"Look, it's Saturday and you've worked all morning. Why don't you take off and come with me? We'll go for a ride. How about Fisherman's Wharf at Monterey? Ever been there?"
Karen was tempted; why not? Shane had told her he wouldn't need her anymore today. She agreed, and a few minutes later they were heading north on Seventeen Mile Drive in a brilliant yellow Corvette that Mark had requisitioned from the four-car garage. The drive along the bluffs was a stunning visual experience, and Karen insisted that they stop to examine the famous Lone Cypress, a stunted tree that had been tortured by the continuous winds into a grotesque shape but clung tenaciously to nearly bare rock on the cliff. A little further on they explored Cypress Point Lookout, where the sunny blue skies made it possible to see Point Sur and Point Sur Lighthouse twenty miles to the south.
At Pacific Grove they turned east off Seven-teen Mile Drive onto Lighthouse Avenue and followed it to Fisherman's Wharf in Monterey. At the entrance an organ grinder ground out carousel music while his small gray monkey, dressed in a blue vest and hat, danced. Enchanted, Karen knelt and held a quarter in her outstretched hand. The monkey took it from her and kissed her on the cheek. His rough little tongue licked her smooth skin. It cost Mark five quarters before he could entice her away with the promise of a fresh shrimp cocktail.
The pungent odor of kelp and sea life assailed Karen's nostrils as they strolled past the open-air fish markets and poked around the jumble of tiny shops that offered gaudy souvenirs, postcards, and imported gifts to gullible tourists.
They finished the day at historic Cannery Row, where the large warehouses had been converted into museums, art galleries, and antique and specialty shops. Dinner in the nautical atmosphere of the Lobster Grotto was a gourmet delight enhanced by a window in the floor and the view of the splashing waves below.
It was after midnight when they entered the driveway of the McKittrick estate. The grounds were well lighted and, while Mark put the Corvette in the garage, Karen started across the thick carpet of grass toward the kitchen.
"Hey, where are you going?" Mark caught up with her and took her arm, swinging her around. "You have to go up the steps through the gardens to get to the main door."
"But I'm supposed to use the kitchen door," Karen explained.
"The kitchen door!" Mark exclaimed. "Why?"
She shrugged. "I'm an employee, Mark, not a guest, and employees are expected to use the kitchen door."
He stared at her. "What's this nonsense you're spouting?" His mouth opened, then closed, and his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her face. "Karen, where is your bedroom?"
"It's down here in the servants' quarters." She saw the rage kindling in his eyes and said, "It's really very comfortable. I share a bathroom with Taffy."
He was angry. "And I suppose you're taking your meals in the kitchen, too. Is that why you haven't been eating with Shane and me?"
Karen nodded as Mark's hand dug into her arm.
"Well, I'll be damned!" He spat the words. "I understood you were in the room across from Shane's suite on the second floor. I wondered why I never saw or heard you in the halls up there." He shook his head in disbelief. "I thought he'd escaped the 'big boss' complex."
He took Karen's hand and started walking up the terrace steps. When she protested, he spoke grimly. "Look, honey, when you're out with me I'll bring you home through the front door. If Mr. "Big Man" McKittrick doesn't like it he can complain to me!"
Karen knew it was useless to argue and hoped everyone was in bed.
The entryway was in semidarkness, the only illumination coming from a low-wattage electric sconce on the wall. Mark closed the door and started to lead her toward the living room but she hung back.
"No, Mark, it's late and I'd better go to my room. I shudder to think what Mrs. Whitney would say if she caught me wandering around up here in the middle of the night. Thank you for a wonderful time."
Mark bent his head and his lips on hers were gentle and undemanding. She was enjoying the pleasing sensation when suddenly the room was bright with a blinding light and a voice filled with scorn rasped behind them.
"So you're finally back! I'd about decided you were spending the night in a motel somewhere!"
Karen and Mark sprang apart, shocked by the unexpected intrusion and the unjust accusation. Karen's voice squeaked as she gasped. "Mr. McKittrick!"
Shane glared at her. "Oh, so you do remember me! I'm the one who hired you to catalogue my library, not seduce a member of my legal staff!"
He moved toward her menacingly, and for the first time she noticed the open door and the lighted room behind it. She noticed a large desk, covered with papers, and realized that he must have been working in there when she and Mark came in. She moved back, frightened by the look of disgust on his face, but he stopped and snapped, "I'd advise you to go to your room before I say something we both may regret later! I'll deal with you tomorrow!"
She turned and ran from the room, but not before she heard his words to Mark. "As for you, I can say what I have to say to you right now!"
Karen tossed and turned in her bed as she alternately seethed with rage and burned with shame. What difference did it make to Shane if she and Mark stayed out late? He hadn't even been there when they left. Had he been waiting up for them? It seemed that he had. He was probably upset because she had come in the front door. She should have insisted Mark let her go in by the kitchen entrance, but even that didn't give Shane the right to make such insulting accusations. Her face burned at the remembered words. I'd about decided you were spending the night in a motel! How dare he! How could she ever face Mark again?
At dawn she got up, dressed in a pair of tan jeans and a brown pullover, and made herself some coffee in the empty kitchen. She dreaded the confrontation Shane had promised. She hadn't done anything wrong, so why did she feel guilty? Was it because she'd shared a kiss with Mark? But that didn't mean anything—it was just a way of saying thanks for a wonderful time. She bet Shane expected a good-night kiss when he took a girl out. She shivered as she thought of Shane holding a woman's body against his, his lips seeking and receiving. Oh, for heaven's sake, what was the matter with her? The man was obviously experienced and she was pretty sure he didn't stand around kissing pretty girls in hallways. He probably took them to bed!
Karen ate her breakfast and crept silently up the stairs, hoping she could spend a few hours working in the library before Shane wakened and sent for her. If he was going to fire her, she wanted to get some of the books sorted and in proper order first. It was an extensive library and would have been a delight to work with.
She sighed and had started down the hall when the front door opened and Shane came in, wearing a windbreaker over his denim slacks and shirt. He looked different somehow— younger—in such casual clothes and he started visibly when he saw her there. His drawl was without menace as he said, "Well, if it isn't our petite femme fatale. If you've gotten up so early to see Mark I'm afraid it was wasted effort; I just put him on a plane for San Francisco."
She gasped. "You didn't—you didn't fire him."
Shane removed his jacket and hung it in the closet. "Fire him? Because of you?" He laughed. "You have an inflated opinion of your value, little one. Mark is a brilliant young lawyer and I need his services. I'm afraid if one of you has to go it will be you."
She bit her lip and nodded. It was what she had expected, so why did it hurt so to know she would soon be leaving?
Shane slipped his hand under her elbow and turned her toward the dining room. "Come and have breakfast. We'll talk later."
She hung back. "I—I've had breakfast already."
He frowned. "Are you being truthful with me? You're not skipping meals, are you?"
"Oh, no!" Her voice conveyed her surprise. "I never miss a meal—just ask Henri."
"Henri!" he shouted. "My God, have you been charming Henri too?" Karen stood there dumbfounded by his outburst, but before she could say anything he pushed her away. "Run along.
I'll track you down later."
Karen was sitting crosslegged on the library floor making notations of book titles when Shane found her an hour later. He sighed with exasperation and spoke as though to a wayward child. "Karen, I'm not a slavemaster and you are not expected to work on Sundays. I've been looking all over the house for you. What are you doing down there?"
She looked up, instantly contrite. "I'm sorry; I thought you knew I'd be here. I just wanted to finish my inventory before I leave."
"Leave?" He shoved his hands in his pockets, drawing the denim of his light blue trousers taut across his muscular thighs. "Just where are you going? I thought you might like to take a walk around the grounds."
Karen's eyes lighted. "Oh, I'd love that!" Then she remembered and slumped once more over her notebook. "But I'd better stay here and pack. Is there a bus that will take me home?"
"Home!" Shane's voice was rising. "What do you want to go home for? I thought you brought everything you'd need for a month or so!"
She looked up, startled, into his scowling face. "But you said—I thought you told me I had to leave."
With an oath, he sank down on the couch and ran his hand through his raven hair. "I swear, you not only look like a child, you act like one!" He straightened and looked at her. "Karen, come up here."
He patted the cushion next to him and she got up off the floor and sat down, not sure what to expect. He turned toward her and took both her hands in his as he said, "Now listen carefully and try to understand. I was upset last night when Mark left with you and kept you out so late. I like Mark and he's an excellent lawyer, but he's also one of the most sought-after young studs in San Francisco and he's a fool if he thinks I'm going to let him use his seductive charms on a youngster like you."
"I'm not!—He didn't!" She stammered with indignation but he put his finger to her lips, signaling silence, as he continued.
"Be quiet and let me talk. I saw Mark kissing you and I know what he was leading up to."
"No! Please, it wasn't like that—" She tried to pull her hands away but he wouldn't let her go.
"Sit still and listen to me!" He was getting angrier by the minute. "I'm thirty-two years old and I've been around. I know what a beautiful girl can do to a man when she's in his arms and I want you to leave Mark alone. I can't afford to lose him to any woman—but especially to you!"
"I understand." Her tone was as stiff and unyielding as his had been. "You needn't worry; I won't bother you or your guests again. Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do."
He swore as he slammed out of the room.
Karen worked until her empty stomach protested that it was lunch time. She'd breakfasted early and in spite of her churning emotions she was hungry. It took a lot, she acknowledged ruefully, to ruin her appetite. She began gathering up her things when the door opened and Shane entered, carrying a picnic hamper. He greeted her with a smile, as if the angry words between them had never been spoken, and said, "It's such a beautiful day I asked Henri to pack us a picnic lunch. There's a spot down the cliff overlooking the ocean that's private and very pretty. We'll eat there. After all, I did promise you a walk. Now run along and freshen up; I'll give you five minutes."
She did as she was told, relieved that the tension between them was gone.
Shane was right—the grassy ledge a few feet above the waves lapping on the rocks below was a natural haven, beautiful and peaceful. It was protected from the cool ocean breeze by rocks and from the sun by a twisted cypress and several large flowering bushes. It wasn't far from the house, but the descent was steep, along steps that had been hewn into the cliff. Shane kept her hand in his as he led her down the steep path and caught her around the waist when she stumbled on the slippery steps. The small arbor was only large enough for two and they sat on the ground as they ate the cold chicken, potato salad, rolls, and red juicy tomatoes that Henri had packed for them. It was a happy lunch. They laughed and teased and talked of things that mattered not at all. It was as though they had just met and were getting acquainted, and Karen dared to hope that they would be friends after all.
By the time they had packed away the remainder of their lunch, Karen was aware of the ache in her shoulder muscles from sitting slumped over the desk and bookcases all morning. She stretched lazily and lay back on the soft blanket of grass. Shane smiled and stretched out beside her as she yawned and said, "Mmmm, I'm tired. I didn't sleep much last night."
He rolled toward her and propped his head up with his arm. The laughter was gone from his deep brown eyes. "Didn't you? Neither did I."
Her green eyes widened. "Really?" It had never occurred to her that he would lose sleep over a little thing like an argument with her.
He ran a finger down her cheek. "Really."
She liked the feathery caress and lay quietly as she said, "I'm sorry I upset you. Mark and I really didn't do anything wrong; we—"
His finger touched her lips. "We aren't going to talk about that anymore. Why don't you sleep for a while?"
She nodded and her weighted eyelids closed.
When she woke it was to feel his strong masculine arms holding her against his broad chest. She opened her eyes and saw that her head was snuggled into the hollow of Shane's shoulder and that her cheek rested against the soft blue denim of his shirt, which was unbuttoned to the waist, exposing a mat of tangled dark hair. She felt a surge of embarrassment. How on earth had she wound up cuddled in his arms like a baby—or a wife? He seemed to be asleep and she knew she should roll away from him, but it was so comfortable cradled against his length. Maybe she could lie there awhile and still get up before he woke.
She'd never been this close to a man before. Oh, she'd had her share of hand-holding and good-night kisses, but by the time she got to the age where other girls were getting serious about their boyfriends her mother was sick and she had little time for dates.
She hadn't realized how hard and angular a man's body was. Not at all soft like her own. She moved her hand and ran her fingers through the short soft hair on Shane's chest. He stirred and her fingers stilled but lay quietly against his flat muscular stomach. She felt the muscles under her hand twitch and glanced up to see his dark eyes looking at her. There was a teasing twist to his mouth as he murmured gently, "You'd better be careful, little one. I may seem old to you but I assure you I have all the normal male urges."
She jerked to a sitting position, her whole body ablaze with humiliation as she stammered, "Oh, I-I'm sorry! I—"
She looked away as he got to his feet, buttoned his shirt, and reached for the picnic hamper. There was regret in his voice as he said, "I'm afraid we're going to have to go back to the house. I have to drive to San Francisco this afternoon in time for a dinner engagement."
She'd known he was leaving, but now that it was time she felt reluctant to let him go. A question formed in her mind and she looked up at him through thick dark lashes as she asked, "Shane, will you continue looking for someone to fill that job you advertised?"
His eyes narrowed as he reached down to help her stand. "Yes, the advertisement will appear in the San Francisco paper again tomorrow."
She knew she should leave it at that but she couldn't let it go without making one more effort. She swallowed and plunged ahead. "Why won't you give it to me? Mark said I was the only one who qualified—except for my age. Is it really so important that I be twenty-one?"
Shane frowned his impatience. "It's out of the question, Karen. It's true that on paper you were just what I was looking for but that was before I saw you, talked to you. You're totally wrong for what I had in mind. Even if you'd been older I wouldn't have considered you—you're much too immature."
Her eyes flashed with frustration. "If you'd only tell me what the job is, what you want of the person you hire! Maybe I have talents you don't know about."
He grinned and his dark eyes lingered on her soft, quivering mouth and the rise of her breasts under the clinging shirt. "Oh, you have the proper talent all right.
I'm sure you would be very exciting—"
He broke off abruptly and snapped angrily at her, "Leave it, Karen! I said no and I meant it! Now come along. If I don't leave within the next half hour I'll be late for my date."
Chapter Three
The next four days were lonely ones for Karen. Her work was interesting, but in the evening she had only Taffy, Jolene, and Erma to talk to. Henri was a family man and lived in Carmel, and Mrs. Whitney's room was on the main floor and she never fraternized with the rest of the help. Karen liked the three girls with whom she shared the servants' quarters but she had little in common with them. Taffy was closest to her age and the most outgoing, but she had a steady boyfriend who took her out in the evenings, so Karen contented herself with exploring the grounds. She wished she had brought her car. Mrs. Whitney had the use of a small compact from the car pool but when Karen asked if she might drive it Mrs. Whitney snapped, "The help is not privileged to drive the cars."
So much for any inflated notions she might have had about her relationship with her employer!
It was Friday morning when the peaceful monotony was suddenly replaced with frenzied activity. Shane called Mrs. Whitney to say he was bringing several guests down that afternoon to spend the weekend. All six of the upstairs bedrooms had to be cleaned and aired, and the four bathrooms were to be scrubbed. Even Karen was not spared but was told to pick up her mess in the library and clean the room.
When she finished she went upstairs and volunteered to help the girls. By midafternoon all the rooms had been cleaned except for the second bedroom in Shane's suite, and it was locked. Taffy explained as she turned the key, "This suite used to be used by Mr. McKittrick's father and mother."
She opened the door and Karen gasped at the fragile, feminine beauty of the room. It was furnished with the blond Danish modern furniture so popular a quarter of a century ago and decorated in shades of lavender and mauve. Taffy hurried on, not wanting to miss the opportunity for a little gossip.
Temporary Bride Page 3
