Page 12 of His Property

“Definitions of that word are legion.”

“How wouldyoudefine it, Mr. Winters?” I had a feeling it would be quite a bit different than mine.

“You’ll just have to see, Lola.”

I bristled at that. “You’re a little presumptuous, aren’t you? I haven’t even said I’ll take the job.”

“Oh, you’ll take it.”

I shook my head. “You have noideawhat I’ll do.” I was feigning a defiance that was brittle and ill-conceived, as if a single push might expose my bluster as a fortress with a foundation of sand.

But he seemed to ignore it, taking another sip from his glass, and setting it back on the table. His crisp white button-down stretched over the mile-wide expanse of his shoulders as he laid one long arm along the back of the sectional. “Here’s what I need. Cleaning—of course. The whole house, top to bottom. I don’t want a single thing out of place, and I want it immaculate. Except my office. I’ll take care of that.”

“Okay…” It sounded fine thus far.

“When I’m here, I need you here with me. That might be a lot of hours. But when I’m gone—and I do travel regularly—you’re on your own. But will still be paid, regardless.”

Whoa.

“So, this is like… salary?”

“Something like that.” He pursed his lips. “Do you cook?”

“No.”

“Well, two out of three ain’t bad,” he murmured, frowning.

“I’m sorry, okay? I just… never really learned.” I didn’t like the sheepish note in my voice. “What’s, uh, the third thing then?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer to that one.

“Beck and call girl. When you’re not cleaning, and I’m here, I expect you to be available for… anything I might need.”

“You mean errands and things?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. “Yes… andthings.”

Though I was uneasy at his caginess, I still hadn’t heard anything that would have me running screaming.

But it seemed he was just getting started.

“How long? I mean, how long do you want someone for this job?”

His eyes narrowed just the slightest bit. “Indefinitely. Months, certainly. Perhaps much longer… if the person was right for what I need.”

“Oh… okay.”

I was already doing the math in my head. Even a few months working for him could be… life-changing.

“There’ll be a trial period,” he said, his deep voice both soothing and provocative all at once. “To be sure we’re a good fit. So to speak. Then we can talk about the contract.”

Holy shit. Contract?

“Will I be paid during this… trial period?”

“Hand me that envelope.”

I rolled my eyes, but went with it, thrusting up my hips a bit in order to dig it out of my jeans. I handed it over to him, the well-crumpled envelope quite a bit worse for the wear.

He slipped the money into the pocket of his dark slacks. “You’ll get this—times four—after thirty days.”

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