"Yes, yes I am and I do apologize." Her response was lightning quick and she wasn’t afraid to tell the truth, a quality he didn’t find in many women, it was a refreshing change.
"Well what the hell were you apologizing for, I thoroughly enjoyed it." He gave her a dazzling smile that caused her to stare again, but this time only for a moment.
"Well I take it back then." They continued to look at each other in the door way when she was the first to look away with a smile. Obviously she felt the tug as he had.
They were two people, caught in a doorway, content to simply stand and stare. The rain was light that day and the sun shone carefully through the clouds. It only added to her suddenly elevated mood. She'd been in the house two weeks and not a single thing had passed through the doors to make her smile. Suddenly, here it was, smiling right back at her. And what a smile. The man was tall, blonde, handsome and cocky as all get out. Over all a thouroughly charming package. She gave a quick look towards the clouds in a thanking way. Obviously somebody up there had heard her prayers of boredom.
"So, you’re the new maid then?" Again she froze in a glance before crinkling her eyebrows in confusion.
"Uh, how did you know?"
"Oh probably due to the fact that your carrying a feather duster and Pledge." She looked down towards her hand as though she were seeing the cleaning supplies for the first time, then she began to laugh nervously.
"You know," he went on in a gorgeous British accent, "you don’t actually have to use the pledge if your planning on using the duster."
"Well thank you, Mr. Clean, for telling me how to do my job. Actually," She turned suddenly and pointed at a rag secured in the back pocket of her drab black uniform, "that’s what this is for." When she turned back around a goofy grin was placed firmly on his face.
"Well now, thank you!" He stated a bit too enthusiastically.
"Why?" She ventured cautiously.
"Because you just gave me the most gratuitous view of your ass." Finally caught off guard she gave an embarrassed smile and muttered a simple,
"Oh."
"Hey don’t feel bad, I would have gotten around to checking out it sooner or later myself." He leered at her in a joking manner then extended his hand. "My name’s Simon."
"Chantal." She replies tucking her noticeably smaller hand into his.
"You’re a French maid then?" His mind began to fill with thoughts of this feisty maid in a rather naughty outfit dusting him off with that feather duster in her very cute hand.
"Yeah, doesn’t my completely American accent sound like it?"
"Ah, well I always liked the American birds better than the French ones any way."
"And what rank do you hold with the Autobahn Society of England Mr. Uh, Simon?" She smiled back just as leeringly before they’re flirty pratter was interrupted by a voice ringing from inside the house.
"Simon, is that you mate?" Chantal’s smile was wiped from her face and she jerked around quite stiffly to meet the view of her employer coming into the front room. The tall man came towards the door with a full smile geared towards his house guest but the effect was not lost on the maid who gulped audibly.
"Thank you Chantal for getting the door." He said still looking right over her head at Simon.
"You’re welcome sir." With that she sheepishly ducked around his tall frame then skirted quickly away to some unknown part of the house.
"John." Simon said stepping in the door. "New maid and with a French name, not a bad combination. I wouldn’t mind having my own French maid for that matter." Simon’s eyebrows bobbed up and down then he looked about the bachelor pad noting it was in pristine order.
"Yeah whatever, just don’t go around stealing mine." John said joining his band mate in inspecting his living quarters.
"Hmm, now, do I note a hint of jealousy in your tone Mr. Taylor?"
John snorted then shook his head no. "God no. I just don’t want to have to replace some young chit because she decides to run off and join you in some wild and reckless weekend affair. You know how hard it is to find good staff these days. Especially ones who won’t become faint hearted or spout off to all the papers every time I bring home a new woman." Simon shook his head as he remembered John’s last house keeper, an elderly lady by the name of Mrs. Whitcomb, who would tsk him every time he brought home a new tasty treat, hyperventilate if she heard any sounds coming from the bedroom, innocent or not, then run off and gossip with her gaggle of girls at bridge, one of whom happened to work for Hello Magazine.
It had all come out in one terrifying scandal sheet that had sent the whole of London upside down. John, as well as the rest of the band had gone from cuddly pop idols to notorious play boys in one night. The attendance had dropped for their shows significantly, concerned moms no longer sent their innocent teeny boppers out to see these five rouges! On the positive side it had caused a lot more sultry models to suddenly appear backstage, a magic trick that Simon was eternally grateful for.
"Still," Simon said casually, sliding his fingers across a side table, no dust came up, "she’s not all that bad looking, and a hell of a lot more attractive than Mrs. Whitcomb." Simon looked at John as if waiting for an answer to his statement that clearly needed no answering.
"I’ll agree with that."
"So you think she’ll ever, you know, stop working on your house to become your homework?" Once again Simon was wriggling the eyebrows suggestively but John only snorted with a disbelieving face.
"Really Simon, I don’t think so."
"Why not!?"
"First off, she works for me. It’s unprofessional. Further more she’s not exactly my type."
"She a good looking healthy young thing from America, how’s that not your type?"
John’s voice rose with his level of impatience geared towards his blonde headed mate. "Look, she’s got these long, lanky legs that remind me of a stork, I mean no meat on the bone, I like them shapely, not willowy. Her hair is mousy brown, it’s practically black and rather dull, and that accent! Talk about loud and scratchy, makes me think of a Newcastle coal miner for God’s sakes. And finally she practically shivers every time I’m in the same room with her, she must be frightened to death of me. What would she do if I actually touched her?" John shook his head and almost laughed out loud. "Definitely not my type."
"Sheesh, figures." Chantal the housemaid mumbled to herself as she carefully dusted off a palm tree that had been dusted a good three times already. She really hadn’t meant to be listening but the new handsome bloke had peaked her interest. OK she had meant to be listening but still, Harsh! What was wrong with these British fellows any way! She’d been quite the catch back in her home town of Sterling, Colorado. Granted her graduating high school class had been all of five girls and two of them had been identical twins that were considered legally blind due to being born crossed eyed, but she was a spunky, rowdy, cute little package with unnaturally long legs that looked mighty fine in a pair of Wranglers.
Too bad her handsome employer would never see her in jeans, she instead had to wear a goofy black outfit her agency insisted on. She looked as though she were wearing a curtain and not the Scarlet O’ Hara type either. If she ever got over this crazy fear Mr. Big had so obviously noticed she could ask if possibly she could start wearing normal clothes. She was a live-in any way, goodness knew eventually he’d see her ithe average get up anyway. Maybe even date clothes she thought wistfully before turning her attention towards a coffee table that served no other purpose than to hold expensive art books.
It was then Simon and John decided to walk through the room. Chantal looked up just in time to look into the gorgeous blonde’s blue eyes, which without further ado winked at her in a most devilish manner. Chantal, completely caught off guard, dropped a particularly large book onto the edge of the table than watched in horror as it landed squarely on her foot. Holding back a stream of obscenities she bit down hard on her lip and let out a loud but quickly done squeak! The men, who had already stopped when the book had slammed down on the table now stood lack jawed at the maid’s sudden unusual behavior.
"Chantal? Are you all right?" John asked finally recovering from his shock. Of course his dark piercing eyes did nothing to calm her frantic nerves.
"Uh," she hopped about on one foot while trying to answer the tall man. "Well Mr. Taylor, I think I’m rather hungry actually. I’m just a bit shaky, need food, yes that’s it." She didn’t dare look over at the blonde man next to the other knowing the kind of look he had to be giving her. Thank God he was the only man in the room that knew the real reason why she had suddenly turned into a blabbering goose.
"Well then go and get something to eat love." John then turned and walked out of the room without another look towards her. Simon with another naughty look towards her ducked out to follow his taller friend. Chantal wasted no time in scurrying out the door.
