Lizzy Ford (10 page)

“
Rule number one: Feed the cat twice a day at eight AM and three PM. No water, only kibbles and wine. Don’t drink the wine and don’t let the cat in X’s room
,” Jessi read aloud. “What kind of cat drinks wine?” She sat down to read, growing more puzzled as she did. “Rule two, escort X’s girls out every morning. Rule three, remind him to wear clothes. Rule four, you are responsible for cleaning and laundry. He likes the house spotless and the hamper empty every day.” She rolled her eyes. “Rule five, keep your cell on. He calls at weird hours and you
must
do what he says. Rule six, no questions.”

The guy sounded like a control freak. Jessi set down the device, aware she was there for a reason. If she found what Jonny wanted today, she wouldn’t have to worry about the stupid rules or finding out how weird the boss was.

She explored one hallway and found two guest bedrooms and an office, all decorated in the same cold, impersonal colors. Down the other hallway was the owner’s suite. She pushed the door open and paused. Just stepping into the cave-like master bedroom made her feel as if she was entering some forbidden place.

It was so dark, she wasn’t able to make out how large the room really was. The bed was huge, taking center stage in the room. Rule number two claimed he took a different woman to bed every night. Jessi didn’t believe it, until she saw his bedroom.

This was not the room of a normal person. This was the kind of place one went for a sexual escape. Everything in the room was geared to tease or soothe the senses, from the soft sheets to the dim lighting to the calming scents. The walls were covered in suede, she realized as she placed a hand against one.

If what she sought was in this room, she needed a flashlight just to see if there was furniture aside from the bed. Anxious to be gone, she searched beneath the sinks and the laundry room, places she thought a flashlight would be. He didn’t have any or candles. She recalled the penlight in her purse and retrieved it.

The bedroom was the only room that had been personalized in the whole condo. It’s where she’d keep something valuable. With the penlight clenched between her lips, she began going through a dresser. Even the guy’s boxers were neatly folded into squares that sat in the middle of the drawer. She closed the top drawer slowly, so as not to disturb the stacks of boxers. She found nothing hidden in his clothing and went through two walk-in closets, both brimming with clothes. She even searched his nightstands and shoes.

It wasn’t there. Which meant, he was wearing it.

Frustrated already, Jessi returned to her rules. A flash of black in the corner of her eye drew her attention to the cat darting down one hall. She checked her watch. She had an hour before the feline was due for dinner and wine.

The house was clean, the laundry done, and the owner gone. Bored after another tour around, she returned to the office to examine the books lining one wall.

“Human philosophy, theoretical physics, poetry, Italian Masters, romance.” She snorted at the strange assortment of books. Each shelf was labeled, the books alphabetized by shelf and each one perfectly perched on the edge. “Human psychology. As opposed to what? Cat philosophy and psychology? Weird.”

She almost laughed, feeling overwhelmed by her task and uneasy in the stranger’s house.

With two teens in the house, no part of her apartment was neat or orderly. Seeing even his books standing rigidly at attention made her uncomfortable. Everything in this place screamed creepy order, which made her wonder what was wrong with the owner. Did he need order in his world, because he was like Ashley, creative and absent-minded?

She pushed one book in then tugged out another to read until it was time to feed the cat. The tiny bit of disorder helped her relax. Satisfied, she returned to the living area and plopped down on a couch too rigid to be comfortable.

Half an hour later, she set the book on the table beside the couch, prepped the cat’s meal and went in search of the beast. The doors to the guest bedrooms and study were closed, but the door to the owner’s suite was open wide enough for the feline to slip through.

Jessi entered and looked around, recalling she couldn’t find anything in the dark room without a flashlight. She retrieved her penlight once more and walked around the room, finally kneeling to look under the bed.

Its eyes glowed back at her. She frowned. What kind of cat had red eyes?

“Here, kitty, kitty,” she called in a sweet tone.

It didn’t budge. Jessi reached under the bed to try to grab it. The cat backed away, beyond her reach. Sighing, Jessi tried tapping the ground, waving her fingers, even using her ponytail to try to lure the cat out. Nothing made the cat want to move.

She left the bedroom for a broom and explored the house completely, unable to find the cleaning closet. Out of options, she took the cat’s food and wine into the bedroom and put them on the floor beside the bed.

The cat inched forward. She reached under the bed. It swiped at her and retreated once more. After another five minutes of sweet-talking, Jessi was ready to give up. She sat back on her heels and looked around, gaze settling on the bed. She rose and moved the food and wine dishes closer to the edge of the bed then lay across the top. The cloud-like bedding cushioned her while the bed seemed to adjust to her shape. She sank into it, unaware a bed was able to provide that level of comfort. Her mattress was as old as Ashley.

She pulled herself forward to test her reach. If the cat got near the food, she should be able to grab it.

Jessi waited. And waited. She tossed a couple kibbles under the bed and heard the cat crunch them. She tossed some closer to the edge.

“Pleeeeeeeease come out, kitty,” she murmured. “It’s like, five! I should be almost ready to go home. You’re hungry, right? Pleeeeeeease come out!”

More crunching.

“I definitely don’t want to get fired.”

The thought of losing her job on the first day made her eyes water. What if that happened? What if she wasn’t able to get what Jonny sent her for?

How was that kid for real, anyway?

Jessi pressed the meat of her palms to her eyes and calmed herself.

“Come on, kitty. Help your temporary mama keep her job,” she said to the cat.

To her amazement, the cat’s head appeared. Jessi held her breath as it went to the food dish and began eating. She almost squealed.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Her eyes flew up to the form in the doorway. In the split second before the cat ducked under the bed, Jessi was aware of the man’s size and intense gaze. His muscular body took up the doorway, hands on his hips and strange red contacts glowing.

Almost like the cat’s eyes, who snatched a mouthful of food and ducked under the bed again.

“Noooo!” she groaned and reached for it.

It was already gone.

“Dammit, kitty!” She climbed off the bed. “I almost had her!”

“You weren’t even close,” the man said. “She’s playing with you.”

“I’m not here to play.”

Jessi looked at him again, taking in the thick form and gaze so direct and piercing, it was almost hostile. He wasn’t what she expected for the owner who liked everything alphabetized and orderly, preferring structure to spontaneity.

He wore the damn necklace she was after. It dangled in the open space at his neck, visible through the unfastened top button of his loose shirt. She raised the flashlight, her attention caught by the dark stain on his white shirt.

Rule number four: clean house, no dirty laundry.

She neared him, frazzled as much with the cat as she was with him showing up with a stain, when she wanted to go home. She wasn’t going to break his bizarre rules on the first day. Accustomed to the teens’ all but shredding their clothes, she instinctively reached for the stain to feel if it was wet. Salvageable.

He caught her hand. She looked up at him. His eyes were narrowed. He was heavy of jaw with a wide forehead and an aquiline nose set between two large eyes. Long, dark hair was neatly bound at the base of his neck. The air around him was strangely still, the heat of a body unlike any she’d ever seen before reminding her she hadn’t dated in four years. Without traditional beauty, he was still handsome in a raw, dangerous way. If the horseracing fanatic, Brandon, was there, he’d call this man a wild mustang.

He seemed guarded and genuinely unsettled, as if he wasn’t expecting an assistant today, despite the note from Ingrid she found. Or maybe, he wasn’t expecting
her
? The sense he knew she wasn’t the right assistant made her frown.

“You’re a Natural,” he said, searching her features.

“A natural what?” she returned. “Is that a tomato-based stain?”

His hand dropped. He stared at her. His presence was intense but calming, almost to the degree she had the urge to lean against him and let his huge hands roam her body, grip her from behind and pull her …

Crunching from behind her broke the spell. Jessi whirled to see the cat huddled over its bowl of food. She started forward. The cat looked up.

“Pleeease, just be cool, kitty,” she begged. “What’s her name?”

“Cat.”

She rolled her eyes. She crept forward. “I’m Jessi, by the way. You must be Xander.”

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

Was he puzzled or angry? She didn’t know. Jessi knelt beside the cat. It continued eating this time. She lifted it gently then picked up its bowls.

“You’re standing in a vampire’s house, and you want to know what’s on my shirt.”

Jessi nuzzled the cat and glanced at him. “You’re not a vampire.”

“I
am
a vampire.”

She wasn’t terrified as she had been with Jonny. This man was huge – maybe a wrestler? – but his presence was calming, whereas Jonny’s was like a storm-cloud, ready to explode. If she believed Jonny was a vampire, she couldn’t believe this man was as well.

“Look, it’s almost time for me to go home. If you want me to follow the rules, I’ve gotta fix that tonight,” she said.

“Fix
what
?”

“Your shirt. I can’t let the stain set, and I’m not working late.” She approached him as she spoke. When he didn’t move, she eased around him, frazzled by his strange intensity and his difficult cat.

Jessi walked into the kitchen and set the cat’s bowls on the floor along with the cat. She went to the fridge and retrieved a lemon, pausing to stare at the food in the massive refrigerator.

“You’ve got like, five cows worth of meat in here,” she said.

“It’s all I eat.”

“Your cholesterol has got to be either really good or really bad.”

“You’re worried about my cholesterol.” Xander was in the kitchen, a few feet away, still gazing at her in a way that told her he really didn’t know what to think.

“Bowls?” she asked.

He tilted his head towards one cabinet in response. She opened it and stretched upward on tiptoes to pull down a set of nestled, glass bowls. Selecting the largest, she went to the pristine sink area, almost afraid to run water for fear of leaving water marks in the stainless steel. She turned on the faucet and let it run until it was hot enough then filled the bowl.

Overly aware of his intent scrutiny, Jessi tried to act normal as she pulled a paring knife free from the block of sleek knives and sliced through the lemon.

“Ouch, dammit,” she muttered. The knife wasn’t like hers – dull enough she had to saw through things with effort. This one slid through the lemon like it was tissue paper and pricked her finger on the other side.

Lemon juice stung. She set it in the bowl in the sink then shook her hand.

“You need to clean that up.” Xander’s low growl startled her.

“I will when I’m done,” she said, glancing at her mess.

“Not that. Blood.”

Jessi eyed him. This time, his eyes seemed to glow a little more.

He was wearing vampire teeth.

“Oh. That’s right you’re a vampire.” She managed to say it with a straight face and rinsed the bubbling blood off under the faucet. “Sorry.”

“You have no clue, girl.”

The menace in his voice made her want to leave even more. She began to wonder if she needed to bring a can of mace.

“Shirt,” she directed hurriedly.

“You do laundry in the sink.” He wasn’t impressed.

“If you want to get a red-based stain out, you have to use lemon, dish soap and hot water,” she explained. “Then I’ll toss it in the washer and worry about it tomorrow when I get in.”

He wasn’t moving. She rested a hand on her hip.

“When you’re poor and have kids, you learn these things. It’ll work. Trust me.”

Another long moment. Finally, he pulled the shirt off over his head and handed it to her. At once, she wished she’d told him to change into a new one and bring her the stained shirt. His body was flawless: thick muscles moving effortlessly beneath bronze skin. Sloping shoulders, huge biceps, wide chest, lean abdomen …

Now she understood rule number three and why it had the most exclamation points. She stopped her eyes from traveling further down his body and turned quickly to the sink. Her heart was flying, her mind mentally undressing him. She placed the shirt in the bowl.

“You have kids.”

She bristled. She shouldn’t have mentioned it, especially to the man she intended to rob. He was freakin’ huge; what if he came after her?

“None of your business,” she said with what she hoped was cheerfulness.

“You brought it up.”

“I’m closing the discussion.” She focused on mixing dish soap and lemon juice in her palm. “Rule number six: no questions.”

“You’re not supposed to ask
me
questions. I can ask whatever I want in my fucking house.”

“The rule doesn’t specify,” she replied sweetly. “Rule number three does, though.”

He left the kitchen, his air no longer calm. She watched him, mouth agape at the muscles outlined in his back and the tight ass. She’d never seen someone with so much … wow.

She was beginning to think it was five years since she’d seen a naked man, judging by her body’s hungry response to the sight of his exposed upper body. Was she that desperate? Or was he that good looking? He reappeared a few moments later in a t-shirt.