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Sara had the distinct impression that they were discussing something quite different from cooking and cleaning. ‘Like I said, I would think there would be any number of people willing, to take the job.’

‘I’m willing to pay you six hundred dollars a month plus bed and board. You’ll have Thursday evenings and every other weekend off. There’s a room on the third floor with a skylight which you could use as a studio.’

Irritated by his confident manner, she became even more rigid. ‘No, thank you,’ she refused firmly, adding sarcastically, ‘Don’t you think offering a person like myself a position in your home is a pretty steep price to pay simply as an apology? What will your friends think?’

‘I rarely let what other people think influence me,’ he replied coolly, his eyes darkening to a curious jade green. ‘However, since you refuse to cook and clean for me, perhaps we can work out a different kind of arrangement.’ Erasing the distance between them with one long stride, his fingers closed like tempered steel around her wrists as her hands came up to ward off his advance. Retaining his hold, he forced her arms behind her, trapping her securely while moulding her to his long form.

As she started to protest, his mouth covered hers possessively, her parted lips giving the kiss an instant sensation of intimacy.

Panicked, she twisted against his taut frame. He held her easily, and as the muscular impression of his thighs burned into her, a sensual excitement so strong it caused her to shiver ignited a level of emotion she had never before experienced.

Involuntarily, as if her body had a will of its own, her struggle, which was supposed to be relaying a message of repulsion, seemed instead to be caressing him in the most intimate manner. Terrified by her reactions, she froze into immobility.

A low moan escaped his lips as he deserted her mouth to taste her neck. ‘I was enjoying your active resistance,’ he murmured, nipping her earlobe.

‘Let go of me!’ she hissed, fighting the awful weakening effect he was having on her.

Ignoring her demand, he kissed the pulse throbbing in her neck. ‘I don’t think that’s really what you want.’

‘Yes, it is,’ she choked out, feeling as if she was on the edge of an abyss and in grave peril of falling in. Desperate to regain her freedom, she kicked his shin as hard as she could with her bare foot. 'Ouch!’ she cried, having caused him very little pain while inflicting a great deal upon herself.

‘If you’re not careful, you’re going to hurt yourself,’ Brad Garwood frowned, releasing his hold and sitting her down in a chair so that he could examine the injured toe.

‘I’ll check my own injuries,’ she snarled, pulling away from his touch and massaging the painful digit.

The heavy silence between them was suddenly interrupted by a loud knocking on the door. Hobbling into the hall, Sara discovered Steve on her threshold.

‘Morning, Sis,' he greeted her with a quick peck on the cheek, then noticing her limp asked solicitously, 'Hurt your foot?’

‘Stubbed my toe,’ she replied shortly, retracing her steps to the living room with Steve close behind.

‘On a piece of furniture?’ he queried.

‘It felt more like a brick wall,’ she muttered.

Brad’s expression hardened perceptibly when he saw Steve. ‘I thought I made it clear that I didn’t want you having anyone following me.’

‘You did, and I’m not,’ Steve replied, his eyes travelling from Sara to Brad and back again, while a frown began to form at the corners of his mouth. ‘I came by to see my sister, and I have to admit I’m surprised to find you here.’ The flavour of brotherly protectiveness in his manner was strong, causing Sara to cringe.

‘I came by to apologise for the trouble I caused her last night and to offer her a job as my housekeeper,’ Brad said nonchalantly.

‘I was under the impression that that was a live-in position.’ Steve’s frown solidified.

‘It is. However, I don't believe you have to worry. Cooking and cleaning don’t seem to appeal to your sister.’ Although Brad’s tone was conversational for Steve’s benefit, the covert glance he threw towards Sara carried the implication that it was his belief that she preferred not to work for a living. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. If he had honestly been offering her a housekeeper’s job, she might have considered the position. His manner, however, had implied something quite different. Of course, he had never actually stipulated anything other than cooking and cleaning in his job description, she reminded herself. It would serve him right if she took him at his word and accepted the position under the verbally stated conditions. Vengefully she pictured his surprise when he discovered that a housekeeper was all he had acquired.

‘I should hope not!’ Steve was saying, then turning his full attention on Sara, he demanded, ‘I assume you’re going to turn down the offer.’

‘Actually, I haven’t made up my mind yet,’ she said, half out of rebellion towards Steve’s domineering manner and half because she was not yet willing to give up her little fantasy. She would certainly like to teach the arrogant green-eyed male a lesson!

Brad’s eyebrow raised slightly, but he said nothing.

‘I’ve already talked to Helen,’ Steve said sternly. ‘She insists you come stay in the guest room until you can find a decent place to live.’

‘That’s impossible,’ Sara firmly rejected this solution. ‘You know I live on an erratic schedule. Trying to fit me into her life along with you and the children would be too much even for your very understanding wife. I like Helen too much to risk our friendship on a prolonged stay.’

‘It isn’t proper for a young woman to be living alone with an unmarried man. I won’t allow it!’

‘You won’t allow it? I’m of age to make my own decisions,’ she reminded him hotly.

‘You may be over twenty-one, but I still feel responsible for you,’ Steve threw back.

‘I’m responsible for myself,’ she snapped, coming very close to the end of her patience where male despotism was concerned. Catching the glint of sarcastic amusement in Brad’s eye was the final straw. Rational thought gave way to revolt as she decided to teach both of them a lesson. ‘And I’ve decided to accept Mr Garwood’s offer of the housekeeping job.’

‘Sara ...’ Steve’s tone held a firm reprimand.

‘I feel certain you have a desk waiting for you somewhere.’ she interrupted, knowing that he was getting ready to launch a stout protest that might cost him his job. Taking him firmly by the arm, she led him to the door and unceremoniously shoved him out.

‘Well, I’m not going to be the one to tell Mom,’ he muttered as a parting shot. ‘In fact I think I’ll take Helen and the kids, and leave town for the week.’

‘Coward!’ she hissed back, closing the door after him, while internally quailing at the mere thought that Ida would ever get wind of this little charade.

Brad had followed her into the hall and was standing behind her. As soon as Steve was gone, he lifted her hair and kissed her neck. ‘When do you want to move in?’ he murmured against her skin.

Swinging out of his reach, she turned to face him, her expression filled with fire. ‘Tomorrow will be fine. But you’d better understand one thing—I’m to be your housekeeper and nothing more.’

His eyes narrowed dangerously as if he was preparing to challenge this stipulation.

‘Just so we understand each other completely,’ she continued acidly, ‘I’ve always supported myself in a respectable manner and I intend to continue doing so. Until recently I had a teaching job, but because of budget cutbacks at the school where I worked, I lost the job at the end of last term. Since then I’ve been supplementing the money I earn from my art with my savings.’

‘Why didn’t you mention this before?’ he growled. ‘I would have thought that your experience last night would have taught you how dangerous playing games can be— or is playing games a way of life with you?’

‘I didn’t want to destroy your fun. You seemed to be enjoying the idea that I was promiscuous so very much,’ she replied caustically, then with an acid smile added, ‘Does this mean you’re withdrawing your offer? Have you decided that you don’t need someone to cook and clean for you?’

For a long moment they stood, two combatants at war with one another. It was Brad who broke the terse stillness. ‘No,’ he said stiffly. ‘Unlike you, I don’t play games. I offered you the job and it’s yours. I’ll send some men and a truck over here tomorrow to move you. Since there’s no room in my home for this furniture, I’ll arrange to have it stored.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ she said tightly.

‘Backing out?’ he queried drily, a cynical smile curling one corner of his mouth.

That was exactly what she had planned to do, but the superior gleam in his eye clouded her reason. ‘No,’ she heard herself saying, ‘it just won’t be necessary to hire a truck. This place came fully furnished. I can move everything that’s mine in a couple of trips with my car.’

‘Fine!’ Brad threw over his shoulder as he turned and slammed out the door.

Sara stood immobile. She knew she should run after him and tell him that she hadn’t actually meant ever to move into his house, but her pride held her back. If she reneged now it would look as if she didn’t have a sincere bone in her body.

The rest of the day she spent packing and arguing with herself. Late in the afternoon she took
a
load of paintings and a few sculptures over to the Grimes Gallery. Margarete Grimes had agreed to store them to save Sara the trouble of moving them around with her.

Margarete was a pleasant, middle-aged woman with an excellent head for business. Her husband was the artist in the family and in an effort to combine his skill with a steady income, they had opened a gallery several years earlier. It was through Margarete’s skill as a saleswoman that they had met with great success. Having worked with the art community for so long, nothing shocked her, but she did raise an eyebrow when Sara gave her Brad’s name and address and explained about her new position.

‘It really is only a business relationship,’ Sara explained, feeling the need to make this point perfectly clear.

‘Of course, dear,’ Margarete smiled, and Sara left feeling completely compromised.

That night, as she lay in her bed, the arguments continued to run through her mind, preventing sleep. She had to leave her present residence, and this job with Brad Garwood provided her with a place to live. She just couldn’t move in with Steve and Helen. Besides, not only did the housekeeper’s job provide her with an abode, it also paid enough that she could replenish her savings.

If only Brad Garwood could have been an elderly woman instead of such a disturbingly virile male! Arrogant, and ill-tempered, too, she added with a hostile grimace.

And how was she ever going to explain this situation to her mother? ‘I’ll tell her it’s an honest living and that I’m getting paid for what women have done for free for years,’ she muttered, pounding her pillow into a more comfortable shape. ‘Well, I won’t put it exactly that way,’ she amended, closing her eyes and falling into a restless sleep.

Crawling
out of bed the next morning, Sara made herself a cup of coffee and reconsidered her position. Maybe it would work out all right if she moved in with Steve and Helen for a short time. She could help Helen with the housework and her brother and sister-in-law would have a live-in babysitter. Still, she hated to accept the solution. Steve was much too over-protective and her schedule simply did not coincide with that of Helen’s and the children.

A knock on the door interrupted this mental debate. Answering it, she was startled to find Brad Garwood on her doorstep dressed in jeans and a pullover.

‘I’ve come to help you move,’ he announced, inviting himself inside, his manner coolly indulgent as if this was a necessary nuisance to be got out of the way with despatch. ‘I couldn’t get any work done, worrying about you falling down that ridiculous excuse for a staircase on the outside of this building. The thing should be condemned!’

This was her final chance to tell him she had changed her mind and was going to stay with Helen and Steve, but the words would not come.

Noticing her hesitation, he added blandly, ‘The question is where do I move you to? Are you still planning to take me up on my offer, or have you changed your mind and decided to stay with your brother?’

‘I would hope she’s come to her senses and is coming to stay with Helen and me.’ Steve joined them, walking in through the still opened door.

The word ‘Yes’ formed in her brain, but the word, ‘No', came out. Shocked at her duplicity, she told herself it was a backlash reaction to Steve's domineering attitude. Noting that this was childish behaviour, she considered retracting her statement, then found herself arguing that she did need the money and couldn't possibly live under the same roof with her brother and still retain family harmony. Still, those reasons were not the final determining factor. The vague instinctive sensation that had kept her from backing out of her commitment to go to the ball now kept her from backing out of retaining the housekeeping job.

Brad's stoic acceptance of her decision did not surprise her. He was the kind of man who would honour his word, and he had offered her the job as accepted. What did surprise her was Steve’s reaction. ‘As long as I'm here, I might as well help with the move,' he frowned disapprovingly, but did not produce the heated argument she had expected.

‘Life,’ she muttered as she loaded several paintings into her car, ‘can be very confusing!’

This conjecture was further strengthened on her arrival at Brad’s home. It was a three-storey, red brick structure in the old section of Charleston, not much more than a mile from the Fallon residence. The buildings in this area had been renovated, retaining as much of their original outward appearance as was possible. They were mostly long, narrow structures which had originally been one room wide and three equally proportioned rooms in length. Today, of course, many of the interiors had been restyled to accommodate a more modern mode of living.

The narrow ends of these houses faced the street, giving them a sandwiched appearance. Having toured many of the older homes Sara knew that the reason they had been built in this sideways manner and in such tight proximity was that it had made it much easier for the early settlers to protect themselves against the frequent pirate attacks. The sturdy ends of the houses provided a man-made barricade, and the townspeople had only to block the narrow passages between their homes to complete their fortress.