“At least, cancel your damn dinner party. Jerod needs peace and quiet.”
“You want to pretend like he’s already dead. Well, he’s not. He needs activity and excitement. That’s why he married me.”
“Really? I thought it had more to do with your thirty-six double-D chest.”
She slapped him again. This time, he’d earned it.
With a swish of her hips, Charlene flounced up the hill toward the house.
Five years ago, when his grandpa had announced that he wanted to marry a Las Vegas showgirl, Ben had been almost proud of the old guy. After a lifetime of hard work that had started in the Texas oil fields, Jerod had the right to amuse himself. Even if it meant the rest of the family had to put up with a gold digger.
Charlene had readily agreed to a very generous prenuptial agreement. Whether their marriage was ended by divorce or death, she walked away with a cool half million in cash. Not a bad deal.
Ben had expected Charlene to divorce his grandpa after a year and grab the cash, but she’d stayed…and stayed…and stayed. In her shallow way, she might even love Jerod. And he had to admit that their May–December marriage had turned out better than his. Nothing good had come from that union, except for his daughter.
He walked to the end of the small dock. A spring wind rippled the waters. Trout were jumping. In the rolling foothills of Colorado, he saw the swells of the ocean. He missed his home in Seattle that overlooked the sea, but he cherished every moment here with his grandpa as the old man prepared for his final voyage.
Behind his back, Ben heard someone step onto the dock. Had Charlene come back? He turned and saw a gray maid’s uniform. “What is it?”
“You must be Ben.” She marched toward him with her hand outthrust. “I’m Liz Norton. The new maid.”
He accepted her handshake. Though she was a slender little thing, her grip was strong. He took a second look at her. The expression in her luminous green eyes showed a surprising challenge. Not the usual demeanor for household staff. “Is this your first job as a servant?”
“Servant?” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “I can’t say that I like that job description. Sounds like I ought to curtsey.”
“I suppose you have a more politically correct job title in mind.”
She pulled her hand away from his grasp and thought for half a second. “Housekeeping engineer.”
In spite of her droopy gray uniform, she radiated electricity, which might explain why her hair looked like she’d stuck her finger in a wall socket. He would have dismissed her as being too cute. Except for the sharp intelligence in her green eyes.
“Nice place you’ve got here.” She stepped up beside him. “Are there horses?”
“Not anymore. Horses were my grandmother’s passion. Arabians. God, they were beautiful.” He had fond memories of grooming the horses with his grandmother. “After she passed away, ten years ago, Jerod sold them to someone who would love them as much as she had.”
“Wise decision. Every living creature needs to be with someone who loves them.”
A hell of a profound statement. “Are you? With someone who loves you?”
“I do okay.” She cocked her head and looked up at him. “How about you, Ben? Who loves you?”
“My daughter,” he responded quickly. “Natalie.”
Her expression went blank as if she had something to hide. All of a sudden, her adorable freckled face seemed less innocent. He wondered why she’d approached him, why she spoke of love.
There had been incidents in the past when female employees had tried to seduce him, but Liz’s body language wasn’t flirtatious. Her arms hung loosely at her sides. Her feet were planted solidly. Something else motivated her.
“You have a reputation as an adventurer,” she said. “What kind of stuff do you do? Something with the airplanes you manufacture?”
“I test-pilot our planes. Not for adventure. It’s work.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Cool job.”
“I’m not complaining.” He glanced up the hill toward the house. It was time to get his grandpa outside in the sun. Maybe he could talk some sense into the old man. “Please excuse me, Liz.”
Instead of stepping politely aside, she stayed beside him, matching her gait to his stride. “I think I met your sister at the house. Real slim. Dressed in black.”
“That’s Patrice.” And not good news. He’d known that his sister and her husband, Monte, were coming to dinner, but he hadn’t expected her until later. As a rule, he tried to keep his sister and Charlene separate. The two women hated each other.
“Is your sister married?” Liz asked.
“Yes.”
“Any kids?”
Patrice was far too selfish to spoil her rail-thin figure by getting pregnant. “None.”
From the house, he heard a high-pitched scream.
Ben took off running.
When he looked over, he saw Liz with her uniform hiked up, racing along beside him. She had to be the most unusual maid he’d ever met.
Chapter Three
Liz charged up the incline from the lake toward the house. Though her legs churned at top speed, she couldn’t keep pace with Ben’s stride.
She heard a second scream…and a third that trailed off into an incoherent, staccato wail that reminded her of a kid throwing a tantrum in the grocery store aisle. The cries seemed to be coming from the front entrance.
Trailing behind Ben, she couldn’t help but admire his running form. His long legs pumped. His forest-green shirt stretched tightly across his muscular shoulders. For a supposed drug addict, he appeared to be in amazing physical condition. As he approached the shiny, black Escalade parked at the front door, he muttered, “Son of a bitch.”
Two bitches, actually. Beside the SUV, two women grappled. Patrice shrieked again. Still clad in her sleek black pantsuit, she had both arms clutched possessively around a large metal object. Charlene tugged at her arms and delivered a couple of ineffectual swats on Patrice’s skinny bottom.
Liz stopped and stared at the spectacle of two grown women scuffling like brats on a playground. She didn’t envy Ben as he waded into the middle of the wrestling match and pulled them apart. “What the hell is going on?”
Without loosening her grip on what appeared to be a two-foot-tall bronze statue of a rearing bronco, Patrice tossed her head. Her smooth, chin-length mahogany hair fell magically into place. “Grandma Crawford gave this original Remington to me. It once belonged to Zane Grey, you know.”
“You’re a thief.” Charlene jabbed in her direction with a red manicured fingernail that matched her sweater. “How dare you come to my house
