The Seacroft: a love story (Paines Creek Beach Book 2) (2 page)

“Come. Sit.” She patted a spot beside her on the bed.

He hesitated, but walked into her frilly room, noting the lacy curtains, puffy comforter, crystal vases on the vanity, and a sweet, lemony fragrance.

“Keep me company while I finish up the shopping list. I need you to go to the store for me.”

Shopping list?
That was the housemaid’s job. He sat down, raising one eyebrow. “Deidre’s not shopping today?”

“No.” Uvi pursed her lips. “I had to let her go yesterday.”

So that’s why he hadn’t seen her car outside. “Really?”

“Yes. It was a private matter. But for now, you and Vivian will have to try to split the household jobs as best as you can. Can you help me out with that, until I find a new housemaid?”

“Sure thing.” But he wondered how they’d manage. Deidre had done all the cleaning, cooking, laundry, and shopping for Uvi. How would he keep up mowing that monster lawn while mopping floors or peeling carrots? It wouldn’t be easy.

While she tapped away on her iPad, apparently adding items to her list, he shot sideways glances at her, noting her high, Slavic cheekbones, her long-lashed almond-shaped eyes, and her lustrous black hair draping her shoulders. Normally, he saw her from afar, with her hair twisted into a loose chignon.

This sudden departure into a world where “come sit on my bed” happened, put him on full alert.

Her body—not so well hidden under the translucent nightgown—was curvy and rounded in all the right places. She wasn’t one of those skinny, ninety-pound models. No, she was more of a Rubenesque beauty. An alluring woman, to be sure. He felt drawn to her, as if she’d cast a spell on him.

He’d been with a few girls in high school, and most recently with Tammy, his senior high school girlfriend who’d dumped him in the spring for a guy she met at college. Since then, he’d been single and so busy with work he hadn’t thought about it much. Well, that wasn’t true. He might not have thought about getting into a new relationship very often, but he thought about sex all the time. In his imagination, alluring, longhaired women beckoned him to their bedside during the long hours when he worked on Uvi’s estate. But up to now, the whole thing came down to fantasies and nighttime dreams.

Before he’d landed this job, his Uncle Finn had made him work on the blueberry farm. He’d gotten sick of being bossed around by him, paid slave wages, and being bugged about going back to college, where he’d failed miserably the first time around. So, when this job came up, he’d grabbed it. The pay was good, complete with an apartment over the garage. And the grounds were demanding, but beautiful. He liked his newfound independence.

“Cody?” she raised her eyes and caught him staring.

“Yes?” A tremor of longing raced down his body. There was something about her voice, too, that mesmerized him. Throaty and silky all at once, it reached down into his heart and drew him closer. He felt himself begin to harden.

“How’s your little apartment?” Now, her perfect breasts pushed against sheer fabric, daring him to stroke them.

“Er. It’s great.” His rooms were tacked onto the back of the house over the garage, a whole studio apartment. He sneaked another glance, and then purposefully looked away, trying to calm himself. God. You’d think he was a horny teenager, the way he was reacting to her.

“I’m glad.” With a flourish, she swiped her screen. “There we go. All done.”

His phone beeped. He stood, slid it out of his pocket, and hoped she didn’t notice the growing bulge in his pants. “Got it. Charge it to your account at the grocery store?”

She threw back her covers and rose, stepping toward him in a cloud of sweet perfume. “Yes. They’ll bill me.” To his surprise, she leaned forward, running her fingers playfully down his chest. “Cody?”

“Yes?” He swallowed hard, trying not to lose control. My God, what would happen if she saw?

“You buttoned your shirt wrong. Here. Let me help you.” She slowly unbuttoned and re-buttoned his shirt, her soft fingers brushing his skin. “There you go.”

“Er. Okay.” Completely bewitched, he couldn’t move.

“Thanks for your help. There will be more money in your paycheck this week, to account for all the extra work I’m going to ask of you.” She suddenly turned away, heading for the attached bathroom and wiggling her fingers at him. “See you later.”

He quickly turned away and walked out the door.

Had she really done that? Run her fingers down his chest in such a provocative manner?

Desire coursed through him. He wanted to follow her into the bathroom, throw her up against the wall, and take her in one swift motion.

Smiling at the preposterous idea, he forced himself to think of something cold and ugly, anything to stop his body’s swelling hardness beneath his belt. He pictured jumping naked into the winter sea.

That did it.

He turned and trotted down the hall.

Chapter 3

Vivian hurriedly finished vacuuming her little suite, waiting for Uvi to call with the next job on her forever-burgeoning list of tasks. The woman usually kept her hopping most of the day, which suited Viv just fine. She liked staying busy. From contacting repairmen, to organizing the DVD collection, to corresponding with Uvi’s overseas connections, to retyping some of her poetry and communicating with her editor… Vivian’s days were full.

When you were busy, you couldn’t think about things. Like loss. And big brothers. And stupid aneurisms.

Uvi had been showering and primping for the past hour, so Vivian knew her own free time was limited. She pressed the button to retract the vacuum cleaner cord and watched it slide into the coil, always amused by the way it swooped back into the machine.

“I’m pathetic,” she said, rolling the vacuum into a hall closet.

The text alert came three seconds later. “Please come to my room.”

Well, at least she said please this time.

Vivian washed and dried her hands in her bathroom sink, then headed down the hall. She peeked into Uvi’s bedroom. “Yes, Uvi?”

“Come in, dear.” Uvi sat at her desk in the corner, the morning light playing across her flawless features. “I want to talk to you.”

“Yes?” Viv perched on the edge of the round, embroidered Queen Anne chair in the corner. Her heart started to hammer. Had she done something wrong? Was Uvi upset with her? Was she about to get fired?

“As you may have heard, Deidre is no longer with us.”

Vivian straightened. “Um. No. I hadn’t heard. I wondered when she didn’t—”

“Well, don’t look so sad.” Uvi peered over the top of her glasses. “It’s not like she died or anything, Vivian.”

Viv still didn’t know what to make of this woman. Sometimes Uvi could border on unkindness, almost cruelty. And yet, at other times she seemed gracious and caring. Who was she? Which personality was real? “What happened to Deidre, if I might ask?”

“I fired her.” Uvi locked eyes with her, as if challenging her before she could say a word. “And don’t ask why. I want to move past this.”

“Okay.” Viv fidgeted on her seat. She blurted out her next words. “Will we hire a replacement?”

“Of course.” Uvi stretched her long legs out, leaning back in her chair. “Eventually.”

Viv watched her, envious of the sophistication and magnificence her employer seemed to take for granted. The woman was a goddess. Perfect features, glossy, dark hair. A killer body. Viv would give anything for Uvi’s eyes, her lush lips, her high cheekbones.

Some people had all the luck
. Vivian pictured God smiling down on Uvi, favoring her over all others. The good Lord certainly favored Uvi more than her. Just look at what she’d had to endure. And she was only nineteen years old!

“I’ll need you and Cody to split the work for now. You’ll both help with cleaning and in the kitchen.” She pursed her lips. “Wait. You can cook, can’t you?”

Vivian broke into a sweat. “Cook?”

Uvi raised one eyebrow. “Yes, cook. As in prepare food for meals?”

“Um. Well. I can do simple things. Spaghetti. Eggs. Salad.”

A long sigh escaped her employer. “We’ll just have to manage. Perhaps Cody is a wizard in the kitchen.” She looked out the window with a wistful expression. “At least we know he’d improve the ambiance. He’s quite the decorative young man, don’t you think?” Uvi loosed a wicked chuckle and when Vivian didn’t answer, she pressed her. “Don’t you think so?”

Vivian felt a blush rising up her throat to her cheeks. “Er... ”

Uvi leaned forward, as if truly interested. “Vivian? Honestly? Don’t you find him ridiculously attractive? I can’t be the only one.”

She shook her head. “He’s annoying.”

Uvi smiled. “I’ve seen him teasing you. Does it bother you?”

“No, it’s not a problem. I can handle it.”

Suddenly the air seemed to cool around them. Uvi stood and pushed her chair under the desk. “I hope so. Just don’t go handling his goods, if you get my meaning.” She cast a sly look at Vivian and flounced across the room. “Come. I need you to prepare the room for my husband.”

Vivian jumped up and followed her. Her husband? This was the first time she’d heard mention of the return of the mysterious Mr. Polansky. “Mr. P is coming back from Japan?”

Uvi waved a hand in the air. “So he says. But I’ve come to the conclusion that if he gets a hot business tip while boarding the plane home, he’ll likely cancel and spend the next three months in Timbuktu, or somewhere equally as dismal.” She turned to give Vivian a frail smile. “I’m afraid that’s his pattern.”

Vivian followed her into the masculine bedroom adjoining Uvi’s through a double door. The room was filled with heavy mahogany furniture. Dark green wallpaper graced the walls with ducks and pheasants frolicking in artsy designs. A leather couch and chairs faced a fireplace taller than Uvi.

“It needs a good sweeping and mopping.” She ran her fingers over the dust on the mantle. “Oh, and it goes without saying,” she smiled, “a thorough dust and polish.”  

“Yes, Uvi.” Vivian had corrected herself too many times when she’d responded with “Yes, ma’am.” Now she knew the proper response without having to think about it. “What about the closet? Shall I have some of his favorite jackets or slacks cleaned and pressed?”

Uvi tilted her head. “Vivian.” She beamed at her. “What a marvelous idea.” Without another word, Uvi pulled six jackets and four pairs of slacks from their hangers, tossing them onto the bed. “Bring these down to Miss Sweeney’s, on Main Street. Okay?” She frowned, then chuckled. “Oh, wait. You don’t have a car, do you?”

Vivian’s cheeks pinked. All she had was her rusty old bicycle. “No.”

“Well, hand them over to Cody, and ask him to do it. Okay?”

“Certainly.” She began to gather them together, but couldn’t manage the whole pile without dropping some on the floor. “I’ll bring these down to the back door, pick up the mop and such, and then carry the rest down in a bit.”

“Very efficient, dear.” Uvi gave her a sweet smile. “I knew I hired you for a very good reason. You are the perfect little helper.”

Ugh. A perfect little helper.
Viv groaned inside, but forced a small smile. “Thank you.”

Downstairs in the kitchen, she dropped her load of clothing on the kitchen counter near the door.
When was the last time Mr. P wore these?
They smelled so old and musty, like clothes from an attic trunk. And why didn’t he ever call Uvi? Viv couldn’t remember one conversation on the phone. Unless, of course, it was the time difference. How far away was Japan in hours, anyway? Maybe they chatted at four o’clock in the morning.

She gathered cleaning supplies from the cupboard she used to call “Deidre’s” and managed to carry them all upstairs. Within an hour, she was done. The room smelled of oranges now, and every surface shone.

Well. I guess I make a perfect little maid, too.

“I should change the sheets,” she said aloud. Ripping off the bedclothes, she piled them into a laundry basket she found in the back of the closet. Way in the back, she found another comforter in its own plastic bag, a king-sized maroon sheet set of high-count percale. When she took them down, a collection of men’s girlie magazines fell to the floor.

“Gross,” she muttered, re-stacking the pile of disgusting images. Women with leather hats, boots, and no clothes draped themselves on motorcycles, and they seemed to make up the dominant theme of the seedy collection. “Ugh. Wish I hadn’t seen that.”

She really had no opinion of Mr. P, as all the help called him. All she’d seen was the oil portrait in the drawing room over the mantle which featured Uvi sitting on a red chair and Mr. Jeremiah Polansky standing behind her, one arm resting on his wife’s shoulder. Fine-featured, he wore his steely gray hair slicked back. In the painting, he looked as if he were inviting the artist to bed with him.

She laughed and shook herself. “Don’t imagine such nonsense, Vivian.” It must have been the magazines that got her thinking that way. “Just stop it.”

“Stop what?” Cody said. He leaned in the doorway, watching her with his languid, dark eyes.

She let loose a little yelp. “Oh, gosh. You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He smiled a lazy, cowboy smile and she felt herself thawing a little. “I just wanted to go over the list with Mizz P. I couldn’t find the jicama, whatever the hell that is.”

He’d pronounced the j, instead of saying it with the Spanish accent.

“Hickumuh,” she said, softly. “It’s a big, round vegetable. Kind of like a rutabaga, but with more of a water chestnut flavor.”

“Huh? Rutabaga? What the hell is that?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the confused look on his face. “It’s like a turnip. Ever heard of those?”

“Yuk.”

“Something tells me you might not be much of a cook, Cody.”

Again, the confused expression. “What?”

“She wants us to cook for her. Until she hires someone new.”

He rolled his eyes and flopped back on the freshly made bed. “No way.”

“Yes. Way. And get off that bed! I just made it.”

He hopped off while she smoothed the covers.

“I should’ve bought Ramen noodles and Mac ‘n Cheese today. I know how to make that.”