What's A Housekeeper To Do? / Tipping the Waitress with Diamonds: What's A Housekeeper To Do? / Tipping the Waitress with Diamonds

CHAPTER THREE

‘YOU’RE quite sure you’re okay, Aunt Edie?’ Lally had her mobile phone jammed between her shoulder and her ear. It felt right there, and so it should. Usually she spent a lot of her day with a phone in that exact position, talking with one relative or another while she went about her work and various family members checked in with her.

Today she’d had to phone Auntie herself; she had only received a couple of text messages all morning, mostly from two of her teenage cousins who’d recently got their first-ever mobile phones.

Of course, she’d been kept busy with calls and a few text messages coming in to Cam’s mobile. It felt a little intimate to take all his calls and messages. What if a woman phoned?

And what if the phone he gave her was purely for business and he had another one for his social life? Lots of people did that.

Right. Why was Lally fixating on Cam’s social life, anyway? She should be fixating on her family’s silence. Lally had kept so close to all her family in the past. It felt unsettling now not to hear from them much.

‘You’re working an outside job,’ she muttered. ‘They probably don’t want to call and disturb that.’

‘Beg pardon, dear?’

‘Oh, sorry, Auntie. It was nothing; I was just talking to myself.’ She was talking to Auntie, who seemed quite happy to talk, so what was Lally worrying about anyway?

Lally whisked eggs in a bowl and quickly poured the results over a selection of cooked vegetables in a heated pan on the stove. ‘Promise me you’re well, Auntie. You’re taking all your meds? You’ve got Nova coming over to sort them out for you for the start of each day? Because I could drive over at night during my time off.’

‘I’m fine, Lally. Nova comes every day, but even if she didn’t I could cope. You just enjoy your work out there in the world where you might meet—’ Her aunt coughed. ‘We all think you’ll do a very good job, just as you always do, dear.’

‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’ And Lally did. She was being quite silly to feel displaced. For heaven’s sake, she’d only been at the new job for half a day. By the end of the week she might be getting so many calls and messages from her family that her new boss would be quite angry with her, if he didn’t see that she always kept working throughout those calls and messages, hard and at speed.

And, of course, she would put answering his mobile first.

Lally had learned a long time ago to multitask. Cameron seemed to live that way too. It was something they had in common.

What you have in common is that he’s the boss and you’re the employee, Lally. Try to remember that!

‘Shouldn’t you be focusing on your new job this morning, Lally?’ Auntie asked the words into the silence, almost as though she’d read Lally’s mind.

‘I am.’ Lally glanced around the kitchen. Cam had left no mess, so it had been easy to give the whole area a deep clean. Now Lally sprinkled fresh, chopped herbs into the frittata and turned it down to heat through.

With a light salad, that would take care of their lunch, and this afternoon she’d see about their dinner. So far she’d cleaned most of the rooms, settled her things into the room across the small hall from Cameron’s bedroom, looked over the pantry supplies, made a list of things she would need to buy soon and organised this meal.

And had taken Cameron’s messages. None of them had sounded unbearably urgent, though the content of many of them from his Sydney office had brought it home to Lally that Cameron truly dealt in big dollars.

Lally prepared the salad with cherry tomatoes, lettuce, mushroom slices and slivers of avocado mixed with a tangy dressing; that job was done. She checked on the frittata; it was almost cooked.

Sam had liked tangy dressing on his salad.

The thought slid sideways into Lally’s mind; it wasn’t welcome. She so rarely thought about Sam. If getting out and working with a man would make that a common occurrence, Lally was not going to be pleased. ‘I’m working and talking at once, Auntie. I can talk. Tell everyone else they can call me too. Even if just early in the mornings, or in the evenings, if they’re worried that much about my job. I’m sure I can fit in some calls—’

But her aunt had already rushed out a, ‘Love you,’ and disconnected the call at her end.

Well!

Lally drew a deep breath. ‘It might have been nice to get to say “I love you” back—’

‘Whatever that is, it smells wonderful.’ The deep words sounded over the top of hers and cut them off abruptly. ‘Sorry, were you on the phone?’

‘Oh. I didn’t realise you were there.’ She’d been talking out loud like a loon. ‘Um, no, I’m all finished with my phone call. It was my phone that time, but I have a heap of messages from yours.’

‘On the phone to the boyfriend?’ Cam’s words were unruffled, and yet something in his tone made Lally seek his gaze.

His eyes were shielded by those long, silky lashes.

‘I should have brought this up at our interview. I apologise that I didn’t, but I’ll cover it now.’ She did feel guilty, even though there was no need. ‘I like to speak with family members when I have a moment. I’ll do it discreetly, I won’t disrupt you in any way, and I always keep working. I can assure you I don’t lose any work time or concentration over the calls I make, and of course I’ll always use my own phone.’

‘Family.’ Cameron’s expression was complex. He ran his fingers through his short hair. ‘Of course that’s not a problem. You’re welcome to keep whatever contact you need.’

‘Thank you.’ Lally considered telling him there was no boyfriend, but he’d probably figured that out anyway. In any case, it wasn’t important. ‘I appreciate you being understanding about my need for contact with my family.’

Now, if Lally could just get her family to come back on board with that contact.

‘I can see you’ve been busy.’ Cameron’s glance roved the kitchen, dining room and lounge areas, before it came back to rest on her, and his expression softened. ‘Thank you for what you’ve done already to help make me comfortable.’

‘That’s what I’m here for.’ But his praise and appreciation wrapped around her just the same.

Being needed: it was an issue for Lally. She knew it; she would even admit it. Until now she’d thought it was all just about family relationships for her.

And it was. This just felt sort of similar because she was helping him, too, and that was what she did for them. Her happiness certainly had nothing to do with that softening of his expression when his gaze rested on her. She wasn’t looking for tenderness from him, for goodness’ sake; that would be ridiculous.

Lally was too wary to consider something like that with a man again anyway. And she was still young, she justified to herself. She had plenty of time to think about getting back into the dating game. And she’d been really busy with family commitments.

Busy enough that they might have pushed her out so she’d find time for a social life again?

Her family had been known to stick their noses into each other’s lives at times. Lally had been guilty of it too. In a big, loving family that would always happen, and she’d had her share of them hinting that she could do with getting out more.

But they wouldn’t take it this far, would they? Of course they wouldn’t…

‘Lunch is almost ready now, if you want to take a seat in the dining room.’ Lally would far rather eat lunch than go on thinking about that topic. She gestured to the freshly polished dining-table. ‘Or we can eat outside, if you’d prefer? It’s frittata. I hope that’s okay.’

‘Inside will be fine, and I eat most things.’ He paused and the hint of a smile lifted the edges of his mouth. ‘No artichoke. Other than that, I’m very agreeable about food.’

‘That will make cooking for you a dream. I’d like to take advantage of the fresh markets for produce for a lot of our meals.’ She wanted to feed him on the freshest items available, because she thought it might help with whatever had been exhausting him—lack of sleep, long hours, book stress, whatever the problem. Even if it didn’t, it would put his body in a good place, health-wise.

Yes, fine, she was acting like a little mother. Why not, when she’d had a hundred or so relatives to practice those skills on? They all deserved to be loved to bits and looked after as much as possible, especially considering how much they’d had to put up with from her.

Not that she felt the need to earn their love. Well, that would be just silly, wouldn’t it? And she didn’t feel like a little mother; she felt like a determined housekeeper.

Lally turned the frittata onto a serving plate, carried it and the salad to the table she’d set, and took her seat. ‘I hope you’ll eat while the food is hot and at its best, and have as much as you want. I made plenty. I do have a bunch of messages from your phone, but I think they can all wait until after you’ve eaten.’

Now she sounded as though she was very generously allowing him to eat his own food, and making his work-related choices for him while she was at it. ‘What if your editor rings?’ Lally asked suddenly. ‘Or your agent?’

‘You’ll be able to tell if they need to speak to me urgently, otherwise they can wait.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘I’m too professional to ask you to dodge them on my behalf if they phone and then ask for a progress update—though there might be certain days when I’ll be tempted to do that if things keep going the way they have for the past few weeks.’

‘You can’t help it if you’re in the middle of a sticky patch with your muse,’ Lally declared. ‘These things happen. It must be quite amazing to be internationally famous too. You probably have fans chasing after you and everything. Lots of women—’

The words burst out of her and Lally’s face flooded with heat.

‘I can’t say I’ve been particularly chased, at least not to my knowledge.’ Cam drawled the words. He felt far too pleased that Lally’s words—when she’d got to the ‘women’ part of her statement—had sounded as though she was quite jealous at the thought of such a thing happening.

Two seconds later he realised that wasn’t exactly the response he should have to her. And he didn’t want women chasing him; he’d rather go and find them when he felt the need.

Cam helped himself to a piece of the frittata and some salad and took a first bite. The frittata was perfect, the accompanying salad the exact counterpoint for it; the zing of tangy dressing hit Cam’s tongue, completing the experience. ‘Did you make the dressing yourself? Where did you learn your cooking skills?’

‘I did make the dressing. I learned to cook from two parents who both love it, and do it very differently but equally as well.’ Lally’s smile softened at whatever memories were in her head. ‘What they didn’t actively teach me, I guess I’ve learned by observation anyway.’

She seemed to take her skill level as nothing out of the ordinary.

‘Your father runs a restaurant; I momentarily forgot that.’ She’d told him that at their interview, and Cam had spent a few moments piecing together her family history in his mind. Torres-Strait Aboriginal mother, Italian father; the surname of ‘Douglas’ suggested that her father might not be fully Italian.

‘Dad’s mother married a Scotsman, just to keep things interesting.’ Lally’s lovely smile lit her face again.

‘You have a diverse family tree.’ Cam returned the smile, and gestured to his plate. ‘The food is delicious, thank you. I think I’ve struck it lucky with you, Lally, if this meal and the work you’ve got through already are any indication.’

‘You’re welcome for all of it.’ Her skin didn’t show a blush. Yet somehow he suspected one had just happened—by the change to the sparkle in her eyes, perhaps?

What would she be like in the middle of passion?

Cam cut the thought off. The answer to that question was that it was not his business to wonder.

‘I’ve done as much work as I could this morning.’ Lally seemed flustered as she pulled the duties list from her pocket and flattened it on the table beside her plate. She glanced at it and raised her gaze to his face. ‘I’ll do all that I can to look after you, help you start to feel more rested and focus on what you need to do with your time.’

‘I appreciate that.’ Surely in another week or two he would get back to sleeping at least the four to four-and-a-half hours a night he usually got? Cam didn’t expect Lally to be able to do a thing about that. Why would she? All the experts had failed to give him any long-term solutions that didn’t involve knocking himself out at night with medications he didn’t want to let become a habit in his life.

‘I haven’t forgotten about book research.’ Her finger rested on a point on the list. ‘I’m ready to help you with that in any way required.’

‘I have a research project for you for after lunch, actually.’ Cam went on to explain what he needed. ‘I have two laptop computers. What I’d like you to do is use the second laptop and get the prohibition laws about using these substances in this state…’ He jotted the names of several chemical compounds onto the bottom of her list.

‘I’ll do the rest of the research myself. Some of it has to be handled carefully; I don’t want you dealing with anything that could be potentially dangerous to you.’ He paused. ‘At least I can still make forward progress with my lead character’s investigations and activities to some degree, even if other aspects of the story are being difficult.’

Lally’s eyes widened and her soft lips parted. ‘You take care with your research? You keep yourself safe?’ Her words were so genuine, filled with concern for him.

Cam got that strange feeling in his chest again. ‘Always. I always take care.’ He was even more determined to take care of her in this admittedly small way.

As their gazes met and held, Cam was very conscious of her.

She was conscious of him. It was there in her guarded expression, the rejection and the self-protectiveness in every line of her body, and didn’t fully manage to conceal the interest beneath.

They threw sparks off each other, and Lally didn’t want to feel those sparks.

Were they for him? Or for any man at the moment?

And, either way, why?

But he didn’t need to know why; Cam told himself this. He needed to develop a three-dimensional book character, not know every aspect of his new housekeeper’s make-up.

They both dropped their gazes at the same time and Cam rubbed his face wearily.

‘Are you okay, Cam? You mentioned you don’t sleep well—I assumed that was due to stress or work pressures.’ Lally’s soft words impinged on his thoughts. ‘If there’s anything else I need to know…’

‘I’m a long-term insomniac. It’s annoying sometimes but it’s nothing to worry about.’

Though he didn’t care who knew about it one way or another, this wasn’t something he discussed often. Cam wouldn’t have held the answer back from her, though, not when her face had filled with such concern.

Lally gave a nod of acknowledgement. ‘It’s no wonder you felt like being spoiled a little. Maybe you can enjoy some more rest than usual, even if it doesn’t come in the form of sleep.’

‘Maybe I will. I’ve got my eye on the pool.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘A swim now and then would be relaxing.’ He hesitated. ‘If you hear me up and about in the middle of the night…’

‘Do you like company at those times, or to be by yourself?’ Lally’s expression had softened so much, it was almost as though she needed to find a chink in his armour and felt somehow reassured by finding it. ‘I’d be happy to heat you some warm milk or sit up and talk.’

Cam pictured them sitting at this table at midnight. Somehow he doubted that drinking milk or talking would be the first things on his mind. He’d be thinking about kissing his way up the slender column of her neck until he reached those luscious lips and closed his own over them.

The urge to kiss her now, right in this blink of time, silenced him for a moment. It was one thing to imagine, even to want, but this urge felt somehow to be more than that.

Maybe you should just ask her if she’d curl up on the sofa with you, with your head in her lap, and stroke your face with her fingers until you fall asleep, you big baby.

Or you could admit you find her more than a little intriguing and that you’re not doing a very good job of pushing back that interest.

All right, he did find her intriguing, but he wasn’t about to act on it. Theirs was a working relationship and that was exactly how Cam wanted it to be.

And that left how he wanted to deal with the rest of the day. And the next.

Cam cleared his throat and side-stepped the question. ‘I’ll take you to the market tomorrow morning and we can buy fresh produce together. I’ll be awake anyway, so it makes sense that I go with you the first time at least.’

He could tell her what foods he liked the most, could carry her basket for her.

Or throw down his cloak for her to step on if she came across a puddle in her path!

‘Excuse me.’ He got to his feet and assured himself the only thought on his mind was getting back to business.

He was not running; he was planning and retreating so he could focus on his book. A totally different thing.

Cam took Lally’s written list of phone messages and the phone itself from the table. ‘I’ll see to these and drop the phone out to you before I start writing, if that’s okay?’

‘Thanks.’ Lally glanced down at the notes he’d written for her to research. ‘And I’ll bring my research results to you as soon as I have them.’

Cam looked at the sweep of her long black lashes. ‘Other than that, perhaps you can just keep going with your housekeeping jobs.’ If Cam stayed clear for a few hours, maybe he would get these strange reactions to her sorted out a little better.

Lally rose and started to gather dishes into capable hands. ‘Good luck with the writing.’

‘Thanks.’

Cam nodded and left.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘I MEANT to unpack all this as soon as we got home.’ It was the next afternoon. Lally reached into one of the string bags sitting on the kitchen counter in the apartment and pulled out several canned goods.

Her voice was raised a little to be heard over the outside noise of the refurbishing crew. Cam had to admit that right now they sounded more like a destruction mob. ‘Are you okay with that noise? It’s not driving you crazy?’

‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘I’m fine with it. If anything would get to me, I think it would be too much quiet.’

Cam understood that only too well. Maybe noise was what he needed at night.

You’ve tried that, remember? You’ve tried every trick there is. Noise or no noise; light or dark; quiet or loud; whatever, you don’t sleep beyond what your body has to have to survive. That’s all there is to it.

He returned his gaze to his housekeeper. ‘You got busy when we got back here.’ Lally had called it ‘home’ and hadn’t seemed to notice the word. But in truth where did Lally Douglas call ‘home’? She’d told him she had a room at her parents’ home; was that it? At twenty-four, didn’t she want her freedom at some point?

And why did it even matter to Cam? ‘Home,’ he’d never had. A faceless, nameless apartment in the centre of Sydney that he visited now and then hardly counted.

Yet wouldn’t it be nice to have a home? A real one? With a permanent housekeeper like Lally to look after him?

Dumb thought, Travers. This was a temporary measure, nothing more. Cam drew a breath. ‘There’s nothing in the foodstuffs that will have spoiled.’

‘No. I put the perishables away straight off, at least.’ Lally removed the remaining articles from the bags and started to pack them into the larder.

Cam resisted the urge to help. He’d crossed the line enough by insisting they shop together at the market first thing this morning. When they’d got back, he’d eaten breakfast with her—then had taken himself off to his office and proceeded to give his hero’s love-interest so many of Lally Douglas’s traits and characteristics that he’d had to delete half the work he’d written.

So he’d deleted, and he’d wrestled with his story some more, and he’d come up with what he knew was a great scene-idea—but then he couldn’t get that to work either. Without realising he did it, Cam heaved a sigh.

‘Is the writing not going well?’ Lally’s words were empathetic.

He shook his head. ‘I’ve got a scene planned in my mind, but when I try to write it I can’t visualise it properly. I can’t “see” the heroine in my mind’s eye. I’m not sure how to use their surroundings. It’s a scene that I know will work, but I can’t seem to get it to work. I think as long as the heroine remains shadowy in my mind, this problem is going to continue.’

‘What would bring her to life for you?’ Lally’s eyebrows drew together as she considered the matter. ‘Could you “interview” her? Ask her questions to get to know her?’

‘Stream-of-consciousness interviewing? I did try that about a week ago, but I didn’t get anywhere with it.’ Cam forced himself not to scowl his irritation over this. ‘I feel as though I need to somehow throw her into the middle of this scene, really get in deep there with her. Once I see how she reacts, the pieces will all come together. Maybe.’