The Scandal (Billionaire's Beach Book 4) (10 page)

He rose from the lounger and paced to one edge of the deck and then the other. At Sara’s side he halted, gazing into her blue eyes. Then he found himself murmuring a truth he’d never admitted, even to himself. “But like you,” he said, “looking back, what I mostly remember is loneliness.” Especially after his brother had found new friends with new drugs.

She blinked. “I… I’m sorry to hear that. And surprised.”

“Yeah, me, too.” He gave her a wry smile. “Who would have thought that the workaholic businessman and the beautiful half-Brit butler would have so much in common?”

Then Sara’s pensive expression pricked him with guilt. And who would have thought he could so easily cast a pall on such a sunny day? Christ, he
was
a dull dog.

“Hey,” he said, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes widened as he stroked a finger along the warm lobe. “Let’s think happier thoughts.”

Her gaze drifted to his mouth.

His own mood began to lift. “Sara,” he whispered, libido stirring as it did whenever she was close.

“Hmm?” She sounded distracted.

“Say it again. In just that same accent.”

“What?” her eyes lifted to his, amusement beginning to glitter in the blue depths. “Say what?”

He tried to mimic her clipped tone. “I don’t believe I was ever as high-spirited.”

Her rosebud mouth pursed as if she was trying to contain a smile or a laugh. Then her eyes narrowed, and she took on that faint and fascinating air of disapproval that they must drill into the students at the Continental Butler Academy.

“Sir,” she said, in a manner both reproving and pert that made him want to spank her saucy bottom. “Won’t that cause you to do something we’ll both regret?”

Oh yeah. Mmm-hmm.

He leaned toward her, thinking his kiss would be the answer.

Then his shouted name had him jerking back.
Essie.
Christ, he’d forgotten all about the kids, he realized, glancing toward the beach.

His sister and RJ floated in one of the pedal boats, just offshore. Lulu, he could see, was fifty yards down the sand, chasing birds.

“Get in the other boat!” his little sister called. “Let’s race!”

Refusal was on his tongue, a reflex action of the dull dog that he’d become. But then he thought,
What the hell
.

“Coming,” he yelled, already toeing off his shoes.

Then he looked at the butler. He’d lost the opportunity to kiss her, but not the chance to rock her
I’m cautious
-world.

“You, too,” he said.

“Oh, no,” she stepped back, blue eyes saucers.

He snagged her hand, the spark when flesh met flesh more familiar now. “Without a partner, I’ll only go in circles.”

“But—”

Tugging her down the steps to the beach, he cast another look at her over his shoulder. “Remember, you’re at my service.”

Sara didn’t know how Joaquin did it. When she figured it out, however, she was going to put a stop to the undue influence he had over her. In the meantime, she was in a fix.

One moment she’d been attending to her daily duties—dusting, sweeping, making beds, with plans to do some weeding later—and the next she’d found herself hustled inside a plastic vehicle floating on the ocean, pedaling for her life. It was shaped like a slice of bread and kept one’s feet out of the water, but she wasn’t convinced of its stability.

Wary, she peered overboard at the greenish blue water they were moving through on their test run, just beyond the surf line.

“Did you think to make certain I can swim?”

Joaquin looked over at her, his expression inscrutable behind his sunglasses. “You can’t?”

“I manage to stay afloat and travel short distances, but I’m not tackling the English Channel any time soon.”

A grin broke over his face. “I’ll keep you safe.”

As if! Nothing was safe when she was with him. Somehow he pried out her secrets. Somehow he incited her passion.

Straightening her shoulders, she sniffed. “Thank you,” she said, trying for dignified. “But I’m sure I’ll do just fine on my own.”

“I’m sure you will,” he murmured, throwing her another grin. “If we capsize you’ll float just fine on that stiff spine of yours.”

She sniffed again and refused to dignify the remark with any reply. The Continental Butler Academy had instilled in its pupils the idea that a sober reserve could smooth over the most strained of circumstances. And she was feeling quite strained right now, shoulder-to-shoulder with Joaquin Weatherford, the man who became less superficial to her with every conversation.

“Just relax, Sara,” Joaquin said.

But how could she, when not only was she too close to her employer, but she’d left the Nueva Vida unlocked and unattended, unless the nearby presence of little Lulu counted? Glancing in its direction over her shoulder, her breath caught.

“Oh,” she said.

Seeing the place from this new angle caught her off guard. How lovely it looked, with all the flowering bushes and the healthy green of the close-cropped lawn. She’d selected the umber-and-white striped material for the outdoor cushions and umbrellas herself, and they looked especially fresh and appealing from this distance. A matching sunshade shielded the master bedroom balcony, and she approved of the angle it created.

“It’s very nice, Sara,” Joaquin said, proving how good he was at reading minds. “What you’ve done with the house and the grounds.

“Thank you.” She returned her attention forward again. “I…I’ve been gratified by my work getting it into tip-top shape.”

He continued to study her face. She felt his gaze, but drew her butler reserve around her as protection.

“Is it that buoy?” she asked, pointing ahead.

The agreed-upon route was to circle the floating marker and then race back to the beach. Essie and RJ were idling in the water just ahead, waiting for Sara and Joaquin to get into the start position.

“Yeah. Ready to go?”

Biting her lip, she wiggled on the hard seat and hoped her legs didn’t give out too soon. “Okay,” she said, mostly to herself. “Ready.”

Joaquin bumped his shoulder to hers. “You don’t have to take the race so seriously, you know.”

She glanced at him, his handsomeness making her stomach hurt. “You don’t want to win?”

His grin spread wide and white. “I want to kick teenage butt.”

“Since I’m at your service,” Sara said, “then that’s what we’ll do.”

He laughed and she allowed herself a smile and then they caught up to the kids’ boat and the competition was on. Sara’s muscles screamed at her as she frantically tried to do her part in the pedaling. Essie and RJ took an early lead, but Sara kept her eyes on the prize. They were nearly neck-and-neck as they rounded the buoy, but as the kids had the inside track they once again were ahead as they aimed the boats toward the beach.

Just as she and Joaquin were gaining on them, the teens’ boat went strangely still. She glanced at Joaquin, saw him frown.

“Hey, is everything okay?” he asked as they came alongside the other vessel.

Without answering, the teens rose from their seats. At the same instant Sara registered they each held pails brimming with sea water, the contents were flung in their direction.

Sara sputtered, breathless from the sudden wet and cold.

Equally drenched, Joaquin called out a pleasant, “Brat!” but then made an abrupt lunge for his sister as if to drag her out of her boat. Essie laughed, struggling to keep away from her brother’s grasp, which only made him lean farther toward her as he delivered dire threats about introducing her to Davy Jones’s locker.

But it was Sara who went over the side.

One second she was riding the rocking boat and the next it tipped the teens’ way again and then tipped back, sliding her, like an oyster out of the shell, into the freezing ocean. For a moment she sank, shocked by the sudden change in circumstances, then her feet kicked, shooting her upward. As her head breached the surface, Joaquin’s hands were under her arms, hauling her into the boat. She landed in a clumsy sprawl, gulping air like a landed fish.

He pushed the sodden hair off her face. “Are you all right?”

Sara stared up at the clear sky and the bright sun, puddled water gathering beneath her. She was chilled to the bone and her teeth were starting to chatter and she figured she’d—temporarily at least—lost all the dignity she’d been trying to muster.

“That better mean we won,” she grumbled.
How did he lead her into such disasters?

Thirty minutes later, Sara still didn’t know the answer. She sat beside Joaquin as he turned his car onto the highway. Though showered and in dry clothes, she still brooded over the indignity of her dunking—and what secret power he held that made her do things against her nature.

Her employer glanced over. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine.” She tugged her ball cap lower on her head. “And like I said, I really don’t need your help on a grocery run.”

“You’ve seen the way those kids eat,” he said. “We’ll probably need two baskets.”

They’d traveled only a quarter mile more before he abruptly pulled over to the side of the road. Cars whizzed past them.

“Trouble?” Sara asked.

“Yes.” He tapped the brim of her hat. “You’re still sulking over your soaking.”

The corners of her mouth twitched. She tried holding on to her frown, but it just wouldn’t happen. He was at it again. Dissolving her dignity, knocking down her guard, bringing out that impetuous side of her.

Making her smile.

She swallowed a sigh. And couldn’t he at least try to be less appealing?

“And I’m going to fix that,” he continued.

Then he did something at the dash, and suddenly the roof of the sedan started moving. Sunshine warmed the top of her head and shoulders as the car turned into a convertible in a few blinks of an eye.

He grinned over at her. “It’s time for fun,” he said, then pulled back onto the freeway, gunning the engine like that teenager he’d once been. “Nobody can be gloomy with the wind in their hair.”

Gloomy.

She tried to take offense at the description, but maybe he was right. It was true that for the last four months she’d felt as if a gray cloud hung over her head. And as they sped along the curving Southern California coastline, with the spectacular view of the ocean impossible to ignore and the fronds of the palm trees catching the sunlight as they shivered in the clean breeze, she felt as if she was leaving that dreary heaviness behind.

When a gust of wind caught her hat, yanking it from her head to sail to who-knew-where, she didn’t even blink. Instead, she lifted her face to the sky and reveled in the freeing feeling of the air riffling through her bangs. So much so that she almost protested when they turned into the parking lot that serviced the gourmet grocery store and some other high-end shops selling various items from clothing to art.

The already filled spaces forced them to take a slot far from their destination, but a stroll didn’t sound bad just then, either. Sara window-shopped as they made their way along the sidewalk. Upon reaching the bookstore, her feet stuttered. The window was dressed with an eye-catching display of mini succulents arranged to create a large bowl tipped toward the passersby. In its center sat an oversized coffee table-type book, the cover an exquisite photo of a shade garden and titled
Dreaming Outside: California Landscapes.

Joaquin noted her interest. “Do you want to go inside? See that book?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Some other time I might pop in and look at it.”

“But it’s an interest of yours—landscaping.”

“It is. I was lucky that Patrick gave me carte blanche to spruce things up at your estate, and I’m doing some work for Wells’ dad, too.” She threw Joaquin a quick glance. “On my own time, of course.”

“I don’t doubt your integrity, Sara.”

The compliment made her flush. To cover her reaction, she pointed to another shop ahead. “Fancy men’s clothing,” she said. “I advise you to steer clear unless you’re dressed in a tuxedo.”

Which Joaquin definitely was not. His leather flip flops, battered jeans, and Hawaiian shirt—one that she recalled ironing but now looked as if he’d slept in it—was a common uniform of the wealthy Malibu man. Except, of course, his good looks only added decided heat to the cool, laidback style. Sara supposed she appeared quite starchy in comparison, buttoned up as she was in her sleeveless shirtwaist dress of a black-and-white checked cotton that matched her black ballet flats.

She glared in the direction of the offending store. “I don’t know how they make any sales with the way they hover like every customer is a breath away from slipping a shirt or tie into their pocket.”

Joaquin slanted her an amused look. “I can’t see anyone suspecting you of wrongdoing, Sara.”

She pushed the thought of the scandal away. “I had to really icepick my accent to make it out of there without a strip search.”

His brows rose. “Icepick your accent?”

“It’s how I out-snobbed the snob.” Her mouth primmed and she put on a haughty expression as she precisely clipped each word. “My good man, I’m not convinced your over-touted fabric is from the cocoons of mulberry silkworms at all, but perhaps an inferior product spun by the much more common, and much less expensive, raspy cricket.”

Halting, he stared down at her.

Looking up into his cool-hot eyes, her mouth dried. It was only then that she recalled his warning.
You say that kind of thing in that tone on purpose. You want me to do something we’ll both regret.

Or maybe she’d used the tone for just that very reason, she thought, heat rising under her stiff collar as she felt his gaze like a flame stroking her skin. Once again Joaquin doing that thing—bringing out the impetuous side of her.

After a charged moment, he shook his head.

“Bad Sara,” he murmured as he continued toward the grocery store. “Raspy cricket.”

Feeling reprieved, she lifted her nose in the air. “They’re real. Look it up.”

The feeling of relief lasted as they pushed a single cart through the aisles. The odd…strain between them lifted, and they quickly made selections, her healthy choices punctuated by his junk food additions.