Worthwhile

  Copyright © Lynne Silver 2017

  ISBN: 978-0-9863557-8-3

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Editing: iProofread and More

  Cover Design: Mad Hat Covers

  Formatting: Champagne Formats

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other Books by Lynne

  Acknowledgements

  Olivia Rodriguez took another sip of her coffee and made a face. Sometimes being Colombian was hard because it meant you were really, really picky about your coffee. Nevertheless, she forged on, drinking the coffee because she was at a coffee bar waiting on Drew Weaver, a man she remembered as being a devastatingly sexy womanizer and potentially her new boss. If he agreed to her conditions.

  Every time the door to the shop opened, she jumped a little, eyed the person walking in, and then took another drink to have something to do with her hands. The door opened again and a crowd of people poured through. This time Drew was among the crowd. He scanned the restaurant looking for her, and she gave him a small wave. She’d wondered if she’d recognize him. After all, it had been more than a year since they’d met.

  She mostly remembered the way he made her feel, and only had vague recall of him being tall—over six feet—with light brown almost blond hair, and tanned skin that looked wind-burned. Their mutual friend, Amy, had mentioned he liked to fish, so she guessed the tan cheeks were from days spent out on the ocean.

  A slow assessing smile spread across his face when he spotted her and started to make his way over. Mama mia, was he hot. Down, girl, Livvy reminded herself. It had been easy to dismiss him when they’d first met because they’d argued politics, and he’d been a bit of a mansplaining asshole.

  Then he’d walked her to her car, like a gentleman, and driven her home when her car wouldn’t start, despite her house being an hour out of the way for him. Again, total gentleman. As he walked toward her now, his stride leaving a wake of intrigued females in his path, she was taken aback by how much she was attracted to him.

  This was Miami. There were gorgeous people all around, but very few that she wanted to touch, or better yet, wanted to touch her. Drew looked eminently touchable.

  “Olivia,” he said.

  She rose and leaned up to kiss his cheek out of habit. He hadn’t shaved and coarse hairs brushed her lips. She liked the sensation and wondered how those same cheeks would feel if rubbed against other body parts of hers.

  He seemed a bit startled at her kiss but accepted it.

  They both sat. “Do you want to get coffee first?”

  He shook his head. “Nah.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Their coffee sucks.”

  She gave a light laugh and pushed her cup toward the middle of the table. “Oh, thank goodness. It’s not me.” She gestured to the long line of people waiting their turn to order. “I was starting to think something was wrong with my taste buds. What’s wrong with theirs?”

  “Sheep,” he said, a look of derision on his face. “One food critic on a popular blog raved about this place. Hence the line.”

  “Baah,” she said.

  He laughed. “Luckily for me, that same popular blog practically wet their pants about OCXA, my club, so I’ll give them a pass for this place. They obviously have great taste except for this one small mistake.”

  He pronounced OCXA as huaca, which told her she’d been saying the name wrong for a year. “Generous of you. How long have you lived in Miami?” she asked suddenly.

  “Since graduating college. Why do you ask?”

  “Because you seemed startled when I kissed your cheek. It’s a Miami thing.”

  “I know.” The pink on his cheeks deepened. “I’m used to it but wasn’t expecting you to kiss me. Thought you hated me.”

  “I wouldn’t say hate.”

  “You sure? Because the last time we were together, you practically jumped out of my truck while it was still moving to get away from me.”

  Now she felt her cheeks heat. “It wasn’t you,” she admitted. “It was your date.”

  He frowned. “I had a date that night?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. You don’t remember? Tall blonde. Total snob. She liked to name drop.”

  His lips pursed. “Not ringing any bells, but yeah, I vaguely remember bringing a date to Ian’s engagement dinner. Mostly, I remember Amy throwing up during the dessert course.”

  She laughed, then felt guilty because Amy was her friend. “She was pregnant.”

  “I know. I’m not mocking her for vomiting, but upchucking at a small fancy dinner party is pretty memorable. I felt bad for her, but I’m glad it worked out for her and Danny.”

  Again, he surprised her with his down-to-earth compassion. He looked and acted smooth and sophisticated, but then used words like “upchuck.” He did lose points for not remembering his date to the party. It meant that women were interchangeable and disposable to him. Maybe that was a good thing. Not for him, but for her, because it’d keep her from mooning over him as his employee.

  Any time her body had urges toward him, she’d remember that he had zero respect for women and would never be more to her than sex. She wanted more. “Should we talk business?” she asked, mostly to wrap this up. If she agreed to accept the job working with his sick mom, then this would be the last time they had to have an extended conversation. She assumed he was hiring her to avoid having to change his lifestyle.

  Lots of her clients hired her to care for their parents because taking care of a dying parent was hard. It was messy, painful, and often gross. She didn’t judge people at all for wanting a stranger to step in and take over. She was a professional, and she didn’t know if she’d want to act as caregiver for her parents when the time came. It was too emotional.

  “Uh, okay,” Drew said. “I was surprised you wanted to meet me. I’d thought you’d want to meet my mom.”

  “Oh, I will. Amy said your mom has lupus and is waiting for a kidney transplant?”

  He nodded.

  “Are you willing to be a donor?” she asked.

  “I have my donor evaluation in two days to see if I’m a good match for her.” He held up crossed fingers. “For her sake, I hope I am, but to be honest, I’m a little freaked out at the idea of giving up a major organ.”

  She was impressed he’d already made an appointment to be a potential living donor. “It is a big deal. It all sounds good on paper, but it’s major surgery. If you are
a match for her, I could be a caregiver for both of you.”

  “Sounds good,” he said. “Anything else I should know? I’ve hired lots of employees for my club, but never anything like this. So personal.”

  “True. I’m going to be almost like a member of your family while I’m working with your mom. It means I wanted to meet with you first to give you my terms and conditions.”

  “Your Ts and Cs?” A hint of a smile played at his lips.

  She wasn’t sure what Ts and Cs were, but she did know she needed him to agree to certain subterfuge or she wasn’t taking the job. She pulled out her phone where she’d typed her list and started reading things off. She’d suspected that Drew’s presence would rattle her, so she’d planned ahead.

  “Work is only part time,” she read. “I will need to spend some nights at your place.”

  He frowned. “Why’s that? My place is only a two-bedroom.”

  “Let me rephrase. I need my parents to think I’m spending certain nights at your place.”

  He lost his smirk and scowled. “Let me guess. You want to spend nights with your boyfriend, but your parents disapprove.”

  “My parents would most definitely not approve of me sleeping at my boyfriend’s house without being married, but I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  He visibly relaxed a fraction. “Then why do you want to sleep at my place?”

  “I’ve got my reasons.”

  “Reasons you’ll share if you’re asking me to lie for you.”

  They had a ten-second stare down.

  She sighed and looked down. “Fine. I’m applying to work a part time shift position at Washington Memorial Hospital. Some of those shifts may be the night shift. My parents refuse to let me work there, so I have to lie.”

  He met her gaze. “I don’t understand. Your parents have to approve your job choices? Aren’t you an adult?”

  “Yes, but I’m their daughter.”

  He chewed on his lip then shook his head. “Nope. Still not getting it.”

  “My father’s a little overprotective. Which brings me to another condition. My parents can’t know I’m working for you.”

  He looked startled. “Who will you be working for?”

  “Your mother.”

  “Well, since that’s technically true, I don’t have a problem. But how would they ever find out?”

  “They’ve been known to pop by my place of work to say hello or drop off lunch. I think they want to check out my employer and make sure I’m in a good situation.”

  “Mm hmm.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “No, you mm hmmed in a tone.”

  “Did I?” he asked almost laconically.

  “Yes.”

  “You sound defensive.”

  Argh, this man was as frustrating as trying to change a tire in the rain on the side of a highway. “I’m not defensive. I don’t appreciate your opinion on my life. You know nothing about it.”

  “Maybe not,” he said. “But it sounds as if you’re allowing your parents to run your life.”

  “They don’t.”

  “Oh? Fake sleepovers at my house? Hiding your true whereabouts? Either you’re back in high school or your parents are running your life.”

  She opened her mouth to vehemently protest his assertion, then closed it when she realized he was correct.

  He reached across the table to grab her hand and give it a squeeze. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up. They must be good parents if you’re willing to still obey them when you’re…twenty-five years old?”

  “Twenty-seven,” she said. “They are good parents. I love them and don’t want to disappoint them.”

  “Of course not. But at some point, you’ll decide when, you’re going to rebel. Make sure it’s over something worth it.”

  She mulled that over for a second.

  “Any other conditions?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I get paid weekly in cash or check. I get two week’s notice if you no longer want me as your mother’s nurse, and I’ll reciprocate with two week’s notice if I no longer can work for your mom.”

  “Sounds standard.”

  “It is. And I’ll help your mother with any personal care and feeding, but I am not your housekeeper. I will do her laundry if necessary and I prepare and clean up her meals, but not yours. I will accompany your mother on doctor’s visits and will take her to the pharmacy or other errands. I will not be doing your grocery shopping. Got it?”

  “Got it, but something occurred to me. My apartment looks like my apartment. If your parents stop by, they’re going to notice something’s up. What’ll you do then?”

  She chewed her lip. “I’ll figure something out.”

  Drew stepped into the shower in his apartment for the last night of living alone for the foreseeable future. Tomorrow, he’d be driving his truck back up to Titusville to help his mother get packed up and moved down here.

  It was going to be a total pain to have his uptight, rigid mother living with him. She liked everything to be as it always was. Him moving to Miami after college had thrown her for a loop. She’d thought he’d return home and use his engineering degree to work at NASA down the road.

  Not him. He’d known the minute he drove away to Gainesville he wasn’t coming back to Titusville to live. Drew and his dad were cut from a different cloth than his mother. At least that’s what his dad told him on his holiday custody stints.

  “We’re a different breed, Drew. Cut from a different cloth. We Weaver men like to change it up. Spontaneity. That’s why marriage doesn’t work for us and never will. Too much routine. Same woman in our bed, same tits…”

  Drew never got to hear the rest of that fascinating statement, because as unconventional as his father was, he did realize he was talking to a seven-year-old with very interested ears.

  Either way, his mother needed him, and he’d be there for her, even if it meant changing his lifestyle and having her move in.She’d have a day to settle in, and then Olivia would be arriving to take her to her first dialysis in Miami. The moment he thought of Olivia, he groaned and leaned his head back against the tile.

  Hot water splashed against his chest. She’d looked as good as he’d remembered. No, better. Last time he’d seen her, she’d been in a sexy dress, hair done, and full makeup. Today she’d worn yoga pants and light makeup. Her dark hair had been down and loose around her shoulders. It was longer than he remembered, so either his memory was faulty or she’d grown her hair longer.

  He’d wanted to run his fingers through her dark hair that glinted with gold strands if the sun hit it right. She hadn’t realized it, but her shirt was loose enough on top that every time she moved, a hint of her breasts teased and tantalized him. He’d tried not to stare because he wasn’t an asshole, and because there was no point to lusting after her. Olivia Rodriguez was as off limits to him as getting on the field to bat for the Marlins. It couldn’t happen.

  He’d suspected before that she had limited experience with men, and now he suspected he’d overestimated her experience. She could barely admit to not having a boyfriend without blushing. And the way she let her parents rule her life? How could she have a boyfriend, let alone a lover? The woman was practically virginal. “Holy shit. Could she be an actual virgin?” he muttered to himself.

  Instead of being a turnoff, because he normally liked his women experienced and experimental, the idea of being the first man to touch Olivia had him hardening and grabbing his cock.

  He needed to enjoy the fantasy of Olivia because the reality of her wouldn’t happen. He gave his dick a stroke and closed his eyes, picturing Olivia sitting across from him this morning. She didn’t seem to have a clue that she was one of the prettiest women in Miami, a city full of gorgeous women.

  Or maybe, it was that she was exactly his type with long, straight dark hair that fell the length of her back, big brown eyes, skin a shade between tan and brown, and lips that
made him think of them wrapped around cock.

  He stroked faster and harder. If she’d ever be willing to give him a night of her time, he knew what he’d do with her. She was such a little control freak, but he’d make her lose it and beg.

  He’d order her to strip, then bind her hands behind her back, or better yet, to the bed. BDSM had never been his thing, but for her he’d make an exception. Then when she was naked, he’d lick her, starting with her nipples. His dick gave a happy pulse as he tried to visualize what color nipples she had. Fuck it. Didn’t matter. They’d be fucking fantastic nipples.

  Then he’d move his tongue to the underside of her plump breasts, giving a small bite to each. After that, he’d go straight for honey land, sticking his tongue in her pussy and watching as she cracked her control freak shell and begged him to finish her.

  Oh, shit, he was going to come if he kept thinking of how she’d taste and how she’d writhe under him, seeking release, but he’d be in control. Again, his Olivia fantasies had him breaking all his rules, because normally when he banged a woman, it was about his pleasure. He wasn’t a total dick and made sure they got off, but mostly he used their mouths, hands, and pussies to get himself off.

  The women knew the score when he brought them home. He knew he’d become something of a challenge in Miami. He’d never had a serious girlfriend, never been in love, and women wanted to be the one to break him of his bad habit. What bad habit?

  He was never going to get married, so why should he expend the effort on a long-term committed relationship? Relationships got boring. You had to listen to someone whine about their day and pretend you cared.

  Except yesterday, when Olivia had been listing her demands, he’d cared. He’d cared very much. And right now, with his palm wrapped tightly around his erection, he cared about what she’d think of him jerking off to her in his shower.

  Would she be disgusted, or intrigued? Would her nipples harden and her pupils dilate with arousal if she watched him jerk off? Would she strip off her nurse’s scrubs—because, yeah, in this fantasy, she was in thin scrubs, no bra. Hey, his fantasy, his kink.