Destiny Bay Boxed Set vol. 2 (Books 4 - 6) (Destiny Bay Romances)

by Helen Conrad

  “What?”

  “Cheers,” he repeated more loudly. “Of course! It was a clue!”

  When she still stared at him blankly he thrust his glass toward her. “What does 'cheers' make you think of?” he demanded.

  She shrugged. “It's a drinking toast.”

  “Exactly.” Putting down his glass, he rose and grabbed her hand. “Come on. Johnny was giving me a clue. I know my birthday present is around here somewhere. Let's check out the bar.”

  Terry followed along, intrigued enough to ignore the fact that he was still holding her hand. Once again he was mixing serious subjects with fluff. But that was just the way he was, and she didn't really need to try to change him, as long as he didn't consider her part of it all.

  “If it's another naked girl, I'm quitting,” she grumbled.

  Rick stood back against the solid wall of mirror that backed the huge wet bar and began to look through the shelves. “You look through the bottles,” he told her. “There's got to be something here somewhere.”

  A ten-minute search revealed nothing at all.

  “I guess you were wrong,” Terry said at last, partially relieved for some unknown reason.

  Rick frowned thoughtfully. “The wine cellar,” he said, winking at her. And before she knew what was happening, they were flying down the stairs, hand in hand once again.

  Terry cried out in dismay when she saw how huge the dark, dusty room was. “We could spend the rest of the day-—and the night—in here and not find a thing,” she complained.

  “Ah, but think of the memories we could accumulate,” he teased, touching her cheek.

  She shook away his hand. “I should be upstairs seeing to dinner,” she said.

  He shook his head. “Anatole will take care of dinner.”

  “Are you even staying for dinner?” she asked. “I mean, it's your birthday. Surely you have something planned with friends. ...”

  He was looking through the drawer of the little wine cellar desk. “I did at one time, actually. A bunch of friends over at the country club invited me to a little bash they wanted to throw in my honor.” He closed the drawer and rose to smile at her. “But I canceled all plans and told my friends I had to break in the new butler.” He caught hold of her before she could put more distance between them.

  “Hello there, new butler.” His voice was soft and smooth as velvet and she almost yielded as his lips brushed hers. But she managed to break away, slipping from his grasp and walking past a long row of bottles.

  “This is exactly what your problem is,” she lectured as she went. “You can't keep your mind on what you're doing.”

  “That's where you're wrong,” he returned cheerfully, walking down the other side of the row. “I have my priorities strictly in mind. It's just that they don't happen to be what you think they are.” He stuck his head around the end of the row just as she reached it, grinning at her. “Number one, with me, is having you.”

  Despite his arrogant sexism, she had to laugh. “Let's look for the clue,” she reprimanded him. “Oh, look at this.” She reached for a bottle that was hanging from a string at the end of the row. “A ship in a bottle. How do they do that?”

  “Let me see.” Rick took it from her hand. “I've never seen this before.” He held it up to the light. “Dust-free,” he mused. “It hasn't been here long.”

  “What does it say on the little flag flying from the main mast?”

  Rick held it closer and deciphered the tiny letters. “ 'Good on ya', bloke!'” He grinned. “This is it, for sure. Johnny fancies himself a born-again Australian. It's his favorite country after the good old U.S.A.” Rick put on his best John Wayne voice and swagger. “He likes places where a man can be a man.”

  “Is this it, then? Is this the present?”

  “No, of course not. There's nothing lewd or suggestive here at all.”

  Terry hid her smile. “Johnny's presents are always a little blue?”

  “Certainly. What good is a cousin if he doesn't introduce you to the more sordid side of life?” He squinted at the boat in the bottle. “There must be another lead in here, something we haven't noticed.”

  Terry sighed. “Maybe he wants you to go to Australia with him.”

  Rick shook his head. “Too straightforward,” he murmured. He held the bottle up for her to see, “What do you make of the name of the ship?” he asked. “Think Australian.”

  She stared hard. The letters were very small. “ 'R.D.D. —Three Men’, I think. That's an odd name for a ship.”

  Rick nodded slowly. “It means something. I'm sure of it.”

  Terry frowned thoughtfully. “Yes,” she said slowly. “But what? Roundabout Dingo Dogs?”

  He made a face. “Royal Dutch Dingys?”

  She shook her head. “Radical Dang Didgeridoo?” she tried, then winced when he groaned.

  Half an hour later, they were still guessing. They'd climbed back up from the depths of the wine cellar and were once again sitting on the veranda, staring at the bottle. Rick was on the verge of tearing his hair out with frustration.

  “Can't you think of any more nautical terms that might apply?” Terry asked wearily, her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands.

  “I can think of a few appropriate applications for 'frigate' at the moment,” Rick muttered darkly. “When I get my hands on Johnny ...”

  “ 'R.D.D.—Three Men,'” she repeated, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back. “ 'R.D.D.—'” Her eyes flew open. “ 'Rub-a-dub-dub, three men in a tub,'” she cried jubilantly. “That's got to be it!”

  Rick jumped up and pulled her to her feet, laughing with her. “Not only are you a great butler,” he cried back, “you're smart too. Let's go. There are twelve bathrooms in this house, nine with tubs. I'll take the second floor, you concentrate down here.”

  In his hurry, he didn't notice how she'd reacted to what he'd said. A great butler, was she? Should she consider this a sign that he didn’t need a meeting to decide if she was good enough to stay? She smiled to herself as she began to search the first bathroom. She should have had a tape recorder running. She just might need this endorsement to bolster her case later on.

  Rick was the one who found the hiding place. He called her up to have a look. “It's right here, in the soap dish,” he told her, pulling back the glass door of a perfectly ordinary tub and shower combination. A scrap of gold-edged paper lay in the little carved-out dish. “Read it.”

  She took the paper gingerly. “Is it a joke?” she asked warily, considering Johnny's reputation.

  He shook his head, and for the first time she realized he didn't have the bright, happy look of a man who'd discovered his birthday present. “It's not a dirty limerick if that's what you mean,” he grumbled. “Just another lousy clue to decipher.”

  She read it out loud:

  “I'm out of sight on a normal day. When a party comes, I'm out to play. I shine and spin and give you light. Please let me down. I'll make your night.”

  She glanced up at Rick. “I take it this means nothing to you.”

  He growled incoherently and didn't answer, glaring at her from under lowered brows.

  “Enough.” She handed the poem to Rick. “You figure it out. Johnny is beginning to try my patience. I've got work to do.”

  His handsome face registered mock distress. “You can desert me in my hour of need?”

  “I can,” she returned smartly, starting for the door, “and I will.”

  He stopped her with a hand to her cheek as she tried to pass. She paused, looking warily into his eyes and finding them disturbingly serious.

  “I could forget all about this silly chase if you'd let me,” he said softly, his voice rough with sensual meaning. “I'd rather celebrate my birthday with you than have any number of Johnny's presents.”

  She wasn't at all sure he was telling the truth, but for some reason his saying it struck a chord deep inside and she shivered. “The children should be back any moment,�
� she reminded him, turning blindly and escaping from the room.

  Her heart was beating very fast, and that was strange. After all, what had happened in that bathroom? Rick had just made another pass, and she'd deflected it. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.

  She stopped at the top of the stairs and pressed a hand against the quick throbbing in her chest. She had to get hold of herself. The car was arriving, and that meant the children were back. Pasting a warm smile on her face, she went down to greet them.

  The rest of the day passed in a blur. With so many things to keep track of and prepare for, she shouldn't have had a moment's time to think of Rick. But it didn't quite work out that way. Somehow, he was always there, just at the edge of her thoughts. No matter how she scowled and shook her head to clear it, he wouldn't go away.

  She was awash in conflicting emotions. On the one hand, she wanted to blot Rick out of her mind. On the other, everything she did seemed to concern him. And then there was the problem of his birthday.

  She was afraid he was disappointed that something more spectacular hadn't arrived yet from his cousin Johnny. A brief wave of madness caused her to think wildly about giving him something herself, but she stifled that notion, knowing it was not her place to do so. And then there were the children.

  “What's the custom in this family about birthdays?” she'd asked Erica.

  Erica had looked up from the teen magazine she was reading and her little face seemed to freeze into place. “Custom?” she said hollowly. “This family has no custom.”

  Terry laughed. “Oh, you know what I mean. When do you open the presents, do you have a special dinner, things like that,”

  Erica went back to her magazine. “I wouldn't know,” she said icily. “You'd better ask someone who's been here longer.”

  Not sure if the girl was using disinterest as a defensive measure or if the family really had few traditions, Terry risked asking one more question:

  “You did bring a present for your father, didn't you?”

  Erica didn't look up. “I didn't have time to get anything,” she said with a shrug.

  Terry had to bite her tongue and force herself to walk out of the room. “It's none of your business,” she told herself, again and again.

  But Anatole was her business. When he returned in the afternoon she got up her courage and marched down to the kitchen to confront him about the birthday dinner.

  Taking a deep breath, she burst through the swinging door. “Anatole,” she said brusquely, “I want a word with you.”

  He looked up at her, no smile of welcome on his thin lips.

  “I realize that in houses like this there is often a struggle for power between the cook and the butler and I know we will be having our differences but I just want to say that I don't think it would be fair to use Mr. Carrington’s birthday dinner as a bone of contention between us ...”

  Her words faded as she began to take in her surroundings. The entire food preparation table was taken up with elaborate dishes being prepared—obviously—for Rick's birthday. On the other side of the room she caught sight of a huge birthday cake shaped like a galloping horse and bearing the inscription “For He's a Jolly Good Fellow.”

  “You're already doing it,” she finished lamely.

  Anatole drew himself up to glare down at her. “My dear lady butler,” he sneered, enjoying her discomfort, “I don't think you understand. We here at Mar Vista hold Mr. Carrington in the highest regard. We don't need your help to determine how to celebrate his birthday.”

  She'd put her foot into it again. But to her own surprise, she found she didn't really care. There was a warm glow lightening her load. She was happy that Rick was going to get his birthday party after all.

  It was only moments later that a new element was added to her already hectic day. Aunt Julia arrived, and with her, one Brandy McAllister.

  The children heard the car coming first.

  “She's here! Aunt Julia's here!” Jeremy cried, springing to his feet from a game he'd been playing with his koala bear.

  Erica joined him in running to the window.

  “And she's got someone with her.”

  “As usual,” Erica added, rolling her eyes.

  Terry glanced at Rick. So it was true. Aunt Julia had brought along someone she hoped Rick would fall in love with and marry. Well, good, she thought to herself. Maybe she'll be wonderful, and he'll lose interest in me.

  Her heart was thumping again as she followed the rest of the family to the door. She had to stop feeling this way. The woman with Aunt Julia would be beautiful, rich, cultured, and educated, and Rick deserved as much. But she refused to be jealous!

  The door was thrown open and there were cries of greeting and hugs all around. Terry stood back, waiting to be of service, but it was a few moments before she could untangle the flying arms and bodies long enough to get a clear picture of the visitors.

  Aunt Julia was a tiny lady, her white hair pulled up in a knot behind her head and held fast with an old-fashioned black hat. She wore a heavily embroidered black coat and she had ballerina slippers on her feet. Though she must have been in her seventies, her eyes were bright with young thoughts. Altogether, she was nothing like Terry had expected.

  “Rick, darling,” Aunt Julia said once the kissing and hugging began to wind down. “I'd like you to meet Brandy McAllister.”

  Everything stopped as everyone turned to look at Brandy, who was standing by the car. If Aunt Julia had been a surprise, Brandy was a revelation. Nothing could have been further from the woman Terry had pictured. From the electric-red lipstick to the tight spandex mini-dress, Brandy looked as though she would be far more at home on Hollywood Boulevard than she would at the Polo Lounge. She fluffed her thick, curly black hair with one hand while she waved cheerily with the other. Cracking her gum and giving everyone a big grin, she said, “Hi ya, everybody! Say, this is some pad you've got here.”

  Rick's smile of welcome seemed ragged at the edges. “We're happy to have you, Miss McAllister,” he said. “Children, show Miss McAllister into the parlor. I have something I want to discuss with Aunt Julia for a moment.”

  Brandy sashayed off on four-inch heels with the children. Rick turned to his aunt. “Surely this is not one of your candidates for the great Carrington name?” he asked, shaking with laughter.

  Julia waved her hand. “Of course, darling.” She turned and saw Terry standing behind her. A female butler didn't give her a moment's pause. “Take my coat, won't you? There's a dear. I know you'll think I'm losing my beanie to be wearing a coat on a day like this, but everywhere you go they have that dreadful air-conditioning.”

  Terry hurried forward and took the heavy coat, returning the gentle smile the older woman gave her.

  “Rick, be reasonable,” Julia said as she turned back to her nephew. “I've brought you everything from a nuclear physicist to a member of the British royal family. You've scorned each and every one of them. It finally occurred to me that I might be on the wrong track. A bimbo might be more your style.”

  Rick was overcome with amazement. “You'd actually encourage me to marry a... bimbo?”

  Julia shrugged grandly. “Why not? There are nice girls in that line of work too. Anyone, at this point, who could care for you and the children ...”

  Rick threw up his arms. “Where on earth did you find her?”

  Julia took the pins from her hat, handing it to Terry, and smoothed her hair back into place. “In a bar down in Venice. She was dancing on this little stage. I bought her a drink and we talked. We quite hit it off, I think.”

  Rick looked to Terry for help, but, suppressing a smile, she shook her head and continued putting the hat away in the hall closet.

  “Are you serious?” he demanded of his aunt. “Do you mean to say you've been barhopping for me?”

  Her withered old hand pinched his cheek. “Hasn't it become clear to you yet that I'd do anything for you?” she said happily.

  “Even counte
nance my marriage to a bimbo if it made me happy?”

  “Of course.”

  Rick turned suddenly and gestured with his head toward Terry. “How about a nice butler? What do you think?”

  “A butler?” Aunt Julia seemed to really notice Terry for the first time. “Well, hello, dear, I don't believe we've met.”

  “The butler,” Rick announced. “Terry Yardley.”

  Julia shook Terry's hand firmly. “Not Martin Yardley's daughter?”

  “So she claims.”

  “I'm so glad you're here, dear,” said Aunt Julia, still shaking her hand. “Martin was always so dependable. And that's a quality Rick needs around him.”

  “That, and bimbos,” Rick muttered, shaking his head. “Come on, Aunt Julia. Let's go entertain our visitor.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN:

  Aunt Julia Shakes Things Up

  Brandy McAllister was a force Terry could deal with. She didn't feel the least bit threatened by the woman. Threatened? No, that wasn't the word she'd meant. Relieved was more like it. Brandy wasn't going to sweep Rick off his feet, more's the pity.

  Still, there was something else which did bother her, and Terry decided she had to do something about it. That little problem was the way Rick's children were ignoring his birthday.

  But to do anything about it, she had to have a chance to get to the children alone. That wasn't easy. Rick kept popping up at odd moments, muttering “I shine and spin and give you light” and shaking his head.

  “Got any new ideas?” he asked. “How about 'I'm out of sight on a normal day'? What do you think? The moon? An umbrella?”

  She threw him a flippant smirk. “How about your good sense?” she said, then bit her lip. She was supposed to be a butler, not a smart aleck.

  Late in the afternoon her chance to do something for Rick's birthday came when he and Aunt Julia took Brandy into Destiny Bay for a sight-seeing tour and Terry was left alone with the children. It was now or

  never, and she knew it.

  First she rummaged through the storeroom and found something she could use—a bolt of coarse muslin. Searching in Rick's library, she found a whole set of marking pens. She took both items out onto the veranda, spread the cloth out fully, and went to work with the pens, outlining “Happy Birthday” in huge letters.