Lady Love. Diana Palmer

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      Merlyn shot one last glance down the hall before she went into her room and quickly closed the door. Talk about flies in the ointment! Cameron Thorpe was going to be trouble, and she had a feeling that his lady friends were going to foul things up, too. All her confidence in being able to maintain her new identity was draining away. She’d have to be on her guard every minute, or she’d blow her cover. It looked as if this job wasn’t going to be the plum she’d first expected it to be.

      Well, she thought with a sigh, as she climbed into bed and pulled up the covers, perhaps things will improve tomorrow.

      ***

      They didn’t. The next morning, which dawned clear and warm, Cameron Thorpe was sitting at the breakfast table on the patio with his mother when Merlyn walked in. The look he gave her would have stopped traffic.

      His dark eyes—they were almost black at close range, deep-set under a jutting brow—ran up and down Merlyn’s slender figure. She was dressed in faded blue jeans and a flaming orange pullover T-shirt that read “Kiss me, I’m a frog!” Her long black hair fell over her shoulders, and her eyes were a pale, sparkling green. She wasn’t beautiful like her late mother, but she had delicate features and a perfect figure, and normally she dressed with a flair that set her apart. Today, however, she’d deliberately worn her most outlandish T-shirt, hoping to get a rise out of Mr. Conservative. And she did. Immediately.

      “Do you normally dress like that?” Cameron asked.

      “Why, yes, when I’m not going naked,” she replied with a careless smile. She stared at him. He was wearing a dark business suit with a dark tie and a white shirt. She’d have bet that he had a closet full of them, all alike.

      “More eggs, Cameron?” Lila asked quickly as Merlyn sat down and helped herself to toast and coffee.

      “No, thanks,” he said, and his eyes never left Merlyn. His face was broad and hard, his nose was formidable, and he had a jaw as square as the way he dressed.

      “Sizing me up?” Merlyn asked “I wear size ten slacks and a medium T-shirt. And there’s nothing underneath,” she whispered, leaning forward.

      He came as close to a flush as she’d ever seen a man come, and his black eyes glittered at her. “I don’t find your attitude amusing,” he said curtly. “And I won’t have my daughter subjected to remarks like that.”

      “Amanda isn’t downstairs yet,” Merlyn told him, “and you’re hardly a child.” She studied him. “Mrs. Thorpe said you were a banker.”

      “Yes,” he said, sounding as if he found speaking to her distasteful.

      “How exciting,” she murmured, stifling a yawn.

      “Where did you take your degree?” he asked out of the blue.

      “The University of Georgia.”

      “Did you specialize?” he persisted, as he sipped his coffee.

      “Not really,” she returned. “I enjoy ancient history as well as other periods.”

      “What qualifies you to be a research assistant?” he chided. “Do you have references?”

      “Are you the reincarnation of the Spanish Inquisition?” she shot back. “Really, Mr. Thorpe, my qualifications satisfied your mother.”

      “They certainly did,” Lila seconded. She frowned. “Cameron, I’ve never known you to be so rude to a guest!”

      “We’ve never had a guest like this,” he said, glancing up and down Merlyn’s figure.

      “How sad for you.” Merlyn smiled. “But, at long last, here I am!”

      “I’ve got to make a phone call,” he muttered, glaring at Merlyn as he got to his feet. “Five more minutes of Jane Eyre there, and I’ll be searching for a blunt instrument.”

      “How kinky,” Merlyn said, grinning. “Usually men are wildly excited when they get to that point. Are you by any chance trying to seduce me over the scrambled eggs?”

      His mother had already turned away with a napkin over her mouth.

      “If I were eighty with terminal acne, I wouldn’t be so desperate,” he replied.

      “You’ll be heartbroken when you realize what you’re passing up,” Merlyn called after him.

      The hall door slammed behind him, and Lila made strangled sounds in her napkin.

      “Poor Cameron,” Lila said finally. “He’s so domineering with women.”

      “Not this one,” Merlyn informed her smugly. “I’m a free spirit. Basically, I hate men.”

      “Is there a reason?”

      Merlyn smiled. “Yes. A fiancé who turned out to be Dracula. I broke the engagement, and now I’m trying to get myself back together.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      “So am I,” Merlyn said. “I was ready to settle down. I’m twenty-six, after all. I wouldn’t mind a husband and children. But it’s going to take some time to forget what happened.”

      “You’re still young, my dear,” Lila said with a smile.

      “So I am,” Merlyn agreed. Then she changed the subject. “Where are we going to work? Inside?” she asked, casting a wary eye toward the house.

      “That wouldn’t be intelligent, would it?” Lila laughed. “I can see you now, hurling things at Cameron!”

      “Only a few sticks of furniture,” Merlyn protested. She sighed. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Thorpe, I’ll get used to him. After all, I got used to asparagus and squash casserole.”

      Lila laughed merrily. “Call me Lila, not Mrs. Thorpe. And, yes, I think you’ll get used to my son, and he to you, in time. It will do him good to learn that not every woman thinks he’s the final authority.” She got to her feet. “Since it’s so warm, we’ll hash out some preliminaries here on the patio,” she added. “I’ll get my legal pad, and you can fetch those history books I watched you lug up the staircase yesterday.”

      “I’ll get them right now,” Merlyn said.

      Minutes later she came back downstairs with an armload of books, fortunately without running into the lord of the manor.

      “Amanda’s late this morning,” Merlyn remarked as she seated herself at the little white table.

      “Yes, but not unusually so,” Lila said with a smile. She sat down across from Merlyn. “With school out for spring holidays, she doesn’t get up until eleven.” She sighed, and the smile faded. “Poor child, she’s so lonely. Cameron has very little time.…”

      “He could make time, if he wanted to,” Merlyn said quietly. “My own childhood was lonely. My mother died when I was about Amanda’s age, and my father missed her terribly. Instead of turning to me, he turned to his work. СКАЧАТЬ