Temporary Bride (4 page)

The pungent odor of kelp and sea life assailed Karen's
nostrils as they strolled past the open-air fish markets and poked
around the jumble of tiny shops that offered gaudy souvenirs,
postcards, and imported gifts to gullible tourists.

They finished the day at historic Cannery Row, where the
large warehouses had been converted into museums, art galleries, and
antique and specialty shops. Dinner in the nautical atmosphere of the
Lobster Grotto was a gourmet delight enhanced by a window in the floor
and the view of the splashing waves below.

It was after midnight when they entered the driveway of
the McKittrick estate. The grounds were well lighted and, while Mark
put the Corvette in the garage, Karen started across the thick carpet
of grass toward the kitchen.

"Hey, where are you going?" Mark caught up with her and
took her arm, swinging her around. "You have to go up the steps through
the gardens to get to the main door."

"But I'm supposed to use the kitchen door," Karen
explained.

"The kitchen door!" Mark exclaimed. "Why?"

She shrugged. "I'm an employee, Mark, not a guest, and
employees are expected to use the kitchen door."

He stared at her. "What's this nonsense you're spouting?"
His mouth opened, then closed, and his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized
her face. "Karen, where is your bedroom?"

"It's down here in the servants' quarters." She saw the
rage kindling in his eyes and said, "It's really very comfortable. I
share a bathroom with Taffy."

He was angry. "And I suppose you're taking your meals in
the kitchen, too. Is that why you haven't been eating with Shane and
me?"

Karen nodded as Mark's hand dug into her arm.

"Well, I'll be damned!" He spat the words. "I understood
you were in the room across from Shane's suite on the second floor. I
wondered why I never saw or heard you in the halls up there." He shook
his head in disbelief. "I thought he'd escaped the 'big boss' complex."

He took Karen's hand and started walking up the terrace
steps. When she protested, he spoke grimly. "Look, honey, when you're
out with me I'll bring you home through the front door. If Mr. "Big
Man" McKittrick doesn't like it he can complain to me!"

Karen knew it was useless to argue and hoped everyone was
in bed.

The entryway was in semidarkness, the only illumination
coming from a low-wattage electric sconce on the wall. Mark closed the
door and started to lead her toward the living room but she hung back.

"No, Mark, it's late and I'd better go to my room. I
shudder to think what Mrs. Whitney would say if she caught me wandering
around up here in the middle of the night. Thank you for a wonderful
time."

Mark bent his head and his lips on hers were gentle and
undemanding. She was enjoying the pleasing sensation when suddenly the
room was bright with a blinding light and a voice filled with scorn
rasped behind them.

"So you're finally back! I'd about decided you were
spending the night in a motel somewhere!"

Karen and Mark sprang apart, shocked by the unexpected
intrusion and the unjust accusation. Karen's voice squeaked as she
gasped. "Mr. McKittrick!"

Shane glared at her. "Oh, so you do remember me! I'm the
one who hired you to catalogue my library, not seduce a member of my
legal staff!"

He moved toward her menacingly, and for the first time she
noticed the open door and the lighted room behind it. She noticed a
large desk, covered with papers, and realized that he must have been
working in there when she and Mark came in. She moved back, frightened
by the look of disgust on his face, but he stopped and snapped, "I'd
advise you to go to your room before I say something we both may regret
later! I'll deal with you tomorrow!"

She turned and ran from the room, but not before she heard
his words to Mark. "As for you, I can say what I have to say to you
right now!"

Karen tossed and turned in her bed as she alternately
seethed with rage and burned with shame. What difference did it make to
Shane if she and Mark stayed out late? He hadn't even been there when
they left. Had he been waiting up for them? It seemed that he had. He
was probably upset because she had come in the front door. She should
have insisted Mark let her go in by the kitchen entrance, but even that
didn't give Shane the right to make such insulting accusations. Her
face burned at the remembered words.
I'd about decided you
were spending the night in a motel
! How dare he! How could
she ever face Mark again?

At dawn she got up, dressed in a pair of tan jeans and a
brown pullover, and made herself some coffee in the empty kitchen. She
dreaded the confrontation Shane had promised. She hadn't done anything
wrong, so why did she feel guilty? Was it because she'd shared a kiss
with Mark? But that didn't mean anything—it was just a way of
saying thanks for a wonderful time. She bet Shane expected a good-night
kiss when he took a girl out. She shivered as she thought of Shane
holding a woman's body against his, his lips seeking and receiving. Oh,
for heaven's sake, what was the matter with her? The man was obviously
experienced and she was pretty sure he didn't stand around kissing
pretty girls in hallways. He probably took them to bed!

Karen ate her breakfast and crept silently up the stairs,
hoping she could spend a few hours working in the library before Shane
wakened and sent for her. If he was going to fire her, she wanted to
get some of the books sorted and in proper order first. It was an
extensive library and would have been a delight to work with.

She sighed and had started down the hall when the front
door opened and Shane came in, wearing a windbreaker over his denim
slacks and shirt. He looked different somehow—
younger—in such casual clothes and he started visibly when he
saw her there. His drawl was without menace as he said, "Well, if it
isn't our petite femme fatale. If you've gotten up so early to see Mark
I'm afraid it was wasted effort; I just put him on a plane for San
Francisco."

She gasped. "You didn't—you didn't fire him."

Shane removed his jacket and hung it in the closet. "Fire
him? Because of you?" He laughed. "You have an inflated opinion of your
value, little one. Mark is a brilliant young lawyer and I need his
services. I'm afraid if one of you has to go it will be you."

She bit her lip and nodded. It was what she had expected,
so why did it hurt so to know she would soon be leaving?

Shane slipped his hand under her elbow and turned her
toward the dining room. "Come and have breakfast. We'll talk later."

She hung back. "I—I've had breakfast already."

He frowned. "Are you being truthful with me? You're not
skipping meals, are you?"

"Oh, no!" Her voice conveyed her surprise. "I never miss a
meal—just ask Henri."

"Henri!" he shouted. "My God, have you been charming Henri
too?" Karen stood there dumbfounded by his outburst, but before she
could say anything he pushed her away. "Run along. I'll track you down
later."

Karen was sitting crosslegged on the library floor making
notations of book titles when Shane found her an hour later. He sighed
with exasperation and spoke as though to a wayward child. "Karen, I'm
not a slavemaster and you are not expected to work on Sundays. I've
been looking all over the house for you. What are you doing down there?"

She looked up, instantly contrite. "I'm sorry; I thought
you knew I'd be here. I just wanted to finish my inventory before I
leave."

"Leave?" He shoved his hands in his pockets, drawing the
denim of his light blue trousers taut across his muscular thighs. "Just
where are you going? I thought you might like to take a walk around the
grounds."

Karen's eyes lighted. "Oh, I'd love that!" Then she
remembered and slumped once more over her notebook. "But I'd better
stay here and pack. Is there a bus that will take me home?"

"Home!" Shane's voice was rising. "What do you want to go
home for? I thought you brought everything you'd need for a month or
so!"

She looked up, startled, into his scowling face. "But you
said—I thought you told me I had to leave."

With an oath, he sank down on the couch and ran his hand
through his raven hair. "I swear, you not only look like a child, you
act like one!" He straightened and looked at her. "Karen, come up here."

He patted the cushion next to him and she got up off the
floor and sat down, not sure what to expect. He turned toward her and
took both her hands in his as he said, "Now listen carefully and try to
understand. I was upset last night when Mark left with you and kept you
out so late. I like Mark and he's an excellent lawyer, but he's also
one of the most sought-after young studs in San Francisco and he's a
fool if he thinks I'm going to let him use his seductive charms on a
youngster like you."

"I'm not!—He didn't!" She stammered with
indignation but he put his finger to her lips, signaling silence, as he
continued.

"Be quiet and let me talk. I saw Mark kissing you and I
know what he was leading up to."

"No! Please, it wasn't like that—" She tried to
pull her hands away but he wouldn't let her go.

"Sit still and listen to me!" He was getting angrier by
the minute. "I'm thirty-two years old and I've been around. I know what
a beautiful girl can do to a man when she's in his arms and I want you
to leave Mark alone. I can't afford to lose him to any
woman—but especially to you!"

"I understand." Her tone was as stiff and unyielding as
his had been. "You needn't worry; I won't bother you or your guests
again. Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do."

He swore as he slammed out of the room.

Karen worked until her empty stomach protested that it was
lunch time. She'd breakfasted early and in spite of her churning
emotions she was hungry. It took a lot, she acknowledged ruefully, to
ruin her appetite. She began gathering up her things when the door
opened and Shane entered, carrying a picnic hamper. He greeted her with
a smile, as if the angry words between them had never been spoken, and
said, "It's such a beautiful day I asked Henri to pack us a picnic
lunch. There's a spot down the cliff overlooking the ocean that's
private and very pretty. We'll eat there. After all, I did promise you
a walk. Now run along and freshen up; I'll give you five minutes."

She did as she was told, relieved that the tension between
them was gone.

Shane was right—the grassy ledge a few feet
above the waves lapping on the rocks below was a natural haven,
beautiful and peaceful. It was protected from the cool ocean breeze by
rocks and from the sun by a twisted cypress and several large flowering
bushes. It wasn't far from the house, but the descent was steep, along
steps that had been hewn into the cliff. Shane kept her hand in his as
he led her down the steep path and caught her around the waist when she
stumbled on the slippery steps. The small arbor was only large enough
for two and they sat on the ground as they ate the cold chicken, potato
salad, rolls, and red juicy tomatoes that Henri had packed for them. It
was a happy lunch. They laughed and teased and talked of things that
mattered not at all. It was as though they had just met and were
getting acquainted, and Karen dared to hope that they would be friends
after all.

By the time they had packed away the remainder of their
lunch, Karen was aware of the ache in her shoulder muscles from sitting
slumped over the desk and bookcases all morning. She stretched lazily
and lay back on the soft blanket of grass. Shane smiled and stretched
out beside her as she yawned and said, "Mmmm, I'm tired. I didn't sleep
much last night."

He rolled toward her and propped his head up with his arm.
The laughter was gone from his deep brown eyes. "Didn't you? Neither
did I."

Her green eyes widened. "Really?" It had never occurred to
her that he would lose sleep over a little thing like an argument with
her.

He ran a finger down her cheek. "Really."

She liked the feathery caress and lay quietly as she said,
"I'm sorry I upset you. Mark and I really didn't do anything wrong;
we—"

His finger touched her lips. "We aren't going to talk
about that anymore. Why don't you sleep for a while?"

She nodded and her weighted eyelids closed.

When she woke it was to feel his strong masculine arms
holding her against his broad chest. She opened her eyes and saw that
her head was snuggled into the hollow of Shane's shoulder and that her
cheek rested against the soft blue denim of his shirt, which was
unbuttoned to the waist, exposing a mat of tangled dark hair. She felt
a surge of embarrassment. How on earth had she wound up cuddled in his
arms like a baby—or a wife? He seemed to be asleep and she
knew she should roll away from him, but it was so comfortable cradled
against his length. Maybe she could lie there awhile and still get up
before he woke.

She'd never been this close to a man before. Oh, she'd had
her share of hand-holding and good-night kisses, but by the time she
got to the age where other girls were getting serious about their
boyfriends her mother was sick and she had little time for dates.

She hadn't realized how hard and angular a man's body was.
Not at all soft like her own. She moved her hand and ran her fingers
through the short soft hair on Shane's chest. He stirred and her
fingers stilled but lay quietly against his flat muscular stomach. She
felt the muscles under her hand twitch and glanced up to see his dark
eyes looking at her. There was a teasing twist to his mouth as he
murmured gently, "You'd better be careful, little one. I may seem old
to you but I assure you I have all the normal male urges."

She jerked to a sitting position, her whole body ablaze
with humiliation as she stammered, "Oh, I-I'm sorry! I—"