by Helen Conrad
“Oh, no!” Terry cried, horrified. Had she really done it? “Oh, I'm so sorry!” She reached down to try to help Caren back up, but so did everyone else around the pool, and Caren furiously refused her offer.
Caren came out of the water like a wet hen, sputtering and babbling incoherently. Terry started to go to her, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.
“I wouldn't,” Rick murmured, his face very near hers and his eyes full of laughter. “I don't think she'll be in a very forgiving mood for quite some time.”
“I... I did it on purpose,” she whispered to him, guilt-stricken. “How could I do that?”
He laughed, his arm sliding around her shoulders to pull her close, and in the crowd of guests still excited over Caren's “fall,” his action went unnoticed.
Terry found herself leaning on him, letting him curl her into his embrace, hungering for his comfort. “Oh, this is horrible,” she murmured despairingly. “What can I do to make it up to her? Everyone must think I'm crazy.”
“No one thinks you did it on purpose,” he assured her. “I don't think anyone noticed your connection at all. Besides, I suppose you were just following orders. One of the very first duties I assigned was the task of protecting me from Julia's marriage prospects.” He grinned at her. “Job well done, Yardley.”
His words were teasing, but his lips were coming close, and she suddenly remembered that they were out in the open, surrounded by guests. Rick kissing the butler was bound to make an even bigger stir than the butler pushing the guest of honor into the pool.
“Not here,” she whispered, drawing away and alarmed at how difficult it was to leave him.
His hand slid down to hold her elbow. “Not here,” he agreed, his eyes shimmering in the afternoon light. “But somewhere, Terry. Sometime.”
She broke away and hurried to her pantry, desperately needing a moment alone. But there wasn't much solace in her loneliness: Rick was haunting her wherever she went.
It was after midnight before Terry and her crew had everything straightened up. The house was quiet. Terry was exhausted, but too tense to sleep. Slipping down the hall to her room, she went straight into the bath and began to run the water for a long, relaxing soak that would wash her troubles away.
She put in plenty of bubbling bath oil and watched as the white suds filled the old-fashioned, lion-claw tub.
When the bath was full she slipped out of her clothes and sank slowly into the hot water, sighing with pleasure. Her feet ached, her head ached, her soul ached. Stretching back, she closed her eyes and luxuriated in the hot suds.
She heard the door to the bathroom open, but she didn't open her eyes. She was pretty sure she knew who it was.
“Mind if I come in?” Rick's voice was low and deep as velvet.
“Of course I mind,” she answered softly. “But I don't suppose that's going to stop you.”
She heard the door close, heard him moving near, and finally she opened her eyes and looked up at him. She'd never seen him with his hair so rumpled before, as though he'd spent a lot of time running his hand through it. He wore dark slacks and a black short-sleeved knit shirt that hugged the rugged muscles of his chest. His gaze was smoky, and full of passion she wasn't sure she was ready to face. As she watched he dropped to one knee beside the tub and dipped a hand into the bubbles.
“We've got a problem, you and me,” he murmured, running his fingers through the water.
“I know,” she whispered.
He lifted his hand suddenly and caught her chin, turning her eyes to meet his. “We can't ignore it any longer, you know. It's not going away on its own.”
She nodded, her gaze full of him and wanting more.
His hand slipped down to her shoulder. “I want you, Terry,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “I don't think I've ever wanted a woman before the way I want you.”
Her lips parted. Her mind was numb. She knew that she should be resisting this, should be telling him to leave, but somehow she couldn't. What she felt for him had grown too strong, and for the time being she was too weak to fight it.
Rick was a playboy. She knew that only too well. And she hadn't the luxury to be his playmate. She needed all her strength to make her way in the world. But she couldn't think about that now. Something else, something too strong to resist, was pulling her.
“I know you're very aware of the fact that you're a servant here and that I'm not,” Rick was saying. “But I don't care about that. I don't care who you are. I don't care who I am. You're a woman and I'm a man. And that's all I can see.” His fingers dug into her shoulder. “It's inevitable and you know it.”
“Yes,” she whispered, beyond hope.
His dark hand slid down below the white bubbles and she gasped as she felt his touch on her breast.
“It's tearing me apart,” he said huskily, “this need for you. It's with me every minute of the day.” His fingers enclosed her nipple, gently tugging, sending an arch of electricity through her.
She moved involuntarily, moaning softly and turning to him, her mouth eager for the pressure of his. He moved closer, his hand sliding from one breast to the other beneath the silky water, caressing, exciting, and he parted the bubbles so that he could see the beauty of her form through the water.
“Is it like that for you, too, Terry?” he whispered, his voice urgent and throbbing with passion. “Do you want me?”
There was no point in trying to hide it. “Yes,” she whispered back. “Oh, yes,” and she used both hands to pull his face to her so that his mouth could capture hers and plunder its deep warmth.
The hand that had been caressing her soft breasts now flattened and began to move down, across her ribs, across her flat stomach, until his fingers reached far enough to tear a cry of primitive need from her throat, his stroke making her arch into the pressure of his touch.
“Oh, Terry, let me love you,” he murmured, and she whispered, “Yes... yes,” still moving to the rhythm his hand created. He slid her up out of the water and buried his face against her wet breasts. She dug her kneading fingers into his hair, gasping at the incredible storm that was rising in her body.
Her mind was caught in the whirlwind. It would be so easy to let things fly. But a shred of her common sense remained, and that one little shred wouldn't let her lose herself to desire without a fight.
“Wait,” she murmured as Rick's arms tightened around her. “We can't do this now. Not here.”
He froze, eyes closed, and held her tightly.
“Not here in this house,” she went on breathlessly. “Not with your aunt here, and the children ...”
He drew back and stared at her, his eyes slightly wild. “No, Terry,” he stated flatly. “You can't get away with that any longer.” One swift movement lifted her into his arms.
“Rick!” she cried out.
He paid no attention. Holding her tenderly but firmly, he carried her out of the bathroom, dripping sudsy water across the carpet, and into her bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him.
“The children,” she murmured almost desperately as he laid her down upon her golden spread, her body white as ivory, her hair jet black, her nipples pink as roses.
He touched her, his hand sliding along her satin skin with a soothing stroke. “There are no children,” he told her huskily. “There's no one in the world but you and me.”
Her eyes were huge as she stared up at him. “You and me?” she whispered.
“You and me,” he repeated firmly.
He shed his clothes and his body gleamed in the shadowy lamplight, dark and hot and hard. When he lay on the bed beside her, she moaned and stretched to touch him with every part of her body, her feet curling around his ankles, her hips tempting his, her breasts rubbing against the hair of his chest, her mouth on his, searching, begging, demanding all he had to give. The time for doubts was over. She was all need, all desire.
“Oh, Rick!” she cried. “Oh, please!”
His surge was her li
feline, and she clung to him while he filled her, fulfilled her, turned the night into blazing glory.
When it was over she wondered if she'd dreamed it. The passionate memories and emotions remained, but they were almost too wonderful to believe.
And then there was a sound in the hallway.
“Terry?” Jeremy's timid voice was at her door before she'd even caught her breath after the lovemaking.
“J-Jeremy?” she answered, looking at Rick in horror.
“Terry?” the boy called in a gruff tone he seemed to think was a whisper. “Terry, I had a bad dream and I can't find my daddy. Can I come in and sleep in your bed?”
Rick drew away from her, half laughing, half cursing, shaking his head.
“Terry, Terry, darling,” he whispered as he gathered his clothes. “I'm so sorry. This is no way to conduct a love affair.” He bent to kiss her quickly. “We'll get some time alone to do this properly,” he told her, looking deep into her troubled eyes. “Until then...” His kiss was full of tantalizing promises.
And then he was gone, leaving through the bathroom.
“Just a minute, Jeremy,” Terry called as she gathered up her bathrobe. Her hands were trembling and she dropped the robe twice before she managed to get it on.
This was crazy. She was crazy. But she couldn't help it any longer. There was a soaring, searing sensation in her chest. She would risk her job, her self-respect, everything. Because she was crazy—crazy in love with Rick.
The next few days seemed to spin by like old-fashioned tops, all frenzied activity with no time for thought. Caren departed, ignoring Terry's profuse apologies and throwing smoldering glances Rick's way, but nothing more was said about the incident at the pool party. Jeremy got very busy building an insect collection and Erica kept to her room. Aunt Julia spent her days making lists for the charity ball.
And Terry moved in a cloud of wary happiness. Every contact with Rick only reinforced how she felt about him. She needed the sight of his handsome face, the touch of his hand, as she needed air to breathe. She needed him, and she wouldn't let herself think any further than that.
The moment that they'd shared stuck in her memory. She could hardly believe it had really happened; it felt like a dream.
Things were going smoothly as far as running Mar Vista was concerned. Every now and then she hit a snag, but a quick call to her father or, more often now, a bit of thought and her own ingenuity, and the snag was smoothed over. She was doing a good job, and she didn't even need anyone else to tell her so. She could feel it within herself. And that was very rewarding.
The charity ball was going to be her showcase. If that was a success, she would hand over the reins to her much-improved father with a sense of triumph that she was looking forward to. To finally succeed at something real and tangible! That would be wonderful.
But a nagging problem that still bothered her was Erica. Jeremy had opened to his father as though they'd never been apart, but the older girl remained aloof and unapproachable. The harder Rick tried to reach her, the more she retreated. Terry wished she knew what to do to remedy the situation.
“Take the children out to see your ranch,” she suggested a day or so later when Rick had waylaid her in the linen closet for a stolen kiss. She knew he went out to the ranch at least twice a week to keep an eye on things.
“You think they'd like that?” he asked dubiously, his hand sliding down her cheek, his eyes narrowed as he selected just which delectable part of her soft mouth to kiss first.
“Oh, yes,” she sighed, drugged by his sensual caress. “They ought to get a look at the 'real you.' “
He nibbled on her lower lip, his body pressing her back against the pile of sheets. “So should you,” he muttered.
She blinked at him: “What?”
“Get a look at the 'real me.' I'll take them to the ranch. But only if you come too.”
“But…”
“No excuses. The place needs the careful eye of a good butler. You can be along as a consultant. Nothing more.”
And so, one hot summer afternoon two days later, they were all out riding across the Santa Ynez Valley on Rick's horses. Jeremy had a pony that just suited him. Terry had learned to ride for her acting career, and though she didn't feel entirely at home atop a horse as yet, she knew what to do. The surprise was Erica. She quickly grew to love the horses and was soon riding with a natural skill that rivaled her father's.
“She's doing wonderfully!” Terry said as they approached the spot they'd selected for their picnic and Erica raced ahead to be the first to arrive.
Rick looked so different here on his ranch. The smooth, sophisticated playboy disappeared, and in his place was a cowboy rough enough to star in a Western. He always seemed to move through life with an air of casual command, but here there was even more—a quiet confidence, and masculine pride and satisfaction that made him even more attractive than ever.
“I would have had her out here from the first if I'd known how she'd take to it,” Rick said, gazing at the little girl.
They spread a checkered cloth in a shaded, grassy area near a stream and ate their fried chicken and laughed. Even Erica's reserve melted a bit.
They'd finished eating and were cleaning up the scraps while Jeremy played beside the stream when Erica burst out with a statement that destroyed the pleasant mood.
“It's so funny having you here with us, Terry,” she said suddenly, her eyes cool. “People don't usually take butlers along on outings like this, do they?”
The atmosphere was deathly still as they each digested her words. Terry glanced at Rick. What Erica had said was true. Terry had been trying to ignore the issue, but the girl had flung it in her face.
“Terry isn't an ordinary butler,” Rick said slowly, watching his daughter. “She's much more than that.”
“I know,” Erica said, and her tone of irony was unmistakably sharp. “I've noticed.”
Terry went cold. Of course she'd noticed. How could they have been so stupid as to think they could hide anything from her? Love was blind, it seemed, in more ways than one.
“But it's okay with me,” Erica added, not looking anyone in the face. “Better her than the kitchen maid,” she said with false bravado, and then she was walking quickly toward the stream and away from Rick and Terry,
“Terry...” Rick started toward her but she pulled her arms in about herself and pulled away.
“She's right, Rick,” she said hollowly. “I don't belong here. We're being so obvious....”
He took her by the shoulders and forced her to face him. “You're here,” he said roughly, “because I want you here. No one is going to keep me away from you, Terry.” His eyes were fierce with determination. “No one.”
She looked up into his gaze, desperate for a reassurance she knew he couldn't give. She didn't really trust him any more than she trusted herself. And most of all, she didn't trust her heart.
Jeremy's cry of anguish interrupted them and they both turned to see what was happening at the stream.
“My koala!” Jeremy shrieked, and at the same time Erica began running along the banks of the water.
“I'll get it,” she cried, and then she was plunging into the stream, heedless, for once, of getting wet and dirty.
Rick and Terry raced toward where the children were playing, but by the time they got to the stream, Erica was slogging out, carrying the soggy bear.
“Just look at me!” she complained, aghast, stopping a few feet from shore as though there was no longer any hope. “I'm such a mess!”
She looked so comically tragic, they all had to laugh.
“Me, too,” said Jeremy, and he put a foot into the cool water and kicked it high.
“Me, too,” Rick echoed mockingly, and leapt into the middle of the stream, letting the water cascade above his knees.
Erica's face registered horror, then doubt. She wasn't sure if she was being made fun of.
“The more the merrier,” Terry cried. Sh
e took one step in. The water felt heavenly on her hot skin. Casting caution to the winds, she let the water knock her over and carry her to where Rick was waiting to catch hold of her.
Erica looked uncertain for a moment, and then a tentative smile curved her lips. Rick pulled Terry up out of the water and she deliberately splashed him.
“Oh, so that's your game!” he cried, lifting her high above the little rapids and threatening to drop her.
Jeremy plunged in to the rescue, and after a second or two of hesitation, Erica came to join him, and then they were all splashing and pushing and laughing, until each was as wet as the other.
Climbing up on the bank, they all stretched out to dry in the sunshine.
“Hey, Erica,” Rick called from his resting place beside Terry. “Have you ever been this messy before in your life?”
“No,” she shot back, carelessly returning his grin. “But since I am your daughter, I should have a natural-born ability to deal with disorder and chaos, don't you think?”
Everyone laughed, even Jeremy, who didn't know what they were talking about. But he could feel the growing warmth between them all, so he laughed, just for the joy of it. A few moments later the good feeling was reinforced when Erica offered, with no urging at all, to help Terry clear up the food and pack things away.
They rode back to the ranch singing “Home on the Range,” which Rick insisted was his favorite song, even though Erica kept drowning it out with her own version of the latest pop hit from a TV show she liked. And when Rick pretended to turn his horse to chase her, she shrieked and kneed her animal into a gallop that set the two of them racing across the meadow.
Terry smiled. It suddenly occurred to her, as the ranch house came in sight, how like a family they were— for the moment.
CHAPTER NINE:
Learning Navigation
“Good morning, Yardley.”