by Day Leclaire
Rebecca shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand. Won’t what be weird?”
Color darkened Angie’s cheeks. “Won’t all your friends be at this party?”
“Most of them, sure. So?”
“Well, won’t it be weird being one of the hired help instead of a guest? I’d think it would be really awkward. For you and them.”
Rebecca couldn’t believe the thought hadn’t occurred to her before this. It would be awkward. She spent the rest of the day considering it and trying to find some way out of her predicament. Maybe she could arrange for the extra staff she’d hired to cover for her.
Then she shook her head. The party was her baby and hers alone. Dumping the job on someone else wasn’t fair to Alex or his guests, particularly Darius and Summer Franklin. Besides, everyone would only be uncomfortable if she made them feel that way. If she treated it as par for the course, so would they.
She hoped.
Rebecca considered calling Kate and explaining the situation, but feared her friend would end up leading a protest that would ruin the party. She’d feel awful if a reception meant to celebrate the Franklins’ marriage turned into something unpleasant. All of which meant that she needed to rely on every ounce of poise and good humor to carry off the evening.
The next few weeks flowed by while the house took on more and more of a holiday aspect. Fresh greenery, poinsettias, vases of fresh-cut winter flowers and swags in winter-green and burgundy festooned the house. With the help of a workforce of willing backs, the ballroom became a winter fairyland that delighted everyone who saw it.
The day of the party, she took extra pains to make sure everything was set up properly. Angie arrived with her catering staff and began to prepare the dishes for the buffet. Toward the end of the day, Alex passed her in the hallway on his way to his room and paused long enough to compliment her on how beautiful the house looked. He even surprised her—and himself, she suspected—by planting a fleeting kiss on her lips.
“Thank you for all your hard work. The place looks amazing.”
“Thanks.”
He drew back, though she could see it was a struggle to revert to the role he’d assumed over the past few weeks. “Guess I’d better get showered. Guests arrive soon.”
“I think that’s my cue to get changed,” she said lightly.
“I’ll meet you back here in forty-five.”
Hastening to her room, she debated over her choice of clothing. She didn’t want something that looked too much like a uniform. No point in rubbing people’s faces in it. But at the same time, she didn’t dare wear anything that smacked of a cocktail dress. She needed to draw a subtle line between staff and guest without causing tension. Finally, she settled on a simple black skirt and black silk blouse.
Precisely fifteen minutes before the first guests were due to arrive, she stationed herself in the foyer where she could greet Alex’s guests and escort them to the ballroom. She carried a tray of champagne to offer each couple as they arrived and was in the process of finding the best place to position it when she heard Alex’s footsteps on the sweeping stairway behind her. He halted halfway down. She turned to smile up at him, but to her alarm, he stared at her in outrage before finishing his descent.
Crossing to her side, he grabbed her arm, jarring the tray. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Nine
R ebecca struggled to hang on to her dignity, but she could feel fine cracks forming, expanding with each second that passed. “I’m getting ready to serve your guests,” she replied, amazed at how calm she managed to sound.
He snatched the tray from her hands and slammed it onto a nearby table. The crystal sang in protest at his rough treatment and champagne splashed over the edges of the fragile flutes. “I don’t know what game you’re playing—”
“Game?” To her shock, fury shot through her, a fury she didn’t even realize she felt until that moment. “I’m not the one playing games. I’m your housekeeper. You assigned this job to me. I’m simply doing what you pay me to do.”
He glared at her in open affront. “I am not paying you to offend our friends and neighbors by acting the part of a servant. Go change into an appropriate outfit and then join us for the celebration.”
“Why?” she insisted. “So I won’t humiliate you? I’m not ashamed of my job. Why are you?”
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Is this your way of getting even? Is this because I haven’t pursued a relationship with you after we made love? You feel the need to wear sackcloth and ashes because you’ve become, in fact, what people are calling you behind your back?”
She could feel the blood drain from her face. “How dare you?”
“How dare I? How dare you put me in such an embarrassing position with people who are more your friends than mine? Who have spent the last decade barely tolerating my presence in the community?”
Understanding crashed down on her and she began to realize she’d made a terrible mistake. That somehow, maybe because of what Angie had said to her, she’d misunderstood his intention. And now she’d insulted him. Truly, deeply offended him.
It had never occurred to her that he felt so uncomfortable around people who had been her friends for most of her life. And it should have. Hadn’t she seen how difficult the Brodys had made his life through the years? How he’d been treated by some of the more elitist of those with whom they’d gone to school, who would have considered it beneath them to associate with the son of a housekeeper? In that moment, she saw herself through his eyes and felt incredibly small and petty even though she hadn’t been deliberately trying to embarrass him.
“I’m sorry, Alex. I swear I never meant to put you in such an awkward position.”
“And yet, here you stand,” he snapped, “on the verge of shredding my reputation.”
She stared at him in utter bewilderment. “Excuse me? How would this affect your reputation?”
A mask fell over his expression, cold and forbidding. “How do you think my guests will react when you answer the door dressed like that? If you play servant to my lord of the manor? They will take one look at you and walk out of my home.” He thrust a hand through his hair. “Don’t you get it? My reputation is all I’ve ever had. Whatever I’ve earned has been through that and sheer hard work. Endless days and nights of it. And I won’t have you or anyone else destroy in one single night what I’ve spent decades building.”
“That wasn’t my intention,” she said stiffly.
“In that case, you have a choice, Rebecca. You can retire for the evening, or you can put on a dress, along with a pleasant expression, and join your friends while they celebrate Darius and Summer’s marriage. Or are you so determined to show everyone what a total bastard I am that you’ll go to any length to prove it?”
A knock sounded at the door and before either could answer it, it opened. One look at the Brodys’ expressions and it was clear they’d heard the argument right through the solid-oak partition. Their gazes slid from Rebecca to Alex and back again. Horrified understanding dawned in Kate’s expression as she took in her friend’s attire.
“Oh, no,” she whispered, her grip tightening on her husband’s arm.
Lance had taken in the situation with a single glance, as well. “Problem?” he asked coldly.
“No problem at all,” Alex responded, keeping his gaze fixed on Rebecca. “A small misunderstanding that will be cleared up momentarily. Please come in and help yourself to some champagne.” He addressed one of the catering staff who’d appeared in the doorway and indicated the tray. “Would you greet our guests as they arrive and show them to the ballroom? We’ll join everyone in a minute.”
He didn’t wait for a response, but simply snagged Rebecca’s arm and towed her in the direction of her quarters. Once there, he immediately went to the closet and removed the first bit of color and sparkle he came across, tossing it onto the bed. It pooled there in a brilliant lake of emerald-green silk.
&nb
sp; “Strip,” he ordered.
He wasn’t surprised to see her mouth drop open in disbelief. “Have you lost your mind?” she stammered.
He managed to control his temper, but it was by a mere thread. “Take off what you’re wearing and put this dress on and do it within the next thirty seconds,” he instructed, “or I swear by all that’s holy, I’ll do it for you.”
Something about his implacable expression must have convinced her of his sincerity. She removed her blouse and skirt without a word of argument and in less than thirty seconds had exchanged it for the dress he’d chosen.
She lifted her chin and faced him. “Satisfied?”
“Not even a little.” He regarded her critically. “Jewelry?”
Crossing to her dresser, she opened the top drawer and pulled out a rolled-up silk case tied with a tasseled string. After removing a few discreet pieces, she put them on. Pearls and gold gleamed softly against her earlobes and throat. “Now are we done?”
“One last thing.” He came toward her, trying not to feel offended when she fell back a step. “Relax, Rebecca.”
Reaching behind her, he removed the clip that held her hair in a tidy roll. The strands rained down to her shoulders, flashing with fire. He ran his fingers through the length, the silky texture tempting him almost beyond endurance. The emerald-green dress matched the color of her eyes and complemented the richness of her hair. Her anger had given her cheeks a healthy flush and made her beauty all the more startling.
“Now we’re done,” he informed her in a husky voice. “Let’s go greet our guests.”
“Your guests,” she dared to correct.
“Our friends,” he offered as a compromise.
She sighed. “I’m sorry.” She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “I guess I’m tired. I didn’t mean to spoil the evening. It’s just—” She broke off with a shake of her head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
He stilled. It should have occurred to him before that there was more going on than Rebecca being contrary. Or he would have if his anger hadn’t gotten in the way. “Just what?”
She hesitated before admitting, “Someone said something to me about the party and about my role in it. I thought you expected me to show up as your housekeeper rather than a guest.” She trailed off with a shrug. “Obviously I was wrong.”
“Yes, you were. As was the person foolish enough to put the thought in your head. You should have asked me.” He shook his head with a smile. “Or did your pride get in the way?”
“A Huntington flaw, it would seem.” She returned his smile with a rueful one of her own. “One of many, in case you didn’t notice.”
“Can’t say that I did,” he lied diplomatically. He offered his arm. “Shall we?”
“My pleasure.”
When they entered the ballroom, it was to find the rest of the guests had arrived and all eyes were fixed on them. For the first time in more years than he could recall, he felt the old awkwardness he used to experience when he’d been an angry outsider, new to a high school rife with the cream of the social select. Rebecca took one look at the expressions on the faces of her friends and offered an abashed grin.
“Sorry, guys. My fault. I misjudged the time I would need to change and get ready for the party.”
Rebecca kept her hand firmly on his arm as she approached Darius and his wife, Summer, both of whom radiated the joy of a couple deeply in love and exquisitely blissful. She hugged first one and then the other. “Congratulations, you two. I couldn’t be happier for you.”
And just like that the entire atmosphere changed from charged to celebratory. The party continued on until the candles guttered and the caterers had long gone. Finally, sleepy couples offered their thanks and farewells, and just as the one day ended and the next began, the party drew to a close.
“That went well, don’t you think?” At her nod of agreement, he gestured toward an unopened bottle of champagne. “Would you like a final drink before we turn in?”
Rebecca stifled a yawn. “Okay. Why don’t we have it in the living room? I want to show you the tree we put up.”
He poured two glasses of champagne and together they wandered into the room, a spacious area with a plush rug and thirty-foot ceilings trimmed in juniper. Floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the huge Christmas tree positioned in front of them. Alex let out a low whistle.
“I think that’s the prettiest tree I’ve ever seen.”
Rebecca smiled, amused to feel a blush warm her cheeks at the compliment. “Thanks.”
“No.” He turned to face her. “Thank you. You made this evening one of the most enjoyable I can remember in a long time.”
“My pleasure.”
He tossed back the champagne, all the time studying her. “What the hell am I going to do about you?”
She stilled and he saw her give the question serious consideration. Then she set her champagne aside and turned to him. Everything about her was vibrant and glowing. But it was her eyes that gave him the answer long before she spoke the words. “Love me,” she whispered. “Make love to me right here and now.”
“I’ve been giving that considerable thought,” he admitted.
“And?”
“And no matter how hard I try, I can’t keep myself from wanting you. From touching you.” He placed his flute on a nearby table and gathered her into his arms. Then he lowered his head until their mouths were no more than a breath apart. “I can’t keep from doing this….”
He kissed her, giving free rein to all that he’d kept under such tight control these past weeks. Her arms entwined around his neck and she shifted closer. From the very start she’d brought a delicate grace to their mating dance, melding their bodies with a slow, delicious rhythm so distinctively her own. It had always stunned him how she opened herself to him, completely and utterly, allowing him to know her at her most vulnerable. Gifting him—heart, body and soul—without reluctance or reserve. And so it had been from the start.
The knowledge humbled him.
Without a word, he undressed first himself and then her, stripping away all artifice until all that remained was the bare essence of them both. As one, they sank onto the plush rug in front of the Christmas tree. The soft glow from the lights caressed her alabaster skin, sliding over the lovely swell of her breasts and setting aflame the burnished curls between her legs. Gently, he reached for her, the contrast between her paleness and his own bronzed skin tones adding to the dichotomy between masculine and feminine.
She was all light and brilliant color. A soft place to rest. He was made up of darkness, with the strength and determination of stone. He’d never been a soft place for her to rest and he doubted he ever would be. They were opposites in every way, coming together in brief, sweet interludes before fate pushed them apart again.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
He hesitated. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, amazed by the depth of despair the request caused him.
She smiled. “Not that. Stop thinking. Stop analyzing.” Her touch was one of infinite tenderness. “Stop trying to protect me and simply love me.”
He didn’t require any further prompting. Lowering his head, he worshipped her with mouth and tongue and teeth. He felt the warm tide of desire sweep across her skin like a sun-drenched wave, and he cupped her breast, feeling her heart beating for him and only him. She flowed against him, her hips lifting to mesh with his.
He took her with a slow, easy stroke, drawing the moment out. But the night wasn’t meant for slow. A hunger burned between them, a demand that compelled them toward something harder and more urgent. Fierce heat melded with a fluid softness and he drove into her. Her breath escaped in a frantic plea as she lifted herself to him, matching his rhythm until they were both driven to a peak beyond anything he could recall ever experiencing before.
They teetered there for an instant. But it couldn’t last, couldn’t do more than hold them there for a brief, incandescent moment before they took
flight, soaring together, forever bound. He surrendered to the woman in his arms, surrendered all he’d worked so hard to protect. Surrendered his body and heart.
Surrendered all that he was to the woman he loved.
The next morning Rebecca awoke to find herself in her own bed. She stretched, feeling happier and more deeply in love than she could ever remember. Anything and everything seemed possible. Life was perfect—or so it seemed—right up until she arrived at the Texas Cattleman’s Club to have lunch with Kate. She caught a buzz of excitement the instant she stepped through the doors, one that increased when she walked into view.
For some reason, she was the center of attention and it made her extremely nervous. It only strengthened when she caught a glimpse of her friend’s broad, excited grin. Kate flew to her side and threw her arms around Rebecca.
“Congratulations! All I can say is that it’s about damn time.”
“What? What’s happened?”
“Don’t play coy. Not with me. Come on.” She held out her hand in a demanding manner. “Let’s see it.”
Rebecca shook her head in genuine bewilderment. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. See what?”
“The rock Alex put on your finger last night.”
Rebecca’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
Kate froze, her eyes widening. Hustling Rebecca into the club library, she dragged her to a secluded reading alcove. “You need to level with me, Bec. Are you or are you not engaged to Alex?”
Rebecca’s throat closed over. “Not.”
“Well, your father is here having lunch with some of his cronies. Someone made some crack about your serving Alex’s guests at the party last night and your father told everyone within hearing that you and Alex are engaged.”
“No.” Rebecca shook her head, her voice taking on an air of desperation. “No, that’s not true.”
“Well, you better get it straightened out and fast. Like, seriously fast.”
“Why? Oh, no. Tell me Alex isn’t here, too.”
