Masquerade: a romantic comedy Page 18

  Slade had heard women use the same tone of voice that Clarissa used now, and it always meant one thing. Jealousy.

  Part of him knew Clarissa wasn’t really jealous of Kim. Another part of him sat back and enjoyed the feeling anyway. “I’ve never seen a picture of Kim, and I wouldn’t know her if I walked past her on the street. In my mind’s eye she is still ten years old.” Then he smiled graciously at Clarissa and Meredith. “Some people, those who aren’t catlike—or catty—know there are more important things about people than their looks.”

  “That’s us,” Meredith said, waving his words away with a flick of her hand. “Catty to the core.”

  “Meow,” Clarissa agreed. “I think it’s time for me to go check on the kittens.”

  She stood up and walked across the sand to where the girls were stockpiling their beach findings. Slade watched her go, letting his eyes trace the lines of her figure. Her long legs. The curve of her hips and waist. Had it only been this afternoon that he’d thought Clarissa always looked wholesome?

  Wholesome wasn’t the word to describe that swimming suit.

  He stared at it until he remembered she was married, and then he forced himself to look at Clarissa’s face instead. She sat down on the sand by the girls, and they both chattered up at her happily. She smiled back at them, exclaiming over each of their treasures. She had such a nice smile. Warm. Enthusiastic. It brightened her face and made you think of sunshine.

  “You’re staring,” Meredith said.

  Slade turned to her. “What?”

  “You’re staring at Clarissa,” she said. “And smiling.”

  “I’m happy I chose her. She’s a good nanny for Bella.”

  Meredith nodded. “And Bella must like her because she hasn’t run her off yet.”

  “Of course Bella likes her,” he said. “She’s kind, intelligent, patient, beautiful . . .”

  “Beautiful?” Meredith asked. “What does beauty have to do with being a good nanny?”

  “Nothing. I was just listing off her qualities.”

  Meredith sat up a bit in her beach chair. “Slade, this would be a good time to stop and think about what you’re doing.”

  “I’m not doing anything,” he said. “I’m not interested in Clarissa. I just want someone like her. I’m figuring out the criteria for my next girlfriend.” His eyes settled back on Clarissa. The wind picked up strands of her hair and blew them around her face. He was mesmerized by the way the sunlight glinted off it.

  From beside him Meredith let out an unhappy grunt. “You’re smiling again.”

  “I’m a happy person.”

  Meredith pulled a newspaper from her beach bag. “I guess I’d better familiarize myself with the paper’s format,” she said. “That way it will be easier to spot the reports on your latest scandals.”

  “There aren’t going to be any scandals.” He honestly meant it. Clarissa was off limits. He was simply admiring her. Just like he admired Serena Williams’s serve and Celine Dion’s vocal range. He wasn’t planning on making advances toward either of those women, just like he would never think of making an advance on Clarissa. He was only appreciating her good qualities. Some of which were accentuated by that swimming suit.

  He reminded himself it was only admiration several times as the day went on. Like when he found himself watching Clarissa with the girls and daydreaming about how nice it would be if she were there for Bella all the time. And when Clarissa smiled at him in that easy, relaxed way. And when he was appreciating Clarissa’s legs. They were fine, fine qualities.

  After a dinner of fish and chips, they drove back to the resort. The girls were dirty and tired by then, and Clarissa held their hands, guiding them as they walked into the lobby. “Careful not to touch anything,” she said, steering them around the couch. “And don’t bump into anything, either.”

  The clerk at the front desk watched them come in and then called over. “Ms. Hancock?”

  Clarissa looked up. “Yes?”

  “Some flowers came for you. You weren’t in your room, so the delivery man left them here.” She pointed to a vase containing a dozen red roses.

  “Oh.” For a moment Clarissa just stared at them.

  Slade took Bella’s and Elaina’s hands. “I’ve got the girls,” he said. “Go get your flowers.”

  Clarissa went to the counter, took the envelope from the flowers and read the card.

  “Are they from your husband?” Slade tried to make the question sound casual, but even to him it had a sort of pointed sharpness to it. He didn’t want to see Clarissa go dreamy-eyed and start missing her husband.

  Instead of answering his question, Clarissa handed him the card. He read out loud, “Clarissa, I’m sure you’re working like Cinderella. I doubt your fairy godmother will show up on the night of the ball. Expect a visit from Zorro instead.”

  “I don’t think my husband sent the flowers,” Clarissa said.

  Slade handed her the card. “Have you been encouraging Zorro again?”

  “I haven’t even talked to Zorro since you chased him out of my room.”

  Slade let out an unhappy grumble. “Well, you had better keep your door locked Halloween night. And for that matter, you’d better keep it locked every night.”

  Meredith folded her arms. “I never get flowers anymore. You’d think Bill might have sent me some. But no. Only Zorro sends flowers. How can I have a long-distance relationship with a man like that?”

  Clarissa handed Meredith the vase. “Here, on behalf of the Bills of the world, let me give you these flowers. The friendship of one sincere man is better than all the attention in the world from a Zorro.”

  Meredith held the flowers to her face and inhaled the fragrance of the roses. “Yes, well, I suppose you have a point.” She smiled wistfully. “Still, flowers are lovely. I have half a mind to go after Landon myself.” She turned to Slade. “Do you think he’s my type?”

  “No.” Slade herded Bella and Elaina across the lobby toward the elevator.

  Meredith followed after him slowly. “I don’t see why not. Some men appreciate the maturity and grace of an older woman.” She took another whiff of the flowers as she walked. “Besides, you work me like a Cinderella too.”

  “Not true,” Slade said. “I’ve barely seen you this whole trip.”

  “That’s because you’ve had Clarissa to abuse.” Meredith looked over at Clarissa. “You know, dear, if you’d like to go do something tonight, I’ll watch Elaina for you.”

  Clarissa smiled at her. “Thanks. I’d like that.”

  Slade didn’t like it. He had visions of Clarissa taking a solitary walk around the resort and Landon suddenly intercepting her. Landon and his charm and his ulterior motives. It didn’t matter that Clarissa had been warned about him. That was the thing about Landon. Women knew he was a player and still succumbed to him anyway.

  It would be better if they all stayed in and watched something on TV. He would have suggested it, but by this time Clarissa and Meredith were busily engaged in a conversation about masquerade costumes. At least he thought they were talking about masquerade costumes. When he heard two women using terms like “period clothing,” he just didn’t want to ask.

  Chapter 24

  Clarissa decided on a late-night swim. Swimming was healthy, free, and best done under the cover of darkness anyway. And it would give her time to think things over. If she racked her brain long enough, she could find some way out of this mess with Sylvia.

  At eight o’clock she dropped Elaina off at Meredith’s room and then went back to her own room to change.

  Clarissa was standing in the bedroom, her suit only halfway on, when she heard a knock at the door. She jumped, feeling awkward, and tried to shake the fear that whoever it was might have x-ray vision. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, Slade.”

  Slipping the last strap over her shoulder, she called, “Just a minute.” Then she walked into the front room, grabbing her bathrobe as she went. S
he put it on, haphazardly tying the sash as she opened the door. “Come in.”

  Slade’s gaze ran over her, then he walked past her shaking his head. “This is the sort of thing I came to talk to you about.”

  “What?”

  He held out one hand to her in an accusatory manner. “This.”

  “What?” she said again.

  “Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve told you over the last few days? You just invited a man into your hotel room, and you’re only wearing a robe.”

  Her mouth fell open momentarily. “But it was only you.”

  “Thanks. You don’t know what these little commentaries of yours do for my ego.”

  She tilted her chin down in disbelief. “It’s not as though you haven’t seen me in this robe before. I wore it half of Friday afternoon. Nobody seemed to think it was particularly seductive then.”

  Slade’s eyes took her in, from the polish on her toenails to her slightly mussed hair. “The difference is that when a man sees a woman in a robe sitting by a swimming pool, he thinks she’s covering up. When a man walks into a woman’s hotel room and she’s wearing a robe, he thinks about what she’s wearing underneath, which is probably some skimpy little negligee thing. It’s almost an invitation.”

  “Wrong again. I’m wearing exactly what I wore at the beach.” She undid the tie and held open the sides of her robe. “See, no negligee. I’m on my way swim—”

  Before she even finished her sentence he was standing in front of her. “Would you stop that!” He took hold of the sides of her robe and pulled them together. “I can’t believe you just did that. You really don’t listen to anything I say, do you?”

  “But it’s only my swimming suit.”

  “Exactly. You don’t flash a man your swimming suit while you’re alone in a hotel room.” He pulled the robe even tighter closed until nothing below the top of her neck showed. “You need to button this thing up.”

  “It doesn’t have buttons.”

  “Then use safety pins.”

  She laughed. She hadn’t meant to, but couldn’t stop herself.

  He still held the front of her robe closed. “You can think this is all very funny now, but I’m warning you, you can’t be so . . . If I were a different sort of man . . .” He suddenly let go of her robe. “Just trust me. You need to be more careful.”

  She nodded, and although she tried to look serious, she knew she didn’t reach the desired effect. “May I go swimming now?”

  “No. Not by yourself.” And then after giving her another harsh stare, “And not in that suit.”

  “What’s wrong with my swimming suit?”

  “You obviously haven’t noticed the attention it’s gotten you.”

  “The only attention I got was when I jumped into the pool wearing my robe to save your daughter, who could already swim.” She walked to where her sandals lay on the floor and slipped them on.

  His gaze followed her. “I came over to suggest we stay in and watch something on TV.”

  “Sorry, I want to go swimming.”

  “Cards? Monopoly?”

  She took her key card from the coffee table and slipped it into her bag. “I’m going now.”

  “All right, all right, you can go swimming.” He walked to the door and put his hand on the knob. “But I’m going with you. Just give me a minute to tell Meredith I need her to watch Bella.”

  He left and she finished gathering everything she needed. A few minutes later Slade knocked on her door and called, “We can go now.”

  Clarissa walked out of her room and was surprised to see him still dressed in his clothes. “Aren’t you going to swim?” she asked.

  “No, I’m going to sit by the pool, read, and chase off scoundrels when necessary.”

  She rolled her eyes, then walked down the hallway. “Suit yourself. Literally in this case.”

  He didn’t say anything else, and so neither did she until they stood in the elevator. Then she noticed the book he carried.

  “You’re reading A History of Greek City-States?”

  He tucked the book under his arm. “It’s the perfect book for a trip to the pool with you. It will keep my mind where it’s supposed to be, and it’s big enough to make a useful weapon in case I have to throw something at Landon.”

  “It will keep your mind where it’s supposed to be?” she repeated.

  His gaze slowly took her in. “Bathsheba probably didn’t have such nice legs.”

  Clarissa looked down at her legs, then back at him skeptically. “Oh, right, and I thought Landon was one for handing out lines. If you’re going to use flattery, you could at least pick a believable feature.”

  “Mrs. Hancock, not only is your husband a fool, apparently he’s also very negligent in the compliments department. If you were my wife, there would be no doubt in your mind as to the appeal of your legs.” He looked quickly away from her again. “But you’re not my wife, so I’ll be reading while you swim.”

  She blushed and once again had the urge to blurt out that she wasn’t married. She couldn’t do it. At this moment it would be as good as blatantly telling him she wanted a relationship with him. That was such a big step, such a huge risk to take, all because he’d made an offhand comment about her legs.

  He probably thought Natalie had nice legs too. But when Natalie had told Slade she was interested in him, he’d immediately done everything possible to avoid even being in her proximity.

  What would he do if he thought his nanny was after him too?

  Clarissa shifted her weight around uncomfortably in the elevator and clutched her beach bag closer to her. How much rejection did she need in life? Wasn’t Alex enough? Did she need to go out and look for extra opportunities for men to shred her ego?

  Slade was one of those men who spoke his mind. Even Meredith said so. It didn’t mean he was flirting, let alone actually interested in her.

  They got off the elevator and walked silently to the pool. No one else was there, and Slade pulled a deck chair over next to one of the decorative light posts that lighted the area. It must not have thrown off enough light, however, because he held the book up close to his face.

  Clarissa took off her robe, threw it onto a chair, then walked to the deep end of the pool. Without hesitating, she dove in. The water was colder than she had expected. It felt good as it slid over her skin. It felt cleansing, as if she could wash away all her thoughts. She swam a dozen laps, and when she tired of that, she floated on her back, gazing up at the stars.

  Nothing occurred to her about her predicament with Sylvia. In fact, it was hard to think of Sylvia at all when she knew Slade sat nearby watching her. At least he said he’d be watching her. She never actually saw him look at anything except his book. And she checked often enough.

  She peered over at him again. His elbows rested on his knees, and his dark eyes were completely engrossed in his book.

  Handsome and studious.

  Perhaps her husband’s freak manhole accident could happen soon.

  She swam over to where Slade sat and hung onto the side of the pool. “So are you a history buff, or do you have some other reason for reading about Greek city-states?”

  “I’ve got a part as a Spartan warrior,” he said without looking at her. “I like to know about my characters’ cultures. Right now I’m reading about the Peloponnesian War.”

  “Oh,” she said, “That stuff is all Greek to me.”

  He smiled but kept his attention on the book. “I guess that’s the point.”

  The moonlight made lazy ripples across the water. Nearby plumeria trees drenched the night with their scent making everything feel exotic and sensual. Clarissa caressed the water with her hand, letting it run through her fingers. “Why is it that Hollywood loves Sparta so much? It’s like one big laconophilia club.”

  Slade looked at her with surprise. “Laconophilia? I’d never even heard that word until I started this book, and you use it casual conversation?”

  “M
y high school’s mascot was a Spartan. The name of our yearbook was Laconophilia—the love of Spartan things.”

  Slade absently tapped his fingers on the cover. “I don’t know what impresses me more: that you know the term laconophilia or that you remember the name of your high school yearbook.”

  “They had slaves, you know, and didn’t mind killing them.” She made lazy kicks in the water. “It’s stupid that society idolizes them. Would anybody name their high school mascot: the brutal-slave-holding-plantation owners?”

  Slade went back to reading his book. “According to this, women got better treatment in Sparta than they did in most places in Greece.

  “What—other places didn’t capture their brides or make them shave their heads when they got married?”

  “You know those details too?” Slade looked up at her again, considering her more closely. “Somehow I doubt those facts were part of your high school yearbook. How did you know that?”

  She shrugged. “You’re not the only one who reads.”

  His gaze went over her again, scrutinizing her. “You were one of those girls that got straight A’s in school, weren’t you?”

  She ran her fingers through a patch of light on the water. “Learning is fun.”

  He kept staring at her with a look of curiosity, like she was a species of mermaid who had suddenly appeared in the water.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You’re really different from Evelyn.”

  “Right. I’m not famous, rich, or on daytime TV.”

  “No, I mean, she never would have said that learning was fun.” Slade shook his head as though remembering. “I couldn’t even convince her that being married was fun. And mothering? She still doesn’t think that’s fun.”

  “Why did you marry her?” As soon as Clarissa asked the question, she wished she could take it back. She shouldn’t pry. Enough of his personal life had already been laid out for the public.

  Slade didn’t seem to mind, though. He leaned back in his chair. “I was stupid. I was as wowed by her fame as anybody else. I thought marrying Evelyn meant I’d have someone who would understand me—you know, understand my schedule and the hassles involved with being a celebrity. And she did understand those. She just didn’t understand things like commitment or working on a relationship.”