Intimate Seduction. Brenda Jackson

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СКАЧАТЬ on other things besides men. Men, more often than not, were a nuisance, and she’d found it better to go through life trying to forget they even existed.

      She glanced down at her watch. It was almost noon, and she had one more home to clean that day. Deciding she needed to finish up and leave as soon as she could, Natalie loaded the washer and was about to put in the detergent and fabric softener when she heard the refrigerator open and close. She didn’t have to look around to know Donovan Steele had come downstairs and was in the kitchen.

      After closing the lid on the washer, she braced herself before turning around. He was there, looking good in his jeans and watching her—checking her out. And not trying to hide the fact that he was doing so.

      “Is anything wrong, Mr. Steele?” She fought to keep her voice even although her stomach churned something awful. And to make matters worse, she was finding it hard to breathe.

      With his legs crossed at the ankles he was leaning against a kitchen counter, staring at her and looking as relaxed as any man should be. She wished she could feel as comfortable as he seemed to be.

      “No, there’s nothing wrong,” he finally said smoothly as he popped the cap off a beer bottle. “So, where have you been hiding, Natalie Ford?”

      She raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

      “I asked where you’ve been hiding. I’m surprised our paths never crossed before.”

      Natalie couldn’t help but inwardly smile at the absurdity of that. Did the man actually think he should know every single female in Charlotte? Evidently he did. “I doubt we run in the same circles, Mr. Steele. Besides, Charlotte isn’t a small town.”

      She thought about telling him where she lived and exactly what she did for a living and changed her mind after recalling other men’s attitudes once she shared it with them. She was immediately labeled a mad scientist or chemistry geek. Better to let him assume she cleaned houses for a living.

      “How old are you?”

      Instead of responding, she asked, “How old do you think I am?”

      His eyes scanned her face, as if to study her features. Her body warmed when his gaze dropped to her chest and began studying the V of her blouse like the size or shape of her breasts beneath the cotton material would tell him anything. Her throat grew tight, and she felt a hot sensation in the lower part of her stomach. And then, of all things, she felt her nipples harden against her blouse.

      “So, what do you think?” she asked in an attempt to direct his gaze back to her face. It was slow in coming, and the smile that touched his lips made her wish she hadn’t asked the question since she knew he would read it wrong.

      “I personally think they’re a nice pair.”

      She frowned, not believing he’d actually said that. “I was referring to my age, Mr. Steele.”

      “Donovan,” he inserted quickly.

      Ignoring his comment, she said, “You were supposed to guess my age.”

      “Oh, yes, that’s right.” A wry smile touched his lips, but not at all apologetic. He studied her face again, and she could feel herself blush under his intense scrutiny.

      “I’d say around twenty-two or twenty-three.”

      Natalie wondered if he was being truthful or just trying to be nice. Either way she was truly flattered. “I’m twenty-six.”

      He took another sip of his beer, and the surprise in his eyes was genuine. “You definitely don’t look it.”

      “Thanks, and how old are you?”

      “Thirty-three.”

      And a very handsome and well-built thirty-three at that, she thought. His sensual chemistry mixed with a hefty dose of raw sexuality, and she was being affected by all that virility. Dragging in a deep breath, she said, “I need to finish everything upstairs and get out of your way.”

      A disarming smile touched his lips. “You aren’t in my way.”

      But he was in hers, and if she didn’t remove herself from his presence she would continue to think about indulging in things she shouldn’t. Not only was he challenging her mentally, but he was doing physical things to her—things that no man had ever done before, without a touch, caress…or kiss.

      At that moment she felt her lips tingle, and she felt butterflies in her stomach. She glanced at her watch. “I need to wrap things up here to be at my next client’s home before two,” she said.

      “No problem. I’ll let you get back to work, but first I need to ask you something.”

      She stepped into the kitchen and slipped her sandals on her feet. He was watching her every move, staring down at her feet. Then his eyes moved up her legs before finally meeting her gaze again. She slowly arched a brow in response. He had already asked her out, and she had turned him down. She wondered what he had to ask her now. “Ask me what?”

      He took another sip of his beer. “I’m sure your aunt explained to you that I’m a man who appreciates my privacy, which is why I want personalized service from the cleaning agency. I don’t want just anybody cleaning my home.”

      She lifted a brow. “Are you saying that you have a problem with me being here?”

      “No. You’ve explained why you’re here. You’ve also indicated your aunt won’t be able to do any chores for about six weeks.”

      She looked at him, wondering where he was going with this. She folded her arms across her chest. “Yes, that’s what I said.”

      “In that case I hope you can understand I expect you to be the one—the only one—to handle things here. It would greatly upset me to discover some other person has access to my home.”

      She frowned. “We have a number of good employees who—”

      “Won’t be coming here,” he said firmly. “Your aunt understood when I hired her agency that I had a problem with a lot of strangers having access to my home, which is why she took on the job herself. Now that she’s not capable of doing it, either you take care of things or no one at all.”

      She tried to keep her frown from deepening. He was trying to be difficult. If her aunt didn’t consider him such an important client she’d give him an ultimatum—either accept whatever one of the other Special Touch Housekeeping Agency’s employees she assigned to clean his condo or end his association with the agency.

      Instead she said, “Fine.”

      “And I want to increase my services to once a week instead of twice a month.”

      She had to refrain from glaring at him. His request was ridiculous considering cleaning his home had been a piece of cake compared to the condo owned by Jeremy Simpkins.

      He kept his eyes on hers, not for a single second looking away. “Will that be a problem?” he asked.

      There was only one answer she could give him. “No, there won’t be a problem. Do you want to keep your Monday appointments?”

      “Only СКАЧАТЬ