Indecent Encounter: The Silverhaus Affair (6 page)

Sweet Chelsea, so shy and tempting. Now, desperate with desire and begging for my cock. It sent my blood rushing and my head spinning. I could have her here. I could fuck her right now, right here in the pool. But I didn’t have a condom and…
shit
.

I couldn’t even think straight. I just wanted to fuck her. My entire body was primed to drive deep inside her. I hooked one finger in the thin material, and it took every ounce of restraint I had not to tear it right then. I could have plunged my throbbing cock into her right there, against the side of the pool, but something in me said this wasn't what I really wanted. I didn’t want a quick, “wham, bam thank you ma’am” in the pool. I wanted to spread her out on my king-sized bed, relish the sight of her entire body as it ached for me. I wanted to take my time to explore every inch of her.

“No,” I managed to get out. “Come with me.”

I slipped her back down to her feet and led her to the concrete steps of the pool. We were just heading across the pool deck when I heard the kitchen door slam.
Fuck. Who the hell…?

The steps that led to my private balcony and the wide expanse of my master suite were just a few feet away, but I dropped Chelsea’s hand and quickly grabbed a towel for her instead. Any other woman, I might not have cared, but I didn't like the thought of anyone else seeing her half-naked.

Jamison arrived at the pool three seconds later and cleared his throat before he spoke, “Mr. Alex? You told me to remind you of your morning conference call.”

I snatched up another towel and quickly covered my raging erection. It wasn’t the first time Jamison had caught me with a naked woman, but that didn't make it any less awkward. I had to take a deep breath and compose myself before answering.

“Yes, Jamison. Thank you. I’ll be right there.” He turned and walked away as I called out to him, “Has anyone told you, you have bad timing?” But my words fell on deaf ears. He just continued walking.

I shook my head. Chelsea was probably horrified that Jamison may have seen her, but when I turned back to apologize, she was ducking into the pool house. She probably had to shower and get ready for work. I thought about following her, but I knew the moment had passed.

At least for now, I promised myself, and then I headed to up the master suite for another one-handed, cold shower.

I
t was
easy to go without seeing Jamison all day. I was too mortified by what he might have seen by the pool to face him. And I didn’t know which was worse, him seeing me almost naked, or the fact that I'd been practically fucking my boss in the pool. At least, I'd wanted to. Oh, God, how I wanted him. And if we hadn’t been interrupted…

It occurred to me that Jamison could’ve been watching out the kitchen window. With a guy as good-looking and open with nudity as Alex, I imagined this kind of thing had happened before. Maybe even with the tall blonde woman no one wanted to talk about. Jamison had probably known what was happening. His seemingly inconvenient interruption suddenly seemed very convenient now.

The more time passed, the more awkward I realized it would become when I finally saw him. As I debated back and forth between seeking him out to act like nothing had happened, I mopped the kitchen floor with a vengeance. There was also the bigger issue to mull over, and I hoped the physical exertion would keep my mind off the encounter with Alex.

Encounter
.
Whew!
Even that word was completely wrong for what had happened in the pool that morning.

When I woke up this morning, Alex was the first thing on my mind. My message inbox on my computer was still full of birthday wishes I hadn’t responded to, but all I could think about was his heart-stopping kiss. I reasoned with myself that it was just a polite kiss, a gesture for my birthday, because he thought I was homesick. Although from my end it felt nothing like a “polite” kiss.

Then my mind turned to the challenge Alex had issued. Just the memory of it was enough to send a shot of steel through my spine. I'd never able been to turn down a challenge, the outcome of fighting for attention in a house full of children. Plus, Alex had dangled an open invitation to the pool as the prize. The thought of having access to the cool inviting water whenever I wanted over the entire summer had been too much to pass up.

I paused in my floor mopping to reflect on everything that had happened. I’d gone out to the pool with the innocent intention of winning the use of the pool. At least that’s what I was trying to convince myself I'd done.

I shook my head and started mopping again. Who was I fooling? Even I didn’t believe that was the truth. The temptation of seeing Alex naked again, the thrill of being invited into the pool where his golden body glistened in the water.
That’s
what had drawn me there.

At the time, I thought maybe the water would cool the temptation. I was sure my skinny body had no great allure for a man like him, but I was wrong. Gloriously, electrifyingly wrong. But then I heard Clara’s warnings about naivety ringing in my head. Logically, I knew she was right. What guy wouldn’t go for a naked girl begging him to rip off her panties and take her? I'd been practically throwing myself at him. Okay, there was no doubt about it. I'd literally thrown myself at him.

The kitchen floor gleamed, and I stopped to fan my hot cheeks. It didn’t matter anymore whether Clara was right or not about this job. I'd known what direction things would go the minute I'd gone into that pool. If anything else was going to happen with Alex, or even if it was just a one-time fun game we had, I still had to face the uptight butler for the rest of the summer. I propped the broom against the counter and went in search of Jamison.

Despite the size of the mansion, Jamison was easy to find because he loved his routines. I knew I’d find him dusting the north-facing rooms on the main floor. I walked along and found him in the small parlor dusting the chandelier. The staid butler was wearing his headphones and singing along to a catchy pop song. Not what I’d imagined.

I paused for a second before I entered the room and called out, “Jamison?”

He didn’t hear me and burst into the chorus for a second time. To avoid the fallout of his vigorous dusting I stepped around the stool.

“Mother of mercy!” he shrieked and almost toppled off the high stool. “Chelsea?”

“I’m so sorry, Jamison! I didn’t mean to frighten you,” I said with a giggle. “Or make you shriek like a little girl. I guess I should spend more time at the pool and work on my tan.”

I was testing out his reaction with my remark about the pool, watching his face for any sign of disapproval or annoyance. I didn’t want to lose my job after all, but he ignored it and stepped down from the stool.

“I’m not used to people sneaking around.”

“Um…you sneak up on me all the time,” I reminded him.

“So this was retaliation?” he asked, carefully brushing unseen dust off the front of his impeccable white shirt.

“No, not at all,” I said. I considered another approach. “I…um, finished mopping faster than I thought and wondered if you could use any help?”

I hadn't really come in here to help him. I came to talk. I’d already made reference to the pool, but he wasn’t biting. Either he didn’t want to talk about it, or he was willing to let the matter slide. But it mattered to me, and although part of me wanted to drop the subject of the pool incident, I also knew work would be very awkward if we didn’t get things out in the open.

Jamison thrust the duster into my hand and pointed to the wide mahogany buffet on the sidewall. I went to it and carefully shifted the delicate vases as he’d instructed me.

“Have you really kept the house up all by yourself until now?” I asked as I dusted.

Jamison unrolled his sleeves and buttoned his cuffs before he said, “As I told you before, we have a cleaning service that comes in twice a week, so really keeping the house up myself is not that difficult.”

I decided to try to ease into the conversation with a little casual chitchat while I worked. “How long have you worked for Alex?” I asked. “I mean, Mr. Alex?”

Jamison accepted my casual reference with a dramatic sigh and said, “I’ve known
Alex
since he was in training pants.”

“So it’s probably a little awkward when you see him…um…invite women for a swim?” It was painful to ask, but I wanted to clear the air.

The butler laughed with a sharp guffaw that surprised us both. “I’m the one who taught Alex to swim. I’m also the one who taught him how to talk to women, not that I was much of a teacher. Women aren’t really my cup of tea.”

I smiled; glad for the little bit of personal information Jamison was willing to share. He couldn't be too angry with me if he was willing to talk like this. “What about Alex’s mother? What was she like?”

“Absent,” Jamison said. “She divorced Henry early on, the settlement was bitter, and Alex was in school by the time it was finally finished. Good-riddance, though I sometimes wonder if that’s why Alex is so determined to get his way.”

“Well, he certainly doesn’t come off as pushy or anything like that,” I said. “He knows how to be charming. I bet he gets that from you.”

Jamison gave a small smile. “I wish I was able to teach him something more substantial. Without a mother, and a father who cared more about work than his son, the poor boy really had no one else around to look up to except me.”

“Well, his charm and determination are exactly what he needs to succeed in the movie business,” I said. “I mean, from what I understand, producing movies is mostly about diplomacy and keeping everyone happy enough to get the work done.”

I knew I’d lost Jamison when he straightened up and pulled on his dark suit coat. “If you’re interested in what Mr. Alex does for a living, I suggest you discuss it with him.”

Crap
. I stopped dusting and turned to him. “No, please, Jamison. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to break into Hollywood or anything.” I turned a palm up to the air. “I mean, look at me, do I look like an aspiring actress to you?”

He tilted his head, regarding me and asked, “You don’t think you could be an actress?”

“Last time I checked, Hollywood still loved the busty blonds, and I’m a skinny girl with black hair.” I turned back to my dusting. “Oh, plus the whole lack of talent thing,” I joked.

Jamison sniffed. “You’re not like the others. I’ll give you that.”

“And I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said with a nod and a smile over my shoulder.

Jamison smiled again. “You know, I ran across a stack of papers someone left in the servants’ kitchen the other morning. The makings of a screenplay. Seems to me there was talent in that writing.”

I stopped my dusting and faced him again. At first I felt a little embarrassed that he’d read my writing. I wasn’t sure I was ready for anyone to read it, especially since I was so new at it, but in the next second I was excited. He'd said I was talented.

“Really?” I raised my brows and tried not to sound to eager. “Do you really think so?” I left my duster on the shelf and took a step toward him, wringing my hands. “It’s just for fun. I’m not planning on showing it to anyone.
Ever
,” I said.

“Well,” Jamison said, gathering up his headphones as he prepared to leave, “keep working on it. I’d be willing to run across it again one of these days when you have more written.”

“You would? You really would?”

In my excitement, I’d inched forward again, apparently too close for his comfort zone, and just when the conversation seemed to be getting friendly he changed the subject. “After you’re done in here, I expect you to help prepare lunch.”

“Of course,” I said, and backed away. “And, Jamison?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. I mean it. That was the best birthday I ever had.” I returned to my duster and the mahogany buffet. As he crossed the threshold of the door, he glanced back. I swore I saw his gray eyes soften, and I felt like he was on my side now.

As I moved to dust the last shelf of the buffet I wasn’t any surer about Jamison than before. He definitely was a man of mystery, always hiding behind his stately, British veneer. Yet, at times, like with my birthday dinner, he let his true personality shine through. I smiled and placed the last piece of china in its place on the shelf. He seemed to be okay with seeing me with Alex at the pool. Of course, Jamison was just going to gloss over it, because apparently, it happened quite often.

I bit my lip and walked out of the room with a frown. I hoped that I’d made a new friend today and that Jamison wasn’t just pretending to like me, biding his time just to use my indiscretion against me later. Clara was right about one thing. I was pretty naive at times.

“
I
’m not
some lap dog that’s going to roll over every time you call,” I growled into the phone.

Earlier this morning, the regular team conference call had gone well, but my father had purposely withheld the sticky details from the rest of the team. It was his usual tactic to wait for the team call to end, and then drop the bomb on me in a private call.

“We need a big name, and the love interest is the best part,” he said.

“That’s exactly why I’m not casting April as the love interest,” I said from between gritted teeth. “She’s a walking disaster…too much of a drama queen. That role carries the weight of the backstory and she’ll never be able to pull it off. I don't want her in that part, or any part.”

“I told you, the finances are in place. But if I tell them you want to go ahead without a big name actress in the starring role, then you might as well start collecting aluminum cans on the side of the road,” Henry said. “Don’t be foolish, Alex. You pick a strong director, and we’ll make it all work in editing.”

My fist clenched tighter around the phone. I wasn’t going to let him win this argument. Again. “I have a strong director, one who’d rather go back to making car commercials than work with a diva like April.”

“She’s not that bad, Alex. She just needs a little extra attention.”

“Jesus, Henry. Is that your answer to everything?” I snapped. “Because my idea of ‘extra attention’ doesn’t involve bending a woman over a chair in the casting room. So I don’t care what you’re willing to give her. If we want this film to have any integrity at all, then we have to find a real actress for that part, not a bottle-blonde starlet who loves tabloid headlines more than real work.”

My dad’s voice went up a notch. “Honestly, Alex, sometimes I think you want my company to fail. My own son. Are you trying to ruin Silver House?”

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” I asked, though I knew from many similar conversations with him those comments were nothing but manipulation tactics.

“Well that’s what this decision could mean to the company. How do you think Silver House Productions would fare if this little passion project of yours turned out to be a flop?”

“Just fine,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “With all the royalties from the alien movies, plus the slasher franchise, Silver House will make money well into the next millennium, no matter what happens to my 'little passion project.'”

“That’s it, then?” my father asked. “You’re willing to just sit back and coast on all my hard work?”

I could feel my pulse quickening. My father was going to raise my blood pressure at too young of an age. He was always like this. Pig-headed and set in his ways with his own ideas of what made a movie a blockbuster. “I’m trying to move the company in a new direction.”

“And you think if you deny your financiers their one, reasonable request that they'll return for future projects? There’ll be no forward motion if you kill this movie now,” he said.

I slammed my fist on the desk, but had to admit my father was right. I couldn’t afford to produce the movie on my own. Not because I didn't have the money, but because it would mean losing the trust of the financiers when I wanted to make another film. Accepting April in the starring role was the only diplomatic move that would assure my movie got made, and guarantee funding in the future.

“Alright, fine. I’ll talk the director down off a ledge later. Tell April she’s on.”

“You can congratulate her yourself,” he said. “She’s arriving at your house early in the morning. Tell that maid of yours to get the guest cottage ready.”

“What?”
Fuck
. “You told April she could stay here?” I asked.

“I told her you insisted. She was quite pleased,” Henry said. “What else was I supposed to say? Apparently, what you said about her acting skills lacking truthfulness got back to her and she was ready to refuse the part.”

“What do you mean? What did I say?”

“You said her acting skills lack realism.”

“I did? I don’t remember…”

“Let me refresh your memory. She was playing the part of a woman who just broke up with her boyfriend and reacted with hysterical laughter. You said, instead of acting like a human…and I quote, ‘she reacted like a space alien behaving in some bizarre, unbelievable way.’ Do you remember now?”

I flopped back in my office chair and pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. I resigned myself to the fact that I’d have to suffer the anguish of humiliation. “So not only do I have to accept April in the starring role, but I have to convince her to take it?”

“Yes, but don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to woo her. It might be good for you. I still think you’ve been working too hard, and April is a very attractive woman,” Henry said.

I blew out a breath and shook my head, swearing. The older he got, the more embarrassing it was to watch my father chase after young girls half his age. It wasn't unusual in our business, but it didn't make it any less mortifying.

“She’s not really my type,” I said, flatly.

“Since when?” Henry asked with a snort. As I hung up the phone, I wondered the same thing.

It bothered me that my father acted as if he knew me well, when he didn’t. He hadn't been there for my childhood, essentially leaving me to be raised by the butler. Not that I regretted having Jamison in my life for one minute. I loved Jamison to death. My father was the one I had the issue with. Ours was not a warm father-son relationship. I mean, I called him by his first name. He looked at me as a superficial playboy, only interested in the external trappings of the wealthy life he afforded me, like expensive cars, big houses and fast women. At least that was my assessment of our relationship.

I furrowed my brow, reflecting on my past. I couldn’t blame him. On the surface I must’ve appeared that way to him as I was coming up through my twenties. But lately, ever since my film project took hold of me, things had changed. I’d begun to want something more out of life than glittering parties on a yacht off the coast of France. After a while, the fast life became just one more drunken party with one more rapper/wanna-be actor surrounded by an escort of highly-implanted starlets. All just wanting fame. All of them wondering how they could use me to get what they wanted.

And then I met Chelsea. I leaned back in my chair and swiveled it to look out the window. What did my little water nymph want from me?