by Helen Conrad
“Don’t you have a couple of sisters?” she asked, suddenly remembering.
He nodded. “Kathy is the Olympic swimmer. She’s in training for an international meet later this summer so you probably won’t see her around. And Shelley, my baby sister, is a psychologist right here in Destiny Bay. She’s a doll. She might drop by at any time.”
Suddenly she remembered that it was a special day. “Oh, by the way. Happy birthday.”
He looked surprised that she'd remembered, surprised and pleased. Every time he showed his vulnerability that way, she found herself weakening toward him. If only he were consistently arrogant, it would all be so much easier.
“Thanks,” he said, his gaze searching hers as though hoping for some pleasurable surprises.
That helped put things back into perspective. Casting him a frosty glare, she looked back down at her notebook. “We can go over the details of your entertainment schedule later, if you prefer,” she said. “But why don't you fill me in on Aunt Julia right now? I had no idea you were expecting to have a guest so soon.”
From the twinkle in his eye she could see that Aunt Julia was a favorite of his. “Julia isn't a guest,” he exclaimed. “She stays here more often than I do. She's my grandfather's sister and you'll love her. She won't cause you a bit of trouble.”
There was trouble, and then there was trouble. If Aunt Julia took a liking to her, that was all well and good. But if not—Grandfather might get called in, for all Terry knew. She'd reserve judgment on this one, and try to be ready for anything.
“There is one problem, though,” he mentioned, then he laughed. “She'll be bringing someone along with her. She always does.”
“Oh? Who is it?”
He shrugged. “She's different every time. You see, Aunt Julia is sort of a traveling smorgasbord of marriage prospects.”
Totally at sea, Terry shook her head. “I don't understand.”
“Julia thinks I'm long overdue on the remarriage market. She always brings along a tempting morsel, sure that one of them is bound to catch my fancy one of these days.”
Good grief. Aunt Julia sounded like a nosy manipulator. More problems coming down the line.
“That’s convenient,” Terry remarked dryly.
“Are you kidding?” He looked as though she'd lost her mind. “I have no intention of getting married again. I spend every other weekend trying to fight off these lovesick females Julia comes up with.”
Lovesick! Poor women! “How trying for you,” she amended, letting her sarcasm show just a bit.
“Oh, well.” He smiled at her, looking guileless. “You'll be a help there, at any rate.”
She looked up in surprise. “Me? How can I help?”
He leaned closer. “If worse comes to worst, and the latest lady breathes a bit too hot and heavy at my heels, I'll just tell her I'm in love with the butler.” He reached out to chuck her under the chin. “Good idea, isn't it?”
Why was she flushing at his joke? She made her frown even more ferocious to compensate. “Not particularly,” she snapped.
He let his hand linger on her chin, turning her head so that she was forced to lift her face to his.
“Hey, grumpy,” he said with a smile. “If this is what a night sleeping alone does to you, we're going to have to do something about it.”
He was gorgeous and adorable and ready to play. A temptation like this didn't come along every day. She took a deep breath and gritted her teeth for at least the illusion of extra strength. It was high time she established her rules.
Slowly, deliberately, she pulled away from his hand and packed up her notebook. Rising from the chair, she forced herself to ignore the gleam in his eyes.
“Let me know when you're ready to talk business,” she said brusquely. Turning on her heel, she strode quickly out the door and didn't relax until she'd reached the safety of the butler's pantry, where she sank down on the little couch and let herself laugh for a moment.
She was proud of herself. That brush-off had been difficult—but absolutely necessary.
“And it was only practice for the future, I'm afraid,” she whispered out loud. Rick had to realize that she wasn't going to join in his games.
But she didn't have long to brood about taming Rick. The morning was full of other things to keep her busy.
Anatole, the cook, had arrived in time to fix the children's breakfast. Tall, gaunt, and very French, he'd swept in and taken over, making it clear he ruled the kitchen.
Terry had known from the first that she and Anatole were not destined to become bosom buddies. From what her father had told her, cooks and butlers often formed close alliances in order to manage their employers. He’d warned her that their first meeting would set the tone.
She was ready. She was thinking good thoughts and smiling as she entered the kitchen. But she could see it wasn’t going to be easy from the first. Anatole watched her approach with disdain fairly dripping from the ends of his mustache.
“I am Anatole,” he'd announced grandly, looking down his long Gallic nose.
“There's certainly no question about that,” Terry responded cheerfully, then bit her tongue as fire flashed in the man's black eyes. No sense of humor, she noted. It would be wise to tread softly.
But no matter how diplomatic she tried to be, Anatole had a way to make things unpleasant, disparaging her every suggestion.
Her father's first call of the day was close on the heels of one of their confrontations.
“Am I, or am I not, the cook's boss?” she asked her expert.
To her dismay, her father hesitated. “That's a touchy one,'' he admitted at last. “Technically you are, but most cooks would dispute it. They like to feel they run their department autonomously. It depends on what sort of character your cook has. She won't want to admit you're her boss, but when the chips are down—”
“This cook is a he,” Terry informed him.
“A he?... Ah.” There was a long pause. “Maybe you'd better let me speak to him.”
“Oh, no,” Terry said quickly. She still had a lot to prove—even to the cook. “I'll handle it myself.”
Just how she was going to do that, she didn't know, but she wouldn't involve her father in her own struggles. He was a sweet, dear man and he’d been treated unfairly at his last job. She was ready to move heaven and earth to keep this one for him.
They chatted for a few more minutes. He asked about the house, about the garden, if anyone on the staff was still there from the old days when he’d ruled the place like a sort of royalty—at least that was the way he remembered it.
She smiled with pure affection, hoping he wasn’t going to be disappointed when he healed enough to come take over and finally faced reality rather than fuzzy memories. How would Rick treat her father? Her smile faded as she wondered.
Rick was feeling restless. He had plenty of paper work he should be taking care of, but he couldn’t keep his mind on it right now. For some strange reason, he couldn’t keep his thoughts off the butler.
Just thinking of it made him swear. The situation was ridiculous. He was going to have to let her go. He could just imagine the talk in the rest of the family if this got out.
But the funny thing was, he didn’t really want her to leave. It was pretty obvious why—she was gorgeous and sexy and it made him feel all kinds of good things just looking at her. But he knew it was no good.
“Date her,” he muttered to himself. “Just don’t hire her.”
But that would just add her to the long line of women who’d come and gone in his life in recent years. For some reason, he didn’t want to do that, and he wasn’t sure just why. What did it matter, anyway? His feelings were all surface. Nothing seemed to penetrate anymore.
He walked to the floor-to-ceiling glass windows and looked out at the morning. There were bunnies on the grass, eating furtively. Flowers were blooming. The ocean sparkled in the distance. Life was going on all around him, but it never seemed to touch him.
>
When was he going to feel as though he could attach himself to life again? When was he going to lose this numbness, this void? Did he still have a heart? Did he even have a real circulatory system—would he bleed? Sometimes he thought he might be turning into a zombie, all human contact cut off. Who did he love, anyway?
He’d loved Claire. He’d been insane in love with her at one point in time. And when they’d had the children, he’d thought he was the happiest man in the world.
What had happened to that? How could love just wither up and blow away? He stared hard at the rabbits and wondered if he should get a dog.
Turning back into the house, he sighed. Wasn’t it getting on toward the deadline he’d set? Weren’t he and Terry supposed to get together to asses things about now? He set off to find her, and he rounded a doorway into the library just in time to hear her signing off.
“Thanks so much, darling,” she was saying into her cell phone. “I love you too.”
He stopped, startled, hardly recognizing her. The woman he knew didn’t seem one to fling endearments around as though they came easily to her lips. He had no doubt she was talking to a man. To his complete surprise, a sudden and unexpected fury blazed through him. He stepped forward just as she was closing her phone, and his gaze wasn’t friendly.
“Who the hell was that?” he asked bluntly, his eyes cold.
She shook her head, caught off guard and not sure she was going to let him question her like that.
“Uh…no one you know,” she said coolly. “Why?”
“Just tell me the truth. Are you in a serious relationship?” He had the tone of an inquisitor.
She shook her head, eyes guarded. “I told you last night, I've just broken off with a man I'd been seeing for years. There's no one right now. What is this all about?”
His hard gaze searched hers and then he seemed to realize what he was doing. “I know what you told me.” He blinked and then stepped back feeling very foolish. “I'm just trying to establish the ground rules. I don't like poaching on other people's territory.”
She gaped at him, outraged. “You have no right...” she sputtered, but he stopped her with a wave of his hand, his expression pained.
“You're absolutely correct,” he muttered, turning away, disgusted with himself. He couldn't remember ever having acted so stupidly before in his life. “Forget I said anything.”
He swore softly under his breath as he strode from the room. What the hell was the matter with him, anyway? He'd never been the jealous type with any of his girlfriends. Easy come, easy go. That was the way to take it. One beautiful woman was interchangeable with any other. That was how it had always been, how he wanted it to stay. Even with Terry Yardley.
The one time he’d gone further, when he’d married Claire, he’d realized right away that he wasn’t the marrying type. Their marriage had its ups and downs. He’d been crazy about her at first. He’d thought she felt the same. And then he found out she didn’t, and the bottom fell out of his existence.
“Don’t get too close,” he muttered to himself warningly. “It never pays off.”
Terry watched him leave, frowning. She had no idea why Rick had made this silly display, but she did know one thing. The phone calls from her father were going to have to stop. He meant well, but she had to do this on her own. That was the only way she was going to get any respect.
The children were sent off to the zoo with Charles. Terry waved them off, then went back inside and took an inventory of the crystal collection.
At one point just before noon, she remembered again that it was Rick's birthday. She ran down to the kitchen to consult with Anatole.
“We must have something special for dinner tonight,” she told him. “Something Ri... Mr. Carrington especially likes.”
Anatole raised a dark eyebrow.
“It is Mr. Carrington's birthday, you know,” Terry explained expectantly.
He stared at her coolly. “What if it is?”
She shrugged. “Don't you want to cook a meal to please him?”
No one could have looked more bored. “Let him ask me himself. He is the master.”
Terry retreated to lick her wounds. What an impossible man! Surely he didn't expect Rick to order up his own celebration. There had to be some way ...
There was a sound in the hall behind her and she turned. It was Rick, just as she'd expected, but he was glaringly, stupefyingly half naked, sporting swim trunks and a towel that was draped around his neck. There was a lot of hard male flesh showing. She found the words of greeting she'd prepared to utter stuck in her throat.
“I'm going out by the pool to catch up on some paperwork,” he said shortly, indicating the leather briefcase he was carrying. “Give me a shout if anyone calls.”
“Of course,” was all she could manage to say, and that came out thin and shaky.
His gaze was cool, assessing. She stared into his eyes, afraid to look anywhere else. Even so, she couldn't block the sight of him out completely. His shoulders were very large and his hips were slim. Anything else was a blur of tan skin and golden hair—but she wouldn't look.
He watched her confusion for a long moment, not giving away a thing with his own expression. Then he turned and walked slowly off while she pretended to straighten a painting on the wall until he was out of sight.
She sagged with relief as he went out the door. How could she have been so totally unprepared, so overwhelmed? And even worse, how could she have been such a fool as to let him know!
She went back to work, determined to forget he existed. She made herself busy with the cedar closets in the guest rooms, cleaning them out and checking for wear and damage of the wood. But her mind wouldn't stay on her work, and every time she passed a window she couldn't stop herself from glancing down at the swimming pool.
He had on nothing but a swatch of blue cloth. Somehow it didn’t help that it was baggy. The sun glistened on his warm brown hair, giving it gold highlights. She was getting much too wrapped up in the man and his effect on her, and she knew it.
After finishing the closets, she made her way downstairs and went into the library to wash the glass panels in the bookcase doors. At least that was what she told herself she was there for. The library just happened to have an excellent view of the part of the pool where Rick was lying on the lounge chair. Irresistibly drawn, Terry walked quietly to the window and looked out.
He was the most devastating thing she'd ever seen. Muscle locked with muscle across his shoulders. A brush of brown hair darkened the tanned skin of his chest. His thighs were thick and strong, the hair on them burnished in the sunlight.
He moved, shifting his position, and every part of him rippled elegantly into place again with a masculine grace that defied description. There was power leashed inside that gorgeous body, and a seductive virility that nearly swept her away. She'd never been so affected by looking at a man's body before. Suddenly she realized she was holding her breath and she let it out with a sigh. She knew she could have that man in her arms—all she had to do was invite him.
Or maybe not. After all, look what had happened the night before. She would die before she would let him catch her so vulnerable again!
She was so wrapped up in that memory that she failed to hear someone come into the library behind her.
“Is that what you want?” Anatole's voice split her reverie and she swung around, gasping in surprise.
“Is that what you came for?” The cook gestured outside to where Rick was going over his papers. “You may as well forget that idea, young lady. Unless you fancy being used and discarded like all the women before you.”
Terry flushed with outraged embarrassment. “Now just one minute—” she began, but Anatole cut in.
“I have known him for years. I knew him when his grandfather caught him entertaining maids in his room and sent him to military school as a punishment.” He shook his head dourly. “You may think I am a meddling old man, but you would do well to lis
ten to my advice. I was here when he married the Southern lady. That was different. That was to please his grandfather. And look how badly it went. You won't find him doing that again.”
“I'm not here to develop a relationship with Mr. Carrington. I'm here to work.” She drew herself up with as much pride as she could muster.
Anatole gazed at her doubtfully. “Strange occupation for a woman,” he sniffed. “You're not likely to marry the boss's son, you know.” He flashed a grin at her. “They don’t promote butlers to wife very often.” He chuckled at his own joke. “But if all you're looking for is a brief moment of pleasure ...” He shrugged and turned away. “Well, that is surely all you'll get.”
Watching him leave, she wasn't sure which emotion was stronger, embarrassment or anger. It doesn't matter, she tried to reassure herself. Who cares what Anatole thinks?
But she couldn't shake the suspicion that Anatole might be right.
She spent the next half hour working hard, not allowing herself to go anywhere near a window. When the intercom buzzed she jumped a foot in the air, then looked about wildly to see where the noise had come from. It was the first time anyone had used it since she'd arrived, but she finally located the little speaker in the wall of the pantry.
“Yes?” she spoke into the speaker.
“Can you come out here?” Rick asked. “I've got something I want you to do.”
Her heart sank. “I... I'm a bit busy at the moment—”
“This will take only a minute.” His voice was crisp and businesslike. “Please come right away.”
She stared at the speaker. He was the boss, wasn't he? And she was at his command.
“I’ll be right there.”
She regretted having agreed to come all the way out to the pool. There he was in all his golden glory, the sun burning down on his hot skin. She could hardly stand to think about it, much less look right at him.
“You sent for me?” she asked stiffly, standing away from the lounge chair where he was half lying, half sitting, and staring out at the blue water of the pool, a sheaf of papers in his hand.