Pale Stranger Read online

  I drove the rest of the way like an old lady late for a date with her maker, and arrived at the house ten minutes late. The place looked deserted, which reminded me that I hadn't had any breakfast, but I boldly went where I'd gone before and climbed onto the porch. I knocked, but nobody came to the door. Fortunately the knob was unlocked and I let myself in. The place was quiet but for a consistently irritating noise from upstairs that sounded like feet stomping on the floor.

  I went up and noticed the door to Benson's room was open, so I crept down there and peeked inside. The man himself paced the room and grumbled to himself. "Damn her! Stupid son of a-"

  "-dog," I finished for him.

  He jumped at my surprise intrusion and whipped his head to the door so hard I heard a crack. "Angel! Is it that time already?"

  "Noon is usually at this time," I told him.

  "Ten past twelve. You're late," he scolded me.

  I shrugged; what was he going to do, fire me? "Miss Sievers was so glad to see me she nearly caused our cars to hug each other."

  "That must have been her parting gift to you," he replied. "She's left my employ, and I'm glad for it. I'll need you to be her replacement until I can find another one."

  I wasn't happy for the promotion. "Wait a minute, we agreed on a week, remember? This is a dry test run to see if I can do this." I hoped the rest of this test wouldn't be dry; I could have really used a drink right about then.

  He sat down on the bed and ran his hand through his thick hair, giving him a wild look. It didn't help that he hadn't combed it and was still in his pajamas. "I expect to get another secretary within that time, but I must plead with you to stay with me until then. I have a head for numbers, but for schedules and cooking the connection to the neck is severed."

  "When that happens I'll be sure to have the duct tape ready," I promised.

  He snorted. "You have some wit about you, but I can see your hands are shaking. The near-miss with Constance must have been very close."

  "Any closer and our cars would have been a car," I told him.

  He slapped his knees and jumped to his feet. "Well, let's get this day started. I was at least careful to have Constance make the schedule light so we have most of the day to play." He opened the drawer to a nightstand beside his bed and pulled out a black booklet, which he handed to me. "This is my schedule book. I follow it exactly to the letter. Everything else you'll need is in my desk drawer in the study located down the hall from the living room." I opened the book and saw that neat handwriting had written down everything from when meals would be served to an exercise hour in the afternoon. It left me feeling constrained, so I slammed the book shut and held it out to him. He glanced from my hand up to my face. "Is something wrong?"

  "I've memorized all the appointments for your business, so I don't need this until tomorrow," I replied.

  He didn't take the booklet. "Are you sure?"

  I tossed it at him and he juggled it in his hands. "Positive. The other stuff is mostly just food and exercise." His stomach grumbled, and mine joined his to make a chorus of hunger. "Speaking of which, where's the kitchen?"

  He chuckled, took the book and put it back into its drawer. "I'll show you after I dress." He changed his clothes and led me downstairs, through the dining room on the left and into the rear of the house. Back there was an impressive kitchen filled with all the amenities I wasn't used to having, including ant-free fridge and rodent-less sink. Benson sat himself down at the island in the center and gestured to the fridge. "Let's see how you cook breakfast," he invited me. I envied a person able to make a living and get up at noon for breakfast.

  I cringed. "Remember that joke I made about the scrambled eggs?"

  "Yes, why?"

  "I wasn't exactly joking when I made that joke."

  "Well, give it a try and I'll tell you what I think," he invited me. Thus began the second mishap of the day after the near-car crash. After the flames were put out on the stove and the pan deposited in the sink, Benson looked at me in amazement. "I had no idea you could catch eggs on fire."

  "Yeah, one of my specialties is flambeing everything out of existence, or at least edibility," I explained. "You should have seen what happened when I boiled water."

  He glanced over at the still-smoking pan with the charred remains of the eggs. "I have an idea of what happened. Perhaps I'd better cook my own food while you're here."

  "For our own survival that would be a good idea," I agreed.

  We exchanged places and he managed to make a decent, safe meal of toast and milk. With the fire danger known as breakfast out of the way we had some time to kill and bury before a scheduled phone call from someone named Greg Monroe. "Would you like to be shown the grounds?" Benson suggested.

  I shrugged. "Sure."

  I expected to be led outside, but instead Benson guided me upstairs. "There's a few things I need to take care of before I go outside."

  "Things?"

  "You'll understand when you see it." That sounded ominously kinky; I wasn't sure whether to be excited or nervous, so I opted for stoic.

  We stopped at a door before his bedroom and he opened it to reveal a modern bathroom complete with jacuzzi. I would have killed to try that thing out, but first I needed to see the grounds to know where to put Benson's body. He took out a large bottle from beneath the sink and sat down on the edge of the jacuzzi; that's when things got wild. Benson slipped his shirt over his head and revealed a pale but finely chiseled chest. My eyes roamed over those nice, hard abs and down to the waistband of his pants. Heat pooled between my legs, and for a fleeting moment I dreamed of two people in the jacuzzi.

  I must have squeaked because he glanced up and smirked at me. "You're drooling," he informed me.

  I shut my drooling mouth and blushed. "Sorry."

  "I'm sure you're surprised by my physique." Yeah, surprised, that was the word... "I exercise on my machines as much as I can to keep fit." He held out the container to me. "Do you mind?"

  My mind was long gone, turned to ooze at his nakedness. "What mind?" I murmured. Then I snapped myself out of my daze and shook the dirty thoughts from my head. "I mean mind what?"

  "Applying this sunscreen to my body." My inner slut squealed. "I burn easily without it, especially on this nice a day."

  "Um, sure." My shaky hands took the bottle, and he angled himself so I could sit behind him and apply the sunscreen to his back.

  "I can get the front," he assured me.

  Damn. "All right," I replied. I sat on the edge of the jacuzzi behind him and applied a good slop of the stuff to his back. My hands rubbed all over his broad, strong back, gliding over every crease and muscle. Images flashed in my eyes of me stripping and rubbing my breasts against those hard muscles. I bit my lip to keep back a groan, and I grinned when he relaxed beneath my fingers; he was like putty in my hands.

  "You're much better than Constance," he whispered.

  My reply was in a tone deeper than normal. "Thanks." All good things must come to an end, and he'd grow suspicious if I kept rubbing him for the rest of the day. I finished the last of the creases and patted him on the back. "All done."

  "Thanks." I slid off the jacuzzi and watched him lather the front of himself. Unfortunately, that was soon done and he stood. "Now the clothes." I had a giddy moment of undressing him with no intention of redressing him, but that wasn't his meaning. He donned the same dark trench coat and fedora hat I'd first seen him in, and stretched out his arms before me. "What do you think?"

  "I think you have some serious problems," I told him.

  He chuckled and dropped his arms. "I'm aware of that."

  "So what happens if you don't make all these battle preparations?"

  "Then the sun wins the battle and I'm laid up for a few days with severe burns," he replied.

  I cringed. "Ouch. But this will help you avoid that misery, right?"

  "Perfectly," he assured me. "Now I'll show you the grounds."

  CHAPTER 4
/>   Benson led me downstairs and down the hall away from the front door. He stopped in front of a door on our right. "This is my office. Care to have a look now or later?"

  "Later. If we wait too long you may melt in that coat and there'll be nothing but a pile of sunblock left," I teased him.

  He smirked and led on through the back door and out onto a large porch. It covered the entire back of the house, and there was a roof over us that slanted down to a large field of green grass that stopped at the edge of the corn and wheat fields around the property. Clumps of trees provided shade, and each one had their own bench that wrapped around the trunk. A winding path of gravel led from one bench to the other.

  "It's simple, but I don't need much else but shade," he explained to me.

  "It's a heck of a lot better view than what I have," I replied.

  He raised an eyebrow. "What's the view like from your windows?"

  "A bunch of other dingy apartment buildings with a fine view of a street corner frequented by prostitutes."

  Benson cringed. "Any hope through those windows?"

  I shrugged. "I see a lot of pigeons demanding food, but the alley cats usually scare them away."

  "Sounds lovely."

  "It's home."

  "Are you sure you won't reconsider moving in temporarily with me?" he persisted.

  I shook my head. "I'd only have to go back to my apartment in a week, anyway."

  "You're so sure of that outcome."

  "I'm just being pessimistic. Leads to less disappointment that way," I countered.

  He smiled, but there wasn't any warmth in it. "That just hides the disappointment. You can never really escape your hopes and dreams."

  I didn't like this mood; it put a cloud over us that warned of rain from my eyes. I gently pushed my shoulder up against his and smiled. "So is your profession as a philosopher or a businessman?"

  Benson chuckled. "A little of both, but since the philosophy won't support me I'm forced to be a businessman."

  I stepped out onto the green grass and glanced back at the fine old house; it didn't look so creepy from the back. Maybe I could convince him to turn it around. "Judging by the house I'd say you were pretty good at it."

  "When you have little else to do but sit inside all day you have to focus your mind on something other than the window," he replied.

  I noticed he still stood on the porch like a boy afraid to step his toes into water. I stepped up to the porch and held out my hand. "Come on, you need your walkies."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Is this how you treat all your employers?"

  "If I can get away with it."

  "And you believe you can with me?"

  "What are you going to do, fire me?"

  "Good point."

  Benson took my hand and I pulled him out into the sun. "See? Not melting or bursting into flames," I pointed out.

  "You're not the one wearing the heavy coat," he countered.

  "Then let's take a short walk over to that shade tree, fill up your tank of coolness and get to the next one." I yanked him along by his hand, and he followed with a laugh and a good step. He wasn't an invalid, just cautious about his archenemy, the sun. We reached the first bench, but neither of us sat down. Benson stood at the edge of the shade and looked out on the sunlight; his eyes had a sad look to them. "How long have you been like this?"

  "All my life. It's a genetic condition where the sun causes blisters and severe itching."

  I couldn't imagine living with such a terrible ailment. "And the only things that protect you are clothes and that sunscreen?"

  "And even the sunscreen is a prescription. Anything over the counter is too weak to work," he replied. "The reason for my weakness yesterday was I was recovering from overexposure. Constance was in a terrible mood and refused to assist in the application."

  Sievers had to be lesbian; that was the only way she could have refused to perform that delicious duty. "Ouch. So if you stay out of sunlight you're fine?"

  "Perfectly."

  "No wonder you don't believe the day exists before noon. You must be a hell of a night owl," I remarked.

  He nodded. "Yes, I like to take walks and roam the garden."

  I glanced up at the sky; the sun was really bright today. "Don't you think you should go inside? I mean, you don't really need to show me around the place, and I'm sure you have some sort of secretary duties you want me to do."

  "I treat my secretaries as companions, in a platonic fashion," he assured me. I squashed down the disappointment. "That is why I couldn't give you firm hours when you asked for them."

  "You'd probably be better with a male companion. We women can be pretty bitchy," I pointed out.

  "Yes, but they keep me in line," he countered. "Though I admit I have turned away several who displeased me beyond even my patience."

  "Like Miss Sievers?" I guessed, and he nodded.

  "Yes. She had been with me for five years, and had come to believe she was the employer rather than me." He sighed and shook his head. "I must admit I'm not sure what I'll do without her. She was my chauffeur and manager."

  I smirked when a realization hit me. "So that explains how you came to the diner. You were lost because she wasn't driving you."

  He sheepishly smiled. "Perfectly and utterly lost."

  The earth was ending; a man admitted that he wasn't the map. "It takes quite a man to admit he was lost. You've got a lot of guts just going out on your own in your condition."

  He shrugged. "I needed a refill of my sunscreen, and I dislike having an unfinished chore at the end of the day."

  "And you sure did pick a day to do it!" I laughed, remembered that wild storm.

  Benson smiled. "Perhaps it was fate that brought us together."

  "No, I'm pretty sure it was one hell of a lightning storm," I countered. I glanced at my watch and sighed. "If we're going to finish our little walk before that phone call we're going to have to start moving."

  I dragged him along and he explained to me all the types of trees that stood in the yard and the flowers that sometimes edged the path. It was all riveting stuff for a botanist, but I was just a simple diner waitress and was glad when we wound our way back to the house. He looked glad to get out of the sun, and take off his heavy coat and hat on the porch. We stood there for a few quiet moments and enjoyed the coolness of the shade. "I must have bored you a great deal to make you so quiet."

  "You don't pay me to talk, do you?" I wondered.

  "I don't believe we discussed money at all for this experiment. I can pay you the full salary if that's what you want," he offered.

  "If you really want to." I couldn't turn down easy money.

  He grinned. "Would a very nice salary guarantee your staying here?"

  I shrugged and crossed my arms over my chest. "That depends on whether I like it here or not. You could pay me all the money in the world, but if I'm not happy I won't stay."

  "Then you're happy working at that diner?" he wondered in surprise.

  "I'm comfortable with what I do and the boss won't dare fire me. He knows the place would blow up if I wasn't around to keep Sheila from accidentally turning on the kitchen stoves." I looked him up and down, and grinned. "Besides, you meet some pretty interesting people at those places."

  He glanced down at himself. "At least unusual, but I see on your watch that it's almost time for my meeting. If you don't mind I'd like to be alone during the phone conversation."

  My prayers were answered; I wouldn't be bored to tears listening in on a stodgy business meeting. "That's all right, I'll just look around the house. If you don't see me in an hour send in a rescue party."

  "I promise to lead the party myself." Benson surprised me by lifting my hand to his lips and planting a soft, warm kiss on my skin. "Adieu for now, my Angel."

  I stuttered out a nonsensical reply and he left me for his business. I didn't recover from the shock for a few minutes, and when I did I found my face was beet-red and the hand he'd kisse
d shook. I pressed it against my chest and fervently shook my head; I had to snap out of this schoolgirl attitude. He was just fond of me for being so nice to him, that's all. The poor fellow probably hadn't had a conversation with a stranger in years.

  I opted to stay out of the creaky old house to keep from interrupting, or becoming a participant in, the phone meeting. Instead I wandered around the side of the house and came out at the circular driveway. At that moment I heard wheels on the gravel and saw a fancy black car pull up behind mine. A tall man of forty-five with gray-swept hair and a fancy suit stepped out. He frowned first at my car, and then at me when he noticed where I stood beside the front porch. "Hello there," he called out to me.

  "Hi," I called back, and stepped out of the shadows of the house to greet him. I was Benson's secretary, after all; you couldn't spell secretary without security. Well, actually you could, but I felt a little possessive of my employer. He was a nice guy, after all. Yeah, that's it... "Can I help you?"

  "I wanted to know if it was true that Constance Sievers quit this morning," he wondered. He was giving me a careful look-over that made me slightly hostile to him.

  "I'm not sure what happened, but Mr. Benson is in a phone meeting and can't talk right now. If you'd like to leave a message with me I can give it to him," I assured him. I felt so grown-up talking to the guy like that; it almost made me squeal.

  He firmly shook his head and shot down my self-importance. "If it's true that Miss Sievers is no longer in his employ then I must see who is."

  "Well, I'm kind of in his employ right now," I replied.

  The man blinked in bewilderment. "You?" He leaned his tall frame toward me and I leaned my short one back. "How old are you, Miss-?"

  "Calhoun." And old enough to know he was invading my personal space.

  "What is your age, Miss Calhoun?" he rephrased the question.

  "Astral or physical?" I countered.

  The poor man had another look of confusion on his face. "Astral?" he repeated.

  "Yes. In a past life I was a three-legged dog."

  "Cecil!" a voice cried from the porch, breaking off our weird conversation. Our heads snapped over to the front door and we saw Benson standing at the edge of the steps just out of the sunlight. He didn't look happy to see the man named Cecil. "What the hell are you doing here?"