A Job From Hell (3 page)

No need to worry. McAl ister was away, so he'd never know. My thoughts returning to Dal as's strange phone cal , I started to sort through the pile, throwing al the whites into the washing automat.

What did Dal as want? He never visited unless he needed a favour. Getting me a job was the biggest surprise ever, like he real y cared to help me after my family realised my chances of affording col ege were slim. He even helped me lie to Mum and Dad about my job duties. But my brother never did anything for anyone unless he had something to gain. I switched on the washing automat and returned to the kitchen to prepare lunch in case McAl ister turned up.

The sudden noise of heavy footsteps jerked me out of my thoughts. I turned in time to see my brother's grinning face in the doorway.

"You said half an hour," I scolded.

He plopped into a chair and heaved his booted feet on the kitchen table, dried mud raining down on the polished surface. "I was in the vicinity."

"Of course you were," I muttered under my breath. In spite of my annoyance, I was glad to see him. Being al alone made me a little sentimental.

"Not bad." He pointed at the white kitchen furniture with its black marble counter.

"What do you want, Dal as?"

He peered at me from under thick, dark lashes, his golden skin flushing. "What makes you think I want something? Maybe I'm just here to check on my little sister, you know, make sure she's okay and al ."

"Don't cal me that. You're only a few months older." I shook my head. "Just spit it out."

"Okay." He breathed in and put down his legs. "There's something you need to do for me." I rol ed my eyes. There it was. "No, listen. It's not just for me," Dal as continued. "It's the answer to al of our problems. You could go to col ege without worrying about money, and we could help Mum and Dad pay off their mortgage, and Dad wouldn't have to work in that horrid supermarket because he's too old and can't find a job in marketing."

"I'm not robbing a bank."

"Neither am I." Dal as inched nearer, his eyes darting left and right as he started to whisper, "In my new job as an environmentalist officer—"

"You're a what?" I burst into a fit of laughter. He couldn't be serious. Until a year ago, Dal as thought recycling meant giving away plastic bottles to people who couldn't afford their own.

"You're so unbelievably rude. I beat a lot of competition to get that job." He glared at me. "Now, are you going to let me finish, or not?"

I motioned with my hand, suppressing the laughter in my throat. "Go on then."

He shot me an irritated look before continuing, "I was walking around the forest, checking for damage to the trees, when I came across a hut. It was locked so I peered through the window and then saw something reflecting the light."

Pausing, he stared at me, wide-eyed, as if I just needed to switch on the light bulb over my head to understand what he was talking about.

"And? Get on with it," I said, impatiently.

"The floor was covered in soil, but—" he took a deep breath "—the stones were large enough to see. Diamonds, rubies and the likes, hundreds of them, as big as the palm of your hand. I'm tel ing you, we'l be rich soon."

I crossed my arms over my chest, my mind unwil ing to believe my brother's sordid proposition. "So you're tel ing me you want us to break into a house and rob it."

"No! You're not getting it." Dal as shook his head vehemently. "I didn't say it was a house. It's a hut, hidden in the woods. Whoever's keeping their stuff there is probably a little shady. After al , any normal person with nothing to hide would just lock it al in a safe, wouldn't they?"

"Great. You want me to steal from the local thug. What a delightful way to die." I turned to face him with a smile. He couldn't be serious. "Tel me you're joking."

"No one's going to die, because no one wil know it was us." His hazel eyes sparkled as he regarded me. I could feel the layers of doubt peeling away slowly. He squeezed my hand. "Come on, sis."

"What you're asking of me is just crazy. I never figured I'd be a jewel thief when I grew up." I sighed. "Al right. I'l think about it. So what happens if this heist turns into a disaster? I swear I'm not going to be caught dead in one of those hideous orange jumpers for twenty years."

"I thought orange was your colour."

"Dal as!" I punched his shoulder.

"Come on. Do you think I'd let that happen to my baby sister? You know I got your back." Laughing, he grabbed me in a hug. "We could talk about this al day, but there's not much time, Amber. Who knows how long they'l keep the stash hidden." He threw me that dimpled smile that always made me give in.

"What's the plan then? I'm sure you have some ridiculous scheme cooked up already." I regarded him intently. If the jewels existed, Dal as wouldn't do something as stupid as stealing, even though pilfering from some thugs wasn't like taking away someone's life savings. Mum would be so proud of him. Not.

"You bet." Dal as moved away a few inches, draping his arm around my shoulders as he whispered, "Friday night. You wait until everyone's asleep, then squeeze out and meet me down the road. Make sure you wear black and I'l dig up the rest."

"You don't even know how to pick a lock." I felt laughter bubbling up again. Probably just hysteria at the outlook of burglary. Cameron had broken up with me because I wasn't as posh as his private school friends. It mortified him to be seen with me, particularly after I gained a few pounds when most of my friends were losing their baby fat. Soon I could add dishonesty to the long list of character traits that kept him from taking our dating to the next level.

"I'l look it up on Wikipedia. Now do we have a deal?" Dal as held out his hand. I grabbed it, shaking my head. Like usual, he was al talk, or so I hoped.

"Wikipedia? How reassuring. Why are you even waiting until Friday?" I asked. "Aren't you worried the stones wil be gone by then?"

"Think about it. Everyone's out, partying, on a Friday."

His reasoning made no sense, but I wasn't going to argue. Anything could happen in five days. I knew he'd change his mind. "Just do me a favour and don't get the stuff on eBay," I said.

He winked. "You know I can't resist a bargain."

***

After Dal as left, I gave up on preparing lunch and went about finishing the household chores, fluffing up the cushions on the sofa and watering the flowers, then looked around. What do housekeepers do in a sparkling house? Would my boss notice if I didn't polish the already gleaming floors? Most likely not, which was good because scrubbing wasn't my favourite pastime. I grabbed the feather duster and waved it over the furniture, then hung the clothes on the line to dry. Bored, I glanced at my watch. Dinner wouldn't be served before six, so I had a few hours to inspect the back garden.

As I strol ed around the bushes and trees, I inhaled the sweet smel of honeysuckle that stretched up the brown brick wal to the windowsil s on the second floor. The drapes were drawn, the glass shimmered almost black in the bright sun. I wrapped my thick cardigan around my shoulders to fend off the cold wind, and turned my attention to the narrow path leading into the forest. The pale cobblestones, scrubbed from years of heavy rain, looked clean and polished. In the distance was a tal mesh fence obscured by trimmed rosebushes, already wilted. What was the fence for?

McAl ister obviously wasn't keen on trespassers. I snorted. As if anyone would find their way to this part of the country without the latest in satnavs and a good hound dog.

It was late afternoon when I returned to the kitchen to cook dinner. The freezer was fil ed to the brim. I prepared a vegetable stir-fry with pasta—

one of the few things I knew how to cook—and made a mental note to look up a few recipes on the Internet. That is, if McAl ister had an Internet connection.

By six the sky had turned a dark shade of grey, but my new boss had yet to arrive. I sat at the kitchen table, my hands fidgeting with the hem of my shirt, unsure what to do. I took a large gulp of water to soothe the dry cave of my mouth. I hadn't been so nervous since my first date with Cameron. It wasn't like me at al .

Eventual y I heard the soft click of the entrance door. I jumped from my seat, holding my breath. Should I meet him in the hal , or wait? I had no idea. What did people do in movies? I dried my clammy hands on my jeans and opened the kitchen door, bumping into a tal , dark -haired guy. He reached out his hands to steady me. "You okay?"

I peered up into pale blue eyes framed by black lashes. He was stunning, tal and broad with high cheekbones, clad in ripped jeans and a white shirt similar to the ones piled high in the basement, a leather jacket draped over his arm. Wearing my flat shoes, I barely reached his chin. The thought of laundry brought me back to reality. I'd been employed to wash the clothes, not stare at some guy, no matter how hot he was.

Clearing my throat, I pul ed away and smiled. "You must be Mr McAl ister's son." My statement sounded more like a question.

The guy cocked a brow, amused. "Actual y, I'm Aidan, your employer. You must be Amber."

"Right." I nodded, wide-eyed. How could he be my employer when he wasn't much older than me?

"I inherited the place," Aidan clarified as though reading my thoughts.

Another rich kid like Cameron. I would never be good enough for him. The pang hit me somewhere in the pit of my stomach. I ignored it because I needed this job. "So sorry to hear."

He frowned. "Huh?"

"Your parents. I mean—" I stopped, realising I wasn't making much sense. His intense, blue gaze made me nervous, but I was a professional housekeeper and wouldn't develop a crush on my new employer. Not least because Clare and he couldn't be related, so there was only one option left. They were dating.

"Is that dinner?" Inching forward, he peered inside the huge saucepan, then took a sniff. The corners of his mouth curled downward. If he didn't like what he saw he didn't comment on it. "I usual y eat in my study. Unless I have guests over, in which case it's the library."

I nodded, remembering the huge oak table I forgot to polish. "I'l bring it up. Do you go to school? Or col ege?" The words snaked their way out of my mouth before I could stop them. Was there even a col ege in Inverness? Even so, it wasn't my business. Apparently, Aidan thought the same because he didn't bother to answer my question.

He focused on me for a long second, staring through those eyes that seemed to look right through me. "I don't know if Clare told you no employee's al owed on the second floor."

I nodded and retrieved a plate from the cupboard. With shaking fingers I fil ed it with stir-fry, dropping some on the tiled floor, and held it out to him. On the sparkling china the noodles looked like giant worms swimming in brown, gooey mud.

"Thanks." He took the plate and sniffed, then turned to the door, his pale face flushed.

I hurried to open the door for him. "Can I get you a drink?"

"I'l get one later, thank you," he said over his shoulder.

"Wel , then, I hope you'l like it," I cal ed after him when something dawned on me. In movies servants always bring plates on trays. Why didn't I think of that? I sunk into my chair and covered my burning face with my palms whispering, "Stupid, stupid, stupid." Aidan probably already regretted employing me. I had never felt so mortified in my entire life. There I was, meeting the hottest guy ever and I cooked him my soggy stir-fry. It wasn't even Chinese; just one of those twenty-minute women's magazine miracle recipes supposed to save time and impress any date, including the prospective mother-in-law. Wel , it didn't seem to impress Aidan. I could only hope he wasn't bowed over the toilet seat now, emptying the last remnants of a glorious yet light lunch, which he bought in some fancy restaurant.

"Are you al right?"

I lifted my head to peer at Clare standing in the doorway. She was wearing a short, black dress, tight in al the right places, her hair tied back in a strict bun. Her pale skin combined with a scarlet red lipstick made her seem fragile and al uring at the same time. Her eyes shifted from the stir-fry on the floor to me and then back to the stir-fry, her face betraying no emotion.

"I'm al right," I whispered, straightening in my seat.

Clare inched closer and stopped near the door to the back garden, her eyes focused on the darkness beyond. "It must've been a long first day.

How did you find it?"

"It's very quiet here," I said.

"You'l get used to it." She turned and sniffed the air. Her gaze glazed over as though she was in deep thought. "This reminds me, you're not expected to work past five and certainly not to cook dinner. Aidan eats out most nights."

"Sure." The job ad specified cooking. Aidan must've said something. I blushed, mortified. It was his problem if he didn't like my food. No more cooking for me then.

"Great. I need to get going."

After Clare left, I forced down some food, cleaned the kitchen and returned to my room, thankful for a bit of privacy. I soaked in the large tub, enjoying the hot water, but as much as my body relaxed, my mind wouldn't stop leaping from Cameron to Aidan and back to Cameron, the image of my ex quickly fading from memory.

I got out of the tub, wrapped a large towel around me and placed Cameron's photo on the bedside table. With my evening routine finished, I climbed between the sheets and switched off the lights. I had been asleep for barely an hour when something woke me up.

Sitting up in the darkness, I strained to listen. Something moved outside my door. Then I heard the faintest giggle and a loud thud, and feet shuffling away. Maybe Aidan had guests over, or he and Clare were fooling around. They made a stunning couple, I had to admit that. Wrapping my covers around me, I closed my eyes, but I lay awake for most of the night, not quite able to shake off the image of Aidan McAl ister's muscular arms wrapped around a giggling Clare. I was stil in love with Cameron, so the sudden jealousy made absolutely no sense.

For the next two days I saw and heard no one. The house was so quiet, it felt as though I lived alone. My new boss—I cringed at the prospect of cal ing someone my own age that—clearly liked to keep his distance and I appreciated it. No need to speak to him at al if he didn't want to. But I wanted to. I wanted him to notice me so much that I even applied makeup and put more effort into the household chores. I hadn't thought about Cameron in a day, setting a new record. To claim it had nothing to do with Aidan would be a lie.