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Chapter One
“What the hell?”
Simon Holcroft dropped his suitcase. It landed with a thud on the Brazilian maple flooring. The sound reverberated around his master bedroom, echoing the sonic boom in his chest. Absolute silence followed. Setting his hands on his hips, he contemplated his unmade bed and the woman asleep in it.
Nine days touring Australian wineries. A twenty-six hour flight back to Atlanta, seated beside a man who snored like a chainsaw, followed by a two-hour delay in customs. Start to finish the trip had been a test of patience and endurance. No rest. No relaxation. No fun. Only frustration.
By the time the elevator swept him toward his tenth floor condo, he was ready to trade his newly purchased K2 Hellbent skis for a hot shower and clean, lavender-scented sheets.
Instead, he got Goldilocks.
From the coved ceiling above his king-size bed, diffused light spilled over the stranger. She slept on her side, her hands clasped beneath her chin. Her pose appeared serene, but he sensed an inner turmoil shadowed her dreams. She’d twisted in her sleep. Her restless movements had pulled her yellow T-shirt tight against her small, round breasts.
How long had her troubles pursued her into oblivion? His own difficulties with suppliers and distribution channels had eaten into his shut-eye for the last three months. Expanding the business would double his income, but what he wouldn’t give for eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.
The woman’s straight blond hair cascaded over his gold-toned sheets and across her face like a scarf. Worn khaki shorts showcased slender calves and long thigh muscles. Her bare foot dangled over the edge. She fit into his cream-and-gold decor like a decorative throw pillow, the perfect feminine accent for his sensual, luxurious, wholly masculine room.
Appreciation tickled his nerve endings, sharpening his curiosity. Who was she?
He stepped closer. His toe nudged an empty laundry basket. At the same time, a blend of citrus and ginger struck his nose. He reached out to shake her awake, but stopped, his hand hovering over her shoulder as he recognized the orange smell as the cleaning product used in his bathroom. The ginger scent rose off her warm skin.
So, this was his maid. Interesting.
Although she’d been cleaning his house for the last six months, they’d never met. They had, however, traded notes on a weekly basis. Witty, humorous exchanges that he’d enjoyed to no end.
Okay, so this explained the who. The why would have to wait until she slipped free of Morpheus’s grasp.
Simon swept one finger along her cheek and tucked the curtain of her hair behind her ear. She stirred and frowned, but didn’t awaken. He studied her face. Delicate, curving eyebrows, high cheekbones, and full lips combined to produce an arresting face that hovered between pretty and beautiful.
She wasn’t at all as he’d pictured her. In his mind, she was one of those brainy girls in high school, long on smarts, short on looks. He’d imagined her with hunched shoulders from c
arrying a backpack loaded with books, short brown hair that required nothing more than finger combing and tortoiseshell glasses because all those hours spent studying in the library’s dim lighting would have ruined her eyesight. Bookish, unattractive, and since he knew she was in college, twenty-one at the most.
Surveying the woman in his bed, he’d badly misjudged.
Desire jostled him. Despite his exhausting travel schedule and being awake for almost thirty hours, the sight of a woman in his bed, even one fully clothed, had a predictable effect on his libido. A golden opportunity had tumbled into his bed, his territory. What man wouldn’t want to claim a prize of this caliber?
Would she burst on his tongue like an exotic fruit from the South Pacific or satisfy him like a peach from his mother’s garden? He didn’t need to touch her to know her skin would heat beneath his caresses. Skimming his fingertips against her curves would alert him to those areas where she was most sensitive.
Simon scrubbed at his face, striving for restraint, but fatigue left him raw and open to the relentless throb of hunger and need. In the last year his love life had been nearly nonexistent. Between traveling for business and visiting his parents in Savannah, dating had fallen pretty low on his to-do list. Most of his time and energy had gone into building his wine import business into a twenty million dollar a year organization. He’d surrendered his free time, sacrificed personal relationships and made a hell of a lot of money he rarely spent.
All because he couldn’t stop competing with his older brother.
Fortunately, he had a few women friends he could call who understood his busy schedule and didn’t mind the occasional evening together that led to nothing more serious. He sent his mind back and had a hard time recalling the last time he’d picked up the phone.
It had been a while. A long while. Which accounted for the ridiculous urge to kiss Goldilocks awake.
As if the intensity of his thoughts reached into her dreams and startled her back to consciousness, she stirred. Her lashes fluttered as she sucked in a breath and reached her fingers and toes in opposite directions, stretching her long, lean body. A groan worked its way past her lips.
Simon’s groin tightened as her actions raised her shirt and bared a three-inch strip of her flat stomach. If he thought finding a stranger asleep in his bed had rattled him, he was leveled by the blast of sexual awareness that struck when she opened her eyes and blinked sleepily up at him.
He inhaled a measured breath and manhandled his wayward instincts under control. In the heartbeat before her brain engaged they stared at each other.
“Someone’s been sleeping in my bed,” he teased, keeping his tone light. “And it looks like she’s still here.”
His words snapped her out of immobility. Moving with the jerky panic of someone who’d awakened to find her worst nightmare come to life, she scrambled off the bed.
“Are you Simon?”
“Yes.”
Her body sagged a little as he identified himself. “I’m so sorry.”
She stood taller than he’d estimated earlier. In bare feet the top of her head would tuck perfectly under his chin. He contemplated for a moment how her long body would feel stretched against his in a lazy, slow dance. He would make sure both of her arms were around his neck because he would want to feel every shifting line of muscle and bone.
“I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced,” he said.
“Of course not. I’m your maid. Caroline Sampson.” Her words tumbled out in a frazzled rush. “I clean your house.”
Amusement flared. “Yes,” he drawled. “I gathered that.”
She brushed her hair behind her ear. His fingers twitched at the memory of those silky locks against his skin. He ground his teeth at his body’s sharp reaction and crossed his arms over his chest. “It appears you’ve been making yourself at home. Did you find my bed comfortable?”
Worry roiled in her gray-green eyes. “I’m sorry about falling asleep in your…but your sheets are so soft and smell so—” She broke off and took her full lower lip between even white teeth.
So…what? What scent had enticed her? Would that same fragrance lure her into his arms?
“You probably want to fire me over this. Please don’t. I swear I’ve never done anything like this before.” She lifted her hands in a beseeching gesture. “I really need this job.” Her gaze skipped toward the darkness outside the large windows. “Do you know what time it is?” A line appeared between her brows. “I’m supposed to be meeting my study group at six-thirty.”
“I’m afraid you’re out of luck. It’s almost eight.”
He leaned against the dresser. His hip nudged the book balanced on the edge. He picked up the tome and glanced at the title: a law book. Curious, he opened the cover and flipped pages. Two sheets of folded paper fell to the floor. Her eyes went wide when he bent and scooped up what turned out to be a letter and a badly overdue bill for law school.
“May I have my book back, please?” The words were polite enough, but her stiff tone and tight lips told a different story.
Simon couldn’t recall the last time a woman had intrigued both his mind and his body at the same time. A hardworking law student in obvious financial straits, demonstrating a fascinating mixture of determination and vulnerability, she brought out the mischief-maker his mother always complained about.
He offered her a slow smile. “Come and get it.”
Her body went rigid at his dare, but something flickered in her eyes. A look that said she wasn’t offended by his challenge. Quite the opposite. Sizzling sexual tension arced across the ten feet separating them, reminding him that although they’d never met, they weren’t exactly strangers either.
She had as little time for a social life as he did. Work and school ate up all the hours in her day and drained her energy. But the notes she wrote him had a wistful quality when she spoke of her lack of a love life and often he was left wondering what might happen if he showed up one day unexpectedly…
The chime of his doorbell interrupted the charged atmosphere. Silently cursing, he set her book down.
