Mr. Hyde’s Assets

by Sheridon Smythe

  Candice wasn’t waiting for him; she began to move, challenging his control with every thrust of her hips. The wall at her back gave her leverage so that Austin was helpless to slow her wild pace. Her teeth grabbed his tongue, and Austin knew the meaning of sweet revenge as she began to draw his tongue into her mouth. Her nails raked his back as she clutched him tighter, urged him faster, harder.

  Austin was beyond pacing himself. He thrust into her, and with every withdrawal the sensuous feel of water washed over him before he buried himself again. She met him thrust for thrust, kiss for kiss as they climbed into the sky together. Frantically, he suckled her nipples, kissed her neck, and tasted her skin wherever he could. He couldn’t get enough of her and knew he couldn’t last much longer.

  Suddenly, her back arched, her mouth opened in a soundless scream. She closed her eyes. Austin watched her, awed by the simple beauty of her release. When her glazed eyes flew open again and fastened on his tense, watchful face, her obvious astonishment sent him flying over the edge.

  “Candice!” he ground out, thrusting as deep as he could go. He thought the pleasure would rip him apart. It crashed over him, into him, mingling with her own convulsing body until he thought they both might drown. “Baby, baby…”

  She clutched his neck, trembling in the aftermath of what Austin suspected was her first taste of pleasure. Her astonishment had struck a primal cord inside him, triggering the most satisfying release he’d ever experienced. Later, he would have to think more on this, try to figure out why it was so—so different with this woman.

  When his breathing finally edged back into a normal range, Austin swept the wet hair from her face and cupped her chin. With a worried frown, he took in her flushed cheeks, her kiss-swollen lips, and dazed expression. “Are you… I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Oh, hell, he’d forgotten about the baby. How had he forgotten? It was the reason he was here, wasn’t it?

  Now, he wasn’t so sure.

  “No.” Her whispered assurance came out on a sigh of contentment. Suddenly, she broke from his hold on her chin and dipped her head shyly against his shoulder. “It was just a surprise.”

  He held her close, a decidedly mushy feeling settling in his chest. Stroking her back, he hesitated, then gave in to curiosity. “Was it… Is this the first time you’ve…” Well, hell, he didn’t have a bashful bone in his body, yet he couldn’t find the right words to say what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to embarrass her.

  “Saw the stars?” came her muffled reply.

  He felt her chuckle—right before she licked his shoulder, then placed a pulse-rattling kiss in the hollow of his neck. Austin was so very, very glad for the support of the water because his bones had dissolved.

  Softly, she continued to blow his mind and inflate his ego to the size of the Hindenburg. “Touched the moon? Rocketed into space? Exploded?”

  “All that?” he teased, bringing her face up for a long, lingering kiss. When he opened his eyes, he saw Lucy at the edge of the pool behind Candice. She sat very still, watching them. “We’ve got a visitor,” he mumbled against her mouth. He immediately regretted his words as she stiffened against him, her eyes going wide. Damn. She thought—

  With a panicky little twist, she tried to turn, but Austin held her tight. He muttered roughly, “It’s just Lucy.”

  “Oh.” She sagged against him, avoiding his questioning gaze. “I’d—we’d better get out of the pool before Mrs. Merryweather finds us.”

  Mrs. Merryweather… or someone else? Austin wondered, then berated himself for his suspicions. A few moments ago, he was certain she wouldn’t have cared if he had announced the Pope himself was standing by the pool.

  Austin felt deflated as the real world crept back in, then tried to laugh at his silly thoughts. Of course they couldn’t stay in the pool and make love all day, however tempting the thought. She was probably cold, too. A quick glance at her shirt front confirmed this.

  He grabbed her floating bottoms and helped her put them on, hot and hard again by the time the task was finished. Ignoring his condition, he clasped her arms around his neck and pushed away from the pool wall with his feet, sending them straight to the ladder. “Up you go.” He swallowed hard as she climbed out of the pool, the sun slanting through the trees and outlining her body through the transparent wet silk.

  His gaze lingered on the slight mound of her stomach; he hoped it would distract him, but it didn’t work. He was just as aroused by the thought of his baby inside her as he was at the memory of himself inside her.

  She turned and held out her hand, her gaze fixed on his face and nothing else, as if she’d made up her mind to pretend he wasn’t stark naked. Austin grinned at her determined expression, guessing the cause as he grasped the railing, then curled his fingers around hers as he climbed out.

  “Candice, I—” he began.

  “Mrs. Vanausdale!” A high, nervous voice, shouted across the length of the pool. “Is this your new lover? Or has he been your lover all along? Is he the real father of your baby?”

  Incredulous, they automatically turned to see who had dared to encroach on their privacy. It was the same Sacramento Star reporter who had hounded her at the clinic, and he held a camera to his eye.

  The click and whir of the lens moved Austin to action. He shoved a frozen Candice behind him, his damned clothes out of reach.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growled furiously. “This is private property. Get the hell out of here!”

  Apparently, the reporter knew that Austin couldn’t get to his clothes without exposing a trembling, half-naked Candice. He continued to snap his pictures.

  “I’ll kill you for this, you little weasel,” Austin promised.

  “No, Mr. Hyde, let me do the honors.” It was an angry, red-faced Mrs. Merryweather, trotting up the walk in their direction.

  Behind him, Candice moaned and clutched his waist, burying her face against his back. Austin simply gaped in amazement at the sight of the pellet gun perched on the housekeeper’s shoulder and aimed at the reporter.

  “I’ve been wantin’ to get my hands on this vulture for a long time.” And with that, she started firing the harmless but stinging pellets, cocking and shooting with admirable speed. “Get gone! And don’t come back, you bloodsucking rat!”

  The reporter took off at a dead run. Austin lunged for his pants and scrambled into them, but the reporter had already made it to the safety of the surrounding woods.

  Stunned in the aftermath, they stood in silence, listening to the gunning of a van motor, followed by the screech of tires. Austin turned and headed for his truck. “I’m going after him,” he stated.

  Candice grabbed him by the arm. “No. It’s too late.”

  Austin flinched at her pale expression, hating the defeat in her voice. “Like hell it—”

  “Mrs. Dale’s right, Mr. Hyde. He’s gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it but pray he drops his camera.”

  Austin ground his teeth, hating to give up. The pictures the reporter had surely gotten made his gut clench painfully. Hell, not only had he been stark naked, but Candice might as well have been, for all the covering her wet silk pajamas gave her.

  “You can sue if he prints those photos,” he snapped, feeling sick as he recalled the questions the reporter had flung at her.

  Hope flashed briefly in her eyes. Then she sighed and shook her head. “I could, but they won’t care. It’s worth it to them. Besides, anything we do now will only feed the frenzy.”

  Mrs. Merryweather cradled the pellet rifle, reached down, and swooped Lucy into her arms. The ferret had frozen in place, just as they had. Austin could see the poor thing trembling, no doubt from all the noise. He knew loud voices frightened her, and the gun was icing on the cake.

  The housekeeper glanced at them, her expression giving nothing away. “Why don’t we go inside and get breakfast started? Mrs. Dale, you know you get queasy if you don’t eat something first thing.”

/>   As Austin walked beside a subdued Candice, he wondered what the housekeeper was thinking. It would only be natural for her to question why they were in the pool, him naked and Candice in her pajamas, yet she didn’t ask. His admiration for the older woman edged up a notch.

  He glanced sideways at Candice, wishing he could ease her misery. Yet he hesitated to reach out. Was she blaming him? And why wouldn’t she? He’d started this whole rotten mess by giving in to the urge for one last swim before he drained the pool. No, he couldn’t blame her if she hated him, because if he hadn’t been in the pool, Lucy wouldn’t have come searching for him, and the incident with the reporter wouldn’t have happened.

  But he couldn’t regret their lovemaking, no matter how hard he tried.

  He hoped she didn’t either, but damned if it didn’t look as if she did.

  Candice dripped a tiny point of glue onto the bottom of the miniature rocking chair before pressing the base together, slowly counting to thirty. She’d been working steadily for the past two hours, and her hands had begun to cramp, but she refused to stop.

  Working calmed her, gave her time to think rational thoughts, something best accomplished when she was alone. A plate of sliced oranges sat untouched at the edge of her worktable, but the secret pile of M&M’s in her lap was rapidly diminishing.

  She’d pulled her hair into a careless knot on top of her head and had searched through her massive closet for the oldest, softest piece of clothing she could find. Finally, she’d snagged an old silk kimono that was several sizes too big.

  Comfort food. Comfort clothes. Work.

  And while the kimono was definitely too large, it was perfect for hiding chocolate candies from a shrewd, overprotective housekeeper. Candice paused and popped an M&M into her mouth, silently thanking Austin. He’d made the chocolate run and sneaked the candy to her when Mrs. Merryweather wasn’t watching.

  As she remembered the quick, unloverlike exchange, she bit her lip on a moan of regret.

  It was a week since she’d gotten her first taste of Heaven. An entire week since the reporter had taken the pictures, yet there had been no outrageous headlines, no pictures of her clad in wet silk pajamas climbing out of a pool with a naked Austin right behind her. And, thank God, no pictures of Austin facing the camera baring his all.

  Candice shook her head in disbelief. She should be ecstatic, but she wasn’t. She couldn’t be, because she knew that she could never be so lucky. The reporter hadn’t dropped his camera, as Mrs. Merryweather had wished. And even if he had, he would have printed the story without the pictures.

  So why hadn’t he? Every day that passed, her nerves grew more taut. She hated the waiting and almost wished they would get it over with.

  Almost.

  She rubbed her temples. Poor Austin. It was her fault he was about to be literally exposed to the world on the front page of a newspaper. He would be named as her plaything, love slave, just as he had joked about. Only he might not find it so funny in reality.

  Her fault, for thinking that for one erotic, mind-blowing moment she could be anyone but Mrs. Howard Vanausdale, the rich widow who dared override God and have her husband’s baby despite the fact that Howard was dead.

  Candice gave a guilty start at the sound of Mrs. Merryweather’s whispered footsteps behind her. Quickly, she scooted her legs beneath the table and clamped her knees over the pile of M&M’s on her lap.

  The housekeeper slapped a newspaper down beside her. Candice glanced at it, then looked away. She didn’t want to see, didn’t want to know.

  “Nothing today, either.” Mrs. Merry weather hesitated before adding, “But they called.”

  Candice swiveled around, remembering the candies in the nick of time. She placed her hands in her lap to stop their headlong rush to the floor. Her gaze flew to Mrs. Merryweather’s grim features. “What—what did they want?” As if she didn’t know! A nice juicy story to go with the picture. Not in a million years.

  “He wanted to talk to you. He said—he said he’d hold off on printing the pictures if you’d give him an exclusive interview.”

  There was more; Candice could see it in the housekeepers face. “And?” she prompted.

  “That’s mostly it.” Mrs. Merryweather turned the untouched plate of orange slices around in slow circles.

  Candice watched the revealing movement with growing dread.

  “The deal is, you give them an exclusive interview about your marriage to Mr. Howard and tell them the real reason you’re having this baby.”

  With a dry, disbelieving laugh, Candice said, “The real reason? So they admit they’ve been telling vicious lies all this time?” She laughed again, but it lacked humor. “And after they’ve told these lies about me, they actually expect me to grant them an interview?”

  “Well…”

  “Mrs. Merryweather!” Candice was shocked that the housekeeper would even consider it. “You can’t mean you think I should. What’s there to tell, anyway? What do they want to know? There was no physical abuse.” She swallowed hard. “Except for that one slap, and that wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t forgotten which earrings to wear.” The horror of what she was saying sank in, and she snapped her mouth closed, her eyes watering.

  The housekeeper clasped her hands in front of her and looked Candice square in the eye, keeping her voice low and gentle. “Not physically, maybe, except for that one time, like you said.” She lifted a stern eyebrow before adding, “Which wasn’t your fault.”

  Candice nodded, unable to stay a wave of hot shame.

  “But we both know there was a lot of mental abuse.” Mrs. Merryweather reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Candice’s ear, patting her hot face. “Mr. Howard was a strange man, and I’ve got a feeling he’s got a lot of making up to do right about now.”

  “He—he wasn’t that bad.” Candice tried to sound convincing, momentarily forgetting that the housekeeper knew better than she just how bad Howard had been. Better because, unlike Candice, Mrs. Merryweather didn’t try to make excuses or take the blame herself.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Dale, but maybe it’s time you dealt with it. And maybe telling those jackasses the truth will help you get over it.”

  Candice swallowed a ball of misery, a glaze of tears causing the housekeeper’s benevolent image to waver. “Suppose I agree. What will my baby think when he or she grows up and reads the story someday?”

  “What will the baby think when he reads the garbage they’re printing now—and the garbage they’re going to keep printing until you set them straight?”

  Though repelled by the probability, Candice still hesitated. She was torn between the desire to end the war with the media and possibly save Austin from humiliation, and the all-out terror she felt at the thought of baring the sordid details of her married life to the world.

  “Will—will they give me time to think about it?”

  Mrs. Merryweather’s lips thinned to a determined line. “They will when I get through talking to them.” She gave Candice one last pat on the cheek and turned away.

  Candice grabbed her arm. “Wait. What will I tell them about… about the incident in the pool? How can I possibly explain that?”

  The housekeeper’s eyes twinkled down at her. “No need to. I’ve already set them straight.”

  Stunned, Candice squeaked out, “You did?”

  “I did. I simply told them exactly how it was.”

  “You did?” Candice blinked, knowing she sounded like a parrot but unable to help herself. She had not revealed a whisper to Mrs. Merryweather of what had really happened in the pool that day, and the discreet housekeeper hadn’t asked, so how—

  “I told them about you having that dizzy spell and falling into the pool, and how our brave Mr. Hyde heard your splash from his apartment over the garage. He had just stepped out of the shower, and he rushed right out to save you.”

  Candice listened to the preposterous story, and she actually did feel faint. “You… you said a
ll that?”

  Mrs. Merryweather nodded, not showing a flicker of embarrassment for telling what she had to know was an outright fib.

  “All Mr. Hyde could think about was getting to you before you drowned. If he had stopped to put on his pants, it might have been too late, you know.”

  “Yes…” Candice whispered, impressed with Mrs. Merryweathers imagination. Impulsively, she reached for the housekeeper, intending to give her a grateful hug.

  The forgotten M&M’s slid from her lap and bounced onto the carpet, rolling in every direction.

  Eyes wide, Mrs. Merryweather looked down at the scattered multicolored tidbits. “You had chocolate M&M’s—”

  “I can explain—”

  “Shame on you.”

  Dismayed, Candice stammered, “I’m sorry—”

  “For not sharing them with me,” Mrs. Merryweather concluded with a chuckle. “I’ll help you pick them up, but I’d better warn you, what I find is mine. And I wish you wouldn’t keep secrets like this. If I had known you were craving chocolate, I would have added it to my shopping list.”

  Mouth open in shock, Candice watched as Mrs. Merryweather lifted her apron and dropped to her knees. She began to pluck the M&M’s from the carpet, popping one into her mouth from time to time.

  Candice roused herself, then joined in.

  If Howard could see me now, she thought with a wicked smile as she dived for an M&M before Mrs. Merryweather could get her greedy hands on it.

  Aha! Got it!

  ———

  “It’s ready,” Austin told the housekeeper standing at his side. A hushed silence fell between them as they stared at the completed nursery.

  Austin was nervous. What if Candice hated it? What if she ran screaming from the room or, worse, started crying? Or what if she hated it but was afraid to hurt his feelings?

  Mrs. Merryweather seemed to read his mind. “She won’t like it.”

  He stiffened, his mouth turning downward. After all, Mrs. Merryweather knew Candice best.