Terry stared at it all, stunned. Her ball was a shambles. This was worse than her most terrible nightmare. She could hardly believe her eyes.
She turned to Rick, who'd come in behind his grandfather. “What the hell is going on here?” he demanded.
She gestured helplessly. “Someone must have opened up the cages,” she stammered, too overwhelmed to know what to do.
Calvin Carrington turned on her, his eyes filled with rage. “You're Yardley's girl, are you?” he bellowed.
“Y-yes,” she admitted fearfully. No wonder people shrank from facing this man with anything he wasn't going to like hearing.
“A fine mess you've made of this, young lady,” he accused angrily. “You'd better get about clearing it up.”
Terry turned to Rick, sure he would stand up for her. After all, this wasn't really her fault. She'd done such a good job all summer, such a good job with this ball. The things going wrong were hardly the result of anything she'd done. She stared at Rick, waiting to hear him tell his grandfather so.
But Rick just stared back, his eyes as angry as the old man's. “I've never seen such chaos in my life,” he said bluntly, showing no understanding whatsoever. “This place looks like the waiting room for 'Let's Make a Deal!' It's a disaster! How could you let this happen, Terry?”
She felt herself turn cold. She stared at Rick, then looked back at Calvin. “I'll do what I can, sir,” she said stiffly. Turning back to the ballroom, she got hold of herself and began to take action, helping to catch the poor, panicked birds, ordering mops brought out for the spilled punch. Before long the screaming had stopped, and when the last bird was caught and carried back to its cage, she turned to look at Rick.
He was talking to Calvin Carrington, his face cold as granite. She hardly recognized him. Turning quickly, she stumbled up the stairs to her room. She slipped out of her dress, put on jeans and a jersey top, and packed her bags. No one tried to stop her. No one knocked upon her door. As she lugged her suitcase down the back stairs, she could hear that the orchestra was playing waltzes again. Things seemed to be going smoothly now. No one needed her at all.
All the work she'd done, all the improvements she'd made, it was all for nothing. No one cared. She had too much self-respect to stick around and beg for appreciation. She was getting out of here and she was never coming back.
Packing her case into the trunk of her car, Terry sped down the drive from Mar Vista, leaving as alone as she'd been those long, long weeks before. It was over.
The two-hour drive to Los Angeles seemed endless. She let herself into her little apartment and immediately opened all the windows and turned on a fan to get rid of the stuffiness. Then she looked. This had been her life before she'd known Rick. It seemed foreign, removed from the person she was now. And it frightened her.
She tried calling her father, but there was no answer. Perhaps he was out celebrating his recovery with a few cronies. She hoped he wouldn't fall again, because there was no way she was going back to Mar Vista.
Turning on her voice mail, she ran through all the calls she'd received on her land line in the weeks she'd been gone. Most of them were from friends who weren't sure when she was coming back home. But there was one surprise: a call from Craig.
“Hey, babe, where've you been all this time? I need to talk to you. I've found a new script that's got a part tailor-made for you. A gut-wrencher that could steal the entire show. Call me right away.” There was a pause. “I miss you,” he added, and he actually sounded sincere.
She played it again, listening closely, analyzing her own response. A part. Something she could sink her teeth into. And Craig was asking to hear from her. Why wasn't her pulse racing? Why wasn't her excitement growing?
Because she didn't care. It was long over with Craig, and she had no desire to try to relight that fire. As for acting—the bloom was off that rose as well. She'd enjoyed running a house and she'd done it well. Pursuing that type of career seemed much more interesting.
But for now, she just wanted to sleep. And sleep she did, for the next twelve hours, waking when it was almost noon the next day. The very first thing she did was check her cell phone, just in case. ... nothing. And then she hated herself for having checked it.
“It's over,” she whispered to herself. “Face it, Terry Yardley. Today is the first day of the rest of your life, and it can't do anything but get better from here on in.”
She spent the day cleaning her apartment and then went out and stocked up on groceries to fill the shelves. Coming home, she cooked up a huge kettle of spaghetti sauce, as much to have the aroma fill her home with familiar smells as from hunger. But as she cooked she remembered that first spaghetti dinner with Rick and the children, and she wished she'd picked another meal.
She decided to call her father to come join her, but first she ran out to the corner bakery to pick up garlic bread to go with the spaghetti. She'd planned to be gone only a moment, but the lady behind the counter had to catch her up on all the local gossip, so it took longer than she'd expected. When she got back the first thing she saw was the slinky red Ferrari parked in front of her apartment building.
Her heart was in her throat and she ran up the two flights of stairs without stopping. She burst into her apartment, and there he was, serving up spaghetti into the two plates he'd set on the table.
“You're just in time,” Rick said cheerfully. “Hope you're hungry.”
He looked cool and confident, but inside he was terrified of what she was going to say. This was the most important night of his life. What Terry decided to do would determine his future.
He never thought of his ex-wife when he looked at Terry, but her rejection of him during their marriage had left a scar. He'd delayed pushing his relationship with Terry because he'd been afraid to. Now he knew he had nothing to fear but his own hesitancy. He would make her his, no matter what. He had to.
Terry went into the kitchen, staying as far away from him as she could, not looking into his eyes. She had to remember how much he'd hurt her. She had to hold those memories up like a shield.
Putting down her bread, she turned to face him at last. “What do you want?” she asked coldly.
He put down the ladle and looked at her. “You,” he said simply.
“Me?” She pretended to laugh. “Why? Isn't Percy working out?”
His weight shifted from one foot to the other. She looked at him, surprised. He actually seemed ill at ease.
“You know why I hired Percy. And it certainly wasn't to take your place.”
“No?” She pulled the bread out of its paper wrapper and began cutting it with a serrated knife, hacking with a vengeance. “Just what was my place, Rick? I don't think we ever did make that clear. Maybe that's why you weren't satisfied with my performance.”
“I was never dissatisfied with you in any way.”
“That's nice.” Words were all right, but they didn't mean much if they weren't backed by actions. She stacked the bread in her bread server. “Now will you please make your point and get out of here? I'm having company for dinner.”
He didn't move a muscle. “The only company you're having tonight is me,” he said calmly.
She glared at him. She'd been planning to invite her father, but Rick didn't have to know that. Let him think she had a male friend coming.
“What are you going to do, bar the door when he gets here?” she asked scathingly.
“If I have to.” His eyes darkened stormily and his jaw tightened. “Okay, you're angry because of what happened last night at the ball. I was upset that things weren't right for my grandfather, and I took it out on you. I apologize.” He waited for a moment, but she didn't respond. He sighed unhappily. “I want you to come back with me, Terry,” he said. “I need you.”
She swallowed hard, fighting her attraction. She wanted to run into his arms, but that would be crazy.
“Sorry,” she snapped, looking about her kitchen for something to keep her from having to look
at him. “I've had a better offer.”
“Terry.” He held out his hands. “Terry, come here to me.”
Every muscle, every nerve ached to obey him. She turned away, reaching blindly for the Parmesan cheese. She was dying to be caught up in his arms. But she didn't dare. Once he touched her...
“No,” she whispered.
“Come over here,” he demanded.
Her chin rose. “I'm not your servant any longer, Rick. I don't have to do as I'm told.”
With two quick strides he was at her side. His arms came around her and he said huskily, “Tell me what to do, Terry. I'll do it. Anything you say. Tell me what I can do to prove to you that I love you.”
“Love me?” Her eyes opened wide. “Do you love me?”
His exasperation was so great that he almost shook her. “Of course I do, you little idiot! I've loved you from the moment I found you hiding in my closet.”
She gazed at him with wonder. “I love you too,” she admitted.
His arms tightened around her. “Thank God,” he said. “Then you'll come back with me?”
Slowly she shook her head. “I can't.”
“The children need you,” he said. “I need you.”
Didn't he see how impossible it was? “My ... my father will be there on Monday,” she told him. “He'll take better care of you all than I ever could.”
“Your father is already at Mar Vista,” Rick told her. “He arrived in the nick of time last night, said he'd come to surprise you, to help you out, but he ended up saving the night.”
She dropped her gaze. “The ball was a mess, wasn't it?”
“Hardly.”
She looked up quickly at his laugh. “What do you mean?”
“The fund-raising committee said they had the best haul they've ever had at one of these things. Everyone said it was the most exciting night we'd had in the bay area for years. I'd say it was a smashing success.”
“You're kidding.” She almost smiled. “What did your grandfather say?”
“He calmed down and had a wonderful time dancing with all the ladies.” He touched her cheek. “But who cares about him, Terry? I love you and you love me and that's all that counts.”
But that wasn't all. “I can't go back to Mar Vista, Rick,” she said sadly. “I can't go back to hiding in linen closets—”
“Neither can I, Terry. I'm not talking about Mar Vista. I'm talking about the ranch. After we're married—”
“Married!”
“Of course, married. What did you think I was talking about?”
“I ... I don't know. More butlering?”
He laughed. “I'll admit you made a darn good butler,” he said. “But I can't use a butler at the ranch.” He took her chin in his hand. “But I could use a wife to help me manage the place. What do you say?”
She pulled out of his arms and backed away from him. In her wildest dreams she had never really thought he would ever want her to marry him. Rick Carrington, playboy extraordinaire, just didn't do things like that. And now that he had asked her—a whole new set of problems arose.
“Oh no, Rick,” she muttered, confused. “We can't get married. We're so different. My father is your butler...”
He followed her, not letting her get away from him. “Not my butler, lady. My grandfather's.”
“Yes, but it's in your family.” She shook her head. “No, what you're suggesting is impossible. It would never work.”
He took hold of her shoulders as she backed against the wall and he held her prisoner where she stood. His eyes were troubled as they searched hers. “What are you saying, Terry? That you don't want to marry me?”
“No, I...” She was so confused—how could she explain to him why she couldn't marry a Carrington?
“Do you love me?” he demanded.
“Yes. Oh yes!”
“Do you care what anyone else says about us?”
She shook her head.
“Why do you think I care, then?”
“I... your grandfather ...”
“Means a lot to me. But he doesn't run my life.” He lowered his head, kissing her lips softly. “If I had to choose between the two of you, lady-butler, there'd be no contest. I hope you believe that.” He kissed her again, nuzzling her mouth, her cheek, her ear, and she sighed with the pleasure of his touch.
“This isn't fair, Rick,” she murmured, but she raised her arms and clasped her hands behind his head, arching her soft body against him.
Joy was surging through her. She could hardly believe that she could go so quickly from such misery to such happiness. For the first time, it seemed possible. Maybe he really did love her. Maybe it would work. Was she gambler enough to try it?
“What do you say, Terry?” he whispered between kisses. “Will you come with me?”
“I say yes,” she said breathlessly, going for broke. “Oh, yes, Rick, yes!”
He pulled her close and laughed with delight. “Good. I wouldn't have dared go home without you. The kids would have me strung up.”
“They know?”
“I told them I was going to bring you back and we'd all live at the ranch.”
“And they liked the idea? Even Erica?”
“Even Erica.”
She didn’t believe him. He was just using everything he could think of to convince her to say “yes”. But the way things were going, she really didn’t care.
Suddenly she remembered Anatole’s warning. “Butlers don’t get promoted to wife, you know”, and she laughed. Wrong again!
Rick sighed and nipped at her earlobe. “Aunt Julia called it from the day she met you, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“She told me I'd be a fool to pass you up. And she was the one who suggested I get you jealous with Caren to speed things, along.”
Terry's jaw dropped. “She didn't!” A frown creased her brows. “What do you mean, to speed things along?”
He grinned down at her. “I wanted you to marry me the first time we made love. But I could see you weren't ready. You needed more time.”
She didn't believe him for a moment, but she loved him anyway. “You're crazy,” she said.
“That's right. Crazy about you.”
And he pulled her into an embrace that didn't allow for any more talking, an embrace that lasted so long, the spaghetti burned. But nothing, not even hunger, was going to tear them from Terry's apartment that night.
“I'll marry you on one condition,” Terry told him drowsily later that night, wrapped in his arms, sated with lovemaking. “Angelina has to go.”
He chuckled. “She's already left. Johnny took her with him when Grandfather kicked him out again. Johnny thought he might be able to find a more suitable home for her.”
“I'll bet.” She giggled and stretched in his arms. “Will you love me forever?” she murmured.
“Forever,” he murmured back, covering her body with his again. “And ever and ever.”
An hour later, they were eating burned spaghetti when the doorbell rang. They looked at each other, eyebrows raised, and then Terry went to the door and looked out the viewer.
“It’s Erica,” she whispered, turning and staring at Rick. “What is she doing here?”
He shook his head, as startled as she was.
“Go hide. Quick.” She motioned toward the bathroom.
He frowned. “Why?”
She looked at him sitting there in his underwear and grimaced. “Because…I don’t know. I think we should find out what she’s here for before we… .”
“Gotcha.” He jumped up and slipped into the bathroom without further ado.
She pulled her robe more tightly around herself and opened the door. “Erica,” she began, and then she saw Charles standing behind her. “What…?”
Erica’s usual cool reserve had melted away. “Terry!” she cried, tears in her eyes. “Please come back! You’ve got to come back.” She threw herself into Terry’s arms, sobbing loudly.
&nbs
p; Terry held her close but looked questioningly at the chauffer. He came on in and shut the door behind himself, but shrugged grandly.
“She’s been like this all day,” he told her. “I finally grabbed her and threw her in the car and brought her down here to find you. It seemed the only way to stop the blubbering.”
Erica raised her tear-stained face. “Do you hate us? Do you hate my Dad? You have to come back. I don’t think we can be a real family without you there.”
“Oh darling.” Terry hugged her again. “I don’t hate anybody. I’ve loved living with you and…”
“You make it so much better,” Erica said between sobs. “I can’t stay if you don’t come back. We…we need you.”
There was a clumping sound coming from the stairs and then a banging on the door.
Terry felt stricken. What now? Putting Erica into Rick’s vacant chair at the table, she hurried to look out the peep hole and found Aunt Julia staring back at her. She turned to look at Charles.
“It’s Aunt Julia,” she whispered. “Did she come with you, too?”
Charles shook his head, his eyes wide. “No way. We came on our own. Nobody knew I took her. They all think she’s crying in her bed.” Now he looked stricken. “You can’t let her know I brought Erica down here. They’ll fire me for sure.”
Terry looked about wildly. Rick was already in the bathroom. “Go quickly,” she told them. “Stay in the bedroom until I get rid of her.”
They did as she told them and once they were out of the room, she turned to the front door again and opened it. It felt as though a small, furry animal had launched itself into her arms, but very quickly she realized it was Jeremy.
“What…?”
“Oh my dear,” Aunt Julia began, bustling in. “We hired a car and came racing down to get you. The house is in turmoil. Everyone wants you back. You must come back right away. We just don’t know what we’re doing without you. It’s no good pretending. Rick is a mess. Erica is hysterical. And Jeremy… .”
“But Aunt Julia, wait,” she said without realizing she was already acting like a part of the family by calling her that. She cuddled Jeremy close and kissed the top of his head, then looked up again. “How can I come back? I ruined everything. What did your brother have to say about the crazy things that happened at the ball?”
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