Men For Hire (11 page)

Outraged, Richard reached her in two strides. Aaron was on his feet in an instant, standing between them.

“Out of my way!” Richard demanded, his voice shrill with anger.

“Out of the lady’s house.” Aaron’s voice was deep and commanding, clearly taking Richard by surprise.

“How dare you? Who the hell do you think you are?” Richard’s voice was only just audible to dogs and bats now.

“For God’s sake, Richard, just get the message. She doesn’t want you back!” Paula snarled, grabbing her bag as she stood.

“Oh, and just what does she want? You?” He stared accusingly at Aaron. “Or you?” He looked daggers at James. “Which one is it?” He turned to Naomi, trying to step toward her, but Aaron barred his way.

“Does it matter?” Paula looked wearily over at him before marching toward the door.

“Yes, I want to know,” Richard growled at her before turning back to Naomi. “Come on then, which one did you choose? You’ve obviously got something going with one of them.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Aaron interjected. “Now get out of the lady’s house before I throw you out.” His jaw was tight and Naomi got the impression he was desperate to hit the stupid asshole.

She watched Aaron tower over him, his muscles tense and his body proud. He was a good-looking guy, but he was also a strong man, in body and in soul. He was protecting her and she felt safe for the first time in years.

The door slammed as Paula left, but Richard was unperturbed. “I guess it’s not you then. You’re just the stupid bodyguard, are you?” He sneered. He looked over to James, who stood up to face him. “So you chose the pretty boy, did you? Don’t you think he’s a bit young for you?” He glared at Naomi.

“Wrong again, thicko.” James sounded just as masterful as Aaron, taking Naomi a little by surprise but in a good way—a pantie-wetting good way, in fact.

“Oh, I see.
None
of them wanted you. Well, I can see why.” His derisive tone was too much for her men and they both rounded on him, James shooting around the table to get to him, while Aaron held him by the scruff of the neck.

“Don’t you dare disrespect a lady in her own house!” James snarled as he reached them. “And for your information we
both
want her!”

Daphne gasped excitedly clapping her hands as the two hunks frog-marched Richard out of the house.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Naomi told her guests, resuming her seat as dessert was served.

“Oh, don’t worry about us, dear, we like a little excitement, don’t we, darling?” Sam put a hand over his wife’s and she giggled.

“Oh yes, dear. But, tell me, Naomi, however will you choose between such handsome men?” The old dear nodded conspiratorially at James and Aaron as they returned and elegantly took their seats.

Naomi took up her spoon with a shake of her head. After gazing at both her gorgeous men, she leaned forward slightly. “Sometimes, Daphne,” she explained, taking a piece of her gateau, “it
is
possible to have your cake and eat it!”

THE END

Calculated Risk

Michelle Roth

Dedication

I dedicate this to the Lascivious Ladies of Literature, Sara, Gayle, Cynthia, Suzette, and Kelsie. You ladies keep me laughing and somewhat sane. You're the best writer pals a girl could ask for!

Chapter One

A
s she approached the front door of her mother’s summer home, Stella Whitman kept reminding herself that this moment was well overdue. It had been two years since her mother had passed, but she still felt a pang of sadness wash over her at the thought of going inside.

This was the last of her mother’s estate. Yet, she still wasn’t ready to be assailed with the memories of their summers here. Honestly, she knew she’d never really be ready. She had decided that now was as good a time as any, because no matter how long she waited, it would be bittersweet.

She took a deep breath and fished into her handbag for the key. Her hand shook as she struggled to open the lock. When she finally managed to turn the key, she opened the door and stepped over the threshold. Shock filled her as she took in the level of disrepair the home was in.

The estate agent had said the place was in need of some cleaning and a coat of paint when he turned over the keys to Stella. The previous tenants had left the house in excellent condition, he’d said. The estate agent had clearly lied.

Stella walked through the sitting room into the dining room and winced. The large portrait of lilies that she’d painted as a teenager had a huge gouge in it and there was a giant hole in the wall. Part of the crown molding was missing as well.

It took her hours to walk through the house, both upstairs and down, to catalog the damage. Along the way, she discovered the water wasn’t running in the upstairs bath, and the lights didn’t work either. The previous tenants had managed to pretty much destroy the wood flooring in almost every single room.

Between the small repairs that needed handling, the plumbing, and the flooring, Stella realized she was in way over her head. She had thought she would need to do a little cleaning. She had been up for some painting. At this rate, she’d need a carpenter, plumber,
and
an electrician.

She wracked her brain trying to think of anyone she knew who would be able to help. Finally, she remembered that her cousin Lena had just done a full remodel on her house. Maybe she’d be able to get her in contact with someone trustworthy. Stella knew she’d have to listen to at least twenty minutes of her bragging about her rich, barrister husband. It was a necessary evil, though. She didn’t want to just randomly pick someone.

This was far too important. When all of this repair was said and done, Stella would be moving here. There was no way she could continue to let tenants destroy the place. It had been a split second decision that she’d made while walking through the house, but it felt right.

Orsett was only an hour or so outside London, she reasoned to herself. It was much less crowded. The air was cleaner. It would be the perfect place to paint. The garden in the back was walled off. Maybe she could close off the back porch. The light would be perfect.

Stella shook herself from the daydream. She needed to focus on making this place livable first. Right now, that meant calling Lena. She dug through her bag and retrieved her mobile. This wasn’t going to be fun.

Forty incredibly annoying minutes later, Stella was armed with the number. She dialed and spoke to a nice woman named Jennifer. When she had outlined the situation and the fact that she needed someone who was basically certified and experienced in almost any kind of repair you could think of, she had clucked her tongue and said, “Well, luv, let’s see who we have available. And where did you say you were, again?”

“Just outside Orsett.”

“Hmm, well… I’ve got someone for you. He’s licensed in everything under the sun. He does home inspections too. Might be just the ticket. He can let you know if there are any other issues too,” Jennifer added.

“Perfect!” Stella said.

“Ian Starling. I’ll email you over his profile so you recognize him when he arrives. You never can be too careful, I’m afraid.”

The next twenty minutes were spent haggling over price. In the end, Stella wanted the repairs done right, so she hadn’t had much bargaining power. Still, to her surprise, they ended up at what she considered a fair hourly rate. She would only be responsible for materials above and beyond that.

As she locked up the cottage and headed to her car, she heard her mobile buzz. She checked her email and found that Jennifer had already sent her a standard agreement for services and a fact sheet on the worker she’d hired.
That
, she thought,
is a nice touch
.

She opened the agreement and saw that it was three pages of text. Clearly, she’d be looking that over later. She moved on to the profile and her mouth dropped open.

Her handyman was absolutely gorgeous. Ian Starling had an olive complexion. His sandy brown hair was curly and streaked blond like he had been in the sun too often. He had a chiseled face and full lips.

Dear Lord
, she thought as she put the phone back in her bag. She needed to stop. At this rate, she’d need a cold shower. It had been months since been interested in anything other than burying herself in her art. Maybe she’d start going out again. She’d probably need to, lest she jump her poor, unsuspecting contractor.

Laughing at herself, she slid into her car. She needed some cleaning supplies. The repairs wouldn’t start until the middle of next week. That would give her plenty of time to clean out all of the rubbish the previous tenants had left behind.
Slobs
.

As she drove back up the rutted, tree lined road, she vaguely thought about having the lane paved. This was going to be hell on her old car. She really needed to rethink this whole commute. Maybe she’d get a new mattress delivered and stay there. It was something to consider.

* * * *

Five days later

Stella bobbed her head and sang along with the music as she planted another bulb in the front garden. She patted down the soil and hazarded another look at the sky. It was a cool, gloomy morning.

Good
, she thought. Her flowers needed a nice, hard rain. If the packaging hadn’t lied to her, she could expect tulips of varying colors in the springtime. She started digging another small hole with a trowel when she felt a gentle tap on the shoulder. Startled, she let out a small scream and then twisted around.

The contractor that wasn’t due until much later in the day stood a few feet away from her in the spongy grass. He held up his hands in what she supposed could pass for a non-threatening manner as she pulled out her earphones. A small smile played on his lips. Clearly he’d heard her singing.

“Err… Sorry,” he apologized. “I tried to get your attention but … the music. I’m your contractor. Ian Starling.”

Stella set the trowel down, then brushed off her hands on her trousers. As she stood, she said, “Stella Whitman. You scared me. I didn’t expect you until later in the day, Mr. Starling.”

She extended her hand in greeting and then realized it was still a bit dirty. Before she could retract it, he reached out and grasped it firmly in his. She felt a flare of warmth suffuse her entire body. With a slight shake of his head, he released her hand.

Ian winced and said, “Ian, please. And, I’m sorry to frighten you. I left a message on your mobile. I was able to free up a little earlier from my last job. I was going to tour through the house and give you a time estimate for all of the repairs. I can come back later if—”

“No, no. You’re fine. Let me just clean up and I’ll give you the grand tour. I’d love it if you’d go over everything and let me know if I’ve missed anything.”

When he nodded, she brushed her hands against her thighs and headed toward the front door.

His picture from his profile didn’t do him any justice. It didn’t show those adorable dimples he had or the dark sweep of lashes. He wasn’t ripped, but she could tell that he was built. She judged him to be a few years younger than her, but it was always hard to tell with men. In any case, Ian Starling was absolutely gorgeous.

She was startled out of her thoughts when Ian said, “Ms. Whitman?”

“Geez, sorry. I’m off in space. And, please don’t call me Ms. Whitman. Call me Stella.”

“Stella, then,” he agreed. “I was asking whether you were planning to live here, or sell it.”

“It was my summer home as a child. When my mom passed, I had originally thought I’d sell the cottage. When I saw what they did to it, I couldn’t bear the thought of selling my childhood home to some stranger who might destroy it.”

He nodded at her, sympathy written all over his face. When he spoke, his voice was soft. He said, “We’ll go room by room and figure out what I can repair easily and what will take more time. We’ll sort it by order of importance and go from there. We’ll fix the house up.”

She nodded and opened the front door. As he stepped through, she said, “I really hope so.”

Chapter Two

I
an took in the stone fireplace, and the crown molding. The floor could use some work, he mused, but the structure itself was gorgeous. He reached into his back pocket and started taking meticulous notes.

As they walked from room to room, he went over every little inch of the property. She had come with him, asking intelligent questions along the way. It was easy to see she was very emotionally invested in the property.

She was planning on doing some of the cosmetic work on the outside, and some of the painting inside herself. That would definitely save her a bit of money. The smaller rooms would be easy to paint. Steaming some of that godawful wallpaper off would be another story entirely.