Maid for Love Read Free Page A

this happened."
    Maddie ventured a glance up at him and swallowed hard, taken aback by his intense gaze. "I know you are."
    "I'll make it up to you."
    "You don't have to. It was an accident."
    "An accident that was my fault." He lifted her carefully and once again gave her a minute to settle her injured limbs before continuing on.
    Maddie directed him to her apartment over Tiffany's studio.
    "Isn't this the Sturgil place?" Mac asked.
    She nodded. "My sister Tiffany is married to Jim Sturgil." As they reached the foot of her stairs, Maddie realized that her purse was still attached to the wrecked bike. "My bag! I never got it off the bike. My wallet, keys—"
    "Take it easy." He carried her up the stairs to her door. "I'll track it down for you."
    Maddie tried to remember how much cash she'd had in her wallet. Twenty, maybe thirty dollars, but she needed every one of them. "The door isn't locked," she told him.
    Somehow he managed to carry her, open the door and get her inside without causing her any additional pain. She watched him take a quick survey of the small space and felt her defenses rise. No doubt he was used to much better, but she refused to be ashamed of the home she'd put together for herself and her son.
    His eyes landed and settled on the baby toys stacked in the corner. "You're a mom?"
    "My son Thomas is nine months old."
    He lowered her to the tattered sofa she'd bought at a yard sale. "Where is he?"
    "My sister watches him during the day. Oh God. The kids."
    "Excuse me?"
    "I take over for my sister at the daycare at three so she can teach her dance classes. She watches Thomas for me, and that's how I pay her back."
    "I'll do it."
    "What?"
    "I'll watch the kids for you. How hard can it be?"
    "Have you ever even changed a diaper?"
    "I'm sure I have. Some time."
    "Right. Look, I know you're probably some sort of Boy Scout—"
    "Actually, I'm an Eagle Scout," he said with a proud smile.
    "Of course you are, but you've really got to go now. Your family is expecting you—"
    "They didn't know I was coming today."
    Maddie wanted to shriek in frustration. Why couldn't he get the message and leave me alone? And then it hit her in a wave of sickening despair. "It's not going to happen," she spat at him.
    "What are you talking about now?"
    "Get out of my cabinets! What're you doing?"
    "Looking for some painkillers and a glass." He produced a bottle of medicine and a glass of water and brought both to her.
    "Thank you," she muttered after she swallowed the pills. "Now, please, just go, will you?"
    But of course he sat on the coffee table, and Maddie prayed the flimsy table would hold his two-hundred-pounds-of-pure-muscle frame. "So what's not going to happen?"
    "I know what you're after." She wanted to smack the amused expression off his face.
    "And what's that?"
    "You think if you're nice to me that you'll get something in return."
    Amusement faded to bafflement. "Like what?"
    "Don't be obtuse. I know you got a good look out there on the street, so you're hanging around hoping to get your hands—among other things—on Maddie Chester's famous breasts."
    He stared at her for a long, breathless moment. "That is so not true."
    "And how are you different from every other man alive?"
    "When I look at you, the first thing I see are gorgeous eyes that remind me of the way melted caramel looks over vanilla ice cream. They're a rather interesting combination of brown and gold. Your mouth, when it's not twisted with cynicism and bitterness, is so lush and pretty that my personal fantasies—if I had them about you, that is—would definitely be focused there, not on what's under your T-shirt. As spectacular as they may be, I'm more of an ass-and-leg man myself."
    Maddie had never been more shocked in her life—or more seduced by words alone.
    "Now that we've got that subject covered, let's talk money."
    That brought her right back to reality. "What about it?"
    "I want to pay for your lost wages."
    "Absolutely not." She might be