Page 50 of The Homemaker

“Where’s Blair? Oh, and I’ll wash the dishes as soon as I get back. I don’t want to wait any longer to deliver the pie.”

“Blair’s getting a massage. It’s just the two of us and that pie. And I want a piece.”

After a brief standoff, I lift the edge of the foil and pinch off a tinypieceof the crust. Then I lift it to Murphy’s mouth. He doesn’t look at my hand. It’s as if our gazes are glued. He grabs my wrist and wraps his lips around the tips of my two fingers.

Holy shit.

I can’t breathe.

My skin tingles and my nipples harden beneath my bra. I hate his perfect life and the woman who will be his perfect wife. I don’t want him having out-of-this-world sex with her.I looked for him. He’s the entire reason I’m in Lake of the Isles.

And now he’s here, but it’s too late.

Too late to rectify the past.

Too late to have a future.

Too late to want him this much.

As his grip keeps his lips pressed to my fingers, I swallow hard.

“Smart ass,” he says, releasing my wrist before shouldering past me without looking back.

I brush my hand over my dress, pushing my nipples back into hiding before continuing toward Rupert Rawlings’ house.

After ringing the doorbell twice with no answer, I turn to head back home, then the door opens.

“Can I help you?”

I turn and smile. “Mr. Rawlings?”

“Yes.”

Indeed, he has a full head of salt-and-pepper hair. Symmetrical face. Charming smile. Rupert is effortlessly cool like George Clooney.

I go into character as if the curtains just opened on the stage, and the spotlight is on me. Confidence is just good acting.

“Happy birthday to you …” I sing each line with a wide smile. I don’t go full-on Marilyn Monroe “happy birthday, Mr. President,” but I do my best to make Vera proud. And from the look on Rupert’s face, he’s pleased with my performance.

“This is from the Morrisons.” I hand him the pie. “I’m Alice, Mr. Morrison’s homemaker. I hope you like it.”

Rupert shifts, posture straightening, gaze sweeping headto toe. “Yes. I heard he had ahomemaker.” His tone implies more than homemaker.

I keep smiling, letting his dirty imagination run wild.

He nods at my chest. “Does Vera let you walk around the house like that?”

I keep my shoulders back, chest out. “I’m not allowed to suck Mr. Morrison’s dick. That’s the only house rule.” I give him the full show, batting my eyelashes.

“Well, damn, young lady. One sec …” He holds up a finger before setting the pie on a credenza and jogging up the curved grand stairway behind him, shoes tapping on the marble. A few seconds later, he returns and hands me a black business card with a number but no name. “Call me. Whatever that schmuck is paying you, I’ll pay double.”

I smile, trapping the card between two fingers and seductively sliding it into my bra. “I’ll think about it. Hope you blow out all of your candles.” I pivot and skip down the stairs to the sidewalk.

“I’m telling Hunter you spanked me in my birthday suit.”

I bite my lower lip and giggle.

Chapter Twenty