Temporary Bride (5 page)

She looked away as he got to his feet, buttoned his shirt,
and reached for the picnic hamper. There was regret in his voice as he
said, "I'm afraid we're going to have to go back to the house. I have
to drive to San Francisco this afternoon in time for a dinner
engagement."

She'd known he was leaving, but now that it was time she
felt reluctant to let him go. A question formed in her mind and she
looked up at him through thick dark lashes as she asked, "Shane, will
you continue looking for someone to fill that job you advertised?"

His eyes narrowed as he reached down to help her stand.
"Yes, the advertisement will appear in the San Francisco paper again
tomorrow."

She knew she should leave it at that but she couldn't let
it go without making one more effort. She swallowed and plunged ahead.
"Why won't you give it to me? Mark said I was the only one who
qualified—except for my age. Is it really so important that I
be twenty-one?"

Shane frowned his impatience. "It's out of the question,
Karen. It's true that on paper you were just what I was looking for but
that was before I saw you, talked to you. You're totally wrong for what
I had in mind. Even if you'd been older I wouldn't have considered you—you're much too
immature."

Her eyes flashed with frustration. "If you'd only tell me
what the job is, what you want of the person you hire! Maybe I have
talents you don't know about."

He grinned and his dark eyes lingered on her soft,
quivering mouth and the rise of her breasts under the clinging shirt.
"Oh, you have the proper talent all right. I'm sure you would be very
exciting—"

He broke off abruptly and snapped angrily at her, "Leave
it, Karen! I said no and I meant it! Now come along. If I don't leave
within the next half hour I'll be late for my date."

The next four days were lonely ones for Karen. Her work
was interesting, but in the evening she had only Taffy, Jolene, and
Erma to talk to. Henri was a family man and lived in Carmel, and Mrs.
Whitney's room was on the main floor and she never fraternized with the
rest of the help. Karen liked the three girls with whom she shared the
servants' quarters but she had little in common with them. Taffy was
closest to her age and the most outgoing, but she had a steady
boyfriend who took her out in the evenings, so Karen contented herself
with exploring the grounds. She wished she had brought her car. Mrs.
Whitney had the use of a small compact from the car pool but when Karen
asked if she might drive it Mrs. Whitney snapped, "The help is not
privileged to drive the cars."

So much for any inflated notions she might have had about
her relationship with her employer!

It was Friday morning when the peaceful monotony was
suddenly replaced with frenzied activity. Shane called Mrs. Whitney to
say he was bringing several guests down that afternoon to spend the
weekend. All six of the upstairs bedrooms had to be cleaned and aired,
and the four bathrooms were to be scrubbed. Even Karen was not spared
but was told to pick up her mess in the library and clean the room.

When she finished she went upstairs and volunteered to
help the girls. By midafternoon all the rooms had been cleaned except
for the second bedroom in Shane's suite, and it was locked. Taffy
explained as she turned the key, "This suite used to be used by Mr.
McKittrick's father and mother."

She opened the door and Karen gasped at the fragile,
feminine beauty of the room. It was furnished with the blond Danish
modern furniture so popular a quarter of a century ago and decorated in
shades of lavender and mauve. Taffy hurried on, not wanting to miss the
opportunity for a little gossip.

"This was Mrs. McKittrick's room, she was a lot younger
than her husband, and beautiful. I guess he wasn't able to satisfy her,
if you know what I mean"—she gave Karen a bawdy
wink— "because she ran off with an artist. My mom was working
here at the time and she said the poor old guy nearly went out of his
mind—shut himself up in the house for months and wouldn't go
anywhere or see anyone but his son. Mr. Shane was only a boy then, and
Mom says he adored his mother. It must have been rough on him."

Karen felt a stab of pity for the young Shane. How awful
to lose his mother that way. It would have caused a messy scandal, all
the gossip and speculation and dirty jokes. She shuddered. No wonder
Shane was so quick to think the worst of her. He probably didn't trust
any woman!

She hated prying into Shane's private torment but she had
to know. "What happened to Mrs. McKittrick after that?"

Taffy shrugged. "As far as I know she was never heard from
again. Her husband finally pulled himself together and managed to work
himself to death. He died of a stroke ten years ago. That's when Mr.
Shane took over the business, and he seems bent on doing the same
thing. I never saw a man so wrapped up in his work. Even the guests he
brings here are business associates." She giggled. "I'll bet all his
women are stockholders."

Karen winced. She didn't like to think of Shane's women,
whoever they were. She'd wondered why he'd never married. Could his
mother's abandonment have soured him on women and marriage for good?

They changed the linen on the bed and Taffy looked at her
watch as she said, "Karen, would you be a love and clean Mr.
McKittrick's bathroom while I vacuum in here? It's getting late and the
Dragon will kill us if we aren't finished by the time Mr. McKittrick
and his friends get here."

Karen picked up the caddy filled with cleaning equipment
and went into the bathroom. The fixtures were already spotless but she
sprinkled scouring powder in the bathtub and started scrubbing. She
didn't want Mrs. Whitney to find anything to fault. It was a large tub
and rather high, the type a big man needed, but she was so short that
the only way she could reach the back was to drape herself over the
side, balancing on her stomach as she scrubbed. She was so busy
concentrating on not falling that she heard nothing until an amused
voice from behind startled her so much that she nearly toppled into the
tub.

"Would you mind telling me what you're doing in my
bathtub?"

She didn't have to wonder who it was—she knew.
Shane was leaning against the doorjamb watching her as she landed in a
heap on the floor. He reached down and lifted her to her feet and his
eyes twinkled although his face was serious. "Have you been bathing in
my tub?"

She could feel the hot color rise to her cheeks. "No, of
course not!" Her arms tingled where his hands held her.

"Then why are you scrubbing it?" he asked reasonably.

"I—we wanted it clean for you." She felt like a
little girl caught smoking behind the barn.

He lifted one eyebrow. "Aren't you aware that I employ a
housekeeping staff to take care of that sort of thing?"

She looked down at her hands, reddened from the abrasive
powder. "Yes."

His voice was no longer amused. "Then who told you to
clean bathrooms?"

Oh, no! Now he was mad at her again and small wonder. She
shouldn't have been so slow! Mrs. Whitney would be furious.
"I—I'm sorry," she stammered, "I'm afraid I'm not very good
at this, but I learn fast."

He swore and picked up her cleaning caddy and began
shoving bottles and cans back in it as he said, "Karen, I have guests
coming and I'd like to take a shower now, and unless you'd like to join
me, maybe you should just run along and we'll sort this out later."

Embarrassment flamed through her as she ran out the door,
banging it behind her.

There were people coming and going in the hall and an
infant's high, insistent wail could be heard coming from one of the
bedrooms. Karen was sure that her cheeks were still red and now there
was the added humiliation of being caught among Shane's guests in her
rumpled jeans and shirt with a red bandana tied over her hair. Mrs.
Whitney would be furious!

She raced down the staircase, so intent on getting out of
sight that she failed to see the woman in the hall below and ran right
into her, knocking them both off balance. Karen sat down with a thud on
the bottom step and the other woman grabbed the rail to steady herself,
her eyes brimming with indignation.

"Why don't you watch where you're going?" Her voice was
sharp and commanding and her eyes widened as she studied Karen. "Who
are you? And what are you doing running around like a little hellion?
If you're one of Henri's kids, you've no business up here."

The woman was beautiful, there was no doubt about that.
She was at least five foot ten and slender as a fashion model. She
dressed like one, too, in a softly tailored pants suit the same
turquoise color as her eyes. Her short cap of hair was a deep mahogany
that blended with her honey-tinged complexion, and the indolent tone of
her voice indicated a snobbish lack of interest in the servants and
their children.

Karen scrambled up and kept a tight rein on her temper as
she said, "I'm not a child, I'm an employee."

The older woman's eyes studied her briefly. "You're new in
the last couple of weeks," an observation that didn't seem to please
her as she snapped, "Well, don't just stand there, take my bags
upstairs to the green room."

She indicated a cream leather weekender and matching
makeup kit sitting on the floor. Karen opened her mouth to tell the
woman she wasn't a maid, then thought better of it. She was in enough
trouble already. If she antagonized a guest, Mrs. Whitney would
probably have her fired. She picked up the cases and carried them up
the stairs.

The baby was still crying as Karen struggled along the
upstairs hall with the heavy luggage. It was a howl of rage and Karen
could almost see the dimpled little body turning red with its
exertions. Poor thing! She wondered if someone was trying to calm it or
if it was left alone in a strange house and a strange bed to scream its
protest unattended.

She was so intent on her concern for the child that she
didn't see Shane come out of his room until she was almost in front of
him. He didn't look any happier than he had a few minutes ago as he
demanded, "What are you doing carrying those bags around?"

Before she could say anything the woman's voice behind her
answered, "I told her to put them in the green room, darling. That's
the room I always use."

Shane's mouth hardened into a thin line and his eyes
narrowed to slits as he addressed the woman. "Audrey, I'd like you to
meet Karen Muir, and she is not a maid! Hereafter, carry your own bags
or wait until I can do it!"

The woman called Audrey looked startled. "But she said she
was an employee—"

Shane glanced at Karen, still holding the suitcases, then
back to Audrey. "Karen is here to catalogue the library. Karen, this is
Audrey Templeton and you can put her cases down. She can carry them the
rest of the way herself."

Audrey threw him a withering look and exclaimed, "Really,
Shane, you needn't make such a production of it. She said she was an
employee. I naturally assumed—"

Karen wished she could sink through the floor. She agreed
with Audrey—why did Shane have to make such a fuss? Why
couldn't he have just ignored it and explained her position in the
household to Audrey later? The woman apparently had a close
relationship with Shane—she called him "darling". Karen told
herself it was only her friendly interest in him that made her hope he
wasn't romantically involved with this turquoise-eyed iceberg.

She put the bags down and tried to slip out from between
them, but Shane's hand fastened around her arm. "I want to talk to
you," he muttered.

The crying infant was sobbing so pitifully that Karen was
getting worried, but it was having the opposite effect on Audrey. She
rolled her eyes heavenward and swore in a most unladylike manner.

"Really, Shane, can't you do something about that
squalling? You'd better tell Carrie and Ben to keep that baby quiet or
none of us is going to get any sleep tonight! I don't know why they
didn't stay home when their nursemaid got sick instead of bringing the
noisy brat with them."

Karen was so appalled by the woman's insensitivity that
she spoke before she thought. "But that's not just a fretful
cry—the baby may be sick, or hungry! Is someone with him?"

Shane looked at her and nodded. "His parents are with
him." He reached down and picked up one of Audrey's suitcases while
still holding Karen by the arm with his other hand. "Come on, Audrey,
I'll help with your bags."

Before he could take a step toward the green room Audrey
stopped him. "Shane, that screeching is apt to go on all night! I can't
sleep with all that racket right next door to my room. Please, would
you mind if I took the lavender room in your suite?"

Her voice had taken a seductive, pleading tone, and
Karen's stomach turned over at the thought of Shane and Audrey sharing
connected rooms. She told herself that it was none of her business if
Shane wanted Audrey within easy reach, but she breathed a sigh of
relief when Shane let go of her arm and picked up the other bag, then
started toward the green room as he answered, "Sorry, you know that
room is never used. If the child doesn't quiet down soon we'll call in
a doctor."

Karen took advantage of her moment of freedom to rush
through the hall and down the stairs until she reached her room. She
showered and dressed in a brown and yellow print pinafore with sandals
on her bare feet. She decided to spend the evening either reading or
watching television in the small sitting room, since there was a party
going on upstairs. Mrs. Whitney came looking for her a little while
later.

"Karen, the Tylers need a baby-sitter to stay upstairs
with their baby while they join the rest of the guests this evening.
The child is restless and can't be left alone and I need Taffy, Jolene,
and Erma to help with serving and cleaning up. Since you're not
expected to do kitchen work, I'll assign you to the second floor to be
of service to the Tylers. Hurry, now—Taffy will bring your
dinner up later."