One Summer At The Lake. Susan Carlisle
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hand on the floor to steady herself, Zoe turned her head, a questioning furrow in her smooth brow. She saw Isandro and her half-smile faded with a speed that under other circumstances he might have found amusing.
‘It is always nice when people are glad to see me,’ he muttered under his breath.
‘Pardon…’ Zoe lowered her voice, murmuring a self-conscious, ‘Sorry.’ She pulled the earphones out of her ears and looked up at the figure who towered over her. ‘I didn’t see you there.’ She stopped herself from asking whether there was anything she could do for him, afraid that he might tell her—and even more afraid that she might deliver his request.
She was probably worrying over nothing. Last night he hadn’t even kissed her back.
It was the ultimate humiliation. She had offered herself up on a platter and he had said no, thank you, and she remembered every mortifying, cringeworthy detail. It had been about three a.m. when she’d sat bolt upright in bed and it had all come rushing back to her.
Unable to resist the masochistic compulsion to relive the scene over and over, by this morning she didn’t see how she could face him. And now it felt just as awful as she had imagined.
Should she mention last night? Wait for him to? Or should she pretend it never happened?
‘I said what the hell are you doing?’
‘I’m vacuuming the carpet.’ She held out the hand-held vacuum she was using to reach the crevices, flicking the switch into the on position to demonstrate as she got up from her knees.
‘I can see what you’re doing.’ He reached over and flicked the switch off. ‘What I want to know is why?’
‘Susie couldn’t come in this morning.’
‘That does not answer my question, and who the hell is Susie?’
‘Susie is one of the cleaning staff. She lives in the village.’
He folded his arms across his chest and looked unimpressed by her explanation. ‘Will you stop waving that thing at me?’
Zoe lowered the vacuum, but lifted her free hand to shade her eyes from the shaft of strong morning sun that shone in from the tall floor-length window behind Isandro, framing his tall figure in a golden haze of light. As if he needed any help to look as though he’d just stepped down from Mount Olympus! It was like a massive conspiracy to turn her into some sex-starved bimbo.
‘You’re really not a morning person, are you?’
A gleam flashed in his dark eyes. ‘I’ve never had any complaints.’
It took a few seconds, but when the penny dropped her face flamed. She brought down her lashes in a protective sweep to shield her eyes. Head down, she swept off the scarf she had tied over her hair. Ruffling it with her hand as it slipped down her back, she struggled to maintain a professional attitude given the reel of lurid images now playing in her head.
Isandro felt the hunger flare, his body hardening as he watched the river of glossy silk settle down her narrow back. The sexy little black outfit was gone and she was back in jeans, complete with a tear in one knee and belt loops he could have hooked his fingers into and jerked her…The effort to suppress his lustful imagination drew a short harsh rasp from his throat.
‘This still doesn’t tell me why I find you down on your hands and knees like some…’
Her head lifted; her blue eyes shone with anger. ‘Servant?’ she bit back. ‘Maybe because I am.’
‘You are the housekeeper.’
She shrugged, not sure why he was making such a big thing of this. It wasn’t as if the workings of a vacuum cleaner were alien to her. ‘Call it multitasking…’
‘I call it inappropriate. What sort of first impression would it give if I had walked in with a group of important guests and the first thing they see is the housekeeper down on her knees?’ He shook his head.
‘You didn’t walk in with…’
Isandro’s expression made her wish she had held her tongue.
‘It is totally inappropriate to your position here.’
‘What was I meant to do? Drag poor Susie in with her abscessed tooth? Her mother says the poor girl is in agony.’
‘You were meant to delegate.’ It amazed him that she had not grasped this basic precept.
‘I don’t like telling people what to do.’ Zoe found it was easier and less stressful to do things herself.
‘Delegation is part of your job. Scrubbing floors is not.’
His coldness hit her like a slap in the face. ‘I wasn’t…’ She bit her tongue and bowed her head.
The show of humility did not fool Isandro for one second. He knew full well it was an act. She was about as humble as a battle cruiser.
‘Part of your job is also learning the difference between showing sympathy and being a soft touch.’
Zoe’s head lifted at the suggestion. ‘I’m not a soft touch!’ she protested indignantly.
‘People take advantage of you.’ His annoyance that she was either unable or unwilling to see this was etched on his hard features.
‘You didn’t!’ She closed her eyes and lifted a hand to her head, let her chin fall to her chest and thought, Please let me die now. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. It just sort of slipped out.’
‘Not because I did not want to, if that is what is bothering you. Did you get any sleep?’ The violet smudges under her eyes showed up clear against her translucent skin, as did the handful of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
She nodded. ‘And I woke with a bit of a headache.’ His mobile lips twitched. ‘Called a hangover.’
Zoe shuddered as she got to her feet. ‘I can’t imagine why people drink.’
‘Not everyone has your zero tolerance. For some people it’s their drug of choice, and it’s legal.’
‘What’s yours, or don’t you need one? Sorry…I keep forgetting…Can I take your order for dinner, sir?’
‘You can’t go from trying to kiss my face off to calling me sir. Neither are what I expect of my housekeeper. I will settle for a happy medium.’
The mortified colour rushed to her cheeks as she pressed her teeth into her full lower lip. ‘I am sorry for last night. I really am. But what you did for Chloe and John, that was…very kind.’
His features froze. ‘That stays within these walls. Is that understood?’
Before she could reply to this terse warning, the front door swung open and the twins rushed in. At least Georgie rushed. Harry walked with his nose in a book.
‘No, not here. I’ve told you, the flat—’
‘We know. You forgot to put the key under the mat.’ Georgie looked at Isandro and grinned. ‘We have to keep out of your way.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Don’t you like kids?’
‘It depends on the kid.’ He strolled across to the boy, a skinny child with strawberry-blond hair. ‘You’re Harry.’
Harry nodded.
‘Run along, children.’ She pulled the key fob out of her pocket and tossed it to Georgie. ‘I’ve left you some sandwiches for eleven. I’ll be over at lunchtime.’
‘What’s that you’re reading?’ Isandro looked at the title on the spine. ‘You like the stars?’
Of course he did. Skinny, undersized boys with books and no friends always did. Isandro knew because he had been one himself. In his case he had grown twelve inches at sixteen and gone from being the despised wimp to the jock that