Free What a Woman Gets by Judi Fennell

the tingles that had run through her as he’d stood in her living room while she’d prayed he was a stripper her friends had sent—the ones who’d all but abandoned her this week—and not the actual maid.
    How wrong she’d been. And now she was paying for it.
    â€œYou
don’t
know my name.”
    â€œYou’re crazy.”
    He crossed his arms, and, oh my, what that did to his shoulders. She wouldn’t mind being wrapped in those.
    â€œOkay prove me wrong. What is it?”
    â€œWhat’s what?”
    â€œMy name?”
    Crap. She’d forgotten the question; why couldn’t he? “You don’t know? That could be a problem. You might want to get that checked out.”
    â€œFunny.” He uncrossed his arms and put his fists on his hips.
    Oh my, what that did to his washboard eight-pack—
    â€œSo what’s my name?”
    Dammit. She licked her lips. “Seriously, buddy, if you’re not remembering your name, you might want to see a doctor.”
    Liam took a step toward her. “You can’t back out of this, Princess. You either know my name or you don’t. I’m either important enough for you to remember or I’m not.”
    â€œThat’s not really fair.” Because she’d
never
forget him. Maybe she wouldn’t remember his name, but him? No, he was definitely memorable.
    â€œAnd looking down your sculpted nose at us poor working slobs is?”
    â€œMy nose isn’t sculpted. This is the nose I was born with.”
    The arched eyebrow said he thought differently.
    â€œIt is.” She crossed her arms. “Just because most people in my social circle have nose jobs or boob jobs, don’t assume I have as well.”
    â€œOh, sweetheart, I already know you didn’t have a boob job.”
    He had no business thinking about her breasts.
    But, damn, her breasts liked that he did, her nipples hardening beneath the sports bra and flimsy painting shirt she was wearing.
    Turn around, Cassidy
.
Walk away from the hot guy. Whose name you still don’t know.
    Oh God. She didn’t know his name. How freaking shallow was she?
    Cassidy took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She could admit she didn’t remember. Lots of people had trouble with names. It didn’t mean she was shallow. Plus, she’d had a lot going on these past twenty-four hours. She’d been nervous about lunch with Dad; that’s why she couldn’t remember his name. He’d probably only said it once and it’d probably been so fast that she really hadn’t heard it.
    Still, good manners dictated that she should own up to her memory loss. It could happen to anyone.
    A key turned in the front door lock.
    Maid guy’s head swung around at the sound.
    Cassidy’s didn’t. There was only one person who’d use the key without knocking.
    Funny, she hadn’t thought she’d be happy to see her father after last night, but if his arrival was going to save her from the embarrassment of having to admit she couldn’t remember the maid’s name, well then, there was a first time for everything.
    â€œWho the hell are you?”
    Dad’s question, though well-timed, was as arrogant as Cassidy not knowing his name was shallow.
    Maid guy, however, didn’t seem intimidated. He stuck out his hand and met Dad on equal footing. “Liam Manley. Of Manley Maids.”
    â€œYour company?”
    Liam (!) shook his gorgeous head of hair. “My sister’s. I’m just helping out.”
    â€œYou work for your sister?” There went Dad’s damn eyebrow arching again. “Shouldn’t that be the other way around?”
    Cassidy wanted to shrivel up and die. How condescending could Dad be? She didn’t want to see Liam squirm, but a morbid sense of something had her looking at him.
    He looked like a Liam. Big and strong and strapping, like someone from the old country you could depend on