Free Maid for the Millionaire by Susan Meier

friends,” Amanda announced casually. Then she paused and grinned. “You can’t believe how wonderful it feels to say that. We were always so worried about Rick’s reaction to everything that most of the time we didn’t talk. Telling him where Billy was was an invitation to get into an argument.” She shook her head. “It was no way to live.”
    â€œNo. It isn’t.”
    That came from Cain and caused Liz’s head to swivel in his direction. Not only was he not one to talk about such personal things, but his sympathetic tone was so unexpected she almost couldn’t believe it was he who had spoken.
    â€œMen who abuse anyone weaker than they are are scum.” His voice gentled and he glanced at Amanda. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
    Liz stared at him, suddenly understanding. He’d never been a bad person, simply an overly busy person who had never stopped long enough to pay attention to anything that didn’t pop up in front of him. Amanda and her children were no longer an “issue” to him. They were people with names and faces and lives. It lightened Liz’s heart that he didn’t just recognize that; he genuinely seemed to care for them.
    Still, the conversation could potentially dip into subjects too serious for Joy’s ears. “Well, that’s all over now,” Liz said, turning to the little girl. “And how did you like your playdate?”
    Joy leaned across the table. “It was fun. Maddie has a cat.”
    â€œA huge monster cat!” Amanda said, picking up the platter of chicken and spearing a barbecued breast. “I swear I thought it was a dog when I first saw it.”
    They laughed.
    â€œDo you have a cat?” Joy asked Liz.
    â€œNo. No cat for me. I’m allergic.”
    â€œIt means she can’t be around them or she’ll sneeze,” Amanda explained to Joy as she passed the beans to Cain.
    â€œI didn’t know you were allergic to cats.”
    That was Cain. His words were soft, not sharp or accusatory, but trepidation rippled through her, reminding her of another reason she and Cain couldn’t be more than coworkers. She had bigger secrets than an allergy to cats. From the day she’d met him she’d kept her father’s abuse a secret. Plus, she’d never told him they’d created a child, and then she’d lost that child.
    If they weren’t with Amanda, this might have been the time to tell him. They’d had a reasonably pleasant afternoon. They’d both silently stated their intention not to get involved, but to try to be friends. That had created a kind of bond of honesty between them, which would have made this the perfect time to at least tell him about his child.
    But they weren’t alone.
    Liz turned her attention to the platter of chicken that had come her way. “You didn’t have a cat. I didn’t have a cat. It never came up.”
    He accepted her answer easily, but shame buffeted her, an unexpected result of spending so much time in his company. With him behaving like a good guy, a normal guy, a guy who wanted to get beyond their sexual chemistry and be friends, the secrets she’d kept in their marriage suddenly seemed incredibly wrong.
    She hadn’t told him that her dad had abused her, her mom and her sisters because at the time she was working to forget that. To build a life without her other life hanging over her head. She hadn’t told him about her miscarriage because she’d needed help herself to accept it. And she’d had to leave him to get that help.
    But three years later, so far beyond both of those problems that she could speak about each without breaking down, she wondered about the wisdom of having kept her secrets from him.
    Would their marriage have been different if she’d admitted that as a child she’d been poor, hungry and constantly afraid?
    Would he have been different if she’d