by Helen Conrad
He turned to look at her, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes. “Yes.”
She gestured helplessly. “What is it you wanted?”
“Here.” He held out the papers toward her. “Would you please see that these are returned to my study? I'm going to roll over and tan my back and I don't want them to scatter around in the dirt.”
“Oh.” Now she felt silly for all her dread, She came close to his chair and took the papers from him. “Anything else?” she asked bravely.
“Yes. I'd like another beer when you have a moment.”
“Of course.” Her smile was sunny with relief. “I'll get it right away.” How suspicious she'd been!
“And one more thing.” He caught hold of her wrist as she started to walk past him. “Put suntan lotion on my back.”
“What?”
His hand tightened on her wrist and he lifted the sunglasses to the top of his head. “I'm not playing around, Terry,” he said, his voice hard and sure, his eyes dark and almost dangerous. “I need suntan lotion on my back. I can't do it. You can. I'm your employer. You're being paid to make my life easier. Do your job.”
His voice had an edge to it. She heard it with a sinking heart. He was quite serious, and used to getting his own way. This was no time for rebellion. If she refused to do this, he was capable of firing her on the spot.
Wordlessly, she took the bottle. His eyes darkened, but he didn't say anything, and he didn't smile. Releasing her wrist, he turned over on his stomach. She poured some of the white lotion into her palm, held her breath, and looked down at his gorgeous back.
Perhaps, she told herself a bit desperately, this really was only another job he needed to have done. Maybe she would be able to rub the lotion on quickly and get back to work without any trouble from him. But deep inside, she knew better.
She knelt beside him, hitching up her navy-blue skirt to keep it off the terra-cotta-tiled surface of the decking. Closing her eyes, she slapped her hand down between his shoulder blades and began to rub with furious intensity before she let herself open her eyes again.
“Easy does it,” he muttered.
“Sorry. Do you... want it all over? Or just on your shoulders?”
There was a fateful pause, and then he growled, “All over.”
All over. She gritted her teeth and tried to look away while she worked, struggling to get her mind on chores or supplies or anything else. But it was no use. His flesh felt heavenly beneath her hand, hot and hard and smooth.
Her stroke began to slow, the fingertips reaching out to cover all of him, to pull in the rich, seductive sense of his strength. He had the body of a champion swimmer, a football player, a Greek statue. He was all male. And the female in her was responding.
The lotion smelled of exotic tropical breezes. She drew in a deep breath and leaned across him, working the slick solution into his skin. Her hand rounded the curve of his shoulder and held for a moment, a furtive caress, the pulse of her palm beating against him. And then she looked at his face guiltily to see if he'd noticed.
His head was to the side and his eyes were closed. His breathing was slow and steady. He might be asleep for all she knew. She beat back an urge to lean down and kiss him, just to find out for sure.
She worked lotion into the base of his neck and then trailed it down the valley of his spine, working out across the width of him, moving more and more slowly. The sun was beating on her head and shoulders. The pool was glistening, blinding her with its silvery-blue light. A pair of sea gulls flew by, screaming their wild, raucous call, while the scent of the tropics mixed with the intangible scent of masculinity that lay beneath her hands, so smooth, so intoxicating. It was almost too much for her to bear.
Her fingers tingled and her breath was coming more quickly. She felt excitement race through her as her hand nestled into the small of his back. And then she let her gaze slip lower to linger on his tight, firm bottom.
Her heart was in her throat. She was finished with his back. All she needed to do was to pull away, jump up, and make her way quickly to the house. But her gaze lingered and she could hardly believe how firm and desirable he was.
She was done. It was time to go. And for all she knew, he might be asleep. But he was irresistible. She made one more pass across the small of his back, just a few seconds longer.
And then he drew his breath in with a shudder that told her immediately he'd been awake all the time. She gasped and tried to pull her hand away, but she was too slow for his lightning response.
“Don't go away,” he murmured as he caught hold of her.
She yanked, but he had her imprisoned and he pulled her closer. His hands clasped behind her head, pulling her face down toward his.
“Rick!” she cried out, trying to push away with her one free hand.
“Come on, Miss Icicle,” he murmured huskily, his golden gaze burning into her, “let's see what it takes to make you melt.”
CHAPTER SIX:
At His Command
“Rick,” she whispered, struggling against him, “don’t.”
He released her hand, but he still had her captured.
“Terry, Terry,” he murmured, his hands cupping her face, “you know how I want you.” He searched her gaze, his eyes clouded with a dark male hunger. “Don't you feel the same way?”
Still slick with oil, her hands were on his chest. Somehow, what she’d just done, the way she’d learned the contours of his body, seemed to have rendered her slightly delirious. “I…I…,” she murmured, trying to collect her thoughts and finding it impossible. A sweet longing was filling her veins with lethargy and her brain with confusion.
“You want me, too, don't you?” he asked softly. “I can feel desire flowing through you. I can see it in your face. What are we waiting for?” he asked, his tension sizzling in his voice.
She didn't know. She wasn't sure anymore. He'd clouded her mind along with her senses. She tried to articulate every objection she had, but somehow they'd scattered and she couldn't seem to catch hold of one that sounded logical. The only thing that stood out was the danger of being seen.
She raised her head and looked frantically toward the house. “But Anatole...” she warned breathlessly.
“Is gone,” he supplied. “He went into town to pick up some produce. I saw him drive off half an hour ago.”
That meant they were all alone on a huge estate, no neighbors, no intruders of any kind, for miles. There was no one to save her.
“Rick, oh Rick,” she moaned as he pulled her closer, holding her to his broad chest. “No!”
“Yes,” he countered huskily. “Trust me, Terry. I'd never do anything to hurt you.”
That was a promise impossible to keep and she knew it. Of course he wouldn't hurt her physically, she'd never doubted that. But there were other ways a woman could be hurt, and she'd been so sure she could protect herself from them if she were only strong.
What had happened to her? No man had ever made her crumble so easily. Even with Craig, the physical side of their relationship had come about after logical discussions and measured determinations of the risks involved. It had been like a business deal. You take so much and I promise to give this in return. Never, never had she been swept away by a man's effect on her body before.
Something about Rick Carrington blinded her. He had a magic about him, a sense of sensual command that jerked her around like a puppet on strings. He had only to smile, to raise an eyebrow, to turn down the comer of his mouth, and she responded immediately.
Just as she responded now. His kiss was taut and tender. She could feel the barely controlled passion surging in him. His arms tightened around her and she gasped as the electric charge ignited the fire smoldering inside her, a fire that had never burned so brightly before. She wanted him. She needed him as she'd never needed anything before. He was hungry and he was male and he was hers ... for the moment.
The buttons of her blouse presented no particular problem to Rick. Before she rea
lized what he was doing, he'd pushed the cotton cloth away and was gazing at her full breasts, the dark nipples straining beneath the lace of her bra.
The pleasure she felt at his enjoyment was something new. Just watching his face as he filled his gaze with her body sent a warmth opening inside her. She found herself arching above him, giving him everything, presenting herself to him as though bestowing a gift.
“You're beautiful,” he whispered, reaching for her. His hands burned through the flimsy cloth and she moaned, forgetting everything, becoming all instinct, all sensation.
And then a small, single-engined airplane came over them, flying low.
Rick heard it first. She felt him stiffen, and when he pulled away, she moaned, reluctant to lose him. He planted a quick kiss on her soft mouth and hugged her close.
“Time out to wave to the airplane,” he growled near her ear and she jumped up, realizing at last that they had company.
And then realizing what they had almost done. She trembled from the shock. This was crazy. She was crazy. He felt her shuddering and he pulled her close against him with an arm around her shoulders.
“Just a few minutes,” he murmured into her thick black hair. “Don't leave me.”
She didn't want to leave him, and but she had to. She was a butler. What was she doing making love to the master of the house?
But Rick's attention had wandered. Eyes shaded by his hand, he was looking up at the noisy airplane. “Look at that,” he said slowly. “It's carrying a banner with something written on it.”
They both stared at the sky until the full banner came into view. “Cheers,” it said.
“Cheers?” They looked at each other, frowning, then back up at the airplane. It circled the estate and came back over. They could see the pilot waving from the cockpit.
“Johnny,” Rick said, and a grin began to spread across his face. “I'm sure it's Johnny.”
The plane began to fly off and the grin faded. “Hey, wait a minute,” he called after it. “Where's the rest? No sky diver? No naked woman from the clouds?”
Terry pulled out of the circle of his arm and glared at him. “You seem to have naked women on the brain,” she grumbled, pulling herself together.
“Not 'women,'” he amended quickly, stopping her with hands on each of her shoulders. “Just one special woman.” His smile was as warm and enticing as ever.
But she was immune now. She'd had one fast inoculation and she didn't want the disease. She could put things into perspective now. A naked sky diver, the handy butler, it was all the same to Rick. What a fool she was.
“Let go of me, Mr. Carrington,” she said evenly, eyes flashing. “Let go of me or I'll have you up on charges of sexual harassment.”
For some reason, that shaft found its mark. His eyes clouded and his hands dropped away. He didn't say another word, and she marched back across the patio and into the house before she began to shake all over.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady herself. What on earth had come over her? That wasn’t her, that insane woman who’d fallen for Rick Carrington just now. Some imposter had come in and taken her place. Or at least, stolen her brain for the moment.
She could have ruined everything. She could have destroyed everything, right there, next to the pool. She clenched her jaw held back the cry of impotent rage that filled her. No! Never again!
Rick had never been much of a drinker. Though he had a reputation for being a playboy, the grist for that mill had all come from being seen with so many lovely ladies. On the whole, he drank sparingly. But that afternoon, sitting out on the veranda, he needed a drink, and he needed it badly.
He might as well face it—he was a complete idiot with women. He was totally off center with Terry. He couldn’t seem to find the balance, the point at which they could have a normal bit of give and take. Something was always throwing him off. He just didn’t get women. That had to be it.
He’d been just as bad with Claire. He’d thought he loved her and he’d thought she loved him. When she left him, it was like he’d stepped off the planet into an anti-matter state. That was when the numbness had begun to grow. It only got worse when she took the children and went across the country to live.
And then—a miracle. After over a year apart, he’d gone to see her. And once they were together again, once they’d talked, that old feeling began to hint at a comeback. All the worries and resentments that had pulled them apart didn’t seem so important any longer. Their love had crept out like a green sprout into the sunshine. And it had begun to grow.
Within weeks, that was over. She was suddenly diagnosed with leukemia. In no time at all, she was gone. Just when he’d found her again, she’d slipped away.
The children should have been his salvation, his redemption. But there seemed to be a wall between them, a barrier he just couldn’t find a way to break through. Closeness that should have been just hadn’t happened. And now he was afraid it never would.
So he’d tried to find some comfort with the butler. Was he insane? He'd made another horrible mistake. He hadn't meant to try a classically overbearing seduction out by the swimming pool. It wasn't his usual style. But there it was.
Rick stared moodily into his drink and frowned. He was letting this woman get to him. He watched her as she walked by with clippers in her hand, on her way to cut some roses. She cast a disapproving look at the gin and tonic in his hand, but she didn't say anything, and he watched her in silence, trying to keep things objective.
He'd seen better legs, he told himself. More beautiful hair, certainly. Even a prettier face or two.
Beginning to feel a little better, he straightened and watched her go in among the thorny plants. She looked like any other woman from where he was sitting. What was he worried about? She wasn't so special. He would run into town tonight and meet someone else and forget all about her.
Then, in the midst of the rose garden, she turned, her attention caught by a lovely birdcall coming from the woods nearby. Sunlight shone on her dark hair and her white teeth flashed in a fresh smile as she listened to the bird's song—and Rick felt something twist in his chest.
He swore viciously. There it was again. Certainly there were prettier women in the world. Smarter. Sexier. But none of that mattered. There was something about her, something that got under his skin, something he couldn't control.
Probably the best thing for him would be to leave.
He mused over that idea for a few moments. Aunt Julia could certainly handle things around here. Why not take off? Spend a few weeks in Acapulco, maybe take a cruise. What was he doing here, anyway? What was he trying to prove to his grandfather?
He should have proved everything he needed to over the last few years, with the way he'd taken hold of the business.
But that was only one side of things, and he knew it. There was another, a social side. After all the foolish stunts he'd pulled in his life, he wanted his grandfather to see that he was a worthy successor to the Carrington name in the social arena as well. Having everything perfect when the old man arrived was important to him.
The sound of heels hitting tiles drew his attention. Terry was back. She plopped down in the chair across the table from him in a most un-butler-like manner.
“We have to talk,” she said, leaning over the table and staring at him with a determined look in her eyes.
“Oh, no,” he groaned, making no attempt to make her feel welcome. “I feel a lecture coming on.”
“And that's exactly what you deserve.” Terry wished he didn't look so good. She wanted to touch him, to soothe his worried brow with her cool hand. She'd never considered herself much of a motherly type, but something in this man drew out nurturing instincts she'd never known she had. Sometimes he looked like his son Jeremy, only grown up, and without the koala bear.
But that was just the problem, really. He belonged to a whole different ethic than she. In some ways he was just a little boy, only bigger. He thought he could have his
cake and eat it too.
She couldn't forget what had happened out at the pool. Not the fact that he'd so nearly seduced her—-that was scary, but not surprising, really. What bothered her most was that he'd been able to shift gears so quickly from mad passion to wondering what Johnny was throwing down out of the sky for his birthday present. There didn't seem to be much depth to the man. He didn't really care. It was all fun and games to him.
But life was much more serious to her. She hadn't grown up with his advantages. She'd known times when the wolf was at the door, and she'd known times when she'd needed her dignity. She couldn't forget that, either.
“What happened out there by the pool can't happen again,” she told him evenly. “It wasn't fair.” She took a deep breath. “After all, I am a woman. And you're a very attractive man. I don't deny I find you ... compelling. This is a dangerous situation. We've got to stay away from each other.”
“I don't agree,” he said softly, his gaze skimming over the curve of her cheek.
She bit her lip. “I don't care whether you agree or not. That's the way it has to be.” She lowered her voice, leaning closer. “We can't be lovers.”
His eyes were dark and unreadable, and though his tone was light, she had a feeling he was covering a deeper emotion. “We can be friends, can't we?” he asked, raising his drink to her.
She stared at him, slowly shaking her head. “No. We can't.” She rolled her eyes heavenward and sighed. “How am I going to get this through your thick skull? You are the employer,” she said, using hand gestures to emphasize her point. “I am the employee. You're the master. I'm the servant. We've got to keep those roles clearly defined or we'll both be in trouble.”
She looked at him sharply, wanting to see if her argument had sunk in, but once again his attention seemed to have drifted. He was staring at the glass in his hand. “Cheers,” he repeated softly.