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“No names. No promises.”
“No promises.” She nodded. “You aren’t secretly married are you?” She couldn’t resist prodding.
His smile was grim. “No marriage. No children. Thank God.”
She watched him carefully. “You don’t want that?”
“No.” He smiled. “I am my own person. I do not want to compromise that with commitments – to a family. That is not my way.”
She nodded slowly, and her understanding seemed to relax him.
“I want to have you in every way imaginable, over and over again. Can you stay the night?”
Her heart turned over at the very explicitly sexual request he’d made.
“I have to leave early tomorrow.”
“Until then?”
Maggie’s body was still tingling as it came down from the high of her orgasm. She wasn’t going anywhere. She nodded.
“Excellent.”
One night. No names. No consequences. Just sex.
1
Two years later.
The grand country house was decked out with all the Christmas trimmings. Swags of Ivy and Holly adorned every stair well. Mistletoe was clumped in attractive looking posies, suspended from the Tudor support beams. And the air was heavy with the smell of mulled wine and mince pies.
“Everything is spectacular, Maggie,” Lady Cressida Andrews said with a frosty smile. “Your father didn’t exaggerate your talents.”
Maggie knew she should have been grateful that her future step-mother had hired her for the weekend. With a daughter to support and all the expenses single parenthood entailed, Maggie would take any additional income she could.
“Thank you, Cress.” Maggie knew the older woman hated the term of endearment, for the fact that it was more common than her full name. And therefore Maggie went out of her way to use it. Cressida was so infatuated with Maggie’s father, Clint, that she suffered the diminutive in silence.
/> “There are just a few more guests arriving. My God-daughter, Amelie, and her new beau, should be here by in a few hours.”
“Of course. Annie will have enough dinner for them as well,” she reassured confidently, referring to the country cook who was doing most of the leg-work for the weekend.
Cressida compressed her perfectly pouted lips. “Just remember, Maggie, that you are not actually the hired help. I wanted to support you in your little catering business, but I do not want my family thinking you’re just a cook.”
Maggie’s laugh was rich with both surprise and amusement. “I am just a cook.”
“A very good cook. But one who has a wealthy father and no need to be scrimping and saving like this.”
Maggie also had a very wealthy best friend, who had repeatedly offered money, property, anything to make Maggie’s life easier. Accepting handouts was simply not Maggie’s style, though.
“Don’t worry, Cress. I have every intention of joining you all for dinner. I just want to make sure the kitchen team has a handle on the menu, first.”
Cressida hovered on the brink of the kitchen a moment longer.
“Yes?” Maggie prompted, hiding her impatience behind a thin smile.
“You will have time to shower first, won’t you?”
Maggie frowned and looked down at the black jersey dress she wore. It was a perfectly nice outfit, and the butcher’s apron had worn most of the day’s misadventure. She looked back at Cressida and, for the first time, noticed that the woman was basically dressed to meet the Queen.
