Maid for the Rock Star (3 page)

Water hissed and pattered into the basin, followed by the sound of someone pressing the liquid soap dispenser. She'd never hated good hygiene this much. Why couldn't Plum-Bum forget to wash his hands? The frog was already squirming its way out in another escape attempt.

Footsteps crossed the tiles and she heard a distinctly Aussie voice say, "Shit, I need a beer. What's in the mini-bar today?"

"What do I look like, your maid? Go look for yourself, lazy-arse." The woman sounded like she was in the kitchen.

"I have it on good authority that it's a fine arse, not that you'd notice, sis. I've had a couple of magazines ask to do centrefolds devoted to this perfection." Plum-Bum's voice faded as he padded off to join the woman that Audra realised was his sister in the kitchen.

Audra breathed again and lifted her head above the lip of the tub. The coast was clear. She vaulted over and sprinted for the outside door. The lock clicked and the doors swung open as she waved her wristband frantically at the scanner. Clutching the bundled towel in her arms, she bumped her certainly-not-centrefold-worthy bottom against the door to shut it. A second click of the lock told her she was safe.

She shook the frog out under the veranda and carried the crumpled towel to her trolley at Pinctada. So much for an uneventful first day in the Pearls. Could this one have been worse?

Yes, she decided. He could have seen her. He could have been doing more than pissing. The frog could have entered her underwear. Or hopped out of the bath and alerted him. Or both. Or it could've been the sister in the bathroom...

Hmm, a brother and sister who could afford Maxima. Were they some mining or media tycoon's grown-up kids? That was almost worse than the younger sort – these would deliberately pour chocolate sauce on the rug and snigger as they watched her clean it up. The sort of people who'd never had to work a day in their lives. She wouldn't let it worry her, but she wouldn't take any shit from them, either.

Audra slung a laundry bag over her shoulder and seized a fresh stack of towels. Lifting her chin, she marched back to the villa.

FIVE

Audra scanned her wristband and waited for the door to open, but it remained firmly shut. The intercom beside her emitted a persistent beep. She swiped her ID down the scanner slowly, so the stupid thing couldn't possibly misread it. She took a calming breath and the beeping stopped...but only for a moment before it resumed.

Audra glared at the intercom screen and was stunned to see a message scrawled across it.

GUESTS AT HOME.

NOTIFY?

Her finger hovered over CANCEL, but she changed her mind and pressed the ENTER button.

A soft chime sounded, echoing in the villa. "Housekeeping at the door," a recorded but mellifluous English voice announced. "Maid service required?"

"Hell yes!" Audra heard Plum-Bum's excited shout.

His sister hushed him. The front door flew open and Audra found herself face to face with a young woman about her own age. Audra lowered her gaze to the woman's expensive shoes. "We don't need anything. We just arrived today and haven't made enough mess to need a clean-up yet."

But I did, Audra thought but didn't say. The bath tub was still full of frog-tainted towels. "Towels," she said, pointing.

"Ask her!" Plum-Bum insisted, his bare feet appearing on the tiles behind the woman. "You'd fuck me, right?"

Wow. He might have decent equipment, but that's all that defined this dickhead. Probably a porn star for sure. "No, thank you," Audra said faintly.

"What'd she say?" Plum-Bum demanded.

The woman shook her head and guided Audra to the bathroom, then blocked the doorway to keep her brother out. "She doesn't understand English. Most hotel maids are foreign migrants, waiting for their qualifications to come through as they improve their English so they can get higher-paying jobs. Besides, she could lose her job for sleeping with a guest. Don't you remember what the hotel manager said about fraternisation policies during our tour? Leave her alone, Jason."

Audra snorted. In Perth, maybe, hotel staff were recent migrants, but not here in Broome. Even the casual staff were Aussie. But if the woman's words kept her oversexed brother's hands off her, all the better. She set the stack of fresh towels on the edge of the spa and stuffed the froggy ones into the laundry bag.

Glass clinked on metal. An empty beer bottle going into the bin, most likely. The crunch and crackle of plastic followed it. Definitely the bin. She'd empty that on the way through and then she could escape the Pearls for the day.

Fixing her eyes firmly on the tiled floor, Audra marched to the kitchen to the approaching beat of helicopter rotors. Third flight today.

"Right, there's my ride returning. Don't get into too much trouble, don't make too much trouble for the staff, and enjoy your holiday. If you're not fit and ready for the band's farewell tour, you know it'll be your balls on the chopping block."

Band? Did she say he was in a band? Audra raised her gaze to scrutinise Plum-Bum's face. Even with the sexy stubble along his usually clean-shaven jaw, she recognised the face from the poster that had adorned her bedroom wall for the better part of the last five years. The one Sam kissed every morning. One she'd fantasised about since high school. Maybe she'd even kissed that poster once or twice herself. She glanced away before he could catch her staring. Oh shit. She'd already seen his –

"Promise me that if you get lonely, you'll call me. Don't do anything stupid." The sister sniffed. "I do love and care about you, you know."

"HA!" he shouted. "I knew it. Told you that you wanted me. It's not incest if I'm your stepbrother. Everyone wants me."

Audra snorted. Arrogant prick. Even she could tell the girl didn't.

"You're delusional, Jason. I love you because you're my brother, blood or no blood. I wouldn't sleep with you if you were the last man on Earth." She pulled out her phone and tapped it meaningfully. "Promise me you'll call me."

He nodded sulkily.

Her eyes met Audra's. "Don't take any shit from him. There's a place in town that neuters tomcats for half-price. You can put it on his hotel bill." She winked.

Audra stifled a snort of laughter. Mess with this man's glorious equipment? The world would weep. Especially if castration robbed him of his signature, underwear-igniting singing voice. Even she'd shed a tear for the loss.

She waited for the sister to leave before she pulled out the rubbish bin to change the bag inside.

Bare feet appeared beside the bin. "You understood every word, I bet," he said. "And I know you recognised me. If you know who I am, we both already know the answer to my question. So answer me. Would you fuck me?"

SIX

Audra didn't hesitate. "No." She turned to leave before she could take it back and change her answer.

A hand landed heavily on her shoulder. "Fuck, don't go. Do you know who I am?"

Here goes. She sighed as she shrugged out of his grasp and turned to face him. "You're Jay Felix, the lead singer of Chaya, and you have an army of fangirls the world over. Your shows are always sold out because you make yourself...accessible to your fans." And the man who'd played centre stage in all her teenage fantasies.

He laughed. "More like they make themselves accessible to me." He dropped his voice, into the seductive purr that had made her love his songs back in high school. "Go on, Audrey, tell me you wouldn't."

"I already have," she snapped. "And it's Audra, not Audrey." She peeled her badge off her breast and held it up to his eyes. "Less distraction so you can see it better." And because she wanted to hear his voice caress her name, just once...

"I like the view." He deliberately dropped his gaze to her breasts.

She itched to slap him. She'd never liked her conservative work uniform as much as she did today.

"What more could a woman want than a fucking rock star, Audrey?" he whispered.

Rock star? Man whore, more like. And one who couldn't even get her name right. Audra looked him in the eye. "Less swearing, for a start. A bit of honesty. Humility. Someone who listens and remembers her name. Being someone's one and only, and knowing your partner isn't the darling of millions, but yours."

"Mine?" He stepped closer to her so she could feel his breath warm on her face. "You want to be mine?"

YES, every cell in her body screamed, or at least those below the neck. The ones in her brain were blaring warning sirens against dickheads who didn't know her name and would cause her to lose her job without caring. Yet here was her high school heart-throb, standing so close to her she could reach out and touch him. Close enough to smell him. Audra backed away, wrinkling her nose in defence against the man's scent. He smelled like the ever-present pindan dust on the mainland, overlaid with sweat from walking outside in the humidity, with a tantalising top note from the frangipani soap in the bathroom, reminding her of what she'd seen there. Her eyes strayed to the front of his pants.

His hand slid into view, covering his crotch. "I'll give it to you if you admit you want it."

For an insane instant, she considered it. Considered giving in to her own teenage desires to get up close and personal with a rock star. But she wasn't at high school any more. "Mr Felix, that's a lovely offer and I truly appreciate it, but I'm in the middle of my work shift. I have a lot to do today." Like round up all the robotic vacuum cleaners in the other villas. She prayed she wouldn't have to chase any under the bed.

"Working. Of course." His smile said he thought it was a joke. "When do you get off? I want to be there when you do."

Him and his bloody double-entendres. Sleazy, persistent, arrogant rock star. "Sorry, Mr Felix, but staff don't fraternise with guests. It's against the rules." She flashed a professional smile. "I have other guests to see to. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call Reception. They'll be happy to help." She forced her steps to remain confident as she walked out the front door, down the stairs and into Pinctada. When the door closed behind her, she pressed her back against it and slid to the floor.

Why did it have to be him? The image of male perfection she'd admired in his posters and music videos, dreaming that one day she'd get to meet him and maybe, just maybe, she'd know one night of bliss in his arms. That's what the press said about Jay Felix – there were dozens of stories about girls he'd loved intensely for one night. Never more than one night. Like the king in the Arabian Nights – one night with his queen and the next morning she'd perish. Not that Jay was known for killing women. No, he left them very much alive and singing his praises. Every high school girl the world over wanted to be the one to cure him of his tomcatting ways, to be the Scheherazade to tame him. She wondered if she'd have been as enamoured of him if she'd known his idea of seduction included staring at a girl's breasts as he casually asked to be fucked. Or that his equipment rivalled that of the Brahman bulls over on the mainland. He probably rutted like one, too. Mm, how romantic.

She laughed until tears rolled down her face. As a teenager, she'd have given anything for what had just happened, swearing and all. But now? She wondered if the veterinarian in town who offered half-price neutering would take a human tomcat. His sister had the right idea. She wouldn't sleep with him if he was the last man on Earth.