

Sadie ignored the flare of guilt and gestured to the glasses of wine on the table. “I already got your chardonnay. And I ordered the hummus.”

Lena lifted the wineglass and took a healthy sip. “Thank you. Why do you keep looking when you know it only makes you feel bad?”

Sadie took her phone back. Setting it aside, she took a long sip of her own wine. She knew she should stop checking her mother’s Facebook page. It stirred up pain and anger she should have left behind years ago. It wasn’t healthy, she knew, to read the accomplishments of her half brother and sisters and feel the need to shout, “Hey, I still exist! I’m accomplishing things, too!” Her jealousy of mere children made her sick with shame. But she couldn’t stop. A part of her wondered if her mother had wanted her to find it. There were no privacy settings on the account. All she had to do was send a friend request.

She didn’t need to say these things to Lena. She knew. The waiter brought the hummus and, as Sadie reached for a wedge of bread, Lena put her hand over Sadie’s.

“I’m sorry, Sades. I didn’t say that to hurt you.”

Sadie shrugged and pulled her hand away. She kept her eyes on the bowl of hummus. She was capable of hurting herself without any help. “I know. You’re right. It’s like picking at a scab.”

She sat back in the booth of the Avondale Mellow Mushroom restaurant. Avondale was a booming little microcosm about a mile over the Ashley River from downtown Charleston. While Sadie’s home wasn’t quite in the Avondale neighborhood, it was close enough to walk. In the past few years, the intersection where Magnolia met Savannah Highway had become a hot spot for local restaurants, artisan shops and amazing mural art. The revitalization was the reason her property values had skyrocketed, and she tried to repay the community by frequenting the shops and restaurants.

“Congrats on winning the City Paper’s Best of Charleston Award. Are you going to the big party to accept it?”

“No. A couple of the guys will. They’re the reason we won.”

“You should go, too. Come on, you built the company. Take some credit.”

“I take credit. I don’t need to go to a party. I do the important stuff.”

She belonged to all the proper business groups. Lena, who owned her own financial management agency, had dragged Sadie to the meetings and forced her to join. She still felt uncomfortable. The professional women with their cool grace, beautiful suits and master’s degrees made Sadie feel uncouth, sloppy and stupid. She eyed her gorgeous friend as she flirted with the waiter while giving her order.

She and Lena had begun working as maids twelve years ago when they were both fresh out of high school. Lena had graduated and Sadie had been forced to leave school. Lena had been focused and beautiful even then. She came from a huge family, and they were determined she was going to be their first college graduate. Her parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins came together to fund her education. She earned scholarships and qualified for grants. With her hard work and her family’s help, Lena had graduated with a master’s degree and not one penny of debt. The commitment and sacrifice of her family took Sadie’s breath away.

“How’s Paul?” she asked after she’d ordered.

Lena made a face and took a sip of wine. “Your attempts at distraction are pathetic. But since you asked, I’m going to break up with him.”

“Why? I thought he was perfect.”

“He is, on paper. In real life, he’s boring. Don’t get me started on the sex.”

“Don’t want to know.”

“On. Off. Back to the computer. There should be no reason to self-induce when you have a man in the house.”

Sadie stuck her fingers in her ears. “La la la la la, not listening.” She did not want to hear this. Especially since the last time she’d had a man in the house or otherwise was... Two years ago? No wonder random men were making her horny. She took a sip of wine. Be honest. One man was doing that. Only one. She turned her attention back to Lena.

“Well, hell. You’ve sworn off bad boys. Now the nice young executives on the rise are boring? You’re narrowing your options.”

“There has to be a hybrid. I need a beta in the living room and an alpha in the bedroom. Do they exist?”

“You’re asking me? I’ve given up.”

“You’re too young to give up.”

“I can’t do it. All the dating and getting to know someone and explaining...”

“You have nothing to explain. Nothing to be ashamed of, do you hear me?”

“Sure, right. Until he takes me home to meet his family. And wants to meet mine.”

“So, bring him home to meet mine.”

She smiled as she said it, a wicked little gleam lighting up her eyes. It made Sadie laugh. That would be a sight. Lena had paid her family back after her success by building her parents a huge home south of Charleston near the Edisto River. It had six bedrooms, six bathrooms, a huge kitchen and large yard. It was full to the roof with the same extended family that had helped her through college. They were loud and boisterous and nothing went unsaid—good, bad or ugly. You could feel the love crackling in the very air.

“It would certainly show us what he’s made of.”

Their pizzas arrived and Lena ordered another round of wine. They ate in silence for a few minutes.

“So, the new guy you hired seems interesting,” Lena said.

Sadie, concentrating on her never-ending indecision of whether or not to use a fork and knife for the pizza, glanced at her friend. Lena was her accountant and Molly would have sent over the information to put him on the payroll.

“Whoa! What was that look all about?”

“What look?” Sadie said.

“That look. Last time I saw that look, it was from a dog growling over a bone. What’s up with Mr. New Guy?”

“Nothing.”

Lena laughed. “You’re actually blushing, Sadie. Spill it. Is he hot?”

“Of course he’s hot. He works for me. It’s my business. Hot guys.”

“True, but there’s something about this one. Is he giving you the flusters?”

Taking a long sip—or three—from her wineglass, Sadie mulled over those words. Lena had gotten closer to the truth than she’d like to admit. Wyatt Anderson turned her into a nervous, giggling girl. Her mind offered up the memory of his hand, strong, tanned and calloused, clasping hers for a brief moment. The lust his touch had sent rocketing through her body wasn’t girlish, though. Those had been the feelings of a woman who hadn’t had a boyfriend in a very long time and led to thoughts of his hands on other parts of her body. Sigh.

“He has a certain appeal,” she said. She tried to downplay it with a detached tone, but Lena didn’t fall for it.

“Oh. Dios. Mio. It’s a miracle! The ice is melting. Digame.”

“There’s nothing to tell. He’s an employee. Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters. Is he starting orientation Monday? Can I bring the paperwork over for him to sign? Get a peek at the man who made the mighty Sadie Martin feel like a woman?”

“No, you can’t. Employee. Period. End of story.”

“Who says you can’t have a couple of thrills with an employee?”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“You know what I mean. Plenty of people meet on the job and figure out how to make it work.”

Sadie swirled the last of the wine before downing it in a gulp. She shook her head. “Stop it. The guy’s gorgeous. I looked. That’s as far as it’s going to go.”

Lena held her hands up in surrender. “Fine. But we’re getting to the age where we need to take advantage of every opportunity.”

“There’s the difference between us. You want the whole deal. Marriage, kids, happily-ever-after. I really don’t care about all that.”

The understanding and touch of pity in Lena’s eyes irritated her. She didn’t know what made her madder: the look or Lena continuing to poke at this sore spot.

“Yes, you do. You’re afraid.”

Sadie raised her glass in a signal to the waiter to bring another. To hell with it—she wasn’t driving. She pressed her lips together in a tight line. Breathe. She hated when Lena hit the truth dead-on. She was afraid, but Lena didn’t have it quite right. Lena thought she was afraid of trust, of love. But that wasn’t everything. She was afraid to let someone close enough for love because he would discover there was something wrong with her. She didn’t know how to love.

She pushed those thoughts away. “How’s Lito doing?”

Lena slumped back and Sadie felt her heart slump, too. A small frisson of fear bloomed in her belly. Lito, Abuelito, was Lena’s grandfather. He had taken Sadie under his arm when she’d been introduced to the family. He was the closest she had to a father figure in her life. His diagnosis of pancreatic cancer several months ago had sent her on a roller coaster of fear, denial and hope. She’d stuffed all her messy emotions in a box, labeled it “doctors can cure anything these days” and begun a highly successful effort to pretend the entire thing wasn’t happening.

“It’s not good, Sades. It’s too advanced for surgery. He hates the chemo and radiation therapy.”

“But he’s going to keep doing it, right? I mean, isn’t that normal? The chemo and stuff is bad, but it helps eventually, right?”

Lena shook her head. “I don’t know. He’s eighty-three, Sades.”

Tears clogged her throat. Selfish tears, she realized. She wanted him to keep fighting because she didn’t want to lose him. “I know.”

“He’s questioning whether it’s all worth it.”

“Of course it’s worth it! What’s the alternative? To just die?”

Lena’s dark eyes met hers and Sadie felt everything in her grow cold. The laughter and conversation around them dimmed to a distant buzz. She felt her head begin to move from side to side. No.

“It’s his choice to make, Sadie. Only he can say what he wants his quality of life to be.”

“I know.”

The words were weak and wavering. She did know. But she felt like a child in her fear. Lito was going to leave her. Just like everyone else. She shook her head. You are being selfish and childish. Stop it. Her brain knew this. Her heart would accept it eventually.


CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_b369d0ec-9a35-5c11-b25a-4399ce411c7e)

SADIE TRIED TO keep on the shady side of the path, but Jack had other ideas. He pulled on the harness with such strength she had no doubt that if she fell, he’d drag her along behind him. He’d been a rampaging whirl of doggie ecstasy ever since she’d put his halter on. Dog park day. Oh boy oh boy oh boy. The little park wasn’t really a dog park, but no one had complained about her tossing tennis balls to Jack along a grassy stretch off the bike path, so she kept going there.

She’d slathered herself with eighty SPF and wore lightweight cotton pants to cover her legs, but a long-sleeve shirt was impossible in Charleston’s May weather. Today the humidity was relatively low, so the temperature in the mideighties was pleasant. Her fair skin burnt to a crisp with ease and she’d long ago given up trying to get any sort of tan.

“Hold up, Jack. You’re going to pull my arm out of its socket.”

Of course he didn’t listen. If Molly were here, he would trot obediently at her side. All he knew was they were approaching the stretch of grass where he could run until he collapsed or Sadie’s throwing arm gave out, whichever came first. It was their Saturday ritual. A late-morning run in the park, then a bath. She’d discovered bathing an exhausted dog was much easier.

They reached the edge of the grass and Jack sat panting over his shoulder at her, his silly tongue lolling out. He let out a happy bark and tried to wag his tail through the grass. She took his head between her hands and squatted to look him in the eye. “You’re such a goofball, Jack. Do you know this? Do you know you’re a goofball?”

He barked again and quivered in anticipation. She led him to the shade of a large oak tree and undid the leash. As she shook a tennis ball out of the tube, he began to run in circles at her feet, making her laugh. Adopting him had been the best idea she’d ever had.

“Okay, you ready?”

She threw the ball as hard as she could, but honestly, not very far. Jack didn’t care. He took off like a bullet, outpacing her throw and catching it neatly. He ran back to her and pretended to tussle over the ball. She threw the next one almost straight up. This allowed Jack to jump a fairly impressive distance into the air. As he did, she heard a little girl call out.

“Did you see that doggie jump?”

Sadie smiled at the little girl who had stopped her bike and was straddling it, pointing at Jack while looking back over her shoulder. Her hair was a shining wave of pure black falling halfway down her back. A man approached the girl. Her heart tripped over itself. Oh, great. It was Wyatt Anderson. He watched Jack run back and his gaze met hers the same instant Jack dropped the ball at her feet.

Oh, Jesus. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize her. Maybe he’d keep on going. Please, because dear God. Because he was wearing shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt and he’d been running and was all muscle and sweat and devilish goodness. He raised his hand in a wave and smiled and even from this distance, she could see those dimples. Jack yipped impatiently at the delay. She waved back. Perfect. Here he comes. Without business matters to hide behind, she was going to make a fool of herself. Because those hazel eyes made every brain cell she had melt into a useless pile of goop. And she wanted to press her lips to one—or both—of those dimples.

“Hey,” he said as they approached. The little girl left the bike on the side of the path and trailed behind him shyly. Must be the niece he’d mentioned.

“Oh, hi.” Going for casual, coming across as stupid. Brilliant. Jack was having his own meltdown and gave her an excuse to look away for a moment so she could throw the tennis ball. The little girl stopped to watch him run.

“Wow,” Wyatt said. “He’s fast.”

He turned his attention back to Sadie. She smiled up at him. He seemed taller. Wider. Her gaze slid along the curves and dips of the muscles of his arm. The man was cut. She eyed the front of his shirt. Wonder what’s under there.

Come on! Stop staring.

She looked back at him, and the faint smile on his lips made her cheeks burn. Jack ran back, dropping the ball and letting out a yip. She threw it again.

“It’s his favorite thing to do. He’d chase it until he collapsed if my arm could hold out long enough.”

The girl inched closer and he reached around to put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her forward. She pressed close to Wyatt and peeked up at Sadie with solemn dark brown eyes. She didn’t smile. A ping of sorrow ran through Sadie. She recognized that expression. It was the look of a child who has learned that the world isn’t always a safe place. Who was always waiting to see what was going to happen next. Wyatt had said he recently got custody, so something had happened to her. To her world. She squatted to be eye to eye with the girl.

“Hi. I’m Sadie. What’s your name?”

“Julietta,” the girl whispered.

“That’s very pretty.”

Jack came back and did something remarkable. Instead of another doggie meltdown because the ball throwing stopped, he sat quietly. Sadie put an arm around him. “This is Jack. Jack, this is Julietta. Can you shake?”

For the first time, Jack did what Sadie asked at once. His paw went up and Julietta turned her serious little face up to Wyatt. He squatted also.

“If you want to.”

Julietta took the offered paw and gently shook it. “Hello, Jack. It is very nice to meet you.”

Sadie smothered a smile. Her eyes met Wyatt’s and saw the same amusement there. She stood. Her knees would only take so much abuse. “Do you want to throw the ball for him, Julietta?”

The girl looked at Sadie in wonder. Her mouth fell open and she drew in a breath of air. “Can I?”

Her little voice, so carefully hopeful, sparked a wave of tenderness. “Of course you can, honey.”

Sadie got a dry ball and showed her how to throw it. Jack joyfully scooped up ground balls and ran them back to her in a black-and-white blur. Sadie sat under the oak tree with Wyatt and watched.

His fingers closed on her forearm in a brief, gentle squeeze. “Thank you.”

“For what? Letting her play? Saves my arm some wear and tear.”

He pointed at Julietta. The game of toss had morphed into a game of toss and tag. “This is the first time she’s played.”

She turned to look at him. He sat with his elbows braced on his knees. His gaze, full of relief, was on Julietta. He turned to her and grinned, shaking his head. “If she laughs, I may kiss you.”

A slow heat boiled up out of her belly and her breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes lingered on his lips. What would they feel like? Taste like?

Stop it, Sadie. He is an employee. Stop it now. She forced a return grin.

“Maybe you should kiss Jack. He’s the reason she’s playing.”

“I’d do it. God, you don’t even know what this means. She’s playing. Playing!”

Sadie watched the two romping figures. Julietta threw the ball and raced with Jack to retrieve it. The heat stirred by his casual remark about kissing cooled while she watched. Yes, she was playing. But she wasn’t laughing or shrieking like little girls did. She was calling out to Jack, but that was all. Her pretty face wasn’t as guarded, but her expression was still serious. Sadie laced her hands together to hide the tremble.

“What happened?”

Wyatt rocked back, his feet leaving the ground as he balanced for a moment, glancing up into the branches of the oak. He settled back, cross-legged. His eyes remained on Julietta.

“Her mother, Maddie, was a nurse in the emergency room. She’d done helicopter flight nursing but stopped when Julietta got older. But she loved it and still filled in from time to time.”

Sadie couldn’t stop the little gasp that tore from her throat. “The crash outside of Asheville a few months back?”

“Yeah. No survivors. Jules’s whole world was taken away. Her mom gone. New home, new school, new everything. It’s amazing, when you think about it, how well she’s coping. She’s not acting out. She’s not having bad dreams. She’s doing well in school. She’s just still...flat.”

Sadie couldn’t answer. Her throat clogged with suppressed tears and memories. Her breath sounded ragged when she drew it in, slowly. She blinked hard. This wasn’t about her.

“Her mother was your sister?”

“Yes.”

“What about her father?”

Wyatt shrugged. “Maddie never said who he was. She went on a postcollege trip with some of her friends. Italy, Spain, Greece. Came home pregnant.” He let out a small laugh. “Maddie was as blonde as I am. I’m suspecting Julietta is half-Italian.”

“She’s lucky to have you.”

“I hope so. I’m trying. My immediate goal is to not make things worse.”

“No. I think you’re doing great.”

He turned to face her. “Based on what?”

She leaned back and braced her hands on the ground behind her. Seeing his serious expression, she paused to consider her words. Single guy suddenly saddled with a grieving child. A girl child, no less. And he was stepping up to the plate. Had to give him credit.

“One, you took her in. Two, you know she needs time, and you are showing her the respect of allowing her to mourn. Three, I saw the way she clung close to you as you walked up to me. She trusts you to protect her. Four, the look on your face when she asked to play with Jack.”

His eyes darkened and he turned away from her. When he turned back, his voice was thick. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

Her heart melted a little and she fought against it. Yes, a gut-wrenching Lifetime movie moment. Don’t get sucked in. It’s their life, not yours. Jack trotted up to her and collapsed on the ground. Julietta trailed behind him.

“He won’t play anymore.”

“I think you wore him out, honey. And he’s thirsty.”

Sadie reached into her backpack and pulled out a water bottle and bowl. Julietta knelt beside Jack and petted his back while he noisily slurped up water. She looked at Sadie and her lips turned up at the corners. An almost smile that was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

“I like your hair,” she said.

Sadie touched the tangled mass of black curls. She’d put it up in a ponytail, but some tendrils had escaped. “Thank you. I like yours. I wish mine was so straight.”

Julietta reached out and touched one of the tendrils. Sadie had the sudden and unexpected urge to grab her little hand and kiss it. To tell her it would be okay one day.

Julietta moved her gaze from the curl to Sadie’s eyes. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “My mom used to curl my hair,” she whispered.

From the corner of her eye, Sadie saw Wyatt’s entire body jerk as if he’d been touched by electricity. Everything else faded away and a buzz filled her ears. She kept her eyes on Julietta’s. This was something. This was important. Tension radiated from Wyatt. Was this the first time Julietta had mentioned her mother? Probably. She was going to completely mess this up. She always said the wrong thing. She took a deep breath.

“Did she curl all of it?”

Julietta looked relieved, which only increased Sadie’s anxiety. It had been a test. She’d mentioned her mother in front of a stranger to see what would happen. She didn’t know whether to acknowledge it or keep talking about curls.

“No.” She touched her temple. “One. Right here. When she was curling her hair in the morning, sometimes she’d give me a curl, too.”

“I bet it was very pretty.”

Julietta’s gaze remained on Sadie’s. The girl wanted her to say something. But what? She was no good at this. What if she said the wrong thing and made her cry? Ruined the progress Wyatt had made? She moved her eyes in a quick glance at him. He dipped his chin in the barest of nods. Keep going, the nod said.

Uh...

“Did you like having the curl?”

Oh, now, what a stupid question. Come on, Sadie. Think.

Julietta nodded. “I miss it sometimes.”

Oh, dear God. She misses her mother. She blinked away the tears stinging her eyes. Think. Her mouth went dry.

“I’ll bet your Uncle Wyatt would be happy to curl it for you if you wanted.”

Jack picked up on her anxiety and leaned against her. His warmth steadied her. Julietta glanced over at Wyatt and back at Sadie as a frown crossed her features. She’d said the wrong thing.

Julietta leaned in closer. “But he’s a boy,” she whispered.

Sadie managed not to laugh, but she couldn’t stop the smile. She caught the girl’s hand in hers. “I know. But you know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think he loves you very much. And I think he’d be willing to learn how to do the curl if it would make you happy. That’s what I think.”

Wyatt took Julietta’s other hand. “This is true, Jujube.”

Julietta glanced between the two of them, her little face serious. “Would you show him how?”

“Sure. Anytime.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll learn curls.” Wyatt climbed to his feet. “Come on, Jules. It’s way past lunchtime. Tell Ms. Sadie thank-you for letting you play with Jack, and go get your bike.”

“Thank you, Ms. Sadie.” She bent to hug Jack’s neck. “Thank you, Jack.”

As she ran to her bike, Wyatt let out a breath. “Wow. Thank you. That was the first time she’s mentioned her mother.”

“I thought so. Scared the heck out of me. I hope I did all right.”

He took her hand and squeezed. “Perfect. Honestly, thank you.”

A pang of regret plucked at her as he let go of her hand. It had felt good. “Anytime.”

“Come on, Uncle Wyatt. I’m starving!”

“Hold on,” he called back to her. He turned and his gaze met hers. A moment of supercharged heat flared in Sadie. His hand reached out before falling back to his side. A rueful smile turned up one corner of his mouth. “Guess I’ll see you Monday, huh?”

Reality slammed back to her. “Y’all have a great weekend.”

She returned Julietta’s wave and sank back on the ground. She looped an arm around Jack. “Why’s he gotta be so damned nice on top of all that gorgeous, huh, Jackie Boy?”

* * *

NORMALLY, WYATT WOULD pick a spot where he could see the entire room. But the seating had been decided for him. Molly directed him to the same small classroom where he’d taken the personality tests. The building had obviously been a private residence, and Sadie had kept much of the layout intact. Her office and this room had once been bedrooms. There was another room down the same hall and a bathroom between them. A young man sat at the round table in the center of the room, sifting through a folder. There was another folder on the table with his name on the front. The guy looked up as he approached.

“Morning,” Wyatt said as he took his seat.

“Hey. You starting today, too?”

He held out a hand. “Wyatt.”

“Aaron.”

He shook the kid’s hand and opened his own folder. More forms. Great.

“You don’t seem the type.”

Wyatt met his eyes. The kid looked to be all of eighteen. If he was twenty, Wyatt would eat the candles off his next birthday cake. “What do you mean?”

The kid shrugged. “You’re a little older, I guess.”

Wyatt stared at him until the kid’s cheeks showed a little color. He was only thirty-one. Not exactly ready for the nursing home. He gave his own shrug. “I guess.”

“It’s a great gig, though. A couple of my buddies work here.”

“What’s great about it?”

“It’s better than flipping burgers. Pay’s decent. Work’s not bad. And you can rack up some serious tips.”

“Tips?”

That was interesting. He’d have guessed a tip at Christmas would be normal. But tips, plural? What would earn a tip and how often? Was there something going on behind Sadie’s back? Boys would be boys, after all. And a college kid turning down strings-free sex seemed a little much to believe.

“My buddy Noah, he gets tons of tips.”

“What’s he gotta—”

There was a clatter on the hardwood floor and flash of black-and-white fur streaking through the room. The dog jumped to put its paws on the table across from them, tongue falling out of a doggy grin. Wyatt had to smile back.

“This our teacher?” Aaron asked.

The dog let out a playful yip.

“Jack!”

The dog dropped to all fours as Sadie came in. She frowned at Jack, whose tail wagged hard enough to shake the entire back end of his body. Sadie pointed out the door.

“Bed!”

Wyatt brought a hand up to cover his smile. She was sexy as sin. She wore that wildly curly black hair loose this morning, and he wondered how it would feel in his hands. Those full pink lips formed an irritated pout and made him want to make them smile again. She’d never have to order him to bed, that was a fact. She was dressed in jeans and a white Cleaning Crew T-shirt. The uniform looked much better on her. Especially the jeans. Especially her ass in those jeans. He shifted in the chair and dropped his gaze to the dog. Walking slowly out of the room with his nose pointed at the floor, he was a canine con artist of the finest sort.

“Good morning. Sorry about that,” she said. She took the seat across from them.

While she seemed perfectly composed with a smile lingering on her lips and her hands folded on the table, Wyatt could see the pulse point at the base of her throat fluttering. Why the nerves? Her hands were clasped tightly and her entire body was taut. Her gaze met his and a faint pink stain touched her cheeks, so he concentrated on the folder in front of him. Was he making her nervous? Why? Did she suspect something? Was he not acting his part well enough?

Maybe you should stop drooling over her. That might be what she’s picking up on.

“Today, we’ll go over the information in the packets. Most of it has to do with policy and procedures. Pretty dry stuff. Since there’s only the two of you, I hope we can get through it quickly. I’ll give you a tour. Then I’ll introduce you to your preceptors. You’ll spend at least two weeks with them—more if you or your preceptor thinks you need it—then you’ll be assigned to a partner. You’ll be on probation for three months.”

She rolled her eyes in Aaron’s direction and gave him a skeptical look. “But since Noah recommended you, I should keep you on probation for a year or so.”

Aaron laughed and so Wyatt did, making note of the name. Was Noah actually a troublemaker? As much as he disliked Marcus, he was a professional. He’d do a thorough investigation. Even if he was sure Sadie wasn’t the madam of a male prostitution ring, he had to make sure the guys weren’t supplementing their incomes with some hanky-panky. Which meant he was going to be hanging around for a while.

The morning passed slowly. There was no way to make going over policy and procedure interesting. Wyatt amused himself by watching Sadie. She had a snarky, sarcastic sense of humor she tried to keep hidden, but it slipped out in unguarded moments. Several times he’d made her laugh and had been rewarded with a conspiratorial smile. He found himself looking for ways to earn more of them.

“Okay,” Sadie said after they’d gone over how to sign up for their free Planet Fitness membership. She tilted her phone to look at the time. “I’m getting hoarse, and it’s close enough to lunch. Let’s take a break. Meet back here at twelve-thirty.”

Wyatt walked the few blocks and risked his life crossing Savannah Highway to have lunch at Gene’s Haufbrau. The Avondale burger with bacon, pimento cheese and a fried green tomato was worth the risk. While eating, he tried to devise a game plan. Whoever he was put with for initial training would most likely be someone who’d been there a long time. And he was sure the partner he’d be assigned to would be experienced, also. He’d have to gain their trust enough for them to talk freely around him. The age thing might be a problem. While it wasn’t a problem for Sadie, these college kids were looking at him like some sort of relic and it might make them reluctant to let him in on their secrets. If there are any. He dumped his trash and headed back.

The door was unlocked but Molly wasn’t at the receptionist’s desk when he let himself in. He almost called out when a small sound stopped him. He took a few quiet steps toward the hall. Funny how quickly the stealth came back. How familiar the feeling of adrenaline flooding the system, enhancing sight and hearing. A sense of dread drifted through him when he saw Jack sitting quietly in the hall. The dog turned his head toward Wyatt and let out a low whine. Before he could say anything, the dog stood and padded quietly into the room.

Wyatt froze and listened. Another whine from Jack, then the shuffle of feet and a sniff. Then Sadie’s voice.

“No, Lena. I’m okay. It’s just that I was hoping for...” A sigh drifted through the room. “I don’t know what I was hoping for. Not this.”

Silence again. She must be on the phone. He stepped into the hallway.

“I understand. I know it’s the right thing. I wish there was another way.”

More silence. Wyatt frowned, trying to put together the pieces of conversation. It certainly didn’t sound like anything criminal.

“I’m okay. Yes. That sounds good. Tell everyone I love them.”

Personal call. What did you expect? To overhear her booking one of the guys for a sex act? Plans for a drug buy? “Hello?” He stepped into the kitchen and spotted her leaning against the counter. He was suddenly, absurdly unsure of what to call her. Sadie? She was about his age, but also was now his boss. Miss Martin? Ms. Martin? “Hey, you okay?”

She spun around, clearly startled. Her hands wiped across her face and she cleared her throat. “Sure. Wow. It’s been an hour already?” She turned to the sink, filled a glass of water and took a long sip.

“Bad habit I picked up in the military. Being early.”

He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. Her eyes were pink rimmed and her lower lip still wanted to quiver. He had no idea what to do. She was ignoring the tears. Should he? Maybe it was nothing. The call was clearly personal. But he was here for a reason.

* * *

CRAP. SADIE PUT the glass in the sink and turned away from Wyatt’s appraising eyes. I can’t believe I let him walk up on me.

Losing your touch, Sadie girl. Getting soft and stupid.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Again.

“Sure. Got some news I didn’t want to hear. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

She walked out of the kitchen. Fine, ha. What was that old saying? Fine meant fucked-up, insecure, neurotic and emotional. Sounded about right. He followed her. She could sense his gaze on her back and she purposefully straightened her spine and lengthened her stride. Show no weakness. She’d learned the lesson hard and young. By the time she was six, she knew tears and pain were invitations to predators and bullies. In the classroom, she pretended to look for something in a filing cabinet. He perched on the edge of the table, still watching, which was starting to get annoying. Oh, it didn’t bother you this morning when he was getting your jokes and Aaron wasn’t. All that eye contact was causing some serious non-boss-like feelings. She slammed the file shut in disgust.

“Anything I can help with?”

She looked at him. There was a faint look of concerned puzzlement in his expression. Proved how little he knew. She didn’t need help. Ever. “No. I’m going to take Jack for a walk before we get started again.”

Thank God he didn’t follow her this time. She and Jack circled the block and she struggled to get her emotions under control while he watered his favorite plants and sign posts. Lena’s phone call had not been unexpected. She wished it weren’t so soon.

When she and Lena became friends and her family learned Sadie was essentially alone in the world, it had horrified them. So they took her in. They’d reduced her to tears with a surprise birthday party once and refused to let her pull away when their love frightened her. Lena’s grandfather was especially concerned about her and she often found ten-or twenty-dollar bills tucked into her jacket or purse after leaving their home. He was the one she’d let get the closest to her heart.

He had decided to end treatment for his cancer and was going into hospice care. While she knew it was probably for the best—an eighty-three-year-old man should have a peaceful exit from life surrounded by his loved ones, not medical procedure after medical procedure—she didn’t know how to deal with the impending loss. The tools of self-preservation learned in childhood would do her no good now.

Jack bumped his head into her hand as they reached the backyard. She squatted and hugged his stupid, furry neck. He wiggled around and licked at her tears.

“I know, Jackie Boy. I’m a hot mess, huh?”

His doggy grin seemed to agree. But he loved her anyway. She buried her face in his fur. Time to suck it up. We’ll cry about this later. We’ll figure out what to do later. For now, you’ve got a business to run.

She found Wyatt sitting alone in the classroom. He looked up at her entrance and dropped his gaze immediately. Her stomach dropped almost as suddenly. She could feel the awkwardness in the air. He was being nice. Like a normal person. And you messed up. As usual. She took a deep breath. “Hey. I’m sorry. I got some bad news about someone I’m very close to and was trying to process it.”

“It’s okay. Sorry I intruded on a private moment.”

She sat on the edge of the table and rubbed her hands against the backs of her arms. He tilted his head to look up at her and she got caught up in those warm hazel eyes. The concern was still there. But why? Why would he care? A small frown crinkled the corners of his eyes and the urge to spill out the whole story bubbled up inside her. How she used to pretend Abuelito was her real grandfather and how that little fantasy gave her something to hold on to in the seemingly bottomless free fall of her life. How she was terrified to watch him slip away. She was afraid she’d run away and shame herself in front of the family who had done so much for her. Pain and anger and fear rose from her gut to clog her throat with unshed tears.

“Hey,” Wyatt said, reaching for her arm. The frown deepened and his voice was soft, so soft and tender.

She leaped away. Pity. No. Horror at the idea of him feeling sorry for her drowned the pain, at least momentarily. Confusion showed clearly on his face and remorse stung her again. Would she never get this right? Could she not let her walls down?

“Dudes. Sorry I’m late. Traffic is a bear.”

She turned to Aaron with relief. Normally, she would lecture him on punctuality, but he’d saved her from making an even bigger fool of herself, so she forgave him. This time.


CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_02ca888a-d500-5a8b-bf72-3a90db9e2e72)

A RUMBLE OF voices greeted Sadie as she stomped down the back stairs from her apartment to the first-floor kitchen. She had enlarged the pantry and turned it into a supply room but had left most of the kitchen intact. It had a stove, sink, fridge. She and Molly had filled the cabinets with garage-sale finds. It was large enough for her to cook up a company dinner every month. She kept the fridge stocked with lunch foods and snacks for the guys. College kids ate constantly, it seemed. All that learning must burn calories. Several of the crew were grouped around the coffeemaker, filling up cups for the Tuesday morning meeting. A burst of raucous laughter exploded from the conference room. When one hires college guys, one endures college-guy humor.

“Hey, boss,” Josh greeted her.

“Morning. Okay, y’all, boss is here, step away from the coffeepot.” She reached for the carafe and held it up, swirling the dregs. “I should randomly fire someone for this.”

“Like to see that,” Josh said as he took the carafe from her. “I’ll start a fresh pot. I told you to invest in one of those Keurig things.”

“I should. It’s almost cruel and unusual to make me face the lot of you without coffee.”

“It’s cruel and unusual for you to make us get up at this ungodly hour on a Monday,” one of them called from the conference room.

“Whoever said that is the randomly fired guy,” she yelled back, and a wave of laughter and hooting rolled from the room. She touched Josh on the arm as he poured grounds into the machine. “I want to talk to you after the meeting.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

She walked into the conference room where almost every employee was gathered around the large dining table. Others were holding up the walls. A silent scuffle at the end of the table caught her attention. The two went still when they realized she was watching. Malik gave her his best choirboy face. But Eric’s redhead complexion was giving him away. She stared at the faces around the table. Everyone had gone still with expressions ranging from innocent to amused. Except Wyatt Anderson. He lounged back casually in his chair, but his eyes were alert and appraising. She got the impression of a cat watching the spot where its prey hid. A little thrill ran through her, and she frowned at her body’s reaction. This had to stop. She turned Malik and held out a hand.

“Gimme. And it better not be porn again. Y’all drank my coffee, and it’s too freaking early for porn.”

A folded newspaper made its way down the table to her. She picked it up. The urge to laugh was accompanied by a prickle of irritation. It was an ad campaign by Marcus Canard, her closest competition. Well, she wasn’t competing with him. But he definitely was competing with her. For the first time, the Cleaning Crew had won the Charleston City Paper’s coveted Best of Charleston Award for Best Cleaning Company, beating out Canard’s Happy Housekeepers.

The photograph showed a diverse group. Three women, one white, one black and one Hispanic, and two young, handsome men, one white and one black, smiled at the camera. They were dressed in khakis and blue button-down shirts. “We meet all your cleaning needs!” the caption proclaimed.

Sadie tossed it on the table. She smiled and shook her head. Show no weakness. “They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. But, hey, any of you want to go work for Marcus Canard, I’ll give you a glowing recommendation.”

Josh handed her a cup of coffee, steaming hot and black. “Forget him,” he said as he took his seat. “Dude doesn’t get it. Never will.”

“Get what?” Wyatt asked, sitting forward and propping his arms on the table. He looked at Sadie. She shrugged and gestured at Josh.

“Simple,” Josh said, “you get what you pay for. We work our asses off. We go beyond the basics and go out of our way to make everything right for the client. Why? One, it’s what Sadie expects from us. Two, it’s what the customers pay more for. Three, it’s what she pays us good money to do. Marcus pays his staff minimum wage. He keeps them all part-time so he doesn’t have to provide benefits. Sadie offers benefits even to part-time employees, plus extras, like free gym memberships. He doesn’t care about his employees, so why should they care about him or his company’s reputation?”

Sadie sat down. Her knees were a little weak. Josh’s praise meant a lot to her. The guys clearly agreed with him, too, which made tears start in her eyes. She sipped coffee to wash down the lump in her throat. They believed she had it together. None of them knew she was running scared every day. It wasn’t about Marcus and the competition. It was about her. She had to succeed. She had to. She was supposed to have been a loser living in poverty, probably marrying a similar loser and having a passel of kids.

The Cleaning Crew was a fluke. She’d left her first maid job and was on her own. She’d cleaned private homes from sunup to sundown six days a week. It’d started with a conversation about the Powerball lottery, which was up to some unimaginably huge amount. The client had asked Sadie what she’d do if she won. Sadie replied she’d buy a nice house and hire a team of gorgeous guys to cook and clean for her. The client laughed and said, “Who wouldn’t? I’d pay extra for a hot man to clean my house.” The purr in the client’s voice had amused Sadie. When her client list grew to the point where she didn’t have enough hours in the day to do all the work and was thinking of hiring another person to help she remembered that purr. And hired a hot guy. It had grown from there. A joke. But she could point to it and say, “See, I’m not a loser. I’m doing fine, thank you very much. I don’t need help. I don’t need anything.” The fear that at any moment she could do something stupid and ruin it all haunted her. Then everyone would shrug and say, what do you expect from someone like her? She sipped more coffee and forced the doubts from her mind. Show no weakness. Wrap it up tight, shove it down deep and keep plowing forward.

“Okay,” she said when she thought she could speak. “Let’s get this meeting going. You have jobs to get to.”

“I’ve got a hot blonde in my bed to get back to,” Cody quipped.

“I don’t want to hear about your sister,” Sadie replied tartly, opening her notebook to the list of topics she wanted to cover.

The room erupted with laughter and shouts. Sadie looked up and her eyes met Wyatt’s. He was smiling but raised his eyebrows in a question. She shrugged and quirked up a corner of her mouth. Sometimes you had to play the audience.

“All right, come on. First item. We have two new employees, Wyatt Anderson and Aaron Stone. Welcome them.” She paused for the guy razzing and grunting that passed for welcoming. “Aaron, you’ll be with Sam. And Wyatt, you’ll be working with DeShawn. Now for the boring stuff. The state of South Carolina is requiring me to provide proof you know how to properly dilute the new floor-cleaning solution. Molly has the sign off sheets. Go tell her how to do it properly and get signed off. She may give you a lollipop.”

She ran through the list quickly. She hated meetings. Hated everyone looking at her, expecting her to be all boss-like and perfect. And she was beginning to hate the way she could feel Wyatt’s gaze on her skin. He seemed as though he was going to fit in and do a good job. She was going to have to get her hormones under control. She opened the floor to questions.

“What are you going to do about the ad?” Malik asked.

“Nothing. Marcus Canard advertises. We don’t. The work we do is the only advertising we need. Almost all our new clients, about 95 percent, come from referrals. The rest stumble on us by Google search. We have almost zero client loss. The last three clients we lost, it was only because they moved away. No one has canceled the Crew because of our service.”

She stood. “I need more coffee, and y’all need to get to work. Anyone who doesn’t have a client scheduled in the next hour needs to get Molly to check you off on the cleaner. Wyatt and Aaron, get with your partners. I gave them the packets already. They’ll show you what needs to be done. Everyone have a great day. Call me if you need anything. Don’t forget first Friday is this week.”

She caught Josh’s eye and tilted her head, indicating for him to come with her. She ran upstairs to let Jack into the office. He got too excited when so many people were here. While he amused himself by sniffing around the conference room, she poured more coffee and went to her office. Josh sat across from her desk, quiet and watchful as she slurped down the second cup.

“New guy seems interesting,” he said.

“Which one?”

Josh grinned and lounged back in the chair, his long lanky legs stretched out before him. He stretched and rested his clasped hands on top of his head. “Come on, Saff, how long have we known each other? You get a little panicky when you know he’s watching you.”

Was it obvious? “I do not. Do I?”

Josh laughed and her cheeks burned. “Yes, but I think I only noticed because I know you so well. I meant because he’s a little older than most of the guys.”

“He’s not too much older than you. He was a house painter. Economy is still shaky. Got custody of his niece and needed more steady hours and pay.”

“Seems like a decent guy. What’d you want to talk to me about?”

Sadie took another sip, appraising Josh over the rim of her mug. He was good-looking, with dark wavy hair and blue eyes. He could probably pass for her brother. He was the hot guy she’d hired for the experiment that became the Cleaning Crew. Barely a man back then. He’d been about to turn nineteen, full of attitude and anger and a desperate need to belong to something. Sadie had understood. She’d taken a gamble with him and it had paid off. Paid off very well. They clicked immediately when he told her he’d aged out of the foster-care system. Eighteen and on the street. Exactly like her. Only he had been lucky and his foster family had let him stay until he finished high school. Sadie hadn’t been as lucky. She’d been put on the street the minute she turned eighteen, four months from graduation.

He was one of two people who knew her whole story. And she was the only one who knew his. Her instincts had been right about him. Given a chance, some guidance and sisterly affection, his loyalty had become a fierce thing. And she paid him well for all he did. He’d trained every new guy for years. He set the tone and enforced her expectations in guy speak that carried more weight than her rules and regulations. She trusted him like no other. This was why she hesitated to say what she’d brought him here to say. But she knew her hesitation was nothing but selfishness.

“I’ve been getting inquiries,” she said. “About if we would consider franchising. And Molly’s been logging at least five calls a week from the Columbia area asking if we take clients there. So there’s a potential market.”

“But you’re against selling a franchise. Don’t want to lose control over the quality.”

“Exactly. Here’s what I was thinking. Not a franchise, but a second office.”

“Uh-huh. Might work. Would keep you in charge.”

She sat back, tenting her fingers and pressing them to her lips. “I was thinking about offering it to you, Josh.”

He sat up from his sprawl. “Offering what?”

“To head up a new location. To be the manager. Get the whole thing off the ground. Hire the guys, train them, everything. You’re the only person I’d trust to do it, Josh.”

“Wow.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Wow. I’m, um— I don’t know what to think.”

“I’m floating it out there as an option. As much as I’d hate to lose you, I don’t want to waste your talents holding you here.”

“How would it work, though? I’d be the manager?”

“We’d have to sit down with Lena and a lawyer and work out the details. I wouldn’t be against giving you a franchise so you’d be the owner. I trust you.”

“I’ll think about it. My gut reaction is to say no because I don’t want to leave. But it would be a challenge.”

Sadie rose and walked around the desk. Josh stood also and she pulled him into a tight hug. “I wish you were my real brother,” she said.

“I am your real brother.”

She stepped back and wiped at her eyes. “I know. I’ll miss you if you go to Columbia. But I want it for you. I know you’ll do an awesome job.”

“I said I’ll think about it, Saff.”

She swatted at his arm. “Stop it. You’ll slip up one day and say it in front of the wrong person.”

After Josh left, Sadie took Jack for a walk around the block. An idea began forming in her head. She wasn’t the type to engage in a battle. It was far safer to ignore and evade. But this Marcus thing was starting to irritate her. When she got back, she called Lena.

“How much money is in the advertising budget?”

“None. You don’t advertise. I don’t budget for it. Why? What do you want to do?”

Sadie pulled open the bottom drawer and opened her stash of jelly beans. She needed a sugar high for this. “I was thinking of doing an ad thanking the people of Charleston for voting for us in the City Paper thing.”

“Uh-huh. I’m liking it.”

“A group shot. Of all the guys.”

“And you in the center.”

“Um. No. I stay out of the limelight.”

“Then I won’t approve the funds.”

“You have to. It’s my money.”

“Come on, Sadie. This is an awesome idea. Your gorgeous self, surrounded by all that hot beefcake, thanking the people of Charleston? Marcus will choke on his breakfast opening up the paper.”

Sadie picked out a cream and a strawberry jelly bean to eat together. While she chewed, she pictured the look on Marcus’s face when the ad came out. The image appealed to her after all his nasty comments. “You got names?”

Lena heaved a long, mournful sigh. “This is why I take you to those business association meetings. For you to meet people, build up a network.”

“I know. You got names?”

“Hold on.”

After scribbling down the name of a woman who ran an advertising agency, Sadie popped another jelly bean in her mouth. “I was thinking about going to see Abuelito this weekend. Would it be okay?”

“Better than okay. We can go together. He’d love to see you.”

“Can I wait until then? Should I go sooner?”

“There’s time. Not much, but time.”

Sadie ended the call and leaned back in her chair, propping her feet up on the desk and holding the jar of jelly beans on her stomach. Jack put his head on her thigh and sighed. She scratched his ears and let out her own sigh. “Oh, Jackie Boy. I don’t know if I know how to say goodbye.”

A brief rap on the door pulled her attention away from the jelly beans. Molly walked to the desk, holding out an envelope. “Mail for you. Looks personal.”

Sadie took the envelope. White business-letter size. Hand written and addressed to S. D. Martin. Her eye and breath caught on the return address: G. Rogers, Florence, SC. “Okay,” she said, dismissing Molly with a voice that sounded faint and tremulous inside her head. “Thanks.”

After Molly left, Sadie dropped the envelope. Florence. Where her mother lived. Rogers. Her mother’s married name. Grant, the baby her mother kept. The one she was pregnant with when she signed away her parental rights to Sadie. Throw it away. Tear it to shreds and burn it. She wanted—needed—nothing from those people. Still she remained frozen, her hands curled into fists framing the envelope. But how? Why? Had her mother told her new family about her? And how had he found her? Open the letter. Find out. Instead, she swept the letter into the top drawer. Out of sight, out of mind, right? She had a business to run here.

* * *

WYATT’S MIND KEPT going back to how Sadie had motioned for Josh to follow her once the meeting had ended. He was beginning to suspect Josh was much more than just another employee. The way he’d joked with Sadie about the dead cat, the way he’d passionately defended her against Marcus Canard and now the way they disappeared to her office together. Maybe Josh needed a little investigating.

He was on a tour of headquarters, following his preceptor, DeShawn, down the hallway, past Sadie’s office and the classroom and to the third door.

“This is where you’ll start every day. You’ll have an assigned group of clients. Each day is scheduled out. I know mine by heart so I don’t have to check, but there’s a calendar there.”

The calendar took up the only wall space not filled with bookshelves. There was a small round table in the center of the room. The bookshelves were filled with white binders. Each binder had a name printed along the spine.

“These are the client books,” DeShawn said with a wave of his hand. “We’ve tried to talk Sadie into going paperless, but she wants to keep these.”

“Wow. That’d be a huge job to transfer all this to computer,” Wyatt said. He was slightly stunned by the number of books.

DeShawn crossed the room and began to pull binders from the shelf. “We’ve got a pretty easy day today. It’ll be good for your first full day.”

They sat together at the small table and DeShawn opened a binder. “Every morning, you see who’s on the schedule and pull their books. All the information you need is in here. Name, address, contact number. Any special requests will be here.” He turned a page and pointed. “See, for example, this is an elderly couple. We moved their cleaning day to coincide with the recycling pickup day because they have trouble getting the full bins out to the curb. We do that for them.”

“That’s a nice touch,” Wyatt said.

“It’s more than a touch. Sadie expects this. It’s part of what sets us apart. Anytime a client asks for something extra, we do it, every time if needed. If we see something like this we’re supposed to offer to take care of it.”

“Great.”

He had no idea how cleaning services were usually run, but he could imagine this individual attention was rare.

“So we get the books, go over them to remind ourselves of anything extra to do and we take them with us so we can update them. There’s a cleaning log here where we log time in, time out and the date. Also, anything unusual goes here. Any new requests or needs are put at the bottom of the special requests list. Got it?”

Wyatt nodded. “Seems straightforward enough.”

“Questions?”

Only about a hundred, Wyatt thought. “I’m still a little concerned about the whole ‘guys cleaning your house’ aspect of this. I know about the behavioral contracts, but there’ve been no problems, have there?”

DeShawn shook his head as he stood and gathered the day’s books. “It’s a thing with some of the newer clients. Most of the people who’ve been with Sadie for years know it’s all about the job we do, not who’s doing it. It’s an attention-grabbing gimmick, nothing more. Our service is beyond excellent. Now, come on and let me show you how to properly clean a house.”

Wyatt, who had been cleaning house since he was twenty and his mother became ill, was a bit offended by that...until they started. He’d known the work would be mostly physical: mopping, sweeping, vacuuming. He wasn’t prepared for the military-level precision with which DeShawn went through a house. He could clean a house twice as well in half the time Wyatt could do his own home.

By lunch, Wyatt was beginning to wonder what he could report to Marcus. Every client they’d seen so far had been an elderly couple. Surely they weren’t buying drugs or sexual services. Even the idea that Sadie was running the cleaning service as a front to some criminal business was hard to believe. Front operations were usually poorly run. Most attention went to the criminal activity as it was the more lucrative. Fronts were only that—fronts, barely functioning covers. The Cleaning Crew was no front. It was a thriving business.

“So, how’re you liking it so far?” DeShawn asked over lunch.

Wyatt smiled at him. “It’s good. Pretty much what I expected.”

“You’re picking it up very quickly. Better than most, trust me.”

“Probably the military training. I like order and plans.”

DeShawn’s eyes lit up. “You were military?”

“National Guard.”

“Did you get sent over?”

“Two tours in Afghanistan.”

“Can I ask you some questions?”

“Sure.” He braced for the usual questions from young men who thought war some exciting real-life version of the video games they’d grown up playing.

“I’m thinking of joining after I graduate next year. I can go in as an officer but I can’t decide which branch. The air force appeals to me, but with my engineering degree, some have said the army might be best. What do you think?”

Wyatt dropped the french fry he was holding. Whoa. Okay. This kid was serious. “I’m not an expert on all the different branches. I was in the Army National Guard. There was a demand for engineers. Mostly for rebuilding. What do you want to do with your degree? Say you enlist, do your twenty years and retire. What experience would you want to have to transfer to a civilian job?”

“Structural engineering.”

“So compare what’s available in each branch to what jobs are comparable in the civilian market, and go with that.”

DeShawn lifted his hand. “Boom! Right to the center of it. Thanks, man.”

Wyatt did the fist bump thing and grinned. This made him feel a little better about the whole undercover-and-lying thing. He’d maybe helped this guy. “Let me ask you a question now.”

“Shoot.”

“Sadie said everyone went out with a partner. But you don’t. Neither does Josh. Why’s that?”

“There are only a few of us who go solo. The ones who’ve been here the longest. We have the older client lists. The clients Sadie had back when she worked alone. Before there was a Crew.”

Wyatt nodded. That wasn’t going to help him much. He needed to get in with the newer clients and newer employees. See what was going on with them. He gathered up the remains of his lunch and followed DeShawn to the trash bin. This is only day one; give it some time.

They finished up just after three and headed back to the office. Sadie was in the back room, filling out the next month’s calendar when they went in to put the books away. Wyatt felt his heart rate amp up a few notches at the sight of her. The jeans and T-shirt hugged her curves and her hair was down, loose curls spilling to the center of her back. She turned and smiled as they walked in.

“Hey. How’d it go?”

“Good job with this one, boss.”

Sadie’s gaze moved to him and he felt every inch she looked over. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Picking it up so fast, he probably doesn’t need a full two weeks. In a month, he’ll be ready to go solo.”

Wyatt grinned at DeShawn. This was good. Yes, take me off orientation early. Put me on a team with one of the new guys. “It helps when you’ve got a great teacher.”

DeShawn held out a fist and Wyatt bumped it. “Tomorrow.”

“How’s Julietta doing?” Sadie asked after DeShawn left. “I’ve been thinking about her. Is she okay after what happened?”

Wyatt blinked and stared for a moment. People usually avoided talking about Jules. It was messy and painful. “Yeah,” he said. “She’s okay. I was expecting it to be like a dam breaking but she hasn’t said anything more. I called her therapist and told her what happened. She said to let Jules lead the way on when she wants to talk about her mother.”

Sadie pressed a hand over her heart. “Good. I was so afraid I said something wrong and made it worse.”

“No. The therapist said you did perfect. Didn’t make a big deal out of it. So thank you again.”

“You’re welcome, but it wasn’t anything I did. She chose the moment. I haven’t forgotten about the curls. I’ll grab something from Walmart and show you how to use it sometime this week.”

“That’d be great. Anything else I can do for you?”

The faint blush on her cheeks was interesting, but he only caught a glimpse before she turned back to the calendar.

“No. See you tomorrow.”


CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_145fd3a6-64c6-58c8-ae4b-ede4b49bb131)

FOUR DAYS INTO the job and Wyatt was starting to feel really horrible about this investigation. Between the morning interactions and midday resupply runs that allowed him interaction with other teams, Wyatt was getting a better idea of how the Cleaning Crew operated. There wasn’t anything going on. Better work ethic, better gimmick, better management and leadership. That was it. Marcus was going to have to accept the facts.

He consulted his kitchen cheat sheet. Clean microwave, inside and out. He glanced around to find it. They were in a large, gorgeous home on Albemarle Point overlooking the marsh and the Ashley River. The kitchen was huge. It had two stoves and the biggest refrigerator he’d ever seen in his life. So, this was how the other half lived.

The front door opened and his pulse kicked up a beat or two when Sadie called out. She could really get him going. For all the good it did. Sure, I know I was lying to you and spying on you, but do you want to catch a movie or something? He shook his head. She was the first woman to catch his eye since Victoria had walked out on him. And with the way she’d responded to Jules, a little chunk of his heart was trying to get in on the action.

“Hey, boss. What’s up?” DeShawn called from what he’d told Wyatt was the atrium. Looked like a sunroom to him, but fancy houses needed fancy rooms, he supposed.

“Checking in on you. How’s it going?” Sadie’s voice.

“It’s going. No problems.”

“Great. Where’s the FNG?”

Wyatt snorted out a laugh, one echoed by DeShawn. “Where’d you learn that?” DeShawn asked.

“Josh. He said it meant former National Guard.”

DeShawn came into the kitchen with Sadie trailing behind him. DeShawn was laughing too hard to say anything. Sadie stopped and put her hands on her hips, her cheeks going from pink to red. Black eyebrows drew together over those denim blue eyes. Good God, she’s gorgeous. And sexy. And completely out of the question.

“Damn it. I’m going to kill him. What does it really mean?”

“Fucking new guy,” Wyatt said, not bothering to contain his own laughter. DeShawn collapsed against the counter, laughing so hard tears were leaking from his eyes.

“Oh, you guys think you are so funny with your jokes. Maybe I’ll add dumping kitty litter and washing litter boxes to the weekly chore list. Who’s funny now, huh?”

DeShawn sucked in a loud lungful of air. His hands clamped down on his stomach. “Stop. Stop, you’re killing me.”

She crossed her arms and tapped a foot. The look on her face would have scared Wyatt straight if he’d been a kid DeShawn’s age. Then the corners of her mouth began losing the battle with her own laughter.

“Former National Guard. Who even calls anyone that? I cannot believe you fell for it,” DeShawn said between gasps for air.

“Oh, Josh is dead meat. Dead. Meat. Go scrub a toilet or something. Let me talk to the fucking new guy.”

After DeShawn left the room, still laughing, Sadie turned to Wyatt. Her coloring had returned to the pink, and he was struck again by how pretty she was. And funny. And tough. And smart. And how much she was going to hate him when this was over. All the joy of the little prank left him and his guts turned to lead.

“I’m checking in with you. How’s it going with DeShawn?”

He picked up the rag and returned to cleaning the microwave. “It’s going well. He’s a good teacher. Organized and patient. I can see how good he is, and having a...FNG must slow him down, but he doesn’t show it.”

Her cheeks pinked again and it made him smile.

“Good. Exactly what I like to hear. How about you? Is the job about what you expected?”

“Mostly. I didn’t realize the extent of the planning and record keeping. I can see why you’re blowing away the competition.”

“We.”

“Huh?”

“We are blowing away the completion. The Crew isn’t me. It’s you. You guys do the work. I’m only the ringmaster of this circus.”

“Whatever you do, your clowns love you. That’s a big part of the success.”

Her lips parted and she drew in a breath. Her expression showed a bit of puzzlement, as if she didn’t know if she should believe him or not. “Thanks.”

“I can see why that guy Marcus is floundering, trying to get an idea of how to compete with you. What you are doing is completely different and not just the guy-cleaning-your-house gimmick. You keep your employees happy. And happy employees do a better job.”

“I try.”

“I think you’re doing better than trying.”

Sadie laughed. “I think I’ll have you follow me around all day, giving me pep talks.”

“Do you need pep talks?”

A brief flicker of uncertainty surfaced in the blue depths of her eyes. His hand twitched, wanting to touch her porcelain skin. Would it be like silk beneath his fingertips? Would he feel the heat of her easy blushes? She held his gaze as if she couldn’t quite look away. A wave of desire washed over him. No. This was bad. He returned his attention to the spotless microwave and began wiping the inside of it.

“We can all use a pep talk from time to time. Anyway, I was checking in. If you have any questions or need anything, my number is in the information packet.” She started to leave but stopped at the door. “How’s Julietta?”

He sprayed more cleaner on the rag and glanced over at her. “She’s doing well. Told me her mother used to make pancakes on Sunday mornings. We tried it for dinner last night.”

“You made her pancakes? How’d that go?”

He paused, looked down, laughed. “She appreciated the effort, I think.”

“Are you bringing her to the first Friday feast tomorrow?”

“I meant to ask. What is it exactly?”

“First Friday of every month, Molly and I cook. We have a family dinner.”

“Not sure how she’d do in a large crowd of strangers.”

“I understand. If she gets overwhelmed, she can play with Jack up in my apartment.”

“I’ll see what she thinks about it.”

“Great. Hope to see you both.”

Yeah. That’s not going to happen. He had a meeting with Marcus Canard scheduled for later. A meeting during which he was going to end this investigation. He refused to take any more money from Canard. And he was feeling guilty about the money Sadie was spending to train him. Then he’d have to quit the Cleaning Crew. Hopefully without her ever learning what a scumbag he was.

* * *

MORE THAN A little angry after Marcus had him wait in the threadbare lobby of his office, Wyatt got straight to the point. “There is nothing illegal going on at the Cleaning Crew.”

“You haven’t been there long enough. They aren’t going to let you in on everything in your first week. I told you this would be a long assignment. You said it wouldn’t be a problem and you could clear your entire caseload to take this on. I even asked Henry first before appropriating his favorite private cop.”

Wyatt sat back but didn’t break eye contact. “That’s true. But I have a serious problem continuing an investigation when it isn’t warranted. There is no evidence of wrongdoing. You’re throwing away your money.”

“What I do with my money is my business. And I didn’t see anything about your training.”

“Now you are talking about corporate espionage. I don’t do that. Understand? You hired me to find out if there was illegal activity going on. Not to spy on their business practices.”

Marcus lifted his hands. “Fine. You’ve got principles. I want you in there for at least a week or two more.”

Wyatt shook his head. “No. I’ve concluded this investigation. If you don’t like my results, hire someone else to do it.”

He stood to go. To hell with this.

“Well, that’s a real shame, son. If my recollection is correct, when Henry introduced us, he said you did whatever needed to get the job done. A bulldog, he called you. He’s going to be mighty disappointed when I tell him you crapped out on me.”

“I didn’t. You don’t like my findings.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands across his gut. He smiled, exposing his teeth, but his eyes stayed cold. “Henry does my insurance. Gosh, if he was so off in his judgment of you, maybe he’s off with his judgment of my assets. Maybe I’ll have to tell him I’m going to move my business elsewhere.”

Wyatt’s hands clenched along with his jaw. “That’s blackmail,” he said.

Walk out, part of him screamed. Tell him to shove it and walk out. And six months ago, he would have. He would have banked on his relationship with Henry being strong enough. He couldn’t believe Marcus paid more in premiums than he saved for Henry by proving fraud. Surely he was a bigger asset. But now he had Julietta to consider. Keeping her in therapy. And a stable environment.

“I’m not blackmailing you. I’m stating how disappointed I am in a business associate’s judgment.”

“Fine. One more week. If I don’t get a hint of anything by then, then there isn’t anything. Agreed?”

“Sure. Thanks. I always appreciate someone who can see the big picture. Because we all depend on each other, don’t we?”

Wyatt managed to not slam the door as he left. He wanted to drive straight home and take a shower. Dealing with Marcus always left him feeling dirty. He sat in the car, trying to calm the anger before he went home to Julietta. He needed a plan to get out of this. He was beginning to see that Marcus was a vengeful man. Exhibit A: his fixation on finding anything to ruin Sadie’s reputation in return for nothing more than her being a better businessperson. He needed to set up a meeting with Henry and feel him out about his relationship with Marcus. He’d get that done and put in another week.

Then what? Back to his usual life of following insurance cheats around. Back to focusing on Julietta’s recovery. Back to sleeping alone every night. He cranked the engine. He didn’t miss Victoria, not really. His love for her had been squelched in a single moment.

She had gone with him to Asheville after Maddie’s death. He’d found Jules stunned and scared in the care of Maddie’s best friend, Kate. She’d put her little arms around his neck and told him her mommy was dead. He remembered sinking to the floor, Jules in his lap as they cried together. After her tears tapered away, she had whispered a question to him. Who’s going to take care of me now? He’d told her he was. A movement in the doorway caught his eye and he saw Victoria standing there. The words Victoria and I will died on his lips at the expression on her face. Horrified. Furious.

That night, they’d argued. She told him to let Kate keep Jules. That she had no intentions of starting their marriage with a half-grown kid. And he had no business even trying to take on a young girl. He’d listened to her with a dizzying sense of stunned relief. It was as if a mask had slipped and he was seeing into her soul. And it was ugly. When she said if he was going to take custody she might as well leave him, he told her to go home and pack her things. To be out of the house before he and Jules came back.

In the time between burying her mother, settling her affairs and coming home to Charleston, Jules asked if Aunt Victoria was going to live with them. He told her no. He told her he and Victoria had decided they didn’t love each other enough to get married. And he prayed Jules would never hear or figure out the truth. Because she’d been disappointed with his answer. Another woman gone from her life. Maybe when they got through this first year, he’d look into that Big Sisters program. Something to get a stable female presence in her life.

He dropped the truck into gear and backed out of the parking space. This is exactly why you shouldn’t be thinking about Sadie Martin. There is no way to make this work. He shook his head. Damn, he was attracted to her. And he suspected he wasn’t the only one feeling the sparks. Guilt squirmed in his gut. He was lying to her. Spying on her. It’s your job. It’s what you do. Somehow, he didn’t think she would see it that way. And even if he quit, he could never do anything about this attraction and not tell her. And she’d never forgive him. Do the job. Secure your relationship with Henry. Get out. Nothing else to do.


CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_ba8c6942-7cac-5eb0-8b9e-ac92cb4e3ca4)

“WHY ARE YOU so nervous?”

Sadie frowned at Molly. “What? I’m not nervous.”

“You are. You’re running all over this kitchen like a chicken with its head cut off.”

Sadie pointed at the stove with the knife in her hand. “I’ve got three different spaghetti sauces going. I’m trying to chop up this stuff for salads. I’m not sure if we have enough noodles. And we haven’t even started dessert yet.”

“Yes? And how is this different from any other Friday Feast? You’re about to vibrate out of your skin.”

Sadie scowled and returned to slicing tomatoes. “You’re imagining things.”

Truth was, she was nervous. Wyatt had called to let her know Julietta was very excited to come to the dinner and see Jack again. Now she was acting like a geeky high school girl who had the captain of the football team coming to her house. And she hated it. Hated the out-of-control feeling that left her both scared and hopeful. Wyatt was an employee, and her giddy little heart needed to wake up to the fact.

“Are you slicing those tomatoes or slaughtering them?”

The beautiful locally grown beefsteak tomatoes she bought at the farmers’ market were now a goopy mess on the cutting board. She put the knife down. “You do it. I’ll get the bread ready.”

Molly hip checked her away from the counter and began to salvage larger bits of tomato. “Maybe you should go sit down with your jelly-bean jar for a little bit.”

“Ha-ha. So funny.” Sadie began opening bags of French bread.

Molly looked up from the tomatoes. “Remember, we need slices, not bread crumbs.”

“You’re killing me with your razor-sharp wit today, Molls, killing me.”

“Come on. Spill it before the guys start showing up. It’s Wyatt, isn’t it? You two could short out a power grid with the sparks flying off you.”

Sadie froze. No. It wasn’t noticeable. But Josh had noticed. Now Molly. This had to stop. She was setting a horrible example. If she couldn’t control herself, what authority did she have to tell the guys to control themselves? Rule number one: no fooling around in word or deed. None. Not even in jest. She took in a deep breath and let it out. Wrapped her jangly nerves up tight and pushed them deep down where she kept her fears and tears. Don’t act the fool. She stood up straighter.





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