The Erotic Secrets Of A French Maid

Russ answered e-mails in his home office, clearing the most pressing out of his in-box.

The distraction worked for a while, but then he heard Emma vacuuming the hall outside the office, working her way through the house toward his bedroom. He felt for her, trying to find her footing in the world, and wished he could help. Unfortunately, he didn't know any architects who he might ask to give her special consideration.

However, he did own an apartment downtown that he could rent to her for a pittance until she got back on her feet. He himself may have slept on the borrowed couches of friends, but he didn't like to think of a young woman doing that. Bad things could happen: a friend's boyfriend, drunk, finding Emma asleep and vulnerable and taking advantage of the opportunity. A single woman needed to keep herself out of danger.

His old apartment had been sitting empty for the three months since the last tenant moved out. He'd been meaning to put it on the market but hadn't gotten around to it.

He smiled. It was gratifying to have procrastination turn out to be fortuitous.

He could also hire her to cook and grocery shop, as she'd offered last week. He was sick of restaurant food and frozen dinners; it would be nice to have real meals at home. At least until she got on her feet. Sooner or later she'd land the internship position she was looking for, and she'd drop the cooking and cleaning in an instant.

He imagined the the smile, the relief on her face when he made the offers.

Then he frowned.

She would be relieved, wouldn't she? Or would she be offended? She might think he thought she couldn't take care of herself, that he thought her a charity case. She might see him as overprotective, trying to take away her independence.

Dammit, why wasn't anything ever easy?

Emma rapped on the door frame and stuck her head in. 'Hi. I think I'm done, unless you want me to clean in here?'

'No, I'd never find anything again. You're done already?' Crap! He hadn't had time to think out how to make his offer.

Emma took a step into the office. 'Yeah, the place is spotless. But it was nearly spotless before I got here. Are you always so neat, or did you clean before I arrived?'

At the look of guilt on his face, Emma bit the inside of her lip, trying not to giggle. 'I've seen boy mess before, you know. I have a brother.'

He scrubbed his hand through his hair and sighed. 'Do you have a minute?'

'Sure.' She stepped closer and leaned against the leather visitor chair in front of his desk. 'What's up?'

He looked at her and then away, his jaw hard. 'This is uncomfortable,' he muttered.

The thought fluttered through her mind that he was going to fire her. Oh God, no, not today of all days! I shouldn't have broken down; I shouldn't have said all those stupid things! He wouldn't be so heartless, would he, when he knew what a difficult position she was in?

He gestured toward the chair. 'Sit. Please.'

She slid over the arm and into place, hands in her lap like a good girl, afraid to say anything.

'I don't want to offend you, Emma, so please don't take this the wrong way. It's not a comment on your character.'

Oh God, oh God, oh God…

'I have an apartment downtown, in the Belltown neighborhood. It's been empty for three months. I was thinking that you could stay there. And that I would take you up on your offer.'

It took several seconds for her brain to make sense of his words. As they sank in, her heart seemed to stop. He wanted her to be his mistress?

'I don't want you to think this is out of pity, or that I don't respect your independence.'

Her heart lurched into motion again. He was serious! Oh God, he was serious. What was she supposed to say?

'You're not offended, are you?' he asked warily.

She blinked. 'No, I don't think so. I mean, I offered, right? And it would obviously help me out. A lot.' She chewed her Up. 'If I said yes, how often would you want…' She trailed off, finishing the question with her eyebrows.

'I don't think I need it every night. Maybe, oh, Monday, Wednesday, Friday? With something big on Friday to last me through the weekend? You'd have the weekends off, of course.'

'Of course!' Was she really having this discussion? 'Er, what type of'big' did you mean, for Fridays?'

He shrugged. 'Big. You know, lots of it. I'll leave the details up to you.'

'Ah. Are there any particular, um… .flavors that you prefer? It might help me to have a starting point.'

'I'm happy with most anything, so feel free to use your imagination.' He smiled, meeting her eyes. 'It sounds like you're willing?'

His warm gaze went straight to her loins, despite his insane proposition. She never would have guessed he would be up for such an arrangement. Never! Yet he'd said himself that she'd described the perfect male fantasy.

She could stand up and slap him, then storm out of his house. But it wasn't what she wanted to do. What she wanted-against all common sense-was to say yes.

'I need to think about this,' she said instead and shifted in her chair, distressingly aware of the arousal pooling down low, imagining him doing wicked things to her body three times a week.

'The choices will be all mine?' she asked, for clarification. 'You'll take what I give you?'

'If that's the way you want it, although I'd appreciate it if you'd consider requests.'

'Of course I would. I'd want you to be happy, after all. Isn't that the point?'

'I'd like you to enjoy it, too,' he said. 'I shouldn't like it to be a dreary chore for you. So be creative. Explore. Try new things. I'm up for it.'

'Apparently so.' She smiled, but he didn't appear to get the joke.

'You're proving very difficult to hire for a position you suggested yourself,' he said with a touch of impatience.

'What do you expect? I've never done it before! I mean I've done it, but never for money. Never like this.'

'It will be awkward for us both at first, I imagine.'

'Yeah, I think so,' she said, relieved that he felt the same way.

'Just like it's awkward discussing payment.'

'Very awkward. Extremely awkward.'

'I can get a prepaid Visa card for you, so you can buy what you need. I know there will be a lot of shopping involved. And then should I pay you by the hour? Or would you prefer a set rate per night?'

Emma swallowed. How much did call girls make? A couple hundred a visit, at least. But if she was already getting her rent free and he was giving her spending money, that was worth a lot right there. And she wasn't going to be a call girl. Being a mistress was different-wasn't it?

'How about we do it by month?' She gathered her courage. 'A thousand dollars.'

He blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair. 'Hoo. Steep.'

'It's probably less than the going rate.'

'You think so?'

'Yeah, I do.'

He grimaced. 'I don't know. It sounds like a lot.'

She shrugged. 'Take it or leave it: I'm not going to sell myself cheap. Besides, it's cheaper than a girlfriend, right? And not half so troublesome.'

'Or I could do it myself.'

'What fun is that? Besides, I don't see any signs that you've been satisfying your appetites.' She leaned forward and lowered her voice. 'I'd make it well worth it. I'd do my best to please you, however you want.'

He cleared his throat. 'You make it hard to refuse.'

'Then don't. You'll enjoy it, I promise. And if you don't…' She shrugged and sat back. 'We can always end the arrangement. Just promise not to make me move out of the apartment before I find someplace to go.'