Stormy Vows/Tempest at Sea (6 page)

“You don't paint a very comforting picture of my new boss,” Brenna said wryly.

“I didn't mean to,” Walters said bluntly. “If you need a security blanket, you have no business around Donovan. He'll tear you to pieces.”

“I can believe that,” she said with a shrug, remembering
Donovan's steamroller tactics in her own case. “Well, I can always leave if I find him too impossible,” she said lightly.

He shot her an appraising glance. “I wouldn't count on that,” he said coolly. “I have an idea that Donovan has plans for you. And Donovan always gets what he wants.”

“Plans?” Brenna asked blankly. She shook her head. “I have a small supporting role in one of his pictures. I'm not important in his scheme of things. What plans could he possibly have for me?”

“Who knows?” Monty said, with a shrug. “Maybe he sees you as the next Sarah Bernhardt.” He grinned boyishly. “Whatever it is, you're being given very special treatment, Brenna Sloan. I'll have you know, I'm a very important cog in Donovan's organization,” he said with mock conceit. “It's not an ordinary occurrence for me to be ordered to act as chauffeur to an unknown actress. I must admit that my ego was very badly dented when he gave me my instructions.”

She smiled in amusement. “I hate to disillusion you, but I'm afraid your original supposition was correct.”

He slanted her an oblique smile. “We'll see,” he said composedly.

He pulled into a circular driveway that led to a long two-story building, which, like the other buildings in the complex, was constructed of redwood, stone, and glass.

“Employee's quarters,” Monty said briskly, in answer to her inquiring look. “You'll find your accommodations are part of your fringe benefits. You're provided with a small apartment at Donovan's expense. The units also supply maid service at your own expense. There's a cafeteria in each residence hall that is open twenty-four hours a day.” He grimaced. “They have to be. There are times when we work around the clock to meet the demands of our lord and master.”

He pulled to a smooth stop before the front entrance, jumped out, and came around the car with the characteristic energy she was beginning to associate with him.

A husky, sandy-haired teenager in a plaid shirt and jeans came hurrying out the front entrance, and opened the passenger door quickly.

“Good to see you back, Mr. Walters,” he said respectfully.

“Thanks, Johnny,” Walters said easily, as he helped Brenna from the car.

“This is Johnny Smith, Brenna. He's a sort of jack-of-all-trades. If you need something, ask Johnny.”

Brenna smiled warmly at the boy and he smiled back. “You bet,” he said cheerfully. “I'll take good care of you, miss.”

“Thank you, Johnny,” she said quietly.

Monty Walters opened the rear door, and lifted a sleeping Randy out with the utmost care to avoid waking him. He tossed the trunk keys to the boy. “Bring in Miss Sloan's luggage, will you, Johnny?”

Walters escorted her into the bright, cheerful lobby, and paused before the reception desk. A pert, dark-haired girl looked up with a smile that took on a flattering obsequiousness as soon as she recognized Walters.

“Paula Drummond, Brenna,” Walters said briskly. “This is Brenna Sloan, Paula. I understand Mr. Donovan's secretary was to contact you with regard to the arrangements.”

The dark-haired girl shook her head. “Mr. Donovan called himself,” she said solemnly. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Sloan. We have everything arranged just as Mr. Donovan instructed.” She picked up the phone and punched several buttons rapidly. “Doris, Miss Sloan is here. Would you come down right away?” She turned to Brenna and Walters, a bright smile on her face. “We've given you one of the guest cottages. I hope you'll be very comfortable there. If there's anything else you need, just call me.”

“Thank you. I'm sure everything will be fine,” Brenna said awkwardly, a little uneasy over the effusiveness of the receptionist.

“A guest cottage?” Monty asked thoughtfully, with a low whistle. “That's really royal treatment, Brenna. Cottages are reserved for stars and visiting VIPs.”

“Then there must be a mistake,” Brenna said firmly. “We both know that I'm neither.”

“There's no mistake, Miss Sloan,” Paula Drummond spoke up quickly. “Mr. Donovan's instructions were very explicit.” She looked beyond Brenna to smile at the young woman who had just gotten off the elevator and was crossing the lobby toward them. “This is Doris Charles, Miss Sloan.”

Doris Charles was a woman in her middle twenties with short curly red hair and rather plain features that were illuminated by a warm smile. She held out a strong square hand and shook Brenna's hand vigorously. “I'm very happy to meet you, Miss Sloan.” She turned immediately toward Walters, who was still holding Randy, and said briskly. “I'll take him.” She held out her arms, and Walters obediently put the child into them. Brenna stared in bewilderment as the red-haired woman cuddled the child expertly, her face softening as she looked down at him. “What a little darling he is,” she said softly. “His name's Randy, I believe?”

“That's right,” Brenna said, confused. “But who are you?”

Doris Charles looked up at her, a small frown creasing her forehead. “I'm your son's nurse. Mr. Donovan flew me up from Los Angeles to care for Randy.” she said calmly. “I believe you'll find I have the highest qualifications.”

“I'm sure you have,” Brenna said tiredly, her head whirling. “But I don't need a nurse, Miss Charles. I take care of Randy myself.”

Johnny Smith came into the lobby laden with suitcases that he put down in front of the desk.

“Don't be too hasty, Brenna,” Walters said easily. “You'll need someone to care for Randy while you're working. Miss Charles is well qualified to do just that.”

Brenna nodded slowly at the logic of Monty's reasoning. “You're right, Monty,” she admitted, and smiled at Doris Charles. The red-haired woman seemed to be loving as well as efficient. “I'll be glad to have your help with Randy, Miss Charles,” she said warmly.

“Doris,” the nurse said briefly, grinning back at her. “I'll take the greatest care of your son, Miss Sloan,” she promised.

Paula Drummond cleared her throat gently, and said tentatively. “Now, if you'll tell me which of these bags are your personal possessions, Miss Sloan, I'll have Johnny take them to the cottage. He can come back and take the baby's things to Miss Charles' apartment later.”

“What are you talking about?” Brenna asked blankly. “Everything goes to the cottage. Randy is staying with me.”

Paula Drummond shook her head. “No, ma'm,” she said, “Mr. Donovan was quite definite on that point. Only you are to occupy the cottage. The baby is to remain at the residence hall with Miss Charles.”

“I don't care how definite Mr. Donovan was on the subject,” Brenna said between her teeth. “I am not being separated from my baby.” The nerve of the man, she fumed. Casually disposing of her child like an unwanted parcel. “I don't care where you put me,” she went on grimly. “I don't need any fancy cottage, anywhere will do. But wherever it is, I want my child with me.”

There was a shocked look on the receptionist's face. “But you don't understand, Miss Sloan,” she stammered. “I can't go against Mr. Donovan's orders.”

“I'm not going anywhere without Randy,” Brenna said flatly. “So you are going to have to, aren't you?”

“It's just not possible,” Paula Drummond said, almost in tears. “Please be reasonable, Miss Sloan. Mr. Donovan will be most displeased.”

Brenna had opened her mouth to tell the girl what Michael Donovan could do with his displeasure, when Walters interjected
smoothly. “You can't do anything about it tonight, Brenna. Paula is only obeying orders, and you'll only get her in trouble. Why don't you go along with the arrangements right now. When you see Mr. Donovan, you can speak to him about making any necessary changes.”

The voice of reason again, Brenna thought impatiently, wishing she could fault the argument. She was beginning to understand why Monty had risen so quickly at Donovan Enterprises Ltd. He was a very persuasive gentleman.

“Okay. I'll do as you suggest for the present,” Brenna said reluctantly. “But I want to speak to Mr. Donovan right away, Monty.”

Monty Walters nodded, ignoring Paula Drummond's outraged gasp. He understood the receptionist's incredulity. One didn't demand an audience with Michael Donovan in his own kingdom of Twin Pines. Such an act was unprecedented, but then so were all Donovan's actions in regard to Brenna Sloan. Perhaps Donovan's reception of her request would be in accordance with this exceptional behavior.

“Mr. Donovan asked me to call him when we arrived,” he said quietly. “I'll ask him to get in touch with you.” He touched Brenna's cheek lightly. “It's been a long day. Why don't you try to take a nap? You look exhausted.”

Brenna nodded ruefully. She probably looked a wreck. With only four hours' sleep last night and the long drive today, she felt achingly tired. “I will,” she promised, smiling. “Thank you for everything, Monty.”

“My pleasure, Brenna,” he said lightly. “I'll see you soon, no doubt.” With a casual wave, he turned and walked out the door.

“Well, now that we're all in agreement, we'll get you settled, Miss Sloan,” Paula Drummond said brightly. “Which are your bags?”

As she silently pointed out her personal luggage, Brenna was tempted to tell the girl that they were not all in agreement.
There was no way that Michael Donovan was going to get away with this high-handed interference in her personal life. As she gave Doris Charles a few quiet instructions as to Randy's likes and dislikes as to food and his general schedule, she already felt a sense of loss. She and Randy had never spent even one night apart, and she was feeling distinctly shaky at the idea of the parting. He had become the center of her life since Janine died.

“I'll take good care of him,” Doris Charles said kindly. “It's only a five-minute walk to the cottage. You can come and see him as often as you wish.”

Brenna felt an absurd desire to say thank you. Thank you for telling me I can come and see my own child. She already felt he had been taken away from her. “I know you will,” she said huskily, “and it's only for tonight.” She brushed the top of Randy's head with a light kiss, and turned away quickly before she changed her mind. She followed Johnny Smith out the far door and down the paved path toward the small, elegant redwood cottage.

four

JOHNNY SMITH UNLOCKED THE FRONT DOOR
and touched the wall switch, flooding the interior with light. He preceded her into the room, saying cheerfully, “I'll just carry these on through to the bedroom, Miss Sloan.” Taking her silence as assent, he crossed the deeply carpeted living room to a door on the left, leaving Brenna to gaze in amazed admiration at the interior of the cottage.

The living room area was carpeted in pearl gray with matching drapes at the casement windows. The modern furniture was in shades of violet and purple with cream pillows thrown in luxurious profusion on the lavender couch. Clear glass occasional tables gave a tranquil, pristine quality to the living room. In the dining area, a silver bowl with a multitude of floating violets was the colorful centerpiece on a magnificent glass dining table. There appeared to be a small kitchenette leading off the dining area, but she decided not to explore further, and followed Johnny into the bedroom.

Brenna found that the boy had pulled open the drapes and was coming out of the adjoining bathroom. “Plenty of towels,” he said briskly. “Sometimes the maids forget.”

The bedroom, too, was carpeted in pearl gray with the same violet accents, she noticed. The queen-sized bed was covered
with a royal purple taffeta spread, coordinating with the matching drapes at the long French windows.

Johnny pointed to the cream princess phone on the side table. “You dial nine to get an outside line, dial six to get the main hall switchboard.” His bright, brown eyes were eager. “Would you like for me to bring you something from the cafeteria, Miss Sloan? It wouldn't be any trouble.”

Brenna shook her head, smiling. “No, thank you, Johnny,” she said. “Mr. Walters and I stopped for dinner earlier.” She realized with a little shock of surprise that this teenager was only a little younger than herself, yet she felt a million years removed from his youthful enthusiasm.

Johnny nodded, and walked briskly to the front door. “The kitchen is well stocked if you feel like a bite later,” he said, and then grinned engagingly. “I'm a great one for midnight snacks, myself.”

“Me, too,” Brenna confided solemnly, from where she stood in the bedroom doorway.

“Be sure and tell the desk if you need me,” he said, and with a final grin he quietly closed the door.

Brenna stood there for a moment, feeling a great sense of aloneness sweep over her as the door shut on that cheerful presence. Looking around the exquisite apartment, she wondered dazedly what she was doing in all this luxury. She didn't belong here. She belonged in that small apartment in Los Angeles with Randy. Then she squared her shoulders determinedly. She was just tired and dispirited over the separation from Randy. This was a great opportunity. She would be an idiot to let herself become intimidated by these rich surroundings. She was the same Brenna Sloan here as in her own apartment in Los Angeles. All she had to do was to hold to that truth with both hands, and she'd be all right.