What a Woman Gets (14 page)

L
IAM
couldn't sleep. That shouldn't surprise him, given that he was sharing his home with his worst nightmare: a sexy-as-hell daddy's girl.

Who wasn't the spoiled selfish brat he'd thought.

The last part of that was worse for his equilibrium than the first. The first, he could deal with. The second . . .

He had very little defense against the second. Cassidy Davenport wasn't turning out to be like anything he'd thought. And it was that that had him up tonight.

Definitely up.

He tossed off the covers and sat on the edge of his bed, his toes digging into the carpet. He didn't want to take another shower. Especially a cold one. Not at—he winced as he glanced at his phone—three
A.M.

He scratched the back of his head, creating more of a bedhead than he currently had. Not that he cared. The best thing for him would be to be such a turnoff that Cassidy wouldn't look at him twice.

Unfortunately, he'd caught her looking at him a lot more than twice. Which only added to this nightmare.

He stood up. No sense trying to go back to sleep. Not without taking matters into his own hand, so to speak, and how pathetic was that? A beautiful woman in the next room and he's jacking off alone. Not gonna happen.

He could use a beer.

He stepped into his shorts, pulled on a T-shirt, things he'd never done when he lived alone, but he wasn't risking any sort of temptation with her around, then headed toward his kitchen.

Only to hear two sets of little snores emanating from the sofa in the great room.

The princess and her mutt had fallen asleep there.

Turn around and go back to your room. Now.

It was sage advice. Good advice. The best for the moment.

So why did he ignore it?

Because curiosity got the best of him.

Oh, yeah, sure. Curiosity. That's the latest term for sex drive these days?

He wouldn't know. It'd been a while since he'd had sex.

That's part of your problem. Go find some chick and take the edge off. Then you won't be noticing how Cassidy's finger is resting on her bottom lip in sleep. How tousled her hair is, so soft and silky it'd trail over a man's skin, evoking shivers in its wake. Or how supple and soft her skin is. Her legs, so perfectly shaped as they curled up against her in sleep—and would curl around him when awake. Her dainty ankles would lock behind his ass and she'd urge him into her, deeper and—

Fuck.

Yeah, that's the general idea here, Einstein.

Liam practically stumbled out of the great room before he did something they'd both regret.

“
Yip!”

Of
course
the dog would wake up. Great.

“Shhh.” He held up his hand.

And of course the dog didn't listen. And it
definitely
wasn't going to stay put.

It squirmed out of Cassidy's arms and bounded over to him with a pink tongue flapping as fast as its tail, and another excited
yip
doing exactly what Liam hadn't wanted it to do.

Cassidy woke up. “What . . . ?” She flipped her wavy froth off her face as she sat up, and it jumbled over her shoulders as if he'd spent the better part of the night running his fingers through it.

Which he really wanted to do.

“Uh.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I, uh, couldn't sleep. Came out for a drink. Didn't realize you and the dust mop had fallen asleep out here. The dog's uh, a good watch dog.”

“Titania?” Cassidy scrubbed her fingers through her hair, which only made him want to do it more. There was something about a woman's hair in wild disarray that called to him to make her as wild and abandoned as he could.

God, did he want to. Right now. Right here. With her just like that.

He was in serious trouble.

The pooch was jumping on his leg, those pink frosted nails of hers a little too sharp for his liking.

Now if they were Cassidy's, raking down his back—

“I, um, am just gonna grab a beer and, uh, head back to my room.”

Don't ask her to come with you.

“Want one?”

Oh even better. Keep the contact going, genius. You have one hell of a way of avoiding temptation.

“Not a beer, no.” She scrubbed a hand over her face and even without makeup, she was beautiful. Hell, she was flat-out gorgeous. The quintessential girl next door with a Victoria's Secret model's sexiness added in just to make his life miserable.

She followed him into the kitchen. “But if you have some OJ, I'll take that. Or cranberry?”

“I've got both.” He set the bottles and a glass on the counter. “Take your pick.”

She tapped the OJ bottle as she slid onto the barstool with the slinkiest move he'd ever seen someone make to sit at a bar. He'd swear it was intentional except the yawn that came with it should've undone the sexiness.

He sloshed some OJ over the edge of her glass when he poured it. Cassidy
couldn't
undo sexiness. The woman was a walking pinup poster.

Who burped like one of the boys.

“Oops. Excuse me.” She covered her mouth and blushed all the way up to her hairline as she set the glass of juice she'd gunned onto the island.

Liam laughed. “I hear that's a compliment to the cook in some countries.”

He got the smile he'd been hoping for.

“I didn't realize
you'd
squeezed the oranges.”

“Hey, it's tough work lifting those bottles.” He flexed his bicep. “Takes a lot of muscle.”

“Well then, my regards to the bottle-lifter.” She picked up the glass and waggled it. “Any chance I could have round two?”

“And risk another moment of indignity?”

She shrugged and it sent her hair cascading over her shoulders. “It's a risk I'm willing to take.”

But would she if she knew how close he was to hauling her up onto the island and making them both forget how thirsty they were for beverages, and find out how thirsty they were for each other?

What was
wrong
with him? Had he learned
nothing
from Rachel?

Except she's not Rachel and you know it. Keep waving the Rachel flag, but that's not why you're staying away from Cassidy. Matter of fact, why
are
you staying away from her? She's nothing like Rachel—not where it counts. Could you see Rachel cleaning your house with no complaints? Rachel trying to start a business? Rachel giving up on the easy money of marrying her father's heir apparent? Rachel wearing the clothes Cassidy has or sleeping on a sofa? Selling
diamond earrings?

Not a chance in hell.

You're in trouble, here, Manley, because the one argument you have against Cassidy is fading away. So now whatcha gonna do?

He was going to pour her another glass of OJ, which he did, then head back to the fridge to put the bottles away. And, yeah, maybe just bask in the cold for a bit to cool himself down.

He grabbed the beer he'd forgotten about and twisted the cap off, taking a bigger swig than normal.

Coming into the kitchen hadn't been a good idea. Inviting
her to come with him, even worse. He would've been so much better off staying in his room and acting like a teenager instead of being out here thinking like one with her in touching distance.

“Titania didn't wake you up, did she? She's usually a sound sleeper. Barely moves when I try to get her off my pillow. She might look small, but she spreads out all over a bed and it's hard to sleep.”

He was hearing the words but the images were completely different. He was seeing
Cassidy
spread out on a bed and he definitely wasn't sleeping.

“No. I was up anyway.” In every way. “Figured a beer would take the edge off.”

“Edge? Are you worried about something?”

Yeah, like how he was going to get back to his room without yanking her off that stool and taking her with him. “Not really. Well, my brother Sean has a deal going on that I'm part of and there could be complications, but not enough to keep me up at night. Not yet anyway.” No, that honor would belong to her.

“So what do you think it is?” She ran her finger over the rim, and damn if Liam didn't imagine her doing that to him.

So much for the mellowing effects of beer.

“Probably just not used to another person in the house.” He guzzled some more. “I'll get used to it.”

“I'll try to be out of here quickly. I really do appreciate your generosity, Liam.”

Yeah, he was so generous he was working her so hard that she fell asleep on the sofa. What a prince he was.

“You know, the garage doesn't need to be done tomorrow. Take your time. Get some of your painting done.” That way he'd get her out of his vicinity and him out of temptation's way. And wasn't that the goal all along? She now knew how the “other half” lived; he'd made his point.

“No, no. We have a deal and I'm going to uphold my end of it. I'll finish upstairs and then start on the garage. I'll fit painting in there somewhere.”

He finished the beer so he could finish this conversation because with each sentence Cassidy uttered, she was knocking down his wall of misconceptions about her. Instead of whining and taking him up on his offer to get out of working, she was going to work harder. He really hadn't wanted to like this woman, but he was starting to.

The dog yipped by his feet.

“She wants you to pick her up.”

“I'm not picking her up.”

“But why? She just wants to give you a kiss.”

“And you know this how? Don't tell me you talk to animals.”

She rolled her gorgeous green eyes. “Her tail's wagging and she can't take her eyes off you.”

“And that means she wants to kiss me?”

Cassidy arched perfectly arched eyebrows at him. “Come on, Liam. Looking like you do, you can't tell me you aren't aware when a woman's interested.”

“Considering the not-so-nice correlation between female dogs and women, I don't think I can answer your question without getting myself into a heap of trouble.” He set the beer bottle in the sink. “And on that note, I'm calling it a night.”

“It's morning.”

“Morning. Whatever. I'm going back to bed and I'd invite you to do the same.”

For a heartbeat he heard her thoughts. Or maybe they were his. Whoever they belonged to, yeah, he wanted her in his bed.

A
LL
in all, the room above Liam's garage wasn't the nightmare Cassidy had envisioned. She even had enough time to finish most of the credenza afterward. Another couple of hours to finish the swirls around the flowers that would link the design throughout the piece, a few more shadows and highlights, plus the final finish, and she could give Jean-Pierre a call. If he refused to take her on, maybe he could recommend someone else.

She winced. It wasn't the best plan, but it was the only one she could come up with at the moment. Dad's reach was a long one and finding someone willing to risk his wrath was going to be a lot tougher than cleaning a house if Jean-Pierre did shoot her down.

Well, she'd deal with that later. Right now, though, she'd settle for a shower and a massage.

Too bad someone knocked on the front door as she was headed toward her room.

Titania went ballistic, hopping and twirling as if she were auditioning for a talent show. It took a last-minute sprint by Cassidy to grab the dog before she scratched Liam's door.

Cassidy scooped up her pet before she opened it. Who knew if a dog lover stood on the other side?

Turns out, it was a little old lady with blue eyes and a smile identical to Liam's. Cassidy was guessing the woman wasn't selling encyclopedias.

“Hello?” The woman offered her a polite smile with a quick sweep over her disheveled hair and clothing with a look that said—

Oh God. The lady didn't think that she and Liam had been— That she and Liam were—

“Hi.” Cassidy stuck out her hand, then saw all the paint on it and shoved it behind her back. “Um, sorry. I'm covered in paint.”

“You're a painter?”

“Um . . . yes.” Yes. She was. Dammit. “An artist.” That felt even better to say.

“May I come in?”

“Oh I'm sorry.” Cassidy stepped back. “Please. Yes.”

“Thank you. I'm Liam's grandmother, Cate Manley.”

“Hi. I'm—” She didn't want to tell the woman who she was. Who she
really
was. Things changed when people knew who she was. “Cass. Cass Marie.”

The nickname her mother used to call her fell from her lips. She hated it, hated the memories, but Cass Marie was not Cassidy Davenport, so it worked for now.

“It's very nice to meet you, Cass.” Mrs. Manley walked toward the kitchen. “Is Liam here?”

“He's working.”

“Oh. So what room is he having painted? I thought he finished decorating this place.”

“I'm not painting a room. I'm working on custom furniture. In the garage.”

Mrs. Manley turned around. “Liam's having furniture painted?”

“It's not for him. I'm going to sell the pieces.”

“So you're renting space from him?”

“Well, not exactly. I'm, um . . .” Damn. She didn't know how enlightened Liam's grandmother was or how she'd feel about Cassidy living here.

Still, one lie was one too many.

“I'm cleaning for him in return for a room. Until I sell another piece of furniture and can afford a place on my own, that is.”

“Oh. Well that's . . . new.” Mrs. Manley looked a little confused. But not horrified, thankfully. “So do you sell a lot of this furniture?”

“Not yet. That's why I'm here.” Cassidy walked past Liam's grandmother to the cabinet to the right of the sink. “Are you thirsty? Can I get you something?”

“Thank you. I'd love some iced tea. It's on the second shelf on the back right.”

“Ah, yes. You stocked his fridge. Your food is amazing, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Manley slid onto the bar stool, apparently planning to stay for a bit. “So how did you come to be exchanging cleaning services for room and board?”

“I, uh, was evicted from my condo. The owner wanted to sell it.” That wasn't a lie. Technically.

“Sounds like a quick turnaround.”

That was putting it mildly. “Yes. It was.”

“And you know Liam from . . . school? Another job he did? One of his friends? Or do you work for Manley Maids as well?”

“No, I don't. He was cleaning the place where I lived. He heard the whole eviction thing and was kind enough to offer me a place to stay.”

Mrs. Manley sat back with a smile. “Good to know my lessons weren't wasted.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Liam. I raised him and his brothers and sister after they lost their parents—my son and his wife—in a car accident. Because of the rabble-rousing three young boys are capable of, they learned to help out around the house, cleaning and doing yard work, and even some of the cooking. It's why I like to do for them every so often. Of course, my granddaughter, Mary-Alice Catherine, she says I go overboard.” Mrs. Manley shrugged her shoulders with a slight blush on her cheeks. “I guess I do, but for so long we had to worry about every bit on the table that it's nice now to be able to be generous, you know?”

Cassidy, unfortunately, now had first-hand knowledge of what Mrs. Manley was talking about. Before Dad's marriage ultimatum, she'd never had to worry about where her next meal was coming from or where she'd live or if there would be clothes in her closet.

“It did bring us closer. Made us appreciate each other more. I'd always loved my grandchildren of course, but there's a difference between visiting and having them go home, and taking on four small children at my age. And I was a widow who'd raised only one child. Four was quite the handful.”

“I can imagine.” She could imagine Liam as a child, running around with his brothers and sister . . . Kids. Children. Family. What would it be like to have that? Being an only child with absentee parents gave her zero frame of reference.

“You did an amazing job raising him, Mrs. Manley.”

“Why, thank you, dear. That's nice of you to say. Have you known him long?”

“Not very long, no.” It would probably shock the older woman to know just how few days it'd actually been. Seriously, who moved in with a complete stranger after knowing him for such a short period of time?

Which also begged the question of who invited someone to live with them after knowing them such a short time?

Someone special, that's who.

“May I see this piece you're working on or are you one of those artists who won't let anyone see it until it's finished?”

“If I had the luxury of people batting my door down to see my work, maybe, but at this point in my career, I'm willing to show it to anyone who's interested.”

Mrs. Manley set her glass onto the countertop and slid from the stool. “Then let's see it. I've always wanted to be a patron of the arts.”

Cassidy felt kind of funny walking Liam's grandmother through his home. She must have been here countless times. More so than Cassidy. It ought to be the other way around. But somehow, this felt right.

Knock it off, Davenport. You're not going to play house with Liam, so don't go getting your hopes up that Liam's grandmother can be yours, too. Just because your grandparents were as worthless as your parents doesn't mean you get to claim Liam's. You ought to be thankful for the room and board and forget anything else.

She
was
trying to forget anything else. Truly. The problem was, she
liked
Mrs. Manley. Anyone willing to take on four kids and raise them all those years was someone special in Cassidy's book.

“Watch your step. I haven't cleaned up yet. I was going to”—nope, not going to make the woman feel guilty that she'd interrupted her shower—“do that right before you arrived.”

“Well then, I won't keep you.” Mrs. Manley turned around and looked at the credenza. “This is lovely.” She reached out to touch it then pulled her hand back. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't touch, but it's so pretty I just felt compelled to run my hand over it.”

There was no better compliment.

“I must have this piece. How much are you selling it for?”

Okay, maybe that was a better one.

But as thrilled as she was with the validation, this was a high-ticket item. She could get a lot for it and she didn't want to take that much from Liam's grandmother. And she couldn't really afford to give it away, not when she needed every penny.

“I'm sorry, but it's already been sold on commission. It matches another piece and the owner wants the set.” Cassidy crossed her fingers so tightly she lost circulation. “I do have that end table if you'd like it.”

Mrs. Manley looked at the table. Cassidy was surprised to see her smile. Most people wouldn't see the possibility in the worn old piece of furniture.

“That would be perfect. I recently moved into a new home and I'm still trying to set it all up, you know?”

Cassidy nodded, though she hadn't even begun “setting anything up” because she didn't
have
anything
to
set up.

“It'll be nice to have beside the chair my granddaughter bought me. It's in front of a bay window. With a nice table, it'll be the perfect spot for the lamp Bryan bought me on his first trip to London. Waterford crystal.”

“I had Wa—er, I've always wanted a Waterford lamp. They're lovely.” Phew. She'd almost blown her cover. And
technically
, what she'd said was true. She
had
always wanted one of her own because the ones she'd had were her father's.

“I told Bryan he shouldn't have spent so much on me. Really, I would have been happy with a little memento from his trip, but he insisted. And it
is
beautiful. One of the nicest things I own. They've all done well, my grandchildren, and they like to bring me gifts. But it's enough to me that they're doing well in life. Now if I could just get them settled, I'd be happy.”

The image hit Cassidy like a lightning bolt: Liam married. His grandmother wanted some woman to move into this house and into his bed and have his babies. Give her great grandchildren.

Some other woman living here . . .

Cassidy pasted a smile onto her face. Being jealous was just plain ridiculous. She had nothing to be jealous about because she had no claim on Liam.

And at this point in her life, nice as it sounded, she didn't want one.

Uh huh . . .

*   *   *

C
ATE
Manley let her smile loose the minute Liam's houseguest shut the door behind her. Cass Marie, indeed. Even covered in paint and sweat, with questionable taste in clothing and her hair in complete disarray, there was no hiding the fact that Liam had Cassidy Davenport working for him.

Funny, according to Mary-Alice Catherine,
he
was supposed to be working for
her
. That's why Cate had stopped by: to get his impression of the socialite
she
had personally picked for him.

Turned out she'd gotten quite the surprise of her own. Cassidy was as interested in Liam as Liam had to be in her to invite her to stay.

Cate allowed herself a little chuckle. Obviously God was on board with her plan, since things appeared to be working out just the way she'd wanted.