by Ellen March
“Anything you want to watch this evening?” He didn’t miss her pinched features and crestfallen face.
“No, I don’t watch much television.” At least not since she’d knocked her portable over. She couldn’t afford a new one at the moment. But she wasn’t going to admit that. She’d need to get to know him a bit first before admitting her dire financial status.
It was bad enough that he’d already observed first hand her catastrophic awkwardness.
“Oh, I love my soaps, but Roman’s the same as you. He doesn’t watch much, either.” A thoughtful smile played across his face. “Well, unless it’s about animals or educational. So boring!”
Sally stored that snippet of information away. She needed to know as much as possible about him in a short space of time. Because she had a strong feeling that at this rate she wouldn’t be staying for long.
“If you want a drink, help yourself,” he said without thinking, then backtracked when she wandered over to the small bar festooned with twinkling crystal glasses. “Er, it’s okay. I’ll do it.” He leapt to his feet with the startled grace of a gazelle, getting to the bar first.
“Why, you don’t trust me?” She tilted her head, a shadow of a smile on her face. She had that effect on most people, once they’d witnessed her clumsiness. The only person who didn’t react to her that way was Jasmin. Her close friend from years ago. Their closeness had been forged through the sisterhood of loss. Both had been moved through numerous foster homes; neither had parents to call their own.
“It’s not that, but trust me, Roman wouldn’t be happy if you smashed his favourite bottle of Penderyn whisky.” He grasped a glass. “What’s your tipple?” Paul studied the large variety of bottles.
“I’ll have a wine, I suppose. Don’t really drink much,” she said. “With soda and ice. Oh, and a piece of lemon, and maybe lime?”
“Anything else you want in it?” he laughed, handing her a large crystal glass. He made sure she had a firm grip before letting go. “Anyway, it’s just the two of us for supper. I’ve gone ahead and ordered Chinese, but Romans’ gone out to eat.” He didn’t bother to explain he would be with a lady friend.
“Yeah, I heard the door slam,” she admitted, then took a large gulp of wine, needing the artificial boost the alcohol gave her. Not that she drank much. She couldn’t afford to. On her current wages she was lucky to eat. “I broke the laptop.” She sank into the sumptuous chair with its large, overstuffed scatter cushions.
“I heard. Well, that information emerged between the swear words.” He cocked his head and studied her. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you usually this clumsy, or is it because you’re nervous around Roman?”
“Roman has nothing to do with it, trust me. I’m always the same, don’t know why.” After putting the glass down and almost knocking it over, she picked it back up.
“And you don’t find yourself drawn to him?” Surprise echoed in his question.
She turned. “No, why?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head. “Nothing at all.”
With a sigh, Sally wondered what he was getting at. Every woman would be “drawn” to Roman, but she would have been equally clumsy if he were Quasimodo.
“Tell me a bit about yourself, and how come you’ve got such an unusual surname?” Paul crossed his legs and leaned back, sipping from his own drink. With an almost casual air, he examined her fine bone structure. Her features bordered on patrician. His attention was drawn to her delicate nose and lush, suckable lips.
“That’s the day I was found. I was abandoned. My mother didn’t want me and left me outside a police station.” She took another gulp of wine. “There was a piece of paper with my name on it, and that’s it. Some things don’t change.”
“What do you mean?” He was starting to look upon this girl as a kindred spirit. Paul instantly warmed to her, remembering his own upbringing. Any number of fathers might have sired him.
“Well, I was never wanted. I grew up in a children’s home with just one friend, Yasmin. Even now I’m not wanted. People try to avoid me or give me sympathetic looks, and I hate that.” She finished her drink and peered down into the bottom of her glass. The lemon lay limply across the ice cubes and she wondered where the lime had got to.
“Sorry about that.” He was unsure what to say. And he thought he’d had it bad …. Well, not really, he amended. He was just between boyfriends at the moment. He was also jealous of Roman, who never seemed to suffer from lack of sex. “Do you want another one?” He indicated to her empty glass.
“Why not? And don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t need or want sympathy.” She had already guessed his train of thought. Her stomach grumbled loudly. “Oh hell, I’m starving. What time’s food coming?”
“Speak of the devil.” Loud barking signalled the delivery’s arrival. “Don’t suppose you fancy getting it? The dogs don’t like me.”
“No worries.” She rose to her feet, the wine she’d knocked back too quickly flying to her head.
“Here.” Paul threw a note to her. “Tell them to keep the change.” Paul grinned when she wobbled down the drive to the gate. The grin turned to a cringe when she fell over one of the dogs. The white carrier bag flew into the air before smashing down on the gravel. The curry splattered across the drive, the entire contents scattered on the floor. Paul let out a groan as the dogs hovered with excitement before snatching it up.
Shaking his head, he wondered if there was something wrong with the glasses she wore. No one could be that clumsy, he thought, so it must be the glasses. He was determined to take them off her when she came in.
“I saw what happened,” he said, nodding towards the empty bag and cartons in her hand. Her tracksuit bottoms were torn across the knee, a splodge of curry smeared beneath the rip.
“Oh, why do I bother?” she cried, slumping down onto the chair, forgetful of the curry that was smudged along her legs. She put her head in her hands.
“Come on, I’ll make us something to eat. I am quite domesticated, you know.” Carrying his drink, he made his way to the kitchen.
Sally followed him and sat waiting patiently for her food. In no time she was happily munching her way through a mound of sandwiches and a packet of crisps.
“How long have you known Roman?” She was determined to find out what she could between mouthfuls of food.
“Years. He’s arrogant, impatient, and can be bad-tempered. I mean ‘pure evil’ bad. And he loves his work, almost as much as he loves women. Lots of them. Without doubt, he believes in variety.” He gave her a wink and delicately nibbled on his sandwich. He couldn’t believe the way she shovelled the food down her throat.
“Oh, so is that where he’s gone tonight?” she asked out of curiosity, licking her fingers and dabbing at the crunchy crumbs on the foil packet.
Paul shook his head at her lack of table manners. “Too right he has. He makes a call, and whoever he chooses as the lucky woman drops everything for him.”
Paul tried to peer past her hideous glasses and see what she looked like, but the lenses distorted her eyes.
“You can’t be serious!” She laughed. “But why?”
“Two things. Well three, I guess: his looks, his money, and apparently he’s very good in bed.” He gave her another saucy wink. “That’s what I heard. I haven’t tried him myself, more’s the shame.”
“Hmmm,” she said, contemplating this snippet, unsure what else she could ask. She wasn’t used to discussing a man’s sex life. And what a man. She gave a low, wistful sigh of longing.
“We’ve got a dinner party this weekend. You’ll see for yourself. Watch out for the claws.” With care, he placed his crust alongside the others neatly lined up on his plate.
“Well, thank goodness I won’t be cooking.”
“Oh my, no way. We have caterers in, my dear.” Cocking his head, he studied her. “Take your glasses off.”
“Why?” she asked, wondering why he’d rapidly changed the subje
ct.
“Just humour me,” he coaxed. She paused, then at last lifted the heavy frames from her face and laid them down.
“What’s wrong?”
“Why the hell are you hiding those amazing eyes behind such monstrosities?” he asked in shock. They were vibrant green, the colour of jade fringed by a mass of soot-dark lashes. They sat in stark contrast to the honey blonde of her hair.
“They’re just eyes, Paul. No need to pretend. I know I’m ugly.” She placed her glasses back on her face. She felt more secure peering out on the world from behind the lenses.
“I’m not lying, but I think I’m going to have to take you in hand,” he mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Yes, indeed.”
* * *
Sally lay on top of the bed, a single sheet draped over her body. She’d tossed and turned, hot and restless. A film of perspiration plastered her body, and the air was warm and clammy.
Throwing the sheet to one side, she rose to her feet, naked apart from a splash of glaring red, a minuscule pair of briefs that had seen better days. Crossing in soft steps towards the window, she stared with an intense longing out at the cool night. Her window overlooked the pool, which twinkled and beckoned, calling out to her. A glaze of moonlight caressed the water, and without another thought, she skipped into the bathroom.
Wrapping a large towel around her body, she opened her door slowly. Peeping out, she gazed down the darkened hallway. She could just make out the dulcet sound of Paul snoring. He was in the bedroom next to hers, separated only by the bathroom. She hadn’t heard Roman return and supposed he’d be spending the night away. He probably felt safer, she thought with a snap of irritation.
Running down the darkened stairs, she padded on light feet through the kitchen and pulled the door open. She held her breath and winced at its creaking hinges, hoping no one would hear the noise, before stepping outside and closing the door behind her. The patio stones still felt warm beneath her bare feet.
The two shepherds rose from where they’d been lying near the house and trotted over, curious at this midnight visit. Raising a hand to her lips, she said, “Ssh,” and grinned at their wagging tails. “Now be quiet, and sit there. That’s good, boys.” Sally was pleased at the way they listened to her.
Without wasting any time, she dropped the towel onto the nearby sun lounger, letting her eyes adjust to the dark. Spinning round, she dove into the pool. Her body was as straight as an arrow as she disappeared beneath the water. Coming up the other side of the pool, she relished the coolness washing over her skin. Floating on her back, Sally lazed around the pool, her hands fanning through the water as she drifted with aimless intent. She chuckled at the two dogs sitting poised at the edge of the pool, watching her.
She was so tempted to call them in but knew she couldn’t explain to Roman why his dogs were soaking wet and his pool full of dog hair.
Without warning the outside lights blazed, illuminating the entire area. Sally lay frozen on her back for an instant, bathed in the glare at the centre of the pool. Galvanising herself into action, she flipped over and dove to the bottom. She swam with easy expertise beneath the water, coming up against the darkened edge of the pool.
As she squeezed her eyes shut, she heard Roman’s voice. Shit, shit!
* * *
“What the hell?” He’d barely caught a tantalising glimpse of naked flesh and a flash of red cloth before it submerged. He thought he’d imagined it, except that the dogs bounced around the pool barking. Then they stopped and concentrated on the spot she’d swum to and disappeared.
“Stay inside, they’re not good with strangers,” he ordered his companion, a tall, red-haired woman. Then he strode to the pool. Staring down into the water, he caught a glimpse of a blonde head.
And then he knew.
“Sally!” he yelled, just before she sank lower into the depths. “Christ!” Roman was convinced she was drowning, and kicked off his shoes before diving in. Reaching out to her, he pulled her struggling body back to the surface.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” At once, he realized she was practically naked. A pair of very ample breasts spilled over his arm as he held her tight in front of him.
Mortified, she struggled to free herself from his vice-like grip. “Nothing, so will you let me go?”
Coming to his senses, he felt his mind reel at the sight of the body she’d hidden beneath baggy, unflattering clothes. He released her. “What the hell were you doing at the bottom of the pool?”
“It’s obvious I was hiding, wasn’t it?” she said, still with her back to him. She treaded the water before swimming to the side. Raising her arms, she laid them on the edge of the pool and clung to the tiles, unaware of the way her breasts pushed out to the side.
Roman swallowed hard and studied her slim back and narrow waist. It was so small he could span it with his hands. His gaze dropped to the small red knickers and shapely ass. Those were some interesting prospects, he thought in surprise.
“I’ll get your towel.” Roman swam to the edge of the pool and pulled himself out, his sodden clothes clinging to him. He picked up the towel, returned to where she hovered, and held it out to her. “Come on, I won’t look,” he lied. “But I can’t leave you out here. God only knows what else you’ll get up to.” Mentally, he calculated her roll of calamities since she’d arrived.
“Turn your head then,” she said, not trusting him, but realized he wouldn’t look twice at her anyway. He wasn’t that desperate.
She hauled herself out, leaning forward before standing upright. Then she gazed for one brief moment into the smoky depths of Roman’s eyes.
When she had bent over, he’d glanced down. He needed to see if her body was for real or if he’d imagined it, and he resisted the urge to cup her large breasts. She was standing now, and his gaze scored across her flat stomach and jutting hip bones.
He’d seen enough to have his curiosity well and truly piqued.
She clasped the towel around her and with a glare at the traitorous dogs for giving her away, padded through the door. Walking across the kitchen, she tried not to stare at the tall, beautiful woman seated on the high stool.
“Evening.” Sally smiled, as if this were an everyday occurrence. Then she slipped on the wet tiles and crashed to the floor with a loud shriek, clutching her towel tightly. Thankful she hadn’t let go, she scrambled clumsily to her feet, and with head held high, left the kitchen
Roman put a hand up to cover his eyes, shaking his head in despair. “I’ll see you in the morning.” His deep voice promised retribution. “I think we need to have a little chat.”
“Who was that?” asked Sheena. She was about to drape herself over Roman until she saw he was saturated. “What on earth happened to you?”
“Don’t ask, but it’s hard to get good staff these days.” His mood changed with a sure fire speed at the thought of the night ahead. “I need to get out of these clothes anyway.”
Clasping her hand and pulling her behind him, he strode towards the stairs. He noticed the dripping footsteps that preceded his own, all of a sudden remembering that he’d left his shoes outside. He hoped the dogs wouldn’t decide to chew them. If they did, that would be another black mark against her.
Chapter Six
Sally lay in bed listening to the noise emanating from the room across the way. She wished she were elsewhere. In that bed would be nice, she thought with a dreamy expression. She pulled the pillow over her ears in an effort to dull the woman’s shrieks and the constant thud of the headboard.
A brief lull of silence followed, soon over. The bed’s creaking and the guttural groans made her skin erupt in goose pimples. She wondered what it would be like to be made love to all night. Or just made love to at all.
She’d always been too shy to date, and the boys who did pay attention to her were obsessed with her breasts, which disgusted her. Her crooked teeth had always been a source of embarrassment. She’d had them straightened on credit. It was
past time to have them removed, but that meant making a final payment, so she’d delayed scheduling the appointment. Lately the receptionist had been hounding her with phone messages.
The noise of her employer and his latest conquest making love with relentless enthusiasm continued. She wondered if it was normal to go for hours. At last, in the early hours of the morning, she fell asleep, mere minutes before her alarm screamed in her ear. Groping for it without opening her eyes, she switched it off and snuggled into the pillow. Then she pulled the sheet over her head to block out the light.
A loud, rapping noise disturbed her sleep, breaking into the dream she was enjoying. All she could think of was that they were at it again, until she realized it was someone pounding her door.
“I’m coming, keep your shirt on,” she muttered, trying to open her eyes and keep them that way. After putting on her glasses, she pulled the door open a tiny crack. And peered up into Roman’s furious face. “Oh God, now what? I can’t have done anything wrong. I’ve been in bed,” she groaned, speaking her thoughts aloud.
“Do you know what the time is? You’re supposed to be downstairs, not still in bed.” He ran his fingers through his hair, distracted. He’d thought of nothing else last night except her body, and he couldn’t work out why. He’d been with a multitude of women with stunning figures but he didn’t go fantasizing about them.
And all the time he’d been making love to Sheena, he’d been imagining her body writhing beneath his.
“Sorry, but I couldn’t sleep, too much noise,” she mumbled, and realized what she’d said. “I mean,” she tried to cover her words, “I’ll be there now.”
“Sally, we do have hairdryers,” he said, noticing her hair was still bound and wet. “Top drawer in the bathroom cabinet.”
“Thanks.” She shut the door abruptly, leaving Roman to stare at it in disbelief. He was thankful she’d missed his nose this time.
* * *
Sally’s mobile vibrated on the unit. She picked it up to see it was Norma.
“Well, how have you settled in?” Norma asked, coming directly to the point. Moving forward with the speed of a lioness on the hunt, she asked, “Have you any news yet?”