Straw and Diamonds

Chapter 3

Jasper Rosequist hadn’t had a woman in his house in a long time. Okay, that wasn’t true. His personal chef was female, but she wasn’t interested in men. Somehow, Jasper knew Sasha was, even with the defiant glint riding in her dark honey-colored eyes.

“Hello?” She lifted her hand as if to wave at him, and he startled.

“I’m not going to fire you,” he blurted. “The vacuuming looked nice. I thought you were gone.” He wasn’t a creeper. She’d left the bathroom door open. He hadn’t touched the doorknob, simply pushed against the door with two fingers. He wanted to blurt all of that out to her, but sucked it back in. Wouldn’t a creeper be sure to tell someone he wasn’t a creeper?

wasn’tJasper didn’t know for sure, and he didn’t want to drive this beautiful woman away. His heart did a strange tango in his chest, and he couldn’t figure out why. “You found the place okay? The supplies?”

Sasha, who’d showered in his guest bathroom, grinned at him, which only sent sparks spinning through his bloodstream. Oh, this wasn’t good. His attraction to her was not good at all.

“Obviously,” she said, pulling a makeup case from her bag, which rested on the toilet. “Did I wake you with the vacuuming? I did it first, thinking maybe you hadn’t gone to bed yet.” She whipped mascara onto her eyelashes, seemingly while watching him.

“I just got home, actually.”

“Oh?” She turned toward him. “I thought you worked from home. In the middle of the night.”

“I do.” He didn’t need to explain himself to her. What would he say anyway? I had a really stressful night—lost over two million dollars in a bad diamond deal—and decided to go surfing at 3 AM. The pre-dawn waves relax me.

I had a really stressful night—lost over two million dollars in a bad diamond deal—and decided to go surfing at 3 AM. The pre-dawn waves relax me.Nope. He wasn’t telling her that. Not only was it none of her business, it was simply too personal for him to share. He wouldn’t even tell his father, who asked about the business he’d spent his life building before he’d turned it over to Jasper.

“I see,” she said, though she obviously couldn’t. “Well, I have to get to my next job.” She packed everything up in her bag, and he licked his lips at the slip of black lace he’d seen on top. She hadn’t wanted him to see that, and he’d put some distance between them pretty dang fast when he felt his blood heating.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked, though he had no idea what time she’d arrived today. The security cameras would tell him, but again, he wasn’t a creeper, nor so anal that he had to know. He didn’t need to watch her vacuum his floors or wash his windows.

He’d probably only keep her around for a couple of months anyway. His sister, Brighton, had come to visit from Paris, where she lived with her husband and two kids, and she’d said the whole place needed sprucing up.

“A deep clean,” she’d said when he’d looked confused and asked what she meant. “You can tell no one really lives here.”

Her words still rang in his mind, and it had been three weeks since she’d left. He lived there. He slept there. Worked there. Ate there. Heck, he even sometimes ran on the treadmill, right there in the house.

You can tell no one really lives here.

You can tell no one really lives here.Her words had eaten at him, and he’d been contemplating his life for the past twenty days. He lived. Didn’t he?

He wasn’t so sure anymore.

Sasha paused in front of him, concern flowing through those eyes that ate him right up. “Are you okay?”

He fell back a step, his mind clearing without the orange-and-floral notes of her hair products in his nose. The air in the hallway was crisper too, cool and calm. “Yeah.”

“I asked, same time tomorrow?”

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, that’s fine.” He moved back further so she could come out of the bathroom with her bag.

Sasha gave him a nod and started toward the front door.

“And you can shower here any time you want,” he called after her. He pressed his eyes closed in a long blink. Why had he shouted that? Did he have to be so obvious about everything?

She turned toward him and said, “Thanks,” a pretty smile on her full lips. Something crossed her face and she gave her head a little shake. One eyebrow pulled down, and she said, “Would you…? Never mind.” She resumed her walk toward the door.

Jasper practically lunged after her. “Would I what?”

She met his eye as he came up alongside her. “I’m really late. I’ll ask you tomorrow.”

He thought he saw a hint of redness enter her cheeks as she reached for the doorknob and scampered outside. He stood in the doorway and watched her fly down the steps and get in an older model sedan he hadn’t seen when he’d returned from lying in Tyler’s hammock.

In the next breath, she was gone, and Jasper retreated behind the thick, wooden door, his heart a jumbled mess.

“It’s only because of the stress you’re under,” he told himself as he went into the kitchen to find the eggs and toast Jacqueline had made for him. He couldn’t eat them, of course—what kind of savage ate cold toast that was five hours old?—and he sent another apology to her for not letting her know she didn’t need to have his breakfast ready at five-thirty the way she usually did.

It’s fine, she answered for the second time.

It’s fineTake tomorrow off, he told her, and she accepted. He could pour a bowl of cereal as well as the next man.

Take tomorrow offHe wandered upstairs and stripped off the clothes he’d put on after his own shower. After all, he didn’t think he should go downstairs and check on the strange noises he’d heard in the nude.

“That would’ve been a disaster,” he mumbled to himself as he fell into bed wearing only his boxers. With the bad business overnight and the way his heart was lecturing him about Sasha, it was a miracle he was able to fall asleep at all.

* * *

Jasper loathed cooking for himself. Probably because he couldn’t find a frying pan to save his life. In his own kitchen. There was precious little food in the pantry and fridge, but he managed to find a package of hot dogs. No buns though.

And while he was an hour from climbing back into bed after working all night, his favorite sushi place wasn’t open. His backward schedule had some definite drawbacks, including limited take-out choices and the inability to meet normal women.

Although…his mind wandered to Sasha, and the anticipation of seeing her again kept his exhaustion at bay. He hadn’t slept great yesterday after she’d left, those eyes following him into his dreams.

Which was ridiculous really. He knew nothing about her. “Yet you hired her sight unseen to clean your house. Gave her access to the whole thing.”

Maybe he was too trusting. Lara had certainly taken advantage of him. He pushed her from his thoughts at the same time he gave up on trying to find something to eat in his own house. He opened the drawer beside the fridge—which housed all his favorite energy drinks, bottled water, and more soda than a human should ever consume—and pulled out a stack of take-out menus.

After leafing through them, he tossed them back in the drawer. “Why do I even have these?” None of them were for places that were open. He toyed with the idea of texting Sasha. She did work for him….

He put the idea out of his mind. Jasper didn’t need to come off as a self-absorbed, stuck-up guy who didn’t get out of his mansion much, even if it was true. Maybe just the not-getting-out-of-his-house part. He could benefit from leaving the premises more often.

could Opening the fridge again, he muttered, “You go to the Nine-0 meetings.” He glanced at the door and saw a carton of eggs. He could probably put together a plate of eggs and toast himself.

He cracked and whisked and found a frying pan in the fifth cupboard he opened. “And the beach,” he continued talking to himself. “And out to dinner everyday. Okay, sometimes.”

His breakfast came at dinnertime, and his routine of waking, showering, checking email and his schedule for the day was almost as easy as breathing. He left the house then, usually, and went to grab something to eat. Sometimes he ordered in, as evidenced by the take-out menus that were for places closed in the morning.

Something didn’t smell right, and he spun back to the stove. Smoke lifted from the pan, and he hadn’t even poured the eggs in yet. He frowned, trying to figure out what to do. Oil? Butter?

He yanked open the fridge and couldn’t see anything of the sort. So he grabbed the bowl where he’d cracked a few eggs and dumped them into the hot pan.

A searing, scorching sound lifted into the air, and the eggs started to boil. Boil. That certainly wasn’t right, and the smell went from a little bit of metal smokiness to downright disgusting burnt egg stench.

Boil.He actually gagged and pulled the pan off the flame, hoping that would help. It didn’t, but the eggs settled into an even surface. No way he could eat them though. He’d never eat in this house again, actually, not with that horrible aroma hanging around.

Laughter sounded behind him and he turned toward the arched entryway to find Sasha standing there in a dark gray pair of leggings that emphasized the length of her legs, and an equally form-fitting top in the same color, with a s***h of bright blue across the stomach and chest.

He pulled in a breath, regretting it when that overcooked egg smell got trapped in his nostrils.

“It’s nice to know you can’t cook,” she said, putting her bag on the kitchen counter with a smile that showed her perfectly white teeth.

“We all have flaws,” he said, moving to block the offending eggs. He wondered how he could find out hers without coming on too strong or being a jerk.

She lifted the list and asked, “You have a theater room in the basement?”

He nodded with a shrug attached. “I’m having a party on the weekend.” You should come. Could he say that? To his housekeeper of two days? Didn’t feel like it, and he bit the invitation back.

You should come.Her face tightened, and the smile disappeared. “I’m still okay to shower after I finish?”

“Of course. I’ll put a new towel in there.” Panic poured through him. He might have to text Jacqueline and find out where the clean towels were. They somehow showed up in Jasper’s bathroom each week, and while he did know where the washer and dryer were, Jacqueline took care of laundry and food. And cooking.

She couldn’t stay in the mornings to do the cleaning she’d been doing for a decade because her son had just been diagnosed with diabetes, and she needed to be home with him in the mornings to check his sugar levels, administer insulin, and take him to doctor’s appointments.

So she came early-early in the morning and made his breakfast, and she’d been coming on Sunday afternoons—he thought. He was pretty sure it was Sunday that his laundry was taken and then brought back folded and smelling like the tropical flowers Hawaii boasted to the world.

“I’m gonna head up to bed,” he said.

“I’ll be quiet.”

“Oh, you’ll be in the basement. I won’t hear you if you close the door.”

“Oh yeah? Pretty good soundproofing down there?”

“The best,” he said before he realized it probably sounded like bragging. “I mean—didn’t you want to ask me something yesterday?” The thought of what she could possibly want from him had plagued him since he’d woken late yesterday afternoon.

He bit back a yawn as she studied him.

“Yeah, um, about that.” She shifted her feet and tucked a non-existent piece of hair behind her ear. “I was just thinking it would be nice if we got to know each other a little bit more. I mean, I’m working here now, and I don’t even know you.”

He blinked and stared, everything he’d speculated about flying out of his head. He hadn’t expected her to ask him out.

ask him out“Like, maybe just coffee or something,” she hastened to add. “So these little exchanges aren’t so awkward.” She gave a nervous giggle and clenched her arms across her middle.

“Yeah, sure, I drink coffee.” He gave himself a mental shake. I drink coffee? He drew in a deep breath and tried to figure out how to interact with a woman again. It had been a long time for him, and his last relationship had been with a fellow Nine-0 member and utterly boring. Before that, he’d found all of his girlfriends online as he spent an astronomical amount of time on the computer and Internet for work.

And chatting through an app or even text was not the same as being face-to-face with a woman with his heart crashing against his ribs like waves against the lava cliffs on the other side of the island.

She smiled, the gesture lighting the whole kitchen, and ducked her head. “All right. Coffee. You’ve got my number.” She moved past him effortlessly and collected the bucket of supplies and the vacuum.

He simply watched, maybe a little stalkerishly. Jasper jumped into motion as she lugged everything toward him. “Let me help you.” He took the vacuum and led her to the doorway behind the main staircase that led into the basement. “Here we go.”

A blast of stale air hit him when he opened the door, and he honestly wasn’t sure which was worse—that or the burnt egg smell still filling the house.

With the vacuum at the bottom of the steps and Sasha getting to work, Jasper climbed back to the main floor and then up to his private suite on the second floor, one more item on his to-do list before he could sleep: Invite people over for the party this weekend.