by Joanne Hill
“Please, Daniel,” his grandfather said. The pleading in his eyes, eyes that were pale and exhausted, battered his heart.
“Of course I will.” Daniel nodded. “Of course, Granddad.” Patsy would have a fit. She didn’t much care for any animal, but she was a good housekeeper and worth her salary. Even if they barely exchanged words and communicated most of the time via text and post-it. No doubt there would be some tersely composed messages over this. “We’ll get you out to visit,” he told his grandfather.
His grandfather paused. “I will when I’m better,” he promised.
Grief surged in Daniel’s chest.
Mel said, “If Barnaby can’t come in here, maybe you can see him from the window. There’s a porch, maybe they can wheel your bed out and you can see him in the gardens.”
The idea had merit. Daniel turned to his grandfather but saw his eyes had closed. His chest rose, softly. He was sleeping already.
He buried his face in his hands for a moment, drew a long deep breath, then looked straight at the doctor. “How is he really?”
The doctor shook his head. “Days. Weeks. I can’t say. The pain relief is keeping everything at bay for now but its wreaking havoc with his energy levels – what energy he had. All we can do is make sure the end is comfortable for him, and I can promise you we will do that for him. And I am sorry about the dog. I gather he’s very close to – Barnaby.”
Next to him, Mel moved closer. He didn’t want to glance at her and see even a trace of sympathy in her eyes.
She said, “He really wants you to have him.”
“Fine.” He clenched his fists. “We’ll take the damned dog.”
CHAPTER NINE
Daniel stood alongside Mel as Barnaby sat on the tiled floor and looked up at them. Barnaby was not especially happy to be removed from his home and his master, but in a strange doggy way, Daniel was forced to admit the dog seemed to be accepting it. Maybe, he conceded, the dog was smart after all.
He felt an inkling of sympathy for him. Barnaby’s life had been topsy-turvy the past months with Sir Arthur in and out of hospital and this was just yet another path on the journey.
“He’ll need to be walked,” he said roughly. Yes, Patsy was undoubtedly going to have a fit when she came in on Monday. Pets weren’t part of that bargain. Especially ones that slobbered and shed hair. He glanced at Barnaby’s small trim body. Not that he showed any signs of being a slobbering hairy beast.
With an enthusiasm in her voice he found more disturbing that heartening, Mel said, “I’d be happy to do that.”
He glanced at her and for a moment he felt as if they were back in Broadbeach as a surge of awareness ripped through him. Her perfume might be subtle, a twist of vanilla and something floral but it made you want to lean in closer for more.
She added, “I can take care of all that – and any of his toilet needs. Bathing. Cleaning up after him. I don’t think Patsy’s much of a dog lover either.”
He frowned. Was that a dig at him or his housekeeper?
Barnaby was looking up now, his eyes deep and sorrowful, the look oddly haunting. Darned dog. Why did they have to do that? It was manipulation plain and simple.
Mel suddenly bent down, began patting him, then got down on her knees to rub her face against his hairy cheek. “Poor old fella,” she murmured, “It’s going to be just fine, you’ll see.”
In that moment, Daniel wanted to change places with Barnaby. Wanted to have Mel murmur that to him, to offer him sympathy. To tell him it was all going to be all right, even though she couldn’t possibly know what lay ahead. Something ripped through his heart at that knowledge, knocking him off balance. Did he really want someone to tell him it was all going to be okay? He was the one telling everyone else what to do and, at times, what to feel. He didn’t need that empathy, that sympathy, call it what you will. Did he?
He cast a curious look at her. On top of jeans, she wore a black and white striped shirt, fitting her body like a glove. As she moved, the buttons moved and he saw cleavage. Lightly tanned skin, freckles. A little on the plump side.
If his experience with women was anything to go by, she no doubt bemoaned the fact she carried extra weight. He, on the other hand, couldn’t drag his gaze away from her, from that chain around her neck, from the thought of touching her there, kissing her there.
“I’ve got to head to the office,” he said gruffly.
She looked up sharply. “But it’s Sunday. Don’t you think you should stay and make Barnaby welcome?”
Frustration rose steeply in his chest. “Mel, it is not your place to tell me what to do with my grandfather’s dog.”
Shock flashed in her eyes. “He’s a pet, not a stuffed toy.”
“Your point?”
“He’s a dog, a very smart dog. He’s got feelings.”
He strode to the counter to grab his keys.
She went on, “You can’t just bring him into your house then go off and leave him. Your grandfather wouldn’t want you to do that, and you say you love him. Barnaby means the world to him, how can you just –”
He cut her off as hot anger flared hard in his chest, stronger than he’d ever felt it before.
“Don’t,” he warned, “ever, ever, tell me how much I love my grandfather. You’re not counseling teenage girls now.”
She lifted her arms, confusion in her eyes. “Why can’t you accept some help? I’m your wife for Pete’s sake, even if it is only on paper, but I’m here with you and I can –”
“My wife?” He dropped the keys on to the counter with a clatter and closed the gap between them in an instant.
“Did you just remind me that you are my wife?” He tipped her chin with his finger and she went still, looking back at him with eyes that were wide, eyes that held frustration.
He bet it was not the kind of frustration he felt.
“Then maybe this little bargain of ours should change. Maybe your duties should increase from comforting the husband in his grief to consoling him in other ways?”
She swallowed. “Wh – what are you saying?” but even as her voice trailed off, desire flashed in her eyes. The recognition of it hit him hard.
He cupped her nape with his hand, the sensation of her warm skin beneath his palm making his blood race. She felt so good. He pulled her closer to him, and bent to her.
“Daniel, I...” The words forming on her lips vanished rapidly. He kissed her gently, planned to keep it to some chaste little hint of what could happen. A second later, he knew he’d made a mistake. Desire exploded in his body, and he pressed close enough to feel her heart pound between them. Her hand came up, pressed his chest. He tasted her deeper, waiting for her hand to drop, for her to push him away.
She didn’t. The imprint of her hand seared him as he deepened the kiss even further, as Mel responded.
So Melinda possessed those instincts just like any hot blooded female? The thought made him spin, as she pressed herself against him, her arms around his neck, holding him. How was it possible she’d remained a virgin so long? What had been wrong with her fiancé that she hadn’t given in to the desire for him, but had chosen to stick to a notion of keeping her virginity?
“No.” He heard the words as a mumble on her lips as she dropped her hands and stepped back, her chest heaving, her face flushed.
He held his own breath and the silence grew. Mel let her arms hang loose at her side. “That was not part of the bargain.”
His gaze slipped to her mouth. She was breathing heavily, and knowing he had done that, that she had lost control because of him, sent a sudden surge of longing through him.
He clenched his fists against it. “You have admirable self-control. I believe you might just have been enjoying the experience as much as I was.”
“Then it’s a good job I stopped it.”
“So you think it would have gone further? Like straight to my bed – or yours?”
She hesitated the briefest moment. “It would never have gone
that far.”
His face darkened. “You know yourself that well?”
Her gaze flickered and he realised, she didn’t know herself that well.
“Maybe I don’t.” Her chin lifted and she shot a lingering glance down at Barnaby before she looked straight at him. “But I do know this. We’re getting this marriage annulled so there’s a lot riding on it. I don’t try and change the rules half way through the game, Daniel. And I always keep my end of the bargain.”
Mel was left wondering who was trying to change the rules. Daniel? Or her?
She stared at the immaculate ceiling of the immaculate apartment, drew in a shuddering breath, turned over and hugged the fat pillow to herself. And she had come closer to giving in to him.
She had never felt so much desire before. Ever.
Her body was still hot, her heart still pounding a little fast. No wonder she’d found it so easy to stick to her plan to stay a virgin until she married. She’d never been sorely tempted to take that step before, even with Max. Of course, Max told her she was unresponsive and she had been. To him. And there’d been other reasons. It hadn’t been worth it for the gamut of reasons – the risk of pregnancy, of disease, even problems with her own body image – that’s what she’d told herself all along with her counseling hat on. But in reality it had been a lot easier to not sleep with Max because she hadn’t had to fight her own body.
She closed her eyes. Daniel had awakened something in her she’d never felt before. It was as if she had taken a step forward and she might never come back from it.
How was she meant to survive the next few weeks now? She had no doubt it wouldn’t pose any problem for him. Part of the deal might be that he wasn’t meant to make love to her – but there’d been nothing about exclusivity in the contract. Her eyes snapped open. What was to stop him making love to someone else? Money no object, discretion guaranteed.
She lifted her head to see if she could hear anything but the rooms were well soundproofed. She struggled up, adjusted her clothes, and went through to her ensuite.
In the mirror her face was still flushed. Was that arousal? Was that what had happened? Had he seen that and realised what she’d felt?
She ran the cold tap and splashed ice cold water on her face, dried it on one of the perfectly soft and scented towels Patsy left for her every morning. She brushed her hair, and tied it up on her head in a knot, then went back down to the living area.
Daniel was sitting at the breakfast bar, a glass of water in front of him. Barnaby was sitting on the floor not far from him.
Daniel looked up from the magazine. His gaze was impassive.
His cell suddenly went off, and he grabbed it off the counter. He talked in a low voice, and Mel went over to Barnaby, bent down and tickled him under the chin. He looked up at her, his brown eyes loaded with intelligence and sadness. He knew what was happening, she was sure of it. He’d lost his master and he knew he might never see him again and he was stuck here with her and Daniel. Her stomach clenched. She would never get used to the longing in his eyes.
Her knees creaked as she stood up, and Daniel finished the call.
In the silence he watched her closely, and she apologized before she changed her mind, “Sorry about before.”
His gaze was solid. “I’m sorry, too.”
He didn’t elaborate but climbed off the chair, grabbed his cell phone and his keys. “I’m heading into the office.”
Was that it? She watched as he walked down to the foyer, the play of fabric around his thighs, the breadth of his shoulders, the touch of his thick, luscious hair on his collar.
The door slid shut behind him.
“Great,” she muttered. The next few months were clearly going to play out in front of her like a long, torturous prison sentence.
She went to the phone and dialed her mother’s number for their daily chat.
I’m doing this all for you, Mum, she whispered, and she knew it would be worth it. Even though in this ridiculously short space of time, with a man she barely knew, she was beginning to fall in love.
He’d apologized to her. He’d as good as groveled. Surely that was enough.
Daniel reached the bottom of the elevator shaft, and hesitated. He should go back up. Apologize again.
He turned, reached to push the button to his apartment, then stopped
No. Tension rippled through his body and he made his way to the car park. He wasn’t going to apologize to Melinda again. It was becoming a habit and he did not care for it. The first day he’d met her, he’d apologized, for goodness sake.
If he had any sense, he wouldn’t do anything that required saying 'sorry' in the first place.
He got in his car, and headed down the road, but the picture of Mel wouldn’t leave.
Nor would the look on his Grandfather’s face when he’d promised him he’d look after Barnaby.
Mel changed into shorts, a white t-shirt, and laced up her trainers. She checked out the window down towards the beach. The sky was blue with floating wisps of clouds; another beautiful day. She grabbed sunglasses and a baseball cap and in the kitchen, filled a bottle with water, and located plastic bags for any Barnaby deposits.
“Walk, Barnaby,” she said. His ears perked up. She took the leash and waggled it. Instantly, he was at her feet, tongue hanging out, stumpy tail wagging crazily. She attached the leash and grabbed her keys from the counter.
As they went down the lift, she thought back to her mother. Ellie was feeling all right, but from Mel’s side of the conversation, it had been strained. She should never have called her when she was so het up over Daniel. She’d had to respond to questions she didn’t know how to answer, especially when it came to questions about who she worked for. She’d downplayed it, but felt guilty as sin lying by omission.
It was more a case of not getting her mother worried and the less information she gave her mother at this stage, the better. A young woman living in with her employee was not all that common and her mother had been openly curious.
As they stepped outside, Barnaby began to strain at the leash. When they’d gone to collect him from Sir Arthur’s place, his housekeeper had mentioned he hadn’t been walked in a couple of days. He’d had space to run around the garden in the secure fully fenced grounds but had seemed to lack energy. Because he knew what was happening, Mel thought.
She breathed in the air, and decided to take him down to the beach. She wasn’t sure if he was allowed – some beaches didn’t allow dogs, but they could at least walk along the footpath, and she’d enjoy the views.
She stepped out on the footpath when Daniel’s Audi suddenly pulled up beside her. She was tempted to keep walking.
He wound his window down. “Mel, wait.”
Her pulse skipped a beat and she tightened her grip on Barnaby’s leash. “Your grandfather’s dog needs walking.”
“Wait here. I’ll join you.”
She balked, and turned to stare at him. “You’ll do what?”
“Two minutes. Wait here.”
The car screeched off to the ground level car park.
“Always giving the orders,” she sighed, as Barnaby sat on the pavement. He looked up at her, mournful, sad. Lost.
“You and me both,” she muttered, stroking his back. But Daniel had come back. For some reason he’d turned around and come back.
A minute later he came striding out to join them.
“I’ll take the leash.” He was about to reach out but he stopped. “If you want me to.”
She shrugged, and handed it over. “We’re going down to the beach.”
They turned on to the main road and began to walk down to the beach. They’d gone barely fifty feet before Daniel sighed. “Mel, I’m sorry about what I said.”
She opted for silence, but her heart pounded loudly in her chest. It was hard not to be aware of him. She focused on Barnaby running ahead happily, stopping every so often to sniff at grass or a new smell on the footpath. At this rate it wou
ld take a long time to get down to the beach.
“There is a lot at stake,” he went on. “This business has been my life – all my life. But it isn’t just about me. It’s about thousands of employees; it’s about contracts with other companies. I made a commitment to my grandfather to run this company the way he ran it for his family. Most of the time it means working seven days. It’s what I’ve always done.” He looked at her hard, searching. “You must see that.”
“I do see it.” The problem of course was that this wasn’t just a financial arrangement as he’d said at brunch yesterday. It had evolved rapidly into something more for her, something she was at a loss to control.
Barnaby came to a complete stop at a tree, sniffing crazily. “Barnaby misses your grandfather,” she said then.
Daniel looked as though he hadn’t even considered that. “I suppose he does.” He shrugged and stared at the dog. “He looks normal to me, though. How can you tell?”
“He’s just – sad.”
“Looks pretty happy. If you let him off the leash, he’d run for miles.” He grinned suddenly. “At least as far as those stumpy legs will carry him.”
His grin was infectious and she felt some of the tension lift. “It’s going to be hard at night.” They stopped as Barnaby finally lifted his leg against the tree, and they both looked away, as if to afford him some privacy. “He used to sleep in your grandfather’s room in his basket,” Mel added.
Daniel’s lips flattened. “Are you suggesting I should have him in my bedroom?”
She gave a half snort. “You’d scare him half to death.”
Daniel looked affronted and it was all Mel could do to not laugh out loud.
Barnaby strained at the leash and as they neared the beach, Mel realised there were more people milling around than one would consider this far out from summer. A lot of them, she observed, were already taking advantage of the surf.