by Helen Conrad
Now? In the middle of the Waltz Away Ball? Terry's heart fell, but she couldn't argue. Guests were beginning to arrive, and as she turned from Johnny she saw the limousine drive up, so she hurried to the side entrance to greet Jeremy.
What she found when she opened the door was one very excited little boy, and four wire cages full of very colorful, very hysterical little birds.
“What's this?” she demanded of Charles, who was already retreating toward the garages.
“You said to buy him something,” Charles called over his shoulder. “There was a tropical bird shop having a going-out-of-business sale and Master Jeremy fell in love with all the birds. ...”
“Where are we going to put them?” she cried.
“My room!” Jeremy answered.
“No way. We'll put them in my room. No, that's no good, either.” She was sharing her room with one of the maids for the night. “Rick's room. It's the only one off limits to everyone else.”
She snagged a couple of footmen who’d been hired expressly for the ball and told them where to take the cages, sent Jeremy up to have a bath, and hurried back to see how things were going in the receiving hall.
The orchestra was playing a lovely Strauss waltz. Aunt Julia and Erica had formed an informal receiving line and were happily greeting guests, seemly having a fine time. Terry smiled at them tentatively, wondering if they were okay with her being in a beautiful gown instead of butler wear, but Julia didn’t seem to mind. She motioned for her to join them and linked arms with her.
“I want you to meet Rick’s sister, Shelley,” she said, smiling as she waved at the slim blond who was approaching on her own. Shelley gave them all a wide grin and Terry liked her immediately.
“I’ve got such great news!” she told them after shaking hands with Terry. “I just heard from Kathy in Rome. She won!”
“She won?” Aunt Julia looked thunderstruck. “Oh my goodness. And everyone has been saying all summer that she was just too old.”
“I know,” Shelley said happily. “I’m just so proud of her.” She looked at Terry and explained. “She was a swimming star twelve years ago. She won a bronze medal in the Olympics. For her to try to do it again at this age is really unusual. She worked so hard.” She made a face, shaking her head. “I wish I’d taken the week off and gone to see her do it myself. It’s such a sensational accomplishment.”
“Give her our congratulations,” Terry added to the general celebration as everyone around them repeated the news. “Rick told me about what she’s been going through. I’m so glad all her hard work paid off this way.”
But Aunt Julia was frowning. “Shelley my dear, I’m surprised to see you without an escort. I’d heard there was a handsome man in your life these days.”
To Terry’s surprise, Shelley turned beet red. “Who told you that?” she muttered, but she didn’t wait for an answer. “I see Janet and Matt over there,” she murmured vaguely, edging away. “I ought to go say hello.” A quick smile, and she was gone.
Reid Carrington arrived with his very pregnant wife Jennifer and there were hugs all around. Terry was introduced to all kinds of Carrington cousins, most she'd never heard of before.
Julia and Calvin's youngest brother John, who everyone seemed to call the Colonel, was especially friendly. An old charmer from way back, he had a twinkle in his eye as he looked her over. The handsome males from the Carrington clan seemed to span all ages, and quite a few of them had managed to make it to the ball tonight. She met a tall, gorgeous businessman named Rafe, a gallant and especially friendly airline pilot named Scott, and impeccably dressed Ross, who she vaguely remembered having met in her younger days. They all seemed to be able to accept her as a butler, so that was a relief. She secretly speculated that Julia had prepared them for the surprise ahead of time.
She was beginning to feel more comfortable. No one seemed to find it strange that she would be welcoming guests as though she were one of the family. She was actually beginning to relax, when Erica motioned for her to come close and whispered, “There's something wrong with that butler.”
Terry looked over at the doorway, and sure enough, something was wrong. Percy was greeting guests with exaggerated elegance, and he seemed inordinately interested in the brooches decorating the front of some women's gowns. As Terry watched he leered lustily right down the cleavage of one especially buxom lady, causing her to start back in surprise, and her husband to glare warningly.
“Oh, no,” Terry moaned. She could see the flat bottle bulging in Percy's back pocket. The man was obviously sneaking sips of liquor when no one was watching.
But before Terry could speak to the butler there was a crisis in the kitchen and she ran to stop an argument between Anatole and the caterer. When she returned to the ballroom something strange had happened. The orchestra seemed to have developed swing tendencies and had picked up a vocalist. Johnny was singing, Frank Sinatra style, and all waltzing had come to an abrupt halt.
“What is he doing?” she hissed to Aunt Julia.
The woman shrugged and laughed helplessly. “That's Johnny for you. My brother is going to kill him when he arrives.”
And, right on cue, Rick's sleek car pulled up before the front door.
From then on things happened so quickly, Terry never did straighten out exactly what took place. Suddenly Rick's grandfather was standing in the doorway, looking more like an Old Testament prophet than an ancient captain of industry. His face had turned wrathful as he stared down at Percy-—who was passed out on the entryway floor.
The next moment everyone was screaming as a flock of tiny, colorful birds swooped into the ballroom like a fighter plane squadron in attack formation. Ladies ran for cover, protecting their hairdos. Gentlemen lost their cool, batting at the poor little birds as they flew by in confusion. The punch bowl went over, sending the ice dolphin skidding across the ballroom floor, and then everyone was falling, slipping in the punch, or knocked over by others trying to escape the birds.
Terry stared at it all, stunned. Her ball was a shambles. This was worse than her most terrible nightmare. She could hardly believe her eyes.
She turned to Rick, who'd come in behind his grandfather. “What the hell is going on here?” he demanded.
She gestured helplessly. “Someone must have opened up the cages,” she stammered, too overwhelmed to know what to do.
Calvin Carrington turned on her, his eyes filled with rage. “You're Yardley's girl, are you?” he bellowed.
“Y-yes,” she admitted fearfully. No wonder people shrank from facing this man with anything he wasn't going to like hearing.
“A fine mess you've made of this, young lady,” he accused angrily. “You'd better get about clearing it up.”
Terry turned to Rick, sure he would stand up for her. After all, this wasn't really her fault. She'd done such a good job all summer, such a good job with this ball. The things going wrong were hardly the result of anything she'd done. She stared at Rick, waiting to hear him tell his grandfather so.
But Rick just stared back, his eyes as angry as the old man's. “I've never seen such chaos in my life,” he said bluntly, showing no understanding whatsoever. “This place looks like the waiting room for 'Let's Make a Deal!' It's a disaster! How could you let this happen, Terry?”
She felt herself turn cold. She stared at Rick, then looked back at Calvin. “I'll do what I can, sir,” she said stiffly. Turning back to the ballroom, she got hold of herself and began to take action, helping to catch the poor, panicked birds, ordering mops brought out for the spilled punch. Before long the screaming had stopped, and when the last bird was caught and carried back to its cage, she turned to look at Rick.
He was talking to Calvin Carrington, his face cold as granite. She hardly recognized him. Turning quickly, she stumbled up the stairs to her room. She slipped out of her dress, put on jeans and a jersey top, and packed her bags. No one tried to stop her. No one knocked upon her door. As she lugged her suitcase down the b
ack stairs, she could hear that the orchestra was playing waltzes again. Things seemed to be going smoothly now. No one needed her at all.
All the work she'd done, all the improvements she'd made, it was all for nothing. No one cared. She had too much self-respect to stick around and beg for appreciation. She was getting out of here and she was never coming back.
Packing her case into the trunk of her car, Terry sped down the drive from Mar Vista, leaving as alone as she'd been those long, long weeks before. It was over.
The two-hour drive to Los Angeles seemed endless. She let herself into her little apartment and immediately opened all the windows and turned on a fan to get rid of the stuffiness. Then she looked. This had been her life before she'd known Rick. It seemed foreign, removed from the person she was now. And it frightened her.
She tried calling her father, but there was no answer. Perhaps he was out celebrating his recovery with a few cronies. She hoped he wouldn't fall again, because there was no way she was going back to Mar Vista.
Turning on her voice mail, she ran through all the calls she'd received on her land line in the weeks she'd been gone. Most of them were from friends who weren't sure when she was coming back home. But there was one surprise: a call from Craig.
“Hey, babe, where've you been all this time? I need to talk to you. I've found a new script that's got a part tailor-made for you. A gut-wrencher that could steal the entire show. Call me right away.” There was a pause. “I miss you,” he added, and he actually sounded sincere.
She played it again, listening closely, analyzing her own response. A part. Something she could sink her teeth into. And Craig was asking to hear from her. Why wasn't her pulse racing? Why wasn't her excitement growing?
Because she didn't care. It was long over with Craig, and she had no desire to try to relight that fire. As for acting—the bloom was off that rose as well. She'd enjoyed running a house and she'd done it well. Pursuing that type of career seemed much more interesting.
But for now, she just wanted to sleep. And sleep she did, for the next twelve hours, waking when it was almost noon the next day. The very first thing she did was check her cell phone, just in case. ... nothing. And then she hated herself for having checked it.
“It's over,” she whispered to herself. “Face it, Terry Yardley. Today is the first day of the rest of your life, and it can't do anything but get better from here on in.”
She spent the day cleaning her apartment and then went out and stocked up on groceries to fill the shelves. Coming home, she cooked up a huge kettle of spaghetti sauce, as much to have the aroma fill her home with familiar smells as from hunger. But as she cooked she remembered that first spaghetti dinner with Rick and the children, and she wished she'd picked another meal.
She decided to call her father to come join her, but first she ran out to the corner bakery to pick up garlic bread to go with the spaghetti. She'd planned to be gone only a moment, but the lady behind the counter had to catch her up on all the local gossip, so it took longer than she'd expected. When she got back the first thing she saw was the slinky red Ferrari parked in front of her apartment building.
Her heart was in her throat and she ran up the two flights of stairs without stopping. She burst into her apartment, and there he was, serving up spaghetti into the two plates he'd set on the table.
“You're just in time,” Rick said cheerfully. “Hope you're hungry.”
He looked cool and confident, but inside he was terrified of what she was going to say. This was the most important night of his life. What Terry decided to do would determine his future.
He never thought of his ex-wife when he looked at Terry, but her rejection of him during their marriage had left a scar. He'd delayed pushing his relationship with Terry because he'd been afraid to. Now he knew he had nothing to fear but his own hesitancy. He would make her his, no matter what. He had to.
Terry went into the kitchen, staying as far away from him as she could, not looking into his eyes. She had to remember how much he'd hurt her. She had to hold those memories up like a shield.
Putting down her bread, she turned to face him at last. “What do you want?” she asked coldly.
He put down the ladle and looked at her. “You,” he said simply.
“Me?” She pretended to laugh. “Why? Isn't Percy working out?”
His weight shifted from one foot to the other. She looked at him, surprised. He actually seemed ill at ease.
“You know why I hired Percy. And it certainly wasn't to take your place.”
“No?” She pulled the bread out of its paper wrapper and began cutting it with a serrated knife, hacking with a vengeance. “Just what was my place, Rick? I don't think we ever did make that clear. Maybe that's why you weren't satisfied with my performance.”
“I was never dissatisfied with you in any way.”
“That's nice.” Words were all right, but they didn't mean much if they weren't backed by actions. She stacked the bread in her bread server. “Now will you please make your point and get out of here? I'm having company for dinner.”
He didn't move a muscle. “The only company you're having tonight is me,” he said calmly.
She glared at him. She'd been planning to invite her father, but Rick didn't have to know that. Let him think she had a male friend coming.
“What are you going to do, bar the door when he gets here?” she asked scathingly.
“If I have to.” His eyes darkened stormily and his jaw tightened. “Okay, you're angry because of what happened last night at the ball. I was upset that things weren't right for my grandfather, and I took it out on you. I apologize.” He waited for a moment, but she didn't respond. He sighed unhappily. “I want you to come back with me, Terry,” he said. “I need you.”
She swallowed hard, fighting her attraction. She wanted to run into his arms, but that would be crazy.
“Sorry,” she snapped, looking about her kitchen for something to keep her from having to look at him. “I've had a better offer.”
“Terry.” He held out his hands. “Terry, come here to me.”
Every muscle, every nerve ached to obey him. She turned away, reaching blindly for the Parmesan cheese. She was dying to be caught up in his arms. But she didn't dare. Once he touched her...
“No,” she whispered.
“Come over here,” he demanded.
Her chin rose. “I'm not your servant any longer, Rick. I don't have to do as I'm told.”
With two quick strides he was at her side. His arms came around her and he said huskily, “Tell me what to do, Terry. I'll do it. Anything you say. Tell me what I can do to prove to you that I love you.”
“Love me?” Her eyes opened wide. “Do you love me?”
His exasperation was so great that he almost shook her. “Of course I do, you little idiot! I've loved you from the moment I found you hiding in my closet.”
She gazed at him with wonder. “I love you too,” she admitted.
His arms tightened around her. “Thank God,” he said. “Then you'll come back with me?”
Slowly she shook her head. “I can't.”
“The children need you,” he said. “I need you.”
Didn't he see how impossible it was? “My ... my father will be there on Monday,” she told him. “He'll take better care of you all than I ever could.”
“Your father is already at Mar Vista,” Rick told her. “He arrived in the nick of time last night, said he'd come to surprise you, to help you out, but he ended up saving the night.”
She dropped her gaze. “The ball was a mess, wasn't it?”
“Hardly.”
She looked up quickly at his laugh. “What do you mean?”
“The fund-raising committee said they had the best haul they've ever had at one of these things. Everyone said it was the most exciting night we'd had in the bay area for years. I'd say it was a smashing success.”
“You're kidding.” She almost smiled. “What did your grand
father say?”
“He calmed down and had a wonderful time dancing with all the ladies.” He touched her cheek. “But who cares about him, Terry? I love you and you love me and that's all that counts.”
But that wasn't all. “I can't go back to Mar Vista, Rick,” she said sadly. “I can't go back to hiding in linen closets—”
“Neither can I, Terry. I'm not talking about Mar Vista. I'm talking about the ranch. After we're married—”
“Married!”
“Of course, married. What did you think I was talking about?”
“I ... I don't know. More butlering?”
He laughed. “I'll admit you made a darn good butler,” he said. “But I can't use a butler at the ranch.” He took her chin in his hand. “But I could use a wife to help me manage the place. What do you say?”
She pulled out of his arms and backed away from him. In her wildest dreams she had never really thought he would ever want her to marry him. Rick Carrington, playboy extraordinaire, just didn't do things like that. And now that he had asked her—a whole new set of problems arose.
“Oh no, Rick,” she muttered, confused. “We can't get married. We're so different. My father is your butler...”
He followed her, not letting her get away from him. “Not my butler, lady. My grandfather's.”
“Yes, but it's in your family.” She shook her head. “No, what you're suggesting is impossible. It would never work.”
He took hold of her shoulders as she backed against the wall and he held her prisoner where she stood. His eyes were troubled as they searched hers. “What are you saying, Terry? That you don't want to marry me?”
“No, I...” She was so confused—how could she explain to him why she couldn't marry a Carrington?
“Do you love me?” he demanded.
“Yes. Oh yes!”
“Do you care what anyone else says about us?”
She shook her head.
“Why do you think I care, then?”
“I... your grandfather ...”
“Means a lot to me. But he doesn't run my life.” He lowered his head, kissing her lips softly. “If I had to choose between the two of you, lady-butler, there'd be no contest. I hope you believe that.” He kissed her again, nuzzling her mouth, her cheek, her ear, and she sighed with the pleasure of his touch.
