Lessons in Love

by Kathryn R. Blake

  * * *

  Pam woke to Rob talking to her in a low murmur. "Roll over, kitten. I'm here to give you your shot."

  She blinked and realized it was still dark. "What time is it?"

  "About 4:00 a.m. Roll over."

  Glowering at him with eyes still swollen from crying, she asked, "Why so early?"

  "I'm going in to the office. Krista will be over later."

  "It's still the weekend, Rob."

  Despite the darkness, she glimpsed a flash of white teeth as he smiled. "I realize that. Something's come up."

  Still on her back, she propped up on her elbows. "What's so important you need to go rushing off at 4:00 a.m. on a Sunday?"

  He tapped her nose. "No work for you, missy. Now, be a good girl and roll over, or I'll add a swat for disobedience."

  "Hah. Postponing a shot is not one of the three reasons you listed for spanking me."

  "Health and well-being, Pam. Do as I say, please, before I decide you require further incentive."

  "Spoilsport." Sinking back into the mattress, she rolled over. She hadn't put on panties last night, so, with a wipe, followed by a quick stab and another wipe, he was done.

  "Good girl. How are your hands?"

  She flexed her fingers. "Fine. They don't bother me at all."

  He reached for her hand and lightly pressed her palm. "Does that hurt?"

  "No, but if you keep it up, it will."

  "How's your butt?"

  "You saw it. Why don't you tell me?"

  Frowning, he murmured, "You're not much of a morning person, are you?"

  "Four o'clock is hardly morning in my book. But no. I'm not."

  "Fine. I'll make sure Mrs. Andrews has some pain relievers in case you need them later. You should keep the bandages dry so the cuts can heal. If you get them wet for any reason, ask Mrs. Andrews to wrap them for you again. She's had first aid training, so she can take care of you."

  His words made it sound like he'd be gone for a while, so she turned to face him. "What time will you be back?"

  "Tonight, sometime. Hopefully for dinner." Bending, he placed a kiss on her forehead. "Have fun with Krista, but stay out of trouble. All right?"

  "We'll try."

  "You'd better. See you later." And that quickly, he was gone.

  Pam reclined in bed. Four a.m., the man defined the word workaholic. She rolled to her side and punched her pillow. What on earth could be so important he had to rush out to deal with it? Realizing she couldn't draw the answer out of thin air, Pam fell back asleep.

  * * *

  The next time she awoke, the room was filled with light, and Krista was sitting near the foot of Pam's bed.

  "Oh, good. You're awake. Rob gave strict orders that you weren't to be disturbed."

  "What time is it?"

  "Around 10:00 a.m." Krista pointed to Pam's fingers. "I heard you had an accident last night. What happened?"

  Pam held up her bandaged hands. "I threw a temper tantrum and sliced my palms."

  Krista frowned. "What did Rob do?"

  "He wrapped them up for me. He seems to know a lot about first aid."

  "I think he knows a little about most everything. I'd hate to play Trivial Pursuit against him, but that wasn't what I meant when I asked what he did."

  "You know him better than I do, Krista. What do you think?"

  Krista brow furrowed even more deeply. "Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine. Much improved, actually. Rob forgave all my earlier sins."

  "Hey. You didn't make that many mistakes and you were only trying to help, so I'm not sure there was anything to forgive. He did come down on you pretty hard over the telephone Thursday night." When Pam frowned, Krista promptly changed the topic. "Hungry? I think Della has some pancake batter she's ready to put on the grill for you."

  "Pancakes?"

  "Yes, and they're to die for."

  "Okay, why don't you go downstairs and tell her I'm on my way."

  Krista shrugged. "I'll wait for you, and we can go down together."

  "Well, the thing is, my bottom half is still bare and I'd sorta like to get dressed on my own."

  "Oh." Krista hopped off the bed. "Yeah. Sure. I'll meet you in the kitchen." With a small wave, she left.

  Pam got out of bed slowly, testing her muscles for soreness. Discovering she was fine, if not better, she gathered up some underwear and went into the bathroom where she examined herself in the full-length mirror. Her face had an unusual glow to it. Maybe this new lifestyle did agree with her, after all. At least her face. She gave a twist to look behind her and discovered her butt was only slightly pink and a little warm to the touch. It didn't hurt at all, which amazed her. With a shrug, she hurriedly got dressed and rushed downstairs to join Krista and Mrs. Andrews, who had yet to tell Pam she could call her Della.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  As Pam approached the kitchen, she heard Krista chatting away with Mrs. Andrews.

  "I think he may be mistreating her," Krista claimed with a scowl from her perch on a countertop.

  "And I think you'd best keep your nose out of things that aren't your business."

  "Morning," Pam called out, stepping into the room as if she hadn't overheard her friend's comment. Krista flushed, but Mrs. Andrews faced Pam with a smile.

  "Morning, lass. Hope you're hungry. Why don't you both take a seat at the table, and I'll serve."

  Pam normally wasn't much of a breakfast eater, but she dug into her pancakes with enthusiasm this morning. As she considered her unexpected hunger, she suspected the change was related to the shots Rob was giving her. She did feel more relaxed, a little like she floated, but not at all woozy.

  "Well, looks like something agreed with you," Krista remarked with a grin.

  "I know." Pam reached for a second serving of the fluffy flapjacks, which she doused in maple syrup. "These are delicious, Mrs. Andrews." The housekeeper smiled in response.

  "Mrs. Andrews? Why don't you call her Della?"

  Pam blinked at Krista. "Because she hasn't said I could, yet."

  "Ah, lass, you don't need an invitation to be informal with me. You may call me Della, if it pleases you."

  Smiling back, Pam said, "Thanks."

  "How are your hands doing? Mr. Peterson said I should take a look and change your bandages if they needed it."

  "They're fine. They don't hurt at all. The cuts are more superficial than serious."

  "All the same, I'd best take a gander before you two go off exploring, or whatever you intend to do today."

  Though she considered the check unnecessary, Pam agreed. So, after breakfast, she followed Della into one of the downstairs bathrooms and stared into the drawer filled with an assortment of bandages, ointments, and other medical paraphernalia with a shiver of unease. "Does he stock every bathroom like this?"

  "With first aid supplies? Yes." Della began snipping through the gauze on Pam's left hand with safety scissors. "This one is closest to the kitchen, so it's stocked with medications to help treat minor first-degree burns and the like."

  Pam supposed that made sense, even if it did strike her as a little odd, like he expected people to get injured in his home.

  Della removed the bandage material with a swift ease that had Pam remarking, "Rob said you had some medical training. Did you take a course?"

  "Actually, I studied to be a nurse, but when I was asked to treat a young boy who had both his arms broken by his father, I decided the nursing profession wasn't for me. I don't have the stomach for it. Your hands are healing nicely," she commented as Pam gazed at what remained of her injuries. Each palm featured a slight red line streaking across it as a souvenir of her foolishness, and neither appeared especially deep. "I'll wrap them up again, and you're good to go."

  "So, how did you end up working here?"

  When Della pursed her lips, Pam suspected her question was too personal, then the older woman responded. "Mr. Peterson has an uncanny way of collecting the wounded. He met me
shortly after my husband died. I was in a bad way, so he sat me down and, after we talked for a bit, he offered me a job on the spot, and I stayed for over ten years."

  "So you stood as witness to the parade of admins marching through, didn't you?"

  With a shake of her head, Della met Pam's gaze and spoke softly. "No, lass. You're the only one he's brought home, at least to stay."

  "Really?"

  Della nodded as she began wrapping Pam's other hand. "I realize he lives an unusual lifestyle, and I'm not going to say he's chaste by any means, but he's never invited anyone here to live with him before. Oh, he's had some ladies over, but I don't believe they worked for him, and they were packed up and gone before he went to bed. So he sees something special in you, Pam. Don't make the mistake of thinking he views you as a toy he intends to play with and toss aside because, from what I've seen, that's not the case."

  Pam wasn't convinced Della was one hundred percent correct, but the words still gave her a warm tingle.

  "Try not to do anything too strenuous that might open those cuts again, but, other than that, I'd say you're free to do what you please."

  Smiling, Pam thanked Della and returned to the kitchen where Krista was waiting for her.

  "Ready to journey through Wonderland?" Krista asked with a mischievous waggle of her eyebrows.

  "Why not?"

  They proceeded down the main hall and stopped when they reached the formal dining room. Krista had been right. The room could hold a small city with a table capable of accommodating fifty people comfortably.

  "That mahogany monstrosity expands," Krista informed her. "He can seat two hundred in there easily. I know because his Christmas parties can be that large. Come on, I'll take you to the movie room next."

  Pam's jaw dropped as she entered a compact theater that contained fifty plush leather reclining chairs and an old-fashioned popcorn making machine. "Wow. Seems a bit extravagant. Does he show a lot of films?"

  "He's definitely a motion picture buff. Action and westerns are more to his taste than romantic comedies. We saw the latest James Bond film here when it was still in first run theaters."

  "Whose we?"

  "Those of us on the executive floor. Venture capital can be a high stress business, so he tries to hold a fun weekend at least once a quarter to celebrate the successes."

  "And mourn the failures?"

  "Yeah. In a way, though, luckily, Robite doesn't have many of those. All prospective companies undergo a pretty rigorous screening process. Want to go over to the sports area?"

  "Sure. But no red doors. Okay?"

  Krista shrugged as if the thought hadn't occurred to her, though Pam suspected it had.

  After touring the indoor tennis and racquetball, squash and badminton courts, they messed around on the volleyball court, ate a couple of sandwiches around 2:00 p.m., played two rounds of miniature golf, and then tried their hand at several electronic games before a soft, repetitive beeping sounded like an intercom.

  "That's the internal phone system." Krista checked her watch. "It's six, so I bet it's Della." Krista walked over to a small speaker on the wall by the door and depressed a lit circle. "Yes?"

  "Dinner's nearly ready, girls. I suggest you start making your way back."

  "Be right there, Della," Krista answered before pushing the button again. This time, the light went off.

  "How did she know where we were?"

  "Oh, the house is monitored with lots of hidden electronics, and Della is the best at tracking people down. She has to keep track of Rob."

  "Can she hear us?"

  "Not sure. But if you want to share a secret, I would suggest going outside, far away from any trees."

  Pam shivered.

  "Okay, let's go eat. I'll need to leave soon after that anyway."

  It was six o'clock when they sat down to a cold buffet of various meats, cheeses, and breads along with a mix of different salads that Della set up in the small dining room.

  "Sit with us, Della," Krista invited as she loaded her plate.

  When Della gazed at Pam first, she realized the older woman sought her permission before joining them. "Please. If you haven't already eaten, we'd love for you to join us."

  "Thank you, girls. I believe I will."

  After they'd consumed their fill, Krista murmured, "That was perfect, Della. Thank you."

  "Yes, thank you, Della," Pam echoed with a twinge of guilt she hadn't thought to offer her thanks first, but her mind was still in a whirl over the fact Rob had the house wired and first aid supplies located in every corner. Something didn't add up, but she was beginning to doubt she'd care for the results once the sum had been totaled.

  Krista glanced at her watch. "It isn't even seven, yet. Want to resume our tour?"

  Pam shrugged. "Sure. Do you need help clearing and cleaning up, Della?"

  "No, lass. That's my job. You two continue exploring if you wish."

  Pam rose when Krista did, and they walked out of the room together. Once they were in the hall, Krista leaned toward her and whispered. "Ready to try getting through the red door, yet?"

  Shaking her head, Pam murmured. "It's too soon, Krista. I've only been here one day. I don't feel right about violating Rob's privacy."

  "Did he order you to stay away from the room?"

  "No. But he didn't suggest I seek out all his locked doors, either. In fact, I don't think he wanted me wandering about today at all."

  Krista frowned. "Are you tired? Do you want to rest?"

  "No, silly. I feel great, but not intrepid."

  "All right. Let's continue down this corridor, and I'll show you the pool. Do you like to swim?"

  Pam shrugged. Though she used to love going to the beach, swimming was no longer one of her favorite pastimes, given that long-sleeved suits weren't in vogue. Because of her scars, Pam hadn't worn a suit or been in the water since she was twelve. "When I was a kid, I regularly went with a few of my friends and their moms to the shore, but it's been a while."

  "Well, I'm not an elegant swimmer, but I can paddle around a bit, and I love the view here. It's so peaceful and relaxing, like you're in a different world."

  Though the tangy odor of chlorine immediately struck her when they entered the area, Pam could tell what Krista meant. The pool itself was Olympic-sized, which she expected, but it was the fireplace and lounge, showers, and dressing rooms, along with the notice stating, Bathers may use the facilities without clothes, if they wish, but do so under risk of chastisement by management if caught, that captured Pam's attention.

  "So what does this mean? Does he let people swim nude or not?"

  Krista laughed. "I'm sure he does, though I don't think I would chance it. He's got a store of bathing suits in all sizes for those of us who aren't quite so adventurous. Want to take a dip?"

  Pam promptly shook her head then, seeing Krista's surprised expression, she tried to defuse her rejection by adding, "But you can if you want."

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing. I just don't like the way I look in swimming suits anymore."

  "You're not fat, Pam. If anything, you're on the thin side."

  "It's not that."

  Krista gave a quick nod, turned away for a second, then turned back. "I tend to forget not everyone is an open book sometimes, so ignore me. Why don't we go back and play another round of miniature golf?"

  "But you wanted to swim, didn't you?"

  "No. It's not important."

  "Krista, you don't need to stop doing something simply because I choose not to join you. If you want to do this, go change." She lifted her hands. "I shouldn't go in the water with my hands wrapped anyway, so I'll go explore for a bit then sit in the lounge."

  "You sure?"

  "Positive," Pam assured with a smile, and, with childlike glee, Krista scurried off.

  Pam strolled over to the black leather upholstered seats that were separated from the pool by a row of greenery and a glass partition. Inside the observation area
was a TV set and stereo system along with a fully stocked bar. The man had way too much money for his own good, though he undoubtedly earned every dime he made.

  Crossing to the television, she turned it to a news channel. The Middle East was still in crisis and a hurricane was headed toward the southern East Coast. Same old, same old. Switching off the TV, she fiddled with the stereo until she landed on an easy listening station, wanting something to calm and relax her as Krista dove into the deep end. Pam lay back on a lounger and stretched out to watch her friend for a moment before she glanced down at the white bandages encircling her hands. Between her sliced palms and scarred arms, Pam had several reasons why she shouldn't go swimming, but none of them eliminated the desire.

  Yes, Rob warned her against getting her cuts wet, but Della hadn't mentioned any restrictions. Though still uncertain about letting Krista see her scars, Pam began to unwrap the bandages. The pool water sparkled with invitation, and she was feeling a little warm.

  Unwinding the long string of gauze, she stared at her palms then pressed to test for soreness. No pain. The wounds were minor, like deep paper cuts. She sat back. Rob gave had given the instruction because he thought moisture might delay her healing, but when she'd gotten paper cuts before, she'd still done the dishes. And, Della didn't say anything about keeping them dry.

  Rob rendered his caution without examining her. Pam was certain he wouldn't have added the restriction if he'd seen how well her hands had healed.

  As she glanced wistfully at Krista swimming along, Pam made up her mind. If the chemicals hurt her too badly, she would stay out. But if they didn't…. Walking over to the pool's edge, she dipped her hand in and winced as the chlorine stung a bit. Still, the pain wasn't bad. Rising, she hesitated at the shallow end. When Krista saw her, she swam over.

  "You took off your bandages?"

  Pam nodded. What would Krista think once she discovered the things Pam used to do?

  "Let's see them," Krista suggested as she climbed the stairs. Pam held her hands out. "They're hardly noticeable. Does the water bother them?"

  "Not much."

  "So why don't you go get a suit and come in? The water's a perfect, cool temperature."