Mr. Smithfield - Louise Bay Page 0,2

to anything, which would lead to me dropping out of college and ruining my life. But I was different now. Gabriel was different. He’d already amounted to something. We were in London, not Oregon. And I was pretty sure I’d have to be having sex with him to get pregnant.

“Hardly. I’m not sure Gabriel ever does anything that he doesn’t want to do.”

Interesting. I hadn’t seen that side of him yet, but I hadn’t known him that long. I liked the idea that he had steel-like resolve.

“I’m just concerned because he’s . . . you know . . . He’s handsome.” Putting it mildly, sis. “I’m concerned you might develop a crush.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I can remove any ambiguity for you. My crush is fully developed. But that just means I’m human. I’m sure every woman in London has a crush on Gabriel Chase.”

Hollie laughed. “Okay, well that’s probably true. I just don’t want you to get into a situation you might regret.”

I sighed. “Look, Gabriel’s not going to be interested in some chick from the wrong side of the tracks who’s looking after his kid. I’m well aware of that.” I may have resisted changing into my favorite flannel pajamas, and lately my messy bun came with a side of mascara and blush, but I wasn’t kidding myself. I wasn’t a sophisticated woman of the world who wore five-inch pencil heels, smelled of expensive fragrance even when she wasn’t wearing any, and had a weekly manicure at her favorite spa, like most of the women Gabriel was sure to encounter at his law firm. His gaze might light a fire in me that I needed a trip to the arctic to douse, but I wasn’t stupid. I was the hired help. My crush was, and would remain, a one-sided fantasy.

Down the hall, the clunk of the three front door locks caught my attention.

My crush was home.

Two

Autumn

The air shifted when Gabriel came through the door at night. He seemed to carry with him the grey drizzle of the April weather. The constant frown across his brow and the tense line of his mouth suggested a storm constantly raged inside him.

“Hello,” I called out. Last night and tonight, I’d spent the hours after Bethany had gone to bed unpacking, getting to know the layout of the house, and studying maps of London’s public transportation system.

“Good evening.” His voice was almost a growl, and it sent a sensuous shiver up my spine.

I spun around from where I was standing in the kitchen and came face-to-face with my deliciously handsome employer. I didn’t know how it was possible but every time I saw him, I wasn’t expecting him to be so tall. Or his jaw to be quite so sharp. Or his glossy, black curls quite so touchable. It was as if my memory couldn’t handle someone so attractive, so dialed it down until I was faced with reality again. Tonight his glare was a little more intense than usual. “What’s this noise?” he barked, shaking the ever-present London rain from his hair and then toeing off his shoes, which I found to be an adorable habit. Who couldn’t appreciate a man in a hand-made suit who didn’t like to wear shoes?

I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by noise and then I realized he must be referring to my phone. I grabbed it and turned down the volume. “A musicals mash-up,” I said, wiggling my cell at him. “Sometimes I like to deep dive into the entire soundtrack but sometimes you just want to hear the greats. Am I right?”

He tilted his head as if he was looking at an animal he didn’t recognize in a zoo.

“Musicals,” I repeated. “You know, like Showboat. West Side Story. The King and I.” He still looked blank. There was only one thing for it. I had to sing. “‘The hills are alive with the sound of music’.” Surely that was the one musical everyone in the northern hemisphere had heard of?

He winced. “You’re singing.”

“Of course I’m singing. Everyone should sing. ‘I feel pretty. Oh so pretty. I feel pretty and witty and bright’.” I stopped partly because he didn’t look amused but mainly because I couldn’t sing a West Side Story song without dancing, and I’d learned from experience that I couldn’t dance in socks on this floor without falling flat on my face. I shrugged. “I don’t know what it is about that song, but I can’t be anything but happy when I sing