Promoted to Wife (Destiny Bay) (3 page)

“I know. That’s why I’m here. I thought I was preparing the place for him to come back to.”

“In the closet?” His gaze darkened and his eyes narrowed. “Fishy, I’d say. More like a story to cover up something else. What were you really doing in here?”

At least it seemed he was finally ready to accept that she hadn’t been sent by “Johnny”. She sighed. Was she going to tell him the truth? How was she going to explain that she’d been in here hiding from him? No. Too humiliating.
 

“Just…uh…looking for hangers,” she said, grabbing a few off the clothes pole and waving them at him. “See?”

“Right.” His frown had turned much cooler. “
Searching for the safe is more like it,” he said softly.

“No. Oh, no!”
 

Now he thought she was a thief. She
had to do something quickly or he'd have her arrested before she had a chance to explain. How could she put this in a way that he could buy into?
 

“I'm here to work for
your family, Mr. Carrington. Really! I'm your new butler. My name is Yardley.”
 

That was what employers always
called her father, and since she was going to work as a
butler, maybe he'd better call her that too.

But Rick didn't seem to think that was such a good idea. He put a hand to his forehead and squinted his eyes
as though he felt a migraine coming on.

“I remember a butler named Yardley. Martin Yardley. He worked here for my grandfather
when I was a kid.” He squinted at her. “He was a tall man. Sort of skinny. Definitely flat-chested.” He shook his head sadly, looking her up and
down. “Didn't look a thing like you. You'd better try
again.”

CHAPTER TWO:
 

The Kids Are Coming!
 

Now Terry really regretted not having business cards to thrust at him. How did you prove you were a butler without them?
 

“I
...
I am Yardley,” she stuttered, trying to be as convincing as possible. “
Terry
Yardley. Martin is my
father.”

“Ah.” He nodded as though it was all clear to him now. “Of course. That explains everything.”

“Does it?” She was naively hopeful.
 

“Certainly.” Sarcasm threaded neatly through his tone. “All the servants send their children up to straighten my hangers. Happens every day. I do make such a mess of them.” His eyes glinted and the ghost of a smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

Once again she was thankful he had a sense of humor.
 

“If you remember my father—” she began to explain, but he shook his head, interrupting her.

“I don't remember him well, actually. I didn't live here then—just some visits. But I believe you if you say you're his daughter.” He raised an eyebrow, wondering how she’d thought she could get away with it. “What I don't believe is your claim that you're a butler.”

A butler. He looked her over once more. It was too ridiculous. She opened her mouth to protest and he waved at her impatiently. “Enough. Let’s put it this way. I don’t care if you’re a butler or not. You’re not going to be a butler here.”

Her eyes flashed angrily and he had to look away. If he didn’t, he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist smiling at her and ruining his firm statement. She was completely adorable and pretty sexy in her tiny white shorts and miniscule shirt, but he was going to go against the grain of his usual impulses. He wasn’t going to let himself give in to her just to keep her around.
 

It couldn’t be done—not this time. His kids were coming.
 

He sank down onto the bed and leaned back against the pillows, closing his eyes. He felt like hell. Of course, that was his own fault, and he was definitely going to quit drinking—for sure this time. But there was more, a sense of impending doom hanging over him, as though something very bad was about to happen.
 

Oh yeah. His kids were coming.
 

He opened his eyes. She was still there, looking down at him with her own eyes narrowed fiercely and her lower lip caught in her teeth, as though she was thinking up ways to tie him up and put him in the basement while she got on about the business of taking over the place. That made him grin.
 

“Oh hell, are you're sure you don't have a birthday card on you somewhere?”

She glared and he gestured for her to sit on the bed, too. He might as well. He knew for sure she wasn’t anywhere near done with this fight.
 

She
sat very gingerly on the edge of the bed, just out of reach. “I don't usually carry spare birthday cards with me,” she said crisply
. “Do most people you meet?”

He managed a wan smile.
“No. But tomorrow
is
my birthday. And every year my cousin Johnny thinks
of a more surprising way to deliver my card.” He
shrugged. “When I saw you in my closet I was sure you
were his latest idea. It seemed to fit the pattern.”

She flashed him a look. “Does he often use strange
women?”

He cocked his head, considering. “I wouldn't call you strange exactly. Well, a little odd, perhaps. Hanging out
in closets is a bit bizarre.”

Terry looked at him, trying to hold on to anger and feeling it slip away. Rick Carrington was not turning out to be what she'd anticipated. She’d expected a more superior attitude, but that didn’t seem to be his style. Looking deeply into his eyes, she thought she saw a restlessness, a hint of pain, and maybe dissatisfaction. But at the same time, she felt a warmth in him, something terribly appealing.
 

All the same, she knew she wasn’t supposed to like him, necessarily. Just work for him. That was all that counted.

“If you ask me, the strange one seems to be this Johnny person,” she said dryly.

He laughed. “There's nothing strange about Johnny. But he does have good birthday ideas.” A look of bliss
crept over his face. “Last year he hired a magazine
centerfold to bring me my greeting. When I went up to
my room I found her in my bed, stark naked, with
'Happy Birthday' written across her nubile body in edible
ink.”

In spite of herself, Terry choked. “Edible ink?” she gasped when she could catch her breath. “What on earth
is edible ink?”

“I don't know,” he answered wistfully, stretching his arms out, “but it sure
tasted great.”

He was making it up. She was sure of it. She wanted to
laugh, but she didn't dare. After all, she wasn't the man's friend, she was his employee, and it was time she acted
the part.

“I'm sure it did, sir,” she said in her best butler voice. She would play the part to the hilt as long as there was still a chance at it. “Have you come home now? Will you be staying? If so, I'd like to make an appointment to go over the plans with you, to make sure I'm setting up the house to your satis
faction—”

“Wait a minute.” He held up a hand to stop the flow of
her words. “I told you this cock-and-bull story about your being a
butler just won't fly.”

She drew herself up with all her worldly dignity. “I
may not look like the butlers you're accustomed to, Mr. Carrington, but I assure you, I can work just as well as—”

“You're a woman. Butlers are men.” He sighed. “I can give you a
job as a maid, if you'd like.”

She didn't appreciate the patronizing sound of that
statement and the thread of steel in his voice gave ample
evidence that his good humor had its limits. But so did
hers.

He was laying down the law as though he was used to it. And he probably was. But he didn’t know how important this job was to her. After all her father had been through, she had to save this job for him if she could. It would break his heart to lose this opportunity.
 

Her father had always been so proud of his job at the Carrington estate. He had been more than a butler to Cal
vin Carrington, almost a confidant in the old days. He'd left
only after the Carrington family had decided Calvin needed a change and a warmer climate and had taken him off to their estate in the Bahamas to live for the next ten years.
 

Since leaving the Carringtons, her father had
worked as the manager of housekeeping services for a large Malibu hotel. But recently he’d been let go, told he was just too old for the job. That experience had crushed him. Terry had really thought he might just give up—until the call had come from the Carringtons. Suddenly he’d had a reason to live again.
 

And now Terry had been given the chance to feel
some of that pride her father had known. She had something to prove here. She might be a flop at her chosen career—trying to be an actress in Hollywood had not been a stellar choice, it seemed-- but she was darn well determined she was going to make a good butler—and she wasn't going to let Rick Carrington
stand in her way.

“My father was hired by your grandfather,” she began staunchly. “I'm taking my father's place, but I know I can do the job. Your grandfather seemed to
feel I could do it as well.”

“My grandfather never saw you face-to-face, did he?”
Rick drawled. “I'm sure he made a mistake. He's got standards that date back to the Stone Age. He'd never
have hired a girl like you deliberately.”

She could cheerfully have beaned him with a handy lamp for calling her a “girl” as much as anything, but the sad fact was, he was right. Mr. Calvin Carrington thought she was her father’s son. She’d heard her own father on the phone with him, and though neither of them had mentioned it, she knew her father had avoided the issue.
 

But too bad. Calvin Carrington had agreed to this. And here she was.
 

“I've got a contract,” she reminded him sweetly.

“I can break it,” he replied with easy tranquility.

A rush of panic flooded her. He just might. She was
treading on thin ice, confronting him this way. Why couldn't she lower her tone and try a little sweet talk
instead? She swallowed hard, trying to muster a seductive smile, but the effort died somewhere inside. She knew she
could never make it that way. There seemed to be a reason she’d failed as an actress, wasn’t there?
 

“You're not being fair,” she said instead, her chin set
stubbornly. “Give me a chance to prove myself.”

Rick's eyes were glimmering with amusement. “Just like that? You think you can come in here and begin 'butling' on the spur of the moment? You think you can
jump right into a profession that has been developing into a fine art over the centuries?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I have to admire your courage. Just wait until the Butlers United gets wind of this. They'll come around here with a lynch mob.”

“I know what I'm doing. I've been trained by the best.” Her father was the best she knew of. “I'm a good worker. You won't be disappointed.”

“Won't I?” he asked softly, and she sensed a break in the ice.

She knew she was looking so very eager, so very willing to work her little fingers to the bone. He gazed at her for a long moment. There was hesitation flashing in the misty golden-brown of his eyes, but she could see that he was a bit captivated by her.
 

“Why don’t we wait for your grandfather to arrive and see what he thinks,” she said. She had a feeling, no matter how hide-bound Calvin was, she was going to be able to charm him. Just give her a chance!

But Rick was shaking his head. “He won’t be coming. Not right away. He came down with the flu a few days ago. They don’t want to let him travel until they’re sure he’s all over that.”

“Oh.” So much for that idea. “But he is coming?”

“Oh yes. At least, we all hope so.”

She smiled. “I can hardly wait to see him again. He and my father were quite close in the old days.”

Rick grinned. “Meeting you, I can understand why.”

She was winning. She could feel it. She began to smile, awaiting confirmation.

“I think I like you, Terry Yardley,” Rick said at last, leaning back again. “There's something very appealing about those huge blue eyes of yours, and that mop of shiny dark hair.”

She smiled, waiting for him to tell her he approved.

He glanced over the slim brown line her legs made against the yellow bedspread, and she unconsciously drew her knees together. He chuckled. “As a butler, you'd make a terrific date. How about dinner tomorrow night?”

Terry's mouth was dry and she wasn't laughing. “You don't understand. I’ve got to have this job. I'll do it well. You have no reasonable grounds to deny me on.”

He watched her narrowly, sorry for a moment that she hadn't been one of Johnny's bright ideas. He liked the way her blue eyes sparkled. He also liked the way she filled out her skimpy outfit. He knew he would have en
joyed sharing some time with her under other circum
stances.

But that only made it that much more reasonable that
he send her away. If he let her work here, things could
get complicated. He'd learned long ago not to mess with
the help. It only led to misunderstandings all around. And his kids were coming…

“I don't have to hire you just because you want the
job,” he told her bluntly.