Lessons in Love

by Kathryn R. Blake

  Her courage running out, Pam lowered her arms. "I shouldn't."

  Krista hesitated. "It's not just your palms, is it?"

  Pam shook her head.

  "If you don't want to share—"

  "It's not that…. Well, not entirely that. I'm afraid what you'll think."

  Giving a nod, Krista murmured, "Yeah, I'm awfully judgmental. I don't blame you for holding back."

  Pam laughed, despite herself, then regarded her friend for a moment. "I used to cut myself."

  "What?" She didn't think Krista's eyes could get any wider as she stared at her with stunned amazement.

  "Razor blades, mostly, which leave thin, barely perceptible marks, but the ones left by serrated knives are ugly. So, rather than spend a lot of time explaining something I'd prefer remained a secret, I avoid wearing anything without sleeves."

  "Does Rob know?"

  Glancing down at her shoes, Pam nodded. "I didn't think he'd seen my scars, but last night he admitted noticing them when I was in the hospital. He made it abundantly clear, I am never to do anything like that again."

  "I can imagine so. Did it have to do with your stepfather?"

  "In part. I was hurting—inside, and discovered I could distract myself by cutting. The pain helped ease the suffering I experienced from events beyond my control. I know it sounds crazy, but—"

  "No. I get it. It's like splitting up with someone you care about because you think they're going to break up with you. Being the instigator is easier on your ego, so you deliberately make the first cut."

  "Yeah. Exactly."

  "So, are you embarrassed to have me see them?"

  Pam shrugged. "I'm not sure. Telling is the hardest part, but they're not pretty. You sure you want to do this?"

  Krista answered with a thoughtful frown. "Not if it upsets you."

  Giving a nod, Pam muttered, "Fine, I'll try to find a suit that fits me, so you can understand just how crazy I am."

  Krista put a hand out to stop her. "I don't think you're crazy, Pam. A little desperate, perhaps, but you're witty, smart, and totally sane."

  Attempting a smile, Pam murmured, "Thanks."

  * * *

  By the time Pam returned to the pool covered in a black one piece, Krista had hopped back in and was doing laps. Opting to hold her hands out of the water as a compromise, Pam traversed the stairs leading into the shallow end.

  Krista immediately swam over, stood and brushed her wet hair back from her face.

  "You okay?"

  Pam shrugged. "I think so." She held out her left arm to show Krista, who leaned forward to examine the thin lines more closely.

  "They're hardly visible. If you hadn't told me, I don't think I would have noticed them at all."

  "I'm right handed, so this arm is worse." When Pam raised her right arm, Krista gave a slow whistle as she stepped closer.

  "Wow! Those are much too uneven for a razor blade."

  Pam lowered her arm. "Most of them weren't. I grabbed whatever I could find. Knives, box cutters, anything sharp."

  "I'm surprised they didn't get infected."

  "I used a lot of alcohol."

  "I'm sorry you went through that."

  Pam shrugged as if it didn't matter, but Krista's reaction helped ease her worry.

  "So, want to go for a swim?"

  Grinning Pam gave a nod and slipped into the water, which felt heavenly to her.

  "Nice, isn't it?"

  "Perfect."

  They swam in concord for a while, then Krista stopped to take a rest while Pam did another lap. She was headed back to the shallow area again, when she spotted something dark at the end of the pool. Pushing the hair out of her eyes, she saw a pair of black men's shoes that no doubt cost more than she made in a week. Pam's gaze continued to move up the trouser-encased legs, to the black leather belt, tailored shirt and jacket, tie, and the unsmiling visage staring down at her.

  "Out, now," Rob ordered quietly. Pam glanced over, but Krista was already out and covered in a fluffy white Turkish towel with Adam White standing at her side.

  Swallowing hard, Pam slogged over to the stairs. The moment she stepped out, a large, warm Turkish towel engulfed her from shoulders to feet as Rob began drying her off.

  "I'd say you need another lesson in heeding instructions," he murmured in a low voice, so only she could hear him.

  Her gaze flashing up to his face, she attempted to read his expression, which remained bland and neutral with a hint of inquiry.

  "They don't hurt," she insisted, holding her hands palm up. "The water only stung them a tiny bit when I first got in."

  He glanced down, secured the towel about her so it wouldn't fall, then lightly pressed the cut on her left hand as if to test her words. "Any discomfort at all?"

  "No. Della thought they were fine."

  "And that makes your disobedience to me acceptable?" he inquired softly, as both hands rested on her shoulders while his thumbs caressed her collarbone.

  "It wasn't her fault," Krista insisted. "I asked her to come into the pool with me."

  Rob's eyes remained fixed on her face. "Pam possesses a brain, Krista. She knows how to use it and ‘no’ is still a perfectly acceptable word in her vocabulary."

  "Except when she's speaking with you," Krista muttered.

  Rob gave a slight shrug as though he didn't entirely disagree with Krista's assessment, but his eyes held a glimmer of amusement.

  Taking heart that he wasn't really angry, Pam countered, "You weren't here to ask, but if you had been, I didn't think you would have objected."

  "So, now you can divine my thoughts?" he inquired, the steel returning to his voice.

  "I didn't mean that. It's just…."

  "We'll talk later," he advised, lowering his arms. "Go upstairs, take a shower, and change into your night clothes. I'll be up shortly."

  "But my shorts and underwear…."

  "Leave them. The staff will collect and launder them for you."

  Hesitating, Pam whispered, "Am I in trouble?"

  "We'll discuss it later, I said." His words emerged with a sharper edge to them as he took a step back.

  Pam gave a nod and glanced over at her friend. "Thanks for this afternoon. I had fun."

  Krista frowned. "Will you be okay?"

  Casting a quick glance back at Rob, she answered, "Yes. I'll be fine."

  "All right if I call you tomorrow?"

  "Not to discuss business," Rob interceded firmly.

  "No. Merely to chat."

  When Rob gave a single nod, Pam smiled. "I'd love that. Good night, Adam."

  Grinning, Adam gave Pam a wink. "Good night, troublemaker."

  Pam returned his grin and silently chuckled all the way to her room. Despite her disobedience, Rob wasn't upset, which raised her spirits immensely.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Pam took a long, hot shower to wash the chlorine out of her hair. After toweling dry, she slipped on a short nightie and returned to her room for her hairbrush, but stopped in the doorway with a gasp. Rob sat on the bench at the foot of her bed, staring at her.

  "Warmer?" he inquired politely.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good." He pointed to a spot on the floor right between his knees. "Stand here, please."

  Pam cautiously moved to the position he indicated and stood before him. He placed both hands at her waist. "I'm not pleased you disobeyed me, but I spoke with Mrs. Andrews before I came up here."

  "And?"

  "And, though she didn't directly say you could swim, she saw no reason to prohibit it, either."

  "So, what I did was okay?"

  "I would say that depends on your perception. Did you consider it wrong to go swimming after my instructions?"

  Pam hesitated and winced. "I knew you placed your restriction for my benefit, but I didn't believe the pool water would do any damage to my hands, so I didn't think you'd object if I'd been able to ask you."

  His gaze stayed locked on hers
. "Though that explains your reasoning, it still skirts my question."

  "I remained uncertain as to your reaction, but I didn't consider myself wrong."

  Rob nodded. "Like I told Krista, you possess an astute brain, and I am confident you are capable of using sound judgment. Given that I wasn't here, and Mrs. Andrews gave you permission to do as you pleased, I don't believe a punishment is warranted. However, if you harbor any guilt or misgivings over your actions, I would be willing to address them."

  "So, you would spank me if I thought I needed it?"

  "Without question, but spanking isn't our only recourse, Pam, and I don't want you to think it is. That said, if you are at peace with your decision, we'll consider the matter closed."

  "Thank you," she replied with a relieved smile.

  He reached up to give her hair a light tug. "Your hair is still wet."

  "I came in here to get my brush so I could dry it."

  "Did you have fun today?"

  Nodding, Pam moved in a little closer to Rob. "Yes, sir."

  He briefly met her gaze. "Good. Why don't you get your hairbrush, and I'll tend to your hair while we talk?"

  Pam handed him her brush then settled on the bench between his knees with her back to him. Rob enjoyed touching her in small ways, and she reveled in his attention. Bending her head forward, she sighed as he ran the bristles over her scalp and down her shoulder-length strands.

  "So, what sort of trouble did you get into while I was at work?"

  Grinning inwardly, she replied, "Who says I got into trouble at all?"

  "Hmm. I suspect getting into trouble is a natural condition for you."

  "Not at all. I'm an extremely well-behaved young woman."

  His responding chuckle did funny things to her insides. She enjoyed bantering with him as if they'd been friends for years, and despite the tingling his nearness caused in her innermost recesses, she was totally at ease sitting as close as they were. Men often made her twitchy for several reasons, but Rob's firm protectiveness made her feel secure and cared for. Pam closed her eyes.

  "Tired?"

  "A little. Swimming is excellent exercise, or so I've been told."

  "It is." Putting the brush down, he placed his arms around her. "You'd best get to bed earlier than usual tonight. After I give you your shot, try to sleep. We need to get up especially early tomorrow."

  Turning, she gazed at him from beneath furrowed brows. "Why?"

  "Because I want us to do a few things before we meet with your mother and parole officer."

  Pam grimaced. She hadn't forgotten their appointment, exactly, but she had tried to put it out of her thoughts. "What time are they expecting us?"

  "Two o'clock. I'd like to be in the car by eight, if possible. That means downstairs, at the breakfast table, by seven."

  "Why? What are we going to do that will take so much time?"

  "Never mind. Your job is to be ready by the time I want to leave."

  Her frown deepened. "You won't tell me?"

  "Tomorrow, I'll tell you everything you need to know. For tonight, I want you to rest. Understood?"

  She nodded, but his evasiveness merely increased her unease.

  Giving her hips a light tap, he said, "Go ahead and get into bed. I'll be back in a bit."

  Pam obeyed, wondering as she did what he expected her to do tomorrow that he didn't want her knowing tonight.

  * * *

  "Roll over, kitten."

  The quiet command invaded Pam's dream like an unwelcome trespasser, and she groaned.

  "Yes. I know it's early, but you need to start rousing. We've got a lot to do."

  "Don't want to," she answered, pulling the blanket over her head.

  "Miss Weston, you're being difficult, and you know what happens to quarrelsome young ladies, don't you?"

  Tossing back her covers she scowled up at the man peering down at her. "What time is it?"

  "Six thirty. Roll over."

  "You possess a one-track mind. What are we planning to do today?"

  "I'll tell you at breakfast. Now, do as I ask, or this shot won't be the only thing your perky backside receives this morning."

  "You could foul up a wet dream," she mumbled, rolling over on her side.

  "Excuse me?"

  "I was in the middle of a wonderful fantasy, and you insist upon treating me like a human pin cushion." The jab she received for her comment was nowhere near as gentle as his usual injections. "Ow! That one hurt," she complained, glaring back at her tormentor.

  "Sorry." Though he said the word, his tone was far from apologetic. "I was so surprised by your snarky rejoinder, my hand slipped."

  "Likely story," she muttered, giving the sore spot a few gentle rubs before she sat up.

  "You aren't a morning person at all are you? Never mind. Go get your shower and meet me downstairs in a half hour."

  "Aye-aye, sir." Pam started to salute, but his raised eyebrow had her reconsidering that action. He was right. She was never at her best in the mornings, but that was no cause for her to be rude. "Sorry," she added a bit more repentantly.

  "Downstairs. Thirty minutes. And wear a skirt today," he ordered before leaving her to wonder why he made such a specific request.

  * * *

  Pam strolled into the kitchen with fifteen seconds to spare, but, of course, Mr. Never-Be-Late checked his watch to make sure.

  "I made it on time," she groused, sitting down.

  "Barely." He placed the newspaper he was reading on the table. "Tell Mrs. Andrews what you want for breakfast, and when you're done eating, we'll leave."

  "And go where?"

  He rewarded her with an even look. "First things first. Breakfast."

  Pam gazed up at Della, who offered her a few options. "Cereal and juice sound perfect. Thanks, Della." Turning her attention back to Rob, she asked, "Now, will you tell me where we're going?"

  "To start with, I thought we would head over to Ladies First. After you're finished there, I'd like to go back to Executive Fashions."

  Pam hadn't recovered from her first visit with the fashion ladies, so the thought of returning so soon filled her with dismay. "You bought me several outfits, shoes, and purses. What else could we possibly need from those vultures?"

  "I could give you a list, but I won't. We will be together, this time, and the ladies were reprimanded. If they wish to retain me as a customer, this visit should be vastly different from the last."

  A part of Pam doubted that, but she didn't argue. "Fine. But what is Ladies First, and what will I be doing there exactly?"

  "It's a spa of sorts that offers a large selection of services, so I thought I'd offer you a refreshing experience with their regal radiance treatment."

  When Della put Pam's cereal and juice before her, she gave a nod of thanks but kept her attention fixed on Rob.

  "Refreshing? I hadn't realized I'd gone stale."

  He picked up his newspaper again. "Eat your breakfast."

  "I don't think I'm hungry anymore."

  "Eat anyway. We'll stop for lunch between the spa and Executive Fashions, but I would prefer not to hear your stomach growling in the interim."

  When Pam pushed her cereal bowl back and crossed her arms, Rob set his paper down near his plate. "Go get your journal," he ordered quietly.

  Though Rob's expression was a warning in and of itself, Pam refused to back down. "Which one?"

  "With that attitude, get both of them."

  "As my master commands," she retorted pushing away from the table.

  Rob promptly grabbed Pam's hand to stop her. "Mrs. Andrews, would you mind giving us a moment?"

  "That's not necessary," Pam insisted. "I'm going."

  When Rob maintained his grip, Della offered her a brief smile of encouragement and left the room.

  His hold gentling, Rob caressed the pulse point on Pam's wrist with his thumb. "Care to tell me what's got your panties twisted into knots this morning?"

  Giving her head a sha
ke, Pam turned away. His gentleness was always her undoing. She suspected she already knew what he planned for her at the spa, and the reminder that he thought she could benefit from a little "refreshing" brought her insecurities crashing back full force. She realized her hairstyle wasn't the most fashionable and her nails could definitely use some professional attention, but no matter how they changed her clothes and styled her hair, she could never become the executive model he desired and deserved.

  "Pam, if you continue to refuse to talk to me, I will have little option but to get you to open up in the surest and quickest way I know how. I don't want to do that, since I also realize it will upset you, but I will not tolerate another second of your fruitless obstinacy. Your choice, and you have five seconds to make your decision or I'll make it for you."

  "You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you? Tell me, is that why you insisted I wear a skirt today? To make things more accessible for you?" she snapped while a secret part of her realized she was being unfair.

  "Four seconds."

  Shoulders slumping, she murmured, "I'm sorry."

  "Though your apology is appreciated, it is not what I'm seeking. I want to understand why you're acting so prickly and defensive this morning. What's wrong?" When Pam merely shrugged, he said, "Three seconds."

  "I don't want a spanking," she countered, trying to pull her wrist free.

  "What you want and what you need aren't always in concert, unfortunately."

  "I don't need a spanking," she persisted with a scowl.

  "I disagree. Two seconds."

  Pam gave another tug. "Just let me go."

  "No. One second and we'll reach the point of no return."

  "Why? You know the reason I'm upset. I've told you what I think about your agenda often enough, so what's the purpose of reiterating my weaknesses?"

  "I have no wish to hear you spout a litany of self-deprecation, but I am hoping you've gained a modicum of self-confidence from our time together. So, pretend this is the first time we've had this discussion, and tell me why you're upset over the thought of a spa day." When she gave a slight shake of her head, he tugged and pulled Pam off balance. After letting out a squeal of dismay, she followed her initial protest with a sob that was part relief and part annoyance when he drew her down to sit on his lap. Curling toward him, she started to cry at the same time she silently berated herself for being so spineless as to spout water at the slightest stimulus. She'd hardly ever cried before she met him, yet recently it seemed tears ran from her eyes with little to no provocation at all.