“What? But…aren’t your kids going to arrive soon?”
“I’ll be back long before that.” He gave her a grin and started off. “Surfing! Why didn’t I think of that before?” he called back. He flashed her business card at her. “Now that I’ve got a professional butler taking care of things, I’m free as a bird.” And he laughed as he began to sprint toward the garage where she assumed his surfboard was stored.
She followed more slowly, and by the time she got back to the house, his car was gone.
He was back two hours later. When he came in, he found her arranging flowers for the entryway table. He started to walk by, then hesitated and turned back.
“Has anyone tried to sneak a naked girl in here yet?” he asked hopefully.
She turned to look at him. His hair had been wet and was drying unevenly, spiking out around his head in a way that made her want to laugh. His face reminded her of a little boy wondering when his party was going to start. She bit back a smile, but it took effort.
“No,” she said. “Sorry to disappoint you, sir.”
“Too bad.” He shook his head sadly. “Oh well, last year with the naked centerfold was probably a high point.” His sigh was heartrending. “It was just a little too good to be true, wasn’t it?”
She told herself not to respond, but she just couldn’t hold it back. “That’s a matter of taste, I would say,” she murmured, then frowned as though completely concentrated on arranging flowers.
“Taste. Ah yes.” He grinned. “This year Johnny will probably spell out 'Happy Birthday' on the front lawn with flattened hedgehogs or something equally repulsive.” He grimaced. “It hasn't been a good year all around.”
She nodded, trying not to smile. “How were the waves?” she asked.
“Not so good,” he answered. “But it felt great to get in the water and paddle around. And I ran into my cousin Tag at the marina, who I hadn’t seen in a long time. So all in all, it was a success.” He stretched. “It had really been too long. I just hope I get some more opportunities after the kids get here.”
The kids. The children. They were both on tenterhooks waiting for the big arrival.
He went back into the den and she heard papers rustling. She wondered what it was he actually did. She knew his family owned numerous business concerns and were on the boards of many others. Whatever it was, Rick had plenty of work to do.
But Terry didn't have any more time to think about that. She raced around for the next two hours, putting everything into proper order. When the time came for the children to arrive, she was ready to crawl into bed and sleep the night away.
“You've changed your clothes,” Rick remarked as he watched her emerge from the kitchen side of the house a while later.
“My gosh, you're right,” she said sarcastically without thinking. She bit her lip. One couldn't talk that way to the master of the house!
“What I meant to say,” she hurriedly added, “was-- of course, sir. I felt it was appropriate to put on more formal attire for the arrival of the children.”
She wasn't about to put on tails, but she had brought along a supply of navy-blue skirts and white blouses to wear on the job. She'd agonized over what to wear. Should she wear pants and tie and try to be as much like a man as possible? She'd decided against that. Who really wanted to see a woman dressed like a man? No, she would dress with feminine dignity. At least, she would try.
But Rick didn't seem to approve. He shook his head.
“You've changed your tone too. I like you better the way I found you in my closet this morning.” He frowned, his gaze skimming across her face and down toward the opening of her crisp shirt. “Can't we forget about this butler business for a while?”
She looked into his eyes and remembered, suddenly, why she'd been avoiding his gaze. There was too much in those eyes. She got the impression he could see things in her she didn’t want seen, and that he found them infinitely amusing. But it didn’t annoy her at all. Instead, she found it tugged at her, tried to pull her closer. And she didn’t want that.
“I think I hear the car,” she said unevenly, dragging her gaze from his. She was going to have to remember a new rule—never look into the eyes of a man you don't want to fall in love with.
Her hand flew to her mouth. Had she really thought those words? What was the matter with her? She was letting the excitement of this first day on the job get to her.
“You okay?” he asked, right behind her.
She nodded. Outside, a car door slammed. She went to the massive front door and flung it open.
A long black limousine was parked at the end of the front walk. The middle-aged chauffeur was opening the car door for the two occupants.
The girl slid out first. Terry knew she was twelve, but she looked at least three years older than that, and more like a model for a slick magazine than a little girl. Her blond hair was cut in a modern wedge style, the top layer falling over the shorter hair at the sides. Long silver earrings swung from her ears, and she was dressed in a fashionable black and white suit.
Terry couldn't help but remember how she'd dressed at that age. No one could pry her out of blue jeans and T-shirts.
“This is Erica,” her father said, introducing Terry to her. “And this is Jeremy.”
Jeremy looked like the five-year-old boy he was. He was dressed in a little blue suit, but he carried a huge stuffed koala bear held tightly in his arms. With his wide brown eyes and button nose, he looked a bit like a koala himself.
The children seemed to take her in stride. They barely wasted a nod on her. They were looking at their father warily, as though unsure of what to expect from him.
Terry had a sudden picture of her own homecoming after camp one year, how she'd flung herself into her father's arms and they'd laughed together.
This little rendezvous was sadly different. She turned toward the car, wanting to leave the family alone to greet one another.
Charles, the chauffeur, was taking her presence a little harder than the children had.
“Who the hell are you?” he whispered as she bent to pick up one of the bags he was taking out of the trunk.
“Terry Yardley,” she said primly, feeling like Mary Poppins. “The new butler.”
His face was hostile. “I've never heard of a woman butler before,” he growled. “The others aren't going to like this.”
“The others don't have to like it,” she said calmly. “But it's the way things are.” Her smile was as sweet as she could make it, but he didn't respond. “I'll take the children's bags up for them.”
She was surprised to find the children sitting stiffly in the living room like guests, while Rick stood in front of the fireplace looking strained. When Terry walked into the room he looked up with something very close to relief in his eyes.
“Here she is,” he said heartily, as though they'd been waiting for her for a very long time.
She looked at each of the Carringtons, smiling uncertainly, wondering what was expected of her. She was only the butler, after all. What was Rick asking for, social directing?
They were all gazing at her expectantly, and she supposed she ought to say something, if only she knew what. She glanced at Rick and he smiled encouragingly. She looked back at the children.
“Wouldn't you two like to go up to your rooms and change into other clothes to play in?” she asked, at a loss.
“No, thank you,” Erica said coolly, crossing her nylon-covered legs. “We're just fine.”
Suddenly Terry understood why Rick looked as though he needed rescuing. Was this child twelve or twenty?
“Well then, would you like to come with me to the kitchen?” she asked almost desperately. “I might be able to rustle up some lemonade or a soda.”
Erica's glance was as cool as her voice. “We wouldn't want to spoil our appetite for dinner,” she reminded Terry.
Terry barely managed to keep from gaping at that. But the girl had brought up a point that would have to be c
onsidered: dinner. There was no cook tonight. Where was dinner going to come from? Terry glanced at Rick and saw the same thought forming in his mind.
“Tell you what,” he said quickly. “I'll fix us all something to eat while you entertain the kids.”
“You'll cook?” Somehow she couldn't imagine the playboy in the kitchen.
“Of course.” He gave her a look of mock offense. “I can cook up a mean pan of spaghetti sauce, believe it or not.”
He was already heading for the doorway.
“I was considered the best chef in my fraternity at college,” he told them over his shoulder. “Without my culinary skills, twenty-two young men would probably have ended their college careers with rickets and scurvy.”
He raised his eyebrows as he looked at them.
“Of course that was quite a few years ago. But I'm convinced cooking is something you never forget, like riding a bicycle.”
He frowned.
“Now let's see, the water's boiling when those little bubbles start swimming to the surface, right?”
She laughed without even thinking, then quickly stifled it, remembering her place.
He grinned at her, gave her a wink, and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. She looked at the children and found them squirming uncomfortably.
“Silly, isn't he?” Erica blurted out, then colored and glanced sidelong at Terry.
Jeremy said nothing; his eyes were big and curious.
Terry forced herself to block out any judgmental reactions to the children. It wasn't her place, she told herself. Though she did seem to find herself situated in the position of baby-sitter.
She'd never expected to be assigned this role, but here she was. After all, as her father always said, her main job was to keep the household running smoothly. If this was what Rick needed, this was what she would do.
“Well, Erica,” Terry said with a sigh, sinking down on a chair opposite the girl, “do you come out to Mar Vista often?”
“Not really. But we’re starting to, I guess.” The girl looked at her primly. “We’re supposed to come every other weekend during school. But in the summer, they say we’ll be here more.”
“Haven't you... haven't you ever lived with your father full-time?” She was treading on dangerous ground here. But if Rick had left her to deal with the kids, she had to get some handle on what she was dealing with.
“Not since I was nine,” Erica answered. “Jeremy was just a baby. My mother left my father then. She took us to Louisiana to live with our grandparents there. I hardly ever saw him until last year, when my mother died.”
Her voice was as dispassionate as if she were reciting a train schedule. Terry frowned, wishing she could get the girl to melt through the icy protection she'd erected around herself. Somewhere inside there had to be at least a bit of the natural warmth her father had in such abundance.
“Did you ever go to my father's house?” Jeremy asked all of a sudden.
Terry smiled at the little boy. “I'm afraid not,” she said. “Is it much like this one?”
“Oh no,” he said, dark eyes wide and earnest. “It's very wild there. Like in cowboy days.”
Erica groaned with exasperation. “She doesn't care about that.”
“But I do,” Terry protested. “Tell me about it.”
“We only went there a few times,” the little boy told her obligingly. “We hated it.” Jeremy lapsed back into silence, still clutching his koala bear to his chest.
“It was rough and there were no servants,” Erica explained patronizingly. “We decided to come here for our visits instead.”
Terry looked at each child. “Where is your father's house?”
Jeremy didn't look up from his bear, but Erica answered. “He has a ranch out in the Santa Ynez Valley. He breeds horses or something.” She shrugged her disinterest.
The Santa Ynez Valley was only a little over an hour's drive away. And these children didn't want to spend time there, on a ranch, with horses? Had childhood changed so much since she'd been young?
She had to put a hand to her mouth and force herself to slow down, take it easy. This wasn't her problem, these weren't her children. She had no business interfering.
“Come on.” She rose, took Jeremy by the hand, and smiled at Erica. “Come out into the backyard. You need a walk before dinner.”
“I don't need anything of the kind,” Erica muttered. But she came, though reluctantly.
Terry led them out the back door, pointing to the fish pond and a distant reservoir as likely places to visit. Then she went back inside and looked for Rick.
She found him in the kitchen, surrounded by open tomato sauce cans. The air was filled with delicious smells.
“Taste this,” he demanded, scooping up a spoonful of bubbling red sauce. She did as he ordered.
“Not bad,” she admitted, smiling at the picture he made with the chef's apron tied around him.
“Not bad!” he cried. “Faint praise indeed.” His flourish with the spoon sent drops of tomato sauce flying around the room. “Magnifique would be a better thing to say.”
“Then you say it.” She picked up a damp cloth and began to wipe up the spots he'd made. “Your children are very well behaved.”
He grunted, still stirring the sauce. “Is that what you call it?” he asked softly.
She looked up at him, but he was concentrating on his sauce and she could tell he hadn't meant for her to hear that.
“They don't seem to have much to do here,” she ventured, putting down the cloth. “I hear you breed horses.”
He nodded.
“Why don't you keep some of them here?” she asked quickly before she lost her nerve. “There are stables. Then the children could ride...” She bit her tongue. She had no business saying these things. She was just a servant. Why did she keep forgetting that?
He'd stopped stirring. He was looking out the window and Terry followed his gaze. Erica and Jeremy were walking slowly around the backyard, not touching a thing. As they walked Erica carefully sidestepped a patch of dirt, her nose wrinkled with distaste.
“Look at them,” Rick said, his voice low. “Can you imagine them riding horses? Look at the way they dress. They look like they're on their way to Sunday school every time I see them.”
His voice was getting more and more gravelly, and Terry realized how difficult it was for him to talk like this.
“I feel like I hardly know them,” he said quietly. “And a year of visits hasn't brought us any closer.”
She wanted to touch him, to comfort him somehow. His face was turned away, and she couldn't see his expression.
“That was the way she was too,” he said softly, almost whispering.
Terry knew without having to be told that he was talking about his ex-wife.
“She always looked as though she'd just stepped out of a fashion show. Untouchable.” He looked down at his tomato-splattered apron. “Now me, I don't know how to deal with that.”
Suddenly he was grinning again.
“I'm a hopeless case. Somebody should take me in hand, don't you think? Some nice butler, maybe?”
“I don't know.” She reached with the cloth and playfully swatted at his soiled chest. “I have a feeling you're beyond redemption.”
Her blue-eyed gaze caught his. Are you who I think you are? his eyes seemed to say. Do you feel as good as you look? Would we be as good together as I think we could be?
“No,” she found herself whispering, dread growing in her chest.
“What?” he asked.
She shook her head, silently cursing herself. She was letting her imagination run away with her. If she kept this up, she would ruin her chances for this job.
“I'll set the table,” she murmured, then fled the room.
Dinner was “magnifique.” Rick was a wonderful cook, and everyone, including the lofty Erica, ate at least two helpings.
Rick insisted Terry eat at the table with them. “You can start your f
ormal butlering tomorrow,” he said. “We need you sitting in a chair rather than standing behind one tonight.”
Because she could sense the real unease behind his words, she did as he asked. Dinner started awkwardly, but the children loosened up a little with a good meal in their tummies. Terry tried very hard to draw Erica out. And once or twice the little girl smiled, but very quickly her smile disappeared when she realized what she was doing.
Jeremy was different. Terry knew instinctively that he would be a friend as soon as the newness of their relationship wore off. At one point, while they were sighing over their empty plates, Jeremy widened his eyes, gazing at Terry, and announced, “I like earthworms.”
“Do you?” Terry smiled.
He nodded. “Do worms have moms and dads?” he asked.
Terry glanced at Rick but his face showed he was ready to leave this one for her to field. She tried to think up all the high school biology she'd forgotten. “Let's see. Moms and dads, huh?” Think fast, Terry. “Well, yes and no.”
Suddenly she stopped herself. What was she doing? He was only a five-year-old boy. He didn't want a lesson in sex education. Maybe, just maybe, he only wanted to talk about it himself. That was worth a try.
“Well,” she said, smiling at him, “what do you think?”
The little boy nodded seriously. “I think they do.”
Terry stifled a grin. “And why do you think so?”
He shrugged. “Because they should,” he told her as though it were the most logical thing in the world. “Who else would give them toys?”
Of course. Why hadn't she thought of that? She looked down the table and found Rick grinning at her. He gave her a wink, then turned away, leaning over to listen to something Erica had to say. But the grin and the wink had warmed Terry in a way she’d never expected.
She realized she was blushing, and she quickly downed every drop of water in her glass. This was ridiculous. She mustn't react to him this way. She had to keep control of herself.
Why now? she asked herself helplessly. Why him? She'd been down this road before with Craig Annison, and others before him. And look where it had gotten her. She mustn't fall into that tempting trap again. No new men! She needed something for herself. She needed her independence, and along with it, a new and improved self-image.
Promoted to Wife (Destiny Bay) Page 4