Promoted to Wife (Destiny Bay) (6 page)

This little rendezvous was sadly different. She turned toward the car,
wanting to leave the family alone to greet one another.

Charles, the chauffeur, was taking her presence a little harder than the children had.

“Who the hell are you?” he whispered as she bent to pick up one of the bags he was taking out of the trunk.

“Terry Yardley,” she said primly, feeling like Mary Poppins. “The new butler.”

His face was hostile. “I've never heard of a woman butler before,” he growled. “The others aren't going to like this.”

“The others don't have to like it,” she said calmly. “But it's the way things are.” Her smile was as sweet as she could make it, but he didn't respond. “I'll take the children's bags up for them.”

She was surprised to find the children sitting stiffly in the living room like guests, while Rick stood in front of the fireplace looking strained. When Terry walked into the room he looked up with something very close to relief in his eyes.

“Here she is,” he said heartily, as though they'd been waiting for her for a very long time.

She looked at each of the Carringtons, smiling uncertainly, wondering what was expected of her. She was only the butler, after all. What was Rick asking for, social directing?

They were all gazing at her expectantly, and she supposed she ought to say something, if only she knew what. She glanced at Rick and he smiled encouragingly. She looked back at the children.

“Wouldn't you two like to go up to your rooms and change into other clothes to play in?” she asked, at a loss.

“No, thank you,” Erica said coolly, crossing her nylon-covered legs. “We're just fine.”

Suddenly Terry understood why Rick looked as
though he needed rescuing. Was this child twelve or
twenty?

“Well then, would you like to come with me to the kitchen?” she asked almost desperately. “I might be able
to rustle up some lemonade or a soda.”

Erica's glance was as cool as her voice. “We wouldn't
want to spoil our appetite for dinner,” she reminded
Terry.

Terry barely managed to keep from gaping at that.
But the girl had brought up a point that would have to be
considered: dinner. There was no cook tonight. Where
was dinner going to come from? Terry glanced at Rick
and saw the same thought forming in his mind.

“Tell you what,” he said quickly. “I'll fix us all some
thing to eat while you entertain the kids.”

“You'll cook?” Somehow she couldn't imagine the
playboy in the kitchen.

“Of course.” He gave her a look of mock offense. “I can cook up a mean pan of spaghetti sauce, believe it or not.”
 

He was already heading for the doorway.
 

“I was considered the best chef in my fraternity at college,” he told them over his shoulder. “Without my culinary skills,
twenty-two young men would probably have ended their
college careers with rickets and scurvy.”
 

He raised his eyebrows as he looked at them.
 

“Of course that
was quite a few years ago. But I'm convinced cooking is
something you never forget, like riding a bicycle.”
 

He frowned.
 

“Now let's see, the water's boiling when those
little bubbles start swimming to the surface, right?”

She laughed without even thinking, then quickly stifled
it, remembering her place.

He grinned at her, gave her a wink, and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. She looked at the children and found them
squirming uncomfortably.

“Silly, isn't he?” Erica blurted out, then colored and
glanced sidelong at Terry.

Jeremy said nothing; his eyes were big and curious.

Terry forced herself to block out any judgmental reactions to the children. It wasn't her place, she told her
self. Though she
did
seem to find herself situated in the
position of baby-sitter.

She'd never expected to be assigned this role, but here she was. After all, as her father always said, her main job was to keep the household running smoothly. If this was
what Rick needed, this was what she would do.

“Well, Erica,” Terry said with a sigh, sinking down
on a chair opposite the girl, “do you come out to Mar
Vista often?”

“Not really. But we’re starting to, I guess.” The girl looked at her primly. “We’re supposed to come every other weekend during school. But in the summer, they say we’ll be here more.”

“Haven't you... haven't you ever lived with your
father full-time?” She was treading on dangerous ground
here. But if Rick had left her to deal with the kids, she
had to get some handle on what she was dealing with.

“Not since I was nine,” Erica answered. “Jeremy was
just a baby. My mother left my father then. She took us to Louisiana to live with our grandparents there. I hardly ever
saw him until last year, when my mother died.”

Her voice was as dispassionate as if she were reciting a train schedule. Terry frowned, wishing she could get the
girl to melt through the icy protection she'd erected
around herself. Somewhere inside there had to be at least a bit of the natural warmth her father had in such abun
dance.

“Did you ever go to my father's house?” Jeremy asked
all of a sudden.

Terry smiled at the little boy. “I'm afraid not,” she
said. “Is it much like this one?”

“Oh no,” he said, dark eyes wide and earnest. “It's very wild there. Like in cowboy days.”

Erica groaned with exasperation. “She doesn't care
about that.”

“But I do,” Terry protested. “Tell me about it.”

“We only went there a few times,” the little boy told her obligingly. “We hated it.” Jeremy lapsed back into si
lence, still clutching his koala bear to his chest.

“It was rough and there were no servants,” Erica ex
plained patronizingly. “We decided to come here for our
visits instead.”

Terry looked at each child. “Where is your father's
house?”

Jeremy didn't look up from his bear, but Erica an
swered. “He has a ranch out in the Santa Ynez Valley. He
breeds horses or something.” She shrugged her disinter
est.

The Santa Ynez Valley was only a little over an
hour's drive away. And these children didn't want to spend time there, on a ranch, with horses? Had child
hood changed so much since she'd been young?

She had to put a hand to her mouth and force herself
to slow down, take it easy. This wasn't her problem, these
weren't her children. She had no business interfering.

“Come on.” She rose, took Jeremy by the hand, and smiled at Erica. “Come out into the backyard. You need
a walk before dinner.”

“I don't need anything of the kind,” Erica muttered.
But she came, though reluctantly.

Terry led them out the back door, pointing to the fish
pond and a distant reservoir as likely places to visit. Then
she went back inside and looked for Rick.

She found him in the kitchen, surrounded by open to
mato sauce cans. The air was filled with delicious smells.

“Taste this,” he demanded, scooping up a spoonful of
bubbling red sauce. She did as he ordered.

“Not bad,” she admitted, smiling at the picture he
made with the chef's apron tied around him.

“Not bad!” he cried. “Faint praise indeed.” His flour
ish with the spoon sent drops of tomato sauce flying
around the room.
“Magnifique
would be a better thing to
say.”

“Then you say it.” She picked up a damp cloth and
began to wipe up the spots he'd made. “Your children are
very well behaved.”

He grunted, still stirring the sauce. “Is that what you
call it?” he asked softly.

She looked up at him, but he was concentrating on his sauce and she could tell he hadn't meant for her to hear
that.

“They don't seem to have much to do here,” she ventured, putting down the cloth. “I hear you breed horses.”

He nodded.

“Why don't you keep some of them here?” she asked
quickly before she lost her nerve. “There are stables.
Then the children could ride...” She bit her tongue.
She had no business saying these things. She was just a
servant. Why did she keep forgetting that?

He'd stopped stirring. He was looking out the window and Terry followed his gaze. Erica and Jeremy were
walking slowly around the backyard, not touching a
thing. As they walked Erica carefully sidestepped a patch
of dirt, her nose wrinkled with distaste.

“Look at them,” Rick said, his voice low. “Can you
imagine them riding horses? Look at the way they dress.
They look like they're on their way to Sunday school
every time I see them.”

His voice was getting more and more gravelly, and Terry realized how difficult it was for him to talk like
this.

“I feel like I hardly know them,” he said quietly. “And
a year of visits hasn't brought us any closer.”

She wanted to touch him, to comfort him somehow. His face was turned away, and she couldn't see his ex
pression.

“That was the way she was too,” he said softly, almost
whispering.
 

Terry knew without having to be told that he was talking about his ex-wife.
 

“She always looked as though she'd just stepped out of a fashion show. Un
touchable.” He looked down at his tomato-splattered
apron. “Now me, I don't know how to deal with that.”
 

Suddenly he was grinning again.
 

“I'm a hopeless case.
Somebody should take me in hand, don't you think? Some nice butler, maybe?”
 

“I don't know.” She reached with the cloth and playfully swatted at his soiled chest. “I have a feeling you're
beyond redemption.”
 

Her blue-eyed gaze caught his. Are you who I think
you are? his eyes seemed to say. Do you feel as good as you look? Would we be as good together as I think we
could be?

“No,” she found herself whispering, dread growing in
her chest.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head, silently cursing herself. She was
letting her imagination run away with her. If she kept this up, she would ruin her chances for this job.

“I'll set the table,” she murmured, then fled the room.

Dinner
was “magnifique.”
Rick was a wonderful cook, and everyone, including the lofty Erica, ate at least two helpings.

Rick insisted Terry eat at the table with them. “You can start your formal butlering tomorrow,” he said. “We need you sitting in a chair rather than standing behind one tonight.”

Because she could sense the real unease behind his words, she did as he asked. Dinner started awkwardly, but the children loosened up a little with a good meal in their tummies. Terry tried very hard to draw Erica out. And once or twice the little girl smiled, but very quickly her smile disappeared when she realized what she was doing.

Jeremy was different. Terry knew instinctively that he would be a friend as soon as the newness of their relationship wore off. At one point, while they were sighing over their empty plates, Jeremy widened his eyes, gazing at Terry, and announced, “I like earthworms.”

“Do you?” Terry smiled.

He nodded. “Do worms have moms and dads?” he asked.

Terry glanced at Rick but his face showed he was ready to leave this one for her to field. She tried to think up all the high school biology she'd forgotten. “Let's see. Moms and dads, huh?” Think fast, Terry. “Well, yes and no.”

Suddenly she stopped herself. What was she doing? He was only a five-year-old boy. He didn't want a lesson in sex education. Maybe, just maybe, he only wanted to talk
about it himself. That was worth a try.
 

“Well,” she said,
smiling at him, “what do you think?”

The little boy nodded seriously. “I think they do.”

Terry stifled a grin. “And why do you think so?”

He shrugged. “Because they should,” he told her as though it were the most logical thing in the world. “Who
else would give them toys?”

Of course. Why hadn't she thought of that? She looked down the table and found Rick grinning at her. He gave her a wink, then turned away, leaning over to listen to
something Erica had to say. But the grin and the wink
had warmed Terry in a way she’d never expected.
 

She realized she was blushing, and she quickly downed every drop of water in her glass. This was ridiculous. She
mustn't react to him this way. She had to keep control of
herself.

Why
now?
she asked herself helplessly. Why
him?
She'd been down this road before with Craig Annison, and others before him. And look where it had gotten her. She mustn't fall into that tempting trap again. No new men! She needed something for herself. She needed her independence, and along with it,
a new and improved self-image.