Dakota Kelly worked part time as an Eye Candy Maid under the name Suzette. It wasn’t work she particularly enjoyed, but she made more in one weekend cleaning houses in her lingerie and shaking her booty than she did during her five-day work week as a custodian at Shiloh Elementary School. And she needed the money.
Most of the time she got lascivious grins or self-satisfied smirks but not today. Today, she almost laughed at the way her new client’s eyes almost popped out of his head. Good. That made things even, since she had almost been struck dumb by his gorgeousness when he answered the door.
According to the printout, his name was Cameron Bowes and he lived in the nicest house she’d ever been assigned to clean. The two-story home sat on a fairly large piece of property in the posh San Francisco suburb known as Hillsborough. The grounds were beautifully landscaped and maintained. The inside was another story.
The formal living room wasn’t too messy, but she could see a portion of another room, a family room maybe, that looked pretty bad. The kitchens and the bathrooms were always the worst. Still, she might not have to actually clean that much. Some clients just wanted to watch her do anything at all as long as she was in her underwear. Others wanted the show and actual cleaning. This Cameron guy needed the latter more than the former, but she’d been wrong about this before.
“Ah, Suzette, what hell happened to your clothes?” her new client asked, clearly, adorably flustered. “You are the maid, aren’t you? I swear I heard you say you were here to clean my house.”
“I am.”
“Then why are you dressed like that?” He was keeping his eyes averted which was refreshing and more than a little amusing.
“This is my uniform,” she replied. She again noticed he was a gorgeous specimen of man. Blond, startlingly blue eyes and some damned sexy forearms. The rest of him wasn’t bad either. He must work out. Lots of squats and lunges, judging from his butt and thighs.
“Does your boss know you dress like this to clean houses?”
She put one hand on her hip. “Of course she does. All Eye Candy Maids wear scanty clothing. That’s the whole point.”
They also went by false names. In the past, clients had been known to get a little too attached to their maids. Dakota knew of at least two restraining orders.
“Oh, okay,” he said, a look of understanding dawning on his face. “I get it now. See, a buddy set this up for me. I should have known he might pull a stunt like this.”
“Is it your birthday?”
He huffed out a laugh. “No. Max’s just a…funny guy who likes to play jokes.” He heaved a deep breath.
“So you still want me to clean your house, right? I mean it is pretty bad.” She drew a finger through the layer of dust on the sideboard then glanced at the overflowing trash can, the full sink and the auxiliary half-filled, open trash bag that huddled in the corner of the kitchen.
He flushed. “Yeah. If that’s actually part of your…services. I mean, you do clean, don’t you? Or is it all just a show for slimy dudes to get their kicks?”
“I get both kinds, Mr. Bowes. Some just want to watch me go through the motions, but I do actually clean if the client wants me to.”
“I actually need you to clean a lot. They’re coming to film in my house tomorrow and I need the place looking decent. And call me Cam.”
“Someone’s filming here? Are you…famous?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I play hockey for the Dragons.”
“Oh, you’re a Dragon.” She didn’t really follow any sports, but she’d heard of the hockey team that played for San Francisco.
“Yeah.”
She gestured toward the contract. “So, I can’t start cleaning until you read and sign that.”
“Oh, I did. Sorry.” He handed it back.
“Perfect,” she said. “I’ll need that thousand dollars up front.”
“What?” He grabbed the paper from her and scanned it while she laughed.
“I’m just kidding. You’re prepaid. But you really should read things before you sign them, you know.” She opened the dishwasher and started loading it with dishes from the sink. There were quite a few and she wondered how long they had languished there. “I’d have thought that’s one of the first things pro athletes learned.”
He frowned, but turned his attention back to the contract, which was a page-long list of the rules—only one additional person was allowed on the premises, no physical contact, no illegal drug use, no video or photography. On the bottom of the sheet the clients were encouraged to tip generously for a job well done, and Dakota wished that were always the case. She had put pink hearts and a handwritten “thank you” in the margin of that section.
“My agent reads the contract. That’s what I pay him for.”
“Does he get a lot of money for that service?” she asked, scraping some old, dried up food off a plate.
“He gets plenty, yes.”
“I should get into the agent business.”
She glanced over at the two dog beds where Zeus lay. Gizmo was sitting at Dakota’s feet, his tail wagging.
“How long have you had your dogs?” she asked. The first round of dishes were into the dishwasher so she looked at the stovetop. It looked like something had boiled over and was left to dry there.
For a year.
“About six years. Going to the animal shelter was the first thing I did after my divorce became final. My ex hated dogs. Or maybe she just hated my dog. She guilted me into giving her away shortly after we got married.”
“That’s horrible,” Suzette said. “My niece, Zinny, wants a dog so bad. One of these days she’s going to pick up a stray and bring it home, I just know it. Can yours do any tricks?”
He grinned. “Gizzy can. Watch this. Gizmo! Come here, Gizzy.”
Cameron got on the floor and raised his legs so his calves were parallel to the floor. “Gizmo, up!” And the tiny little dog leapt up and stood on Cameron’s shins.
Dakota clapped, but Cameron held his hand up. “Wait, there’s more. All right now, let’s show her!”
He raised his hands in the air and Gizmo sat up and did the same.
“That’s amazing,” Dakota said, clapping some more. “How long did it take you to teach him to do that?”
Cam got up off the floor with more agility than she’d ever have. “A couple of weeks,” he said, brushing the dog hair off his clothes. “During the offseason, we have a lot of time to do stupid shit like teaching your dogs tricks.”
She checked the microwave. There was so much food spatter on the interior, she decided to spray it and the stovetop with a boatload of cleaner and let time work on it.
“Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly. “I tend to microwave a lot.”
Frowning as she sprayed, she said, “They make covers, you know. Then if the food explodes, it dirties the cover and you just throw it into the dishwasher. But, since you don’t seem to use your dishwasher…”
He laughed. “Touché, Suzette. You got me there. I’m neater when it’s the offseason. No, I am,” he said, when she gave him a look. “When it’s hockey season, I’m too tired to do much. See, I work out every day in some capacity or another.”
“Even on game days?” she asked. “That doesn’t make much sense. Don’t you need to save your energy for the game?”
“To a degree, yes. But even after the games, we still work out.”
“After? That doesn’t make sense at all.”
“Yeah, but the number of minutes you’re on the ice is limited, so you make sure you’re keeping your strength up by working out afterward. And riding the bike is mandatory to flush out the excess lactic acid.”
“No wonder you’re tired. You should really think about scheduling me for regular visits,” she said. The more men she had signed on for repeat gigs, the less she’d have to brave it with unknowns.
“That’s an interesting idea,” he said. “I just might take you up on that. To tell you the truth, I feel a little stupid for never having thought of hiring a maid before.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. Just do it and reap the benefits.” She looked at the floor with distaste. “So, back to business. Your floor is filthy, but they’re probably not going to film your floor. Also, there’s stuff here that doesn’t belong in the kitchen.”
Using a fork from the silverware drawer, she hooked a yellow lace thong from under the refrigerator.
“Oh, sorry about that,” he said. “It’s not mine.”
She laughed. “Thanks for the clarification. Yellow wouldn’t look good on you anyway.”
“Good one.” He gave her an acknowledging laugh.
She looked at the floor and assessed the layer of dirt. “You said they’re coming to film tomorrow. Where will they be filming exactly?”
“I don’t know. The whole house? I think I’m supposed to give them a tour. At least, that’s what I’ve seen in the other videos they’ve done.”
“Then I think we have a problem. Your buddy paid for two hours and there is no way I can make this place camera-ready in the time we have left.”
“I’ll hire you for the extra hours. Whatever it takes.”
“Why don’t you give me the quick tour and we’ll see what we’re dealing with.”
He led her out of the spacious kitchen which opened into an over-sized family room. The living room was equally as large with two separate seating areas, a grand fireplace and a towering ceiling. On this floor, he had a home office and a reading room, a walk-in pantry, a friggin’ wine room and a utility closet that was only slightly smaller than her own bedroom. All in all, an insanely cush bachelor pad.
“Everything needs dusting, the floors everywhere should be mopped or vacuumed.” She gave him the side eye. “The guest bathroom toilet is gross.”
He winced then glanced to his left. “You probably don’t want to see my bathroom then.”
“Not yet.”
“Okay, we’ll skip the master suite and go upstairs then.”
They trudged up to a roomy landing on the second floor lined with bookshelves that contained an odd assortment of knickknacks and crumpled clothing. It looked like the lost and found area of a bar. One of the three bedrooms had been converted into a surprisingly tidy gym. Another appeared to be an entertainment room equipped with a huge wall-mounted TV, game console, a crap ton of electronics. It would be a fantastic space if it hadn’t looked like thirty-five drunk monkeys had thrown a party. More dirty dishes and trash, like wrappers, empty chip bags, Red Bull cans lay strewn everywhere.
“No comment,” she said. She poked her head into the full bathroom. “Two of these bathrooms just need a wipe-down. The other one requires the full monty. Are they going to be filming in every room?”
“I don’t know. I think so. Especially the closets. For some reason, the fans love to see our closets.”
“I’m actually afraid to see your closet.”
“Stephen King would be afraid to see my closet,” he muttered.
They went back downstairs to the master suite. No trash or dishes there but plenty of shirts, pants and shoes on the floor. Some of the stuff looked really nice too. Dress suits and tailored shirts.
“I take it back now,” she said. “I think that your closet is probably empty because all your clothes seem to be out here.”
He looked sheepish as she walked to the closet, which was the size of a small bedroom and clearly ground zero of the mess. Empty hangers with dry cleaner plastic on them were everywhere. What should have been a gorgeous marvel of organized closet perfection resembled a clothing store after a particularly cutthroat Black Friday.
She went into the bathroom just to confirm her suspicion that it was worse than the guest baths, and it was.
When she rejoined him in the bedroom, she sighed, partly for show. This was when she had to clinch the deal. This guy was caught in a desperate situation and Dakota intended to use that to her advantage. Besides, it’d be much more trouble to hire someone else and wait for them to show up than it would be to just extend her time, since she was already here. She would have to rearrange her afternoon, but if she was right, the money would make it worth it.
There was also the not-so-small matter of him being the hottest guy she’d ever been within touching distance of. He was so good-looking, after a moment or so, she had to look away or be blinded.
“Okay, so here’s the deal,” she said, putting on her business face. “Even if your place was reasonably clean, which is clearly isn’t, to make this large of a house film crew ready, it would take way longer than the two hours I’m scheduled for.”
“I know that,” he said, “but I didn’t schedule you. My buddy Max did.”
“So the problem is,” she went on, “I promised my niece I would come right home after this. I already don’t spend enough time with her because I’m holding down two jobs…”
Because their parents had been lifelong fuck-ups, when Dakota’s sister, Rose, got married and moved out, she’d taken Dakota with her. The three of them lived in a small apartment. Thomas managed a gym and Rose worked as a shift supervisor at Starbucks while Dakota went to school full time to earn an associate’s degree in nutrition. But soon after she’d gotten that degree, Rose and Thomas had been killed in a car accident. Suddenly, Dakota was given custody over Zinny, then four years old, but with no job and therefore no way to pay the rent on the apartment. She was just about at the end of her rope when Thomas’s mother Ellen Caruthers came and offered to take Dakota and Zinny in.
Unfortunately, life under Ellen’s roof wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, which was why Dakota was working two jobs. She was determined to get a place of her own and some long overdue independence. This job with this rich hockey player could turn out to be pretty lucrative, especially if he committed to hiring her on a regular basis.
“Suzette, honey, I’ll pay you whatever it takes.” Cam took out a wallet stuffed with enough cash to charter a party plane to Kilimanjaro. “Just name your price.”
“Unfortunately, my price is dictated by Eye Candy Maids which is ninety-nine dollars per hour, two-hour minimum. But the tip, however, is up to you.” She gave him a meaningful smile.
“Oh, okay. Gotcha. So, how long do you think you’ll need to do the place from top to bottom?”
“Your master bath…that’s an hour, minimum, just in there.”
“Don’t rub it in. I know. Cha-ching.”
She did some mental calculations. If she priced herself too high, he could very well just get on the phone and hire two or three teams from some other cleaning service.
“What time does the crew come tomorrow?” She crossed her arms to present her breasts a tad more prominently. To her great satisfaction, his eyes flicked down. Finally. She was beginning to think she’d lost her touch or that he wasn’t attracted to women.
“Eight a.m.”
She frowned, coming to a sudden realization. “I can’t do it.”
“Come on. I said I’d pay you whatever it took and I meant it.”
“It’s not the money. There’s just not enough time for me to do it and get out of here at a decent hour.”
“I’ll help you.”
She laughed at the sick look on his face.
“No, I’m serious. I will help you. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do. Even the toilets.” But he shuddered as he said it.
She laughed. “Who knew hockey players were such wimps?”
“Hey, I said I’d do it, didn’t I?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll do the toilets, but you have to pick up all the trash and the four thousand and two pieces of clothing. You’ll probably have to hide stuff, like in one room you forbid them to go into tomorrow on pain of death. That’s the only way this is going to work.”
“I…I can do that.” He looked tremendously relieved.
“Okay, then provided my boss okays me doing eight or nine hours here—”
“Thank you.”
She held up a hand. “Hold on. I’m not finished yet. I can see my way clear to make this place presentable for…a tip of one hundred per hour, above what ECM charges you.”
That was an outrageous sum of money to pay for dusting, mopping and toilet scrubbing. Heat rose in her cheeks at having the audacity to ask that especially after corralling him as her reluctant assistant. He was going to flat out laugh in her face. He’d probably complain to her boss, Gwen, that she tried to extort money from him, which was partly true. He was over a barrel and she knew it. She felt the urge to apologize and revise the number, but the fierce desire to get out from under Ellen’s thumb steeled her resolve and she stood firm.
Dakota couldn’t believe it when Cam counted out not eight, not nine, but ten hundred-dollar bills and handed them to her. This was more money than she’d ever had in her hands at once before. For one day’s work! And she hadn’t even had to shake her booty to get it.
Trying to appear as if this was nothing more than a normal business transaction, she thanked him and pulled out her phone. “I just need to make a couple of calls.”
“Sure,” he said. “I’m going to have a few Hot Pockets. You want one?”
“No thanks. But don’t you dare mess up the microwave,” she called after him.
First, she contacted Gwen and arranged for the extra hours to be added to his bill.
“He must really like you,” Gwen said. “Is he skeevy? Are you getting any kind of creepy vibe from him at all? Because I can get someone to come over and help…”
No. He’s incredibly handsome and charming and if you send someone over, I’ll refuse to let them in the house.
“It’s okay,” Dakota said, maybe a little too quickly. “I have everything under control. And he’s a nice guy. A hockey player.”
“Professional?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s hope he becomes one of your regulars. All right,” Gwen said. “Good luck, Dakota. You have your panic button, right?”
“Yes, Mom.” Each Eye Candy Maid was equipped with an electronic device worn around their necks that would summon help in an emergency.
Gwen laughed. “Just making sure.”
Dakota took a deep breath before calling home.
“Ellen, it’s me. I won’t be done until around six or seven. I picked up some extra hours.”
Zinny’s grandmother, Ellen, knew Dakota moonlighted as a maid, but not that she did it wearing only her underwear.
Ellen sighed. “I suppose you want me to forget about going to my book club meeting.”
“Oh, shi—shoot. I forgot about that.”
“You know it’s so typical of you, Dakota, to expect everyone to fall into line with what you want. Well, I have news for you, not everything revolves around you. People have lives of their own. They make plans. Book Club is one of the few things I look forward to and you expect me to just cancel at the last minute.”
Dakota resisted the urge to defend herself. Yes, this was a last minute request, but Dakota knew the world didn’t revolve around her. She couldn’t possibly forget it, what with how often Ellen reminded her of that fact.
“I’m sorry,” Dakota said, “but can you just take Zinny with you? Please? It’s a lot of extra money, and she has all those library books we just got. You could just sit her in a chair and she’ll entertain herself.”
Plus, the book club members would be tickled pink to see Zinny. They’d spoil her rotten and marvel over how good a reader she was for only being six. Ellen would remind them that she was the one who had taught her granddaughter the letters and sounds, while Dakota was on her hands and knees, scrubbing a toilet worthy of any roadside gas station. Still, Ellen didn’t say anything for a long while.
“Ellen, please? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“I suppose I can take her with me.” Ellen’s tone was dripping with self-sacrifice.
“Thank you so much. I really appreciate it. Can I talk to—”
But Ellen had already hung up. Although thinking about her niece being upset with her hurt, Dakota knew that taking this job and the extra thousand dollars brought her that much closer to her goal of moving out. Dreaming about how wonderful it would be to be on her own, away from Ellen and constant badgering was all that kept her going sometimes.