Page 6 of Brought By the Storm

Chapter Five

Carrington

“What was that?” Stefan asked as soon as we had retired behind the guest room door.

“What was what?” I volleyed back, not caring for his tone.

“Your behavior has been odd since we went downstairs,” he replied, appearing as annoyed as he was confused.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Stefan put his hands on his hips, eyeing me up and down as if the answer could be found on my body if he looked hard enough. “You’re showing so much interest in that man. If I hadn’t known better, I would think he was an old mate of yours. All evening, you were asking questions about his job, his family and his friends. You helped him cook, you helped him clean up when we were done and now you’ve offered to help him if something should go bump in the night.”

It was true that as Stefan and I had bid goodnight to my mother and to Eric, I had invited our host to wake me if something happened during the evening which necessitated assistance. “A hurricane is coming, and the edge of the storm will be upon us overnight,” I reminded him, pointing at the window as if Stefan wouldn’t hear the howling wind otherwise. “It seemed like the hospitable thing to do, as did helping him with dinner and clean-up. Mother was right. He’s being generous. He isn’t here to serve us. As for me asking him questions, it’s called conversation. It also kept him from asking us questions, did it not?”

Stefan sighed and nodded. “Yes, I suppose. I feared you were beginning to like this chap, and it wouldn’t be a good idea to let down your guard.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Well, I do like him. After spending the day with him, do you still suspect Mr. Turner is someone other than whom he claims to be? If he was any more innocent, he’d be a choir boy.”

“I suspect many choir boys are anything but innocent,” Stefan retorted. “And it’s funny you should use the analogy of a boy. He seems barely into adulthood, and all those American ‘golly gee’ puppy-dog expressions don’t help. How does someone like that become a vice president at a large firm? It defies logic.”

I laughed at Stefan’s description since it wasn’t off the mark. Although Eric’s youthful qualities had irked me when I had met him, as the evening had worn on, I found them more and more charming. “Eric seems intelligent enough to hold a position of authority. He also shared too many details for it to be untrue.”

“I know it wasn’t fabricated,” Stefan conceded. “I looked him up on LinkedIn whilst you were in the kitchen perfecting your culinary skills.”

I crossed my arms to show my dissatisfaction with Stefan’s sarcasm. “Perhaps you should use the internet to find a course that teaches the appropriate way to address someone in my position.”

Stefan frowned, nodded then looked down at the floor. “Yes, of course. My apologies, sir. I fear our longstanding friendship sometimes makes me forget myself.”

Now I felt like a bastard. “Oh crap, Stefan. Don’t do that. I told you not to call me ‘sir’ when we’re alone. I just don’t fancy being spoken to like I’m a daft adolescent. I appreciate your caution and desire to protect me. You are a wonderful assistant, security guard and a best friend. Just trust my instincts more. I didn’t get to where I am by being clueless.”

Stefan nodded once again, still uncomfortable, but appearing to relax a bit. “I know that, sir—Carrington. I never meant any disrespect.”

I thought changing the subject would be advisable to end his embarrassment. “I know. So, I am sure you will not disrespect me by criticizing my decision to sleep in the nude this evening.”

I thought Stefan’s eyes would pop from his head, but to his credit, he tried very hard to retain his composure. “Um, as you wish. I was planning to sleep on the floor anyway.”

Unable to hide my amusement any longer, I began to chuckle. “It was a joke. I do not sleep naked. I hope you do not either.”

If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought that Stefan looked hurt for a moment before donning a shy smile. “I do not.”

“Then there will be no need to sleep on the floor. I’m sure we can endure a night or two of bumping into each other. I apologize in advance for any knee jerks to your legs.”

The camaraderie that Stefan and I shared in private returned. “I sleep in a fetal position. My knees might end up hitting you in a more vulnerable spot.”

“Ha. You’d wish me to believe it was accidental, wouldn’t you?” I asked.

Stefan chuckled. “Imagine explaining that soreness in the morning? You could tell Mr. Turner that I need to scale back exercising my buttock muscles—that it was like slamming your crotch into a couple of boulders when we made love.”

The blood rushed to my cheeks. Stefan and I had shared many off-color remarks in our history, but this was the first one that suggested a sexual relationship between us. The fact that it had described me impaling him created the visual, and I found I couldn’t look him in the eye. “Um, that might be too descriptive for polite breakfast discussion.” I started to retrieve toiletries from my baggage so I could bring them to the lavatory to prepare for bed.

Stefan seemed oblivious to my uneasiness. “I was joking, of course. Although you know, we should act a little more like a couple tomorrow. You paid a lot more attention to him than you did me. As your mother said, we should try to be convincing.”

I gave him a quick nod of agreement, then bolted from the room with a foreboding sense that conditions were going to be hard to control—and it had nothing to do with a hurricane.