Temporary Fiancée (9 page)

Haley wrapped a large apron around her nightclothes and poured milk into a large bowl. She opened the refrigerator to get the eggs.

“How old are you?” Carrie asked.

“I’m twenty-five. How old are you?”

“I’m five. Did you know I broke Uncle Rand’s leg?”

Haley glanced at her in surprise. “Really? How did you do that?”

“We were swinging on my swing.”

She had wondered how Rand had broken his leg, but the subject seemed to be taboo. Feeling no guilt whatsoever for prying, she urged the child to continue. “So what happened on the swing?”

“I was sitting in Uncle Rand’s lap. We were swinging double, and I wanted to go high. We were almost in the trees. Then the rope broke, and we fell off. It was scary. Uncle Rand threw hisself under me so I wouldn’t get hurt, but I landed on his leg and broke it in two places.”

“Well, I’m sure your uncle doesn’t blame you for his leg. It was an accident.” Haley tried to picture the reserved Andrew McNeil swinging double on a swing.

The casual intimacy of the kitchen was broken when the back door opened and a slim blonde woman in a lime green sundress came in and placed her hands on the child’s shoulders.

“Carrie, you’re not to bother Uncle Rand when he has company,” she chided.

This had to be Rand’s sister. The family resemblance was unmistakable. Although she was pretty in a muted way, her face showed signs of strain and her eyes were sad.

Carrie smiled up at her mother, not at all upset by the reprimand. “Mommy, Haley has a dog named Delphine, and me and Delphine are friends now.” She pointed to the dog under the table, and her mother’s mouth fell open in surprise before she turned toward Haley.

“Does Rand know your dog is in the house?”

“Yes, he does.” What the heck was wrong with this family? They acted like bringing a dog in the house was an act of vandalism.

The woman flushed. “I’m sorry. I don’t object to animals in the house. It’s just that my mother never allowed any pets, and Rand has always been pretty emphatic about the no animal rule, so I was just surprised. She looks like a nice dog.”

“She is a nice doggie, Mommy,” Carrie chimed in. “When I went into the bedroom this morning and Haley was still sleeping, Delphine didn’t even bark.”

“I’m sorry if she woke you,” the woman apologized again. “Rand allows her free run of the house, and I know it’s awkward to have a five-year-old running around. I’m Rand’s sister, Elizabeth.” She extended her hand.

Haley shook it, not feeling the least bit awkward. After all, she was just the temporary help. It wasn’t as if she’d been intimate with Elizabeth’s brother. “I’m Haley, the temp.”

As Elizabeth’s eyebrows raised, Haley explained about the secretarial position until Carrie interrupted.

“Haley was sleeping in the bed with Uncle Rand, but he didn’t wake up, so we came downstairs to fix breakfast.”

Haley could feel her face turning red. “Well, ah, it was...sort of...”

Elizabeth held up her hand, a slight flush also on her face. “You don’t have to explain. I’m glad Rand is seeing someone. He got burned in a bad relationship.”

“Angela Blakely. I know.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “He told you about Angela?”

Haley shook her head. “I know they used to be engaged, but he didn’t tell me why they broke up.”

Elizabeth snorted. “She had the nerve to sleep with…” She stopped after a quick glance at Carrie.

Haley held up her hand. “I can fill in the blanks.” So Angela had been unfaithful to Rand. No wonder he was gun shy.

“Well, Angela also spent the night, and she’s still here,” Haley said, trying to head off any more conversation in front of Carrie.

“You’re kidding! What’s she doing here?”

“It’s a long story. Angela and her father are both here. They’re still sleeping.”

Rand’s sister chuckled. “The witch is here, but you were sleeping with Rand. I bet she’s fit to be tied.”

Haley blushed. “I wasn’t exactly sleeping with him. We just happened to be in the same bed.” Haley started to explain, then realized it wasn’t up to her to set Elizabeth straight. If Rand wanted his sister to know about their arrangement, he’d tell her.

Delphine whined at the back door. “Carrie,” Haley addressed the little girl, “could you take Delphine out? I think she has to go to the bathroom.”

“Sure.” Carrie opened the door and dashed into the backyard after the dog.

Over French toast, Elizabeth and Haley developed one of those instant friendships common to woman. After some inconsequential chitchat, Elizabeth mentioned her pending divorce.

“Craig is tired of being married to me,” she blinked back tears. “He says I’m too structured, and no fun anymore. He said our sex life was boring.”

“Was it?” Haley asked.

Elizabeth’s cheeks reddened. “Probably. It’s difficult for me to be spontaneous or lose control.”

“Were you raised that way? Rand also seems to have control issues .”

“I don’t really think it’s a problem. People can’t just do what they want on the spur of the moment. Our parents taught us the benefits of living an orderly lifestyle.”

Haley grinned widely. “I’m not knocking structure, but I’m also in favor of going with the flow. Seems like impulsiveness is an alien concept in your family.” She remembered the spontaneous way she and Rand had come together the previous evening and amended her statement. “Well, perhaps some is left. It just needs to be nurtured.”

Elizabeth sighed. “I’d like to let my hair down once in a while, but I’m a mother. I can’t set that kind of example for Carrie.”

“Elizabeth—,” Haley paused, then said, “does anyone ever call you Liz?” When she shook her head, Haley continued, “I think some craziness might be good for Carrie. She’s only five, but she reminds me of someone’s grandmother. She has all the rules down pat.”

Elizabeth’s face crumbled as she squeezed her eyelids shut. “I’m messing up her life. I’m messing up my own life.” She began crying in loud gulping noises. “I don’t want a divorce, but when I refused to go to counseling, Craig walked out. And now I’m miserable.” She raised her tear-stained face to Haley and tried to smile. “I’m sorry. I never cry. And here I am, dumping all over you.”

Haley hugged her. “Shush. Crying is therapeutic. Just let go. It’s good for you.”

She bet neither Rand nor Elizabeth were allowed to cry much when they were children. So here they were, both suffering with no emotional outlets. This kind of repression wasn’t healthy.

****

Rand woke with a smile on his face. He’d been having a semi-erotic dream, and he was pleasurably aroused. The woman in his dream was a sex kitten, beautifully naked, her wild black curls curved around her face as her eyes observed him with sleepy-eyed wonder. Haley. It was Haley, and she happened to be in the very place he wanted her to be. He turned, reaching for her, and swore when he discovered she’d left his bed.

In an instant, he was fully awake as images of Haley filled his mind. He recalled his first impression of her as she tumbled from the cab and began frantically scooping the spilled items back in her purse. He thought then that she looked like a clumsy twelve-year-old. But he’d been wrong. Although she wasn’t generally his type, she was sweet and funny and had been a damn good sport about the pretend engagement.

A shock of desire slammed through him as he remembered her passionate responses to his kisses. He couldn’t believe he had first thought her unappealing. Obviously his libido didn’t agree. He grinned again, remembering how her black curls quivered like bed springs whenever she became agitated. Suddenly he had an urgent desire to see her again. To kiss her and to take up where they’d left off the night before when Angela had come pounding on their door.

He hurried into the shower and dressed quickly, protecting his cast. He hoped to beat the Blakely’s downstairs. He wanted them on their way as soon as possible, and he wanted to assure Haley that he still needed her for secretarial work. His conscience prodded him.
Who
’
re you kidding? Secretarial work? Just admit you
’
ve got the hots for her.

Resolutely he forced those thoughts out of his head. Now that he was out of bed, he had control of his raging libido, and it was easier to remember he had no time to get involved with Haley Marchand. As soon as the Blakelys were out of his hair, she’d revert to being his temporary secretary. Nothing more.

Leaning on the cane, he limped down the stairs toward the kitchen. The murmur of voices wafted out. It sounded like Haley and his sister were hitting it off. Suddenly Elizabeth burst into tears. All positive thoughts of Haley disappeared as anger swept through him. He couldn’t turn his back on his pretend fiancée without her causing some kind of trouble. The woman was a menace. He wheeled into the room, astonished to see Elizabeth sobbing against Haley’s shoulder.

“Why is she crying?”

Haley sighed recognizing the terse, demanding voice behind her. She wondered if she had imagined his passionate kisses from the night before, because the grouch was definitely back. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed he’d dressed in cut off-jeans and a navy polo shirt. He carried the cane in his left hand; the look on his unshaven face was fierce.

“Well, what did you say to her?”

Haley returned her attention to Elizabeth whose sobs had quieted to an occasional hiccough.

Rand tugged Elizabeth away from Haley and wrapped his arms around her. “Honey, what’s wrong? Did she say something that upset you?”

Haley had to force her back teeth apart. “For your information, I didn’t make her cry. She’s upset because she doesn’t want a divorce.”

He scowled at her. “Of course she wants a divorce. Her husband’s a jerk. A sex maniac. He wants her to go to one of those kinky sex therapists. She has more self-respect than that.”

Haley glared at him then touched Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Don’t let your brother’s hang-ups intimidate you, Liz. Tell him what you want.”

Without a word, Elizabeth pulled away from both of them and ran out the back door. Haley started after her, but Rand grabbed her arm. “Stay away from her. I don’t want her infected with your attitude. And her name is Elizabeth, not Liz.”

“My attitude?” she said furiously. “It’s
your
attitude that causes problems around here, not mine.” She yanked off the apron and headed up the stairs. “I quit, McNeil. Terry will send you a bill.”

“Wait a minute. What about Angela and her father?”

She turned around on the second stair. “You deal with them. Then you won’t have to worry about my bad attitude infecting anyone.”

She hurtled up the stairs and into the bedroom, stripping off the robe and muttering to herself as she went. She grabbed a pair of jeans and shirt and ran into the bathroom, locking the door. She stared at her face in the mirror, anger and disappointment lacing through her. He thought she was a bad influence on his sister. Where was the romantic lover of the previous evening? The man who had kissed her until she nearly went crazy? Last night he had certainly liked her enough to be all over her in his bed. He hadn’t faked that! Maybe he had a Dracula complex and could only be pleasant after the sun went down. Whatever his personality problems were, she certainly didn’t have to put up with them.

When Rand pounded on the locked door a few minutes later, she turned on the shower to drown out the sound. During the twenty minutes she spent in the shower, she ran adjectives through her brain: Insufferable, boorish, ill-mannered, rude.

Stepping out of the shower, she stared into the mirror again. She didn’t look any better. Her hair sprang wildly around her head in a frizzy mop, her eyes looked bruised. She needed to leave Rand McNeil’s house and get some sleep. As she reached for her clothes, she swore. Her clean panties and bra were still in her overnight bag. Making sure the large towel was wrapped securely around her, she opened the bathroom door and peeked out. Rand lay on the bed, scowling at her.

“I forgot to get underwear,” she said, daring him to say one more derogatory word. Turning her back on him, she fished around in the overnight bag, grabbed her underwear and headed back toward the bathroom.

She halted, surprised to find him stationed in the doorway. He moved quickly for a man with a broken leg. His scowling look had changed to one of calculated interest.

As she attempted to push past him, a hand came out to block her path. “Wait a minute. We need to talk.” His tone was softer, sexier.

Haley slapped his hand down. “Forget it! I’ve taken all the insults I’m going to take from you. Get someone else to be the fake fiancée. Someone who doesn’t mind taking your abuse.”

Both hands came down on her shoulders. He looked dumfounded. “Abuse! What the hell are you talking about? I never abuse women.”

She glanced pointedly at his hands, and he immediately dropped them to his sides. “Verbal abuse can be more devastating than physical abuse. And you are the king of verbal abuse.”

Suddenly he grinned sheepishly and held up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. I’m barely civil in the morning until I’ve had several cups of coffee.” She snorted in derision, so he added, “and I can’t stand to see my sister cry. It makes me feel guilty, like I should take better care of her. I shouldn’t have blamed you. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

Haley tucked the end of the towel more firmly in place, trying to keep her anger front and center. His eyes deepened to nearly blue-black as he eyed her struggle with the towel. “Here, let me help,” he said seductively, reaching for the towel.

Haley jerked away. “I don’t need help, thank you,” she said, but her movement caused the towel to slip, baring her to the waist.

Rand’s heated interest in her breasts caused her legs to wobble. Haley turned her back on him, but she was now facing the large dresser mirror. Horrified at the wanton image, she grabbed for the corner of the towel.

“Don’t,” he ordered, making eye contact with her in the mirror. He grasped the edge of the towel and tugged it away. “God, you’re perfect.”