Lessons in Love

by Kathryn R. Blake

  "I don't understand it, but I can tell it works for you. What's more, it's obvious you truly care for him."

  Their conversation came to a quick end when Rob and Paul entered.

  "Paul brought your clothes, Pam. Why don't you take the items into the bathroom and change?"

  Pam regarded him carefully. He didn't look pleased for some reason. "Did you pass?"

  He grinned at that. "Yes. You needn't worry I'll treat you like a pincushion. I passed with flying colors."

  Pam accepted the articles he handed her. The colorful shorts, top, and snappy white sandals weren't ones she'd ever worn, but figuring they counted among his few additions, she chose not to argue the point. Instead, she gazed at him through narrowed eyes. "Glad to learn you passed your exam, Mr. Peterson, because if you give me any more trouble, I'm calling management."

  "Brat," he whispered, placing a kiss on top of her head before giving her a gentle push in the direction of the lavatory. "Go change."

  Pam took the opportunity to give herself a quick wash before she dressed. She wanted to depart the hospital as quickly as possible, so the thought of stripping and taking a full shower didn't appeal, but she couldn't put on clean clothes without running a warm soapy washcloth over the important bits at least. So, when she emerged a few minutes later to discover no one was smiling, Pam had the distinct impression something was terribly wrong. "What is it?"

  "Nothing," Rob said with a smile that was a little too broad to be reassuring. "As soon as Dr. Mitchell gets here, we'll give you your first shot. Once that's over, we should be free to go. Paul, why don't you bring the car around to the front? Krista, Adam is already at the house, so if you want to go ahead, we'll meet you there."

  "Sure," Krista agreed, giving Pam a hug. "We can finish talking later," she promised in a whisper before turning to leave with Paul.

  Pam gave Rob a quizzical look. "So, are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

  "Nothing," he murmured as Dr. Mitchell entered, followed by the nurse.

  "Heard you handled the needle with skill and aplomb, Peterson. Ready for the final test?"

  Smiling, Rob gave a nod. "Ready, willing, and able."

  "Wonderful. I'll let you two decide how you want to do this."

  Rob crooked a finger at Pam, so she rose and walked over to him. "Your decision, this time. Lap, bed, or bend?"

  "Lap, I think."

  He pressed a kiss on her forehead. "Good choice. One of my favorite positions." Then, sitting on the bed, he patted his knee. "Just lower yourself down, and I'll see to the rest."

  Both the sunny new top and pastel blue bottoms she wore were loose, so she positioned herself across his knees and tried not to tense.

  He drew her a little closer, then edged her shorts and panties down on her right side. "Swab," he cautioned as an astringent smelling liquid was spread over her hip.

  She thought she was relaxed, but he ran a hand beneath her shirt and murmured, "Relax, kitten. I'm not going to hurt you, promise."

  Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to go limp.

  "Good girl," he praised, then she felt a slight pressure and another swipe of the astringent pad before he rearranged her outfit and gave her a gentle pat. "That's it."

  When he helped her rise, she smiled at him. "Didn't hurt at all."

  "Told you."

  "Well done, you two. Mr. Peterson signed your release paperwork, so, as soon as transportation arrives with a wheelchair, you're free to go, Miss Weston."

  "I can walk," she protested, preferring not to delay if walking meant she could leave sooner.

  Rob leaned forward. "Do you remember what I said about taking it easy?"

  "You said I could walk."

  "Only when necessary or unavoidable. Here, it can be avoided. So, take a seat and wait like you should."

  "Yes, sir," she mumbled as she sat down in the chair.

  A few minutes later, a nurse arrived, and Pam was wheeled out to the front entrance where Paul met them with the car.

  Pam let Rob assist her, secretly pleased when he slid in next to her. Once they were off, she asked, "We're alone now, so tell me. Is something wrong?"

  His face promptly smoothed out. "No. Why?"

  "Because you're acting weird."

  He frowned at her. "I am not."

  "And, when I came out of the bathroom, the tension in the room was thick enough to choke a canary. You've been displeased since you returned from shot camp."

  He laughed. "Shot camp, eh? I must remember that."

  "So, are you going to tell me, or will you let me fret until you do?"

  "The last thing I want is for you to worry about anything. Your parole officer called me. He requested a meeting, so I made arrangements for us to meet Monday afternoon. I would have suggested we use the house instead, but I want home to be a safe haven for you, so I scheduled the discussion in a downstairs conference room."

  Pam shrugged. "The office is fine. I figured he would contact me sooner or later, and maybe afterward I could check on things upstairs."

  "No. You may not. No work, remember? Besides, I got the impression the good officer wants to contest my guardianship, so I requested the head of my legal team drop by, unofficially. I believe Mr. Jacobs harbors the suspicion I am responsible for your incident and would prefer you stay elsewhere."

  Pam frowned, wondering why she wasn't more worried about this information. "Oh. So, are you thinking he may want me committed?"

  "I'll fight him on that. I'm afraid he'll want someone else appointed as your guardian. Your mother, perhaps. Jacobs was finally able to reach her today, and she expressed displeasure at being left out of the loop for so long, even though several people did try to contact her."

  Pam shook her head and discovered how light she felt. "My mother? Worried? I doubt it," she scoffed. "Mother wouldn't want responsibility for me. She couldn't wait to get me out of the house."

  "Interesting. That's not how Jacobs sees things. He advised me your mother believes I overworked you until you collapsed. She complained I not only make you work on weekends, but I insisted you were available to me at all times of the day."

  "Oh." Pam grimaced as she recalled her last conversation with her mother. "I may have intimated you got upset if I didn't immediately pick up when you called. I wanted to get off the phone with my mother, and avoid seeing her this weekend with the new guy she wanted me to meet."

  "I see."

  "I can explain to John when I see him."

  "Regrettably, your mother wants to be present when you do."

  "Hmm. Well, maybe I can call and tell him I don't want that. He's meeting with me, not her, and I am an adult."

  "True, but, unfortunately, you are also an adult whose ability to take care of herself has been brought into question."

  "Because of the incident and your request for guardianship?"

  "In part. I'm sure we can work it out, but the added complication doesn't make me happy. However, I don't want you worrying about it. I can be a force to be reckoned with, and I don't give up easily."

  Pam leaned against him. Normally, a conversation like this would cause her to hyperventilate, but she felt oddly calm and unworried over the outcome. "Well, I can vouch for your tenacity."

  Smiling, Rob leaned over to unfasten Pam's seatbelt, then pulled her onto his lap. "You can, can you?"

  Noting the gleam in his eyes, Pam opened her mouth to retort when Rob lowered his head and accepted the invitation she unwittingly had offered him.

  His lips moved over hers with a calm, firm, unhurried motion that turned a flurried tingle of awareness into a throbbing spot of need between her legs.

  She shifted to get a better angle and drew a groan from deep in his throat as he dragged her even closer. The solidness of his erection pressing against her hip served as evidence he was as aroused by their joining as she.

  When he pulled back, both of them were breathing hard. He regarded her closely. "I don't want to take advantage
of my position as your guardian or your boss, but I don't want you thinking I wouldn't very much like to make love to you, either. So, for that reason, I'll tell you now my door will always be open to you, whether at home or in the office, but I'm going to make damn sure you fully comprehend the complications that will arise from entering into an openly romantic and sexual relationship with me before we take this any further. You are more than welcome to let me know when you think you want to take the next step, but I will be the one to decide. Understand?"

  Pam nodded. "Yes, sir." Though she appreciated his desire for caution, she knew her own mind, so if they took the next logical step, it would be because she wanted him, not her job.

  When they turned onto a long drive that ended at a tall wrought iron gate, Pam leaned forward to gape at the huge house standing in the distance. "You live here?"

  Rob grasped her hand. "So do you."

  She shook her head at the vast French chateau-styled mansion looming ahead of them. "It's enormous."

  "It's got several interesting nooks and crannies, but I need the size primarily for entertaining."

  She arched an eyebrow. "Do a lot of that, I guess?"

  His smile widened with understanding tenderness. "Enough. You'll get used to the intricate layout after you're here awhile."

  "How many bedrooms does your cozy little bungalow boast?"

  "Twenty."

  "Twenty! What are you, an illegitimate European prince or something?"

  His responding chuckle reverberated deep inside her. "No. My parents are staid and properly married Americans, thank you very much. Although all of the bedrooms have been used, they are rarely all filled at the same time."

  Pam swallowed as she realized how much wealth the man holding her possessed. Houses like this set their tables with imported crystal and china along with four separate forks, three different spoons, and several knives, with each polished silver item used for its own specific purpose. Her table was lucky to be set with matching flatware. Her dishware was a K-Mart special, and she'd never owned a piece of china or crystal in her life.

  "I bet all the rooms in your castle are bestowed with elegant names like the Violet Room, or the Rose Room, or the Daffodil Room."

  "No. Not all. In fact, none of the rooms are named after flowers."

  "So, which room did you assign me? The third boudoir from the west wing stairway?"

  He grinned. "No. Your bedroom is the yellow room located off the right front staircase."

  She gaped at him. "You're kidding?"

  "Not at all. Why?"

  "The entrance to your house includes two staircases?"

  "Yes, it does."

  "And I suppose you have servants' quarters with a live-in staff as well, don't you?"

  "Well the house is set up with servants' quarters, and I assigned a room to both Mrs. Andrews and Paul, but they only stay during inclement weather, since they have homes and families of their own to look after."

  "Got any other servants working for you?"

  "Not full-time. I have a gardener, a cleaning crew, and several maintenance workers scheduled to perform different tasks throughout the week. Why?"

  She shrugged. "Idle curiosity, I guess. Just wondered how many people I might run into if I'm wandering the hallways at night."

  "Hmm." He tapped her nose. "No wandering, at least not for the first few nights. Rest and relaxation. Remember?"

  Pam gave a nod, but didn't reply since they'd pulled up to the main entrance. After grabbing the plastic hospital bag that held their few items, Rob helped Pam out then handed the sack to Paul while retaining hold of Pam's hand.

  "Please see Mrs. Andrews gets these then take the rest of the night off. We won't be going anyplace else tonight."

  With his fingers warmly wrapped around hers, Rob led Pam into what could only be called the grand foyer, complete with a gigantic crystal chandelier hanging over twenty feet above their heads, and a lengthy expanse of black-and-white diamond-shaped marble floor tiles that stretched down the long hallway. Halfway down, two pristine white staircases appeared to gently curve and float toward an upper level. Arched gateways led to other areas of the house with ornate gilded mirrors hanging above marble-topped chests situated between the arches. Pam hadn't known what to expect, but this understated yet moneyed elegance literally stole her breath away.

  Rob's grasp tightened as he bent forward. "Breathe, Pam."

  She glanced at him. "Those staircases are huge. Do you ever use them?"

  "Occasionally, when they're the fastest way to get where I want to go. We also maintain two elevators located straight ahead."

  "Of course, you do."

  Slipping his hand free from hers, he gave her backside a firm pat. "Behave. Just remember most of this is to impress guests, and you're not a guest."

  "No. I'm an obligation."

  His left hand gripped her shoulder while his right came down with a swat firm enough to make her yelp. "Last warning for that one, kitten."

  Rubbing her sore backside, Pam whirled to scowl at him. "You call that smack a warning?"

  "Yes, I do. Now, are you going to behave, or do I need to escort you to your room and attend more formally to this petulant attitude you've acquired?"

  Lowering her arms, she glared at him in defiance. "That hurt."

  One eyebrow arched. "Trust me, kitten, if I take you upstairs, that spank will seem like an affectionate pat. You're here because I want you with me. Pure and simple. Refuse to accept it, and I will impress the fact on your backside with a paddle until the truth is imprinted there in bright red letters."

  Though his expression appeared grimly serious, Pam doubted he'd punish her for being uncertain, but his attitude still didn't answer the question of where their changing relationship left her. She wasn't a guest, and she definitely wasn't family, so what position did that leave her? Servant? Employee?

  Shrugging, she looked away, but he countered her movement by pulling her close and hugging her. "I realize this is a new situation for you, and you're struggling with how you'll fit in. You're my legal ward, but that doesn't define our relationship, nor does your position as my assistant. We aren't exactly boyfriend and girlfriend, which are stupid misnomers anyway, nor are we in any official dominant and submissive alignment. So, for the time being, let's say you're here to serve as my sexual plaything for me to use as I see fit."

  Pam snorted. "Yeah. That won't make anyone raise a brow."

  His hands roamed up and down her back. "Well, it might not do much for your reputation, but it would do wonders for mine."

  She glanced up at him. "I don't mean to be difficult, it's just that…."

  He lowered his mouth and kissed her. "I understand. Our connection is complicated, yet simple. I am here to protect you, and you are here to rest, relax, and obey me. Consider it a vacation with rules that carry consequences if broken."

  "Rules of the house?"

  "More like rules of the master. I don't think it's necessary for us to put a label on our relationship, but if you want or need one, I have no problem with anyone thinking you are my current romantic interest or girlfriend."

  "You wouldn't?"

  "Not at all. In fact, I suspect my behavior is only going to solidify that perception in everyone's mind."

  "But it's just a perception, right? I mean, it wouldn't be real."

  He tilted his head to the side. "I'd say that would entirely depend on you. In any case, we have guests, so I suggest we not keep them waiting any longer." Setting his hand at the small of Pam's back, Rob guided her to the left where they entered a masculine room furnished with the requisite huge flat screen TV, some books, an expansive fireplace, and several brown leather lounge chairs and couches scattered about with nearby tables available for glasses and snacks. In addition, the room had a wet bar. Both Krista and Adam turned to face them with large smiles.

  "Took you long enough," Krista said, ignoring the nudge Adam gave her. "Given the size of this house, we were beg
inning to wonder if we needed to send a search party out for you."

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  "When shall I serve dinner, Mr. Peterson?" a friendly-looking, matronly woman politely inquired in a way that efficiently disarmed Krista's intentionally provoking comment.

  Rob led Pam forward. "Mrs. Andrews, this is Pamela Weston. She'll be staying with us for a while."

  The woman gave a single nod. "Pleased to finally meet you, lass." Pam instinctively put a hand out, and the woman smiled as she accepted it. "I've heard a fair bit about you, so it's nice to place a face to the stories."

  Pam blushed, not certain if the tales Rob told were all favorable, but Mrs. Andrews squeezed her fingers in a companionable gesture that advised her not to worry.

  "Would a half-hour suit, Mrs. Andrews?"

  "Of course. Formal or casual?"

  "We're all friends here, so casual, please."

  "As you wish. I shall announce when all is ready." Giving a nod to Rob and another welcoming smile to Pam, she turned and walked through the wall.

  Krista laughed when Pam's eyes widened in disbelief.

  "This house contains a lot of secret passageways that make it seem like people are walking through walls, bookcases, or mirrors. It's fun to watch the expressions of those new to the place, but you'll get used to it."

  Rob slipped behind the bar. "Thirsty, Pam?"

  "A little. May I have a glass of wine?"

  He shook his head. "No alcohol until you're off medication. We've got a variety of different soft drinks, though, and I could even offer you a tonic and lime if you'd prefer."

  Pam pursed her mouth at his restriction. "Ginger Ale?"

  Acknowledging her displeasure with a twist of his lips, he pulled down a tall glass, put in ice, then opened a bottle and poured, adding a stirrer and a cherry before handing the drink to Pam. Then, he served himself what looked like a gin and tonic. Both Adam and Krista already had glasses, so Mrs. Andrews had filled in as their host until Rob arrived.

  "Why don't we all sit and get comfortable," Rob suggested as he indicated a conversational unit situated by the massive fireplace that remained empty of kindling in the summer.