Diana Summers was at a crossroad in her life. Fired from her high-powered job due to a political shakeup, recently out of a bad relationship, and exhausted from the circumstances, she had to shake herself from her doldrums. After weeks of hunting for work, during which her meager savings were nearly depleted, she was thrilled to hear from an employment agency that a job was available if she wanted it. Personal assistant to a somewhat reclusive painter was a live-in position that required her to move to the coast. The wages seemed generous, particularly since she would also receive room and board. "The employer's home is fairly isolated," she'd been told. And the gentleman was very selective. He required detailed background information on job candidates, and he was prepared to pay an appropriate wage to the right one.
Diana wondered why she was the "right one" but a job was a job. Between her earnings and the room and board, she would be able to save quite a bit so even if she didn't stay, she'd be a better position when she left than when she started. So packing her practical wardrobe, she jumped into her old but reliable car and headed for the coast.
After driving a few hours, Diana found herself in a beautiful, secluded part of the country. "Diana," she said to herself wryly, "meet rustic America. Let's just hope the cabin has a new roof." But when she finally found the turn into a magnificent gated driveway, she realized that rustic wasn't quite the word for her new home.
Her surprise grew when she reached the huge stone house and was greeted at the door by a genuine butler. A dignified and attractive middle-aged man, he introduced himself at once. "Miss Summers, welcome. I am Julius. Mr. Darlington will be delighted that you've arrived on time. Please follow me." He led her into a formal living room, where a man stood at the window, his back to her. He turned to greet her and she was suddenly self-conscious, a state to which the confident young woman was unaccustomed.
While Diana had been used to dealing with captains of industry and government leaders, she found herself unprepared for Oliver Darlington. Aside from being extremely attractive, his commanding presence could have put the most arrogant politician to shame. Not that he himself was arrogant; it was just that he was aware of his dominance and comfortable with using it. Nevertheless, he went out of his way to make Diana feel welcome.
"Please sit," he said, offering her a very comfortable chair. "Julius, please bring refreshments for Miss Summers. She's had a long drive." Diana started to protest, but he reassured her. "It's no trouble at all, and I take tea this time of day, anyway. Relax after what was probably a tedious trip."
Diana smiled in acknowledgement. "Well, it did seem as if I was heading straight for the drop off the face of the earth at one point."
Immediately, concern registered on Darlington's face. "I hope you won't find it too isolated here. I plan on keeping you busy, but you will have time to yourself and civilization isn't too far a drive."
"Mr. Darlington," she replied with a smile, "it's beautiful here, and I know I'm going to appreciate the peace and quiet. It's not what I'm used to, but I'd like to change that."
"First, it's not Mr. Darlington, it's Oliver. And I appreciate your attitude. I understand that your last employment could be rather contentious, and you're wise to appreciate the beauty and opportunities that my home has to offer."
As they had a light tea, Oliver explained Diana's new responsibilities in more detail than she'd received from the employment agencies. As a highly successful painter, he was very sought after and there was a great deal of correspondence, including requests for commissions (he didn't do them, insisting on painting only what he chose to paint), charity appeals (he was generous with his money but not with his paintings, which weren't trifles to be bid on by socialites), and solicitations from galleries who wanted to represent him (look into it, do due diligence, then we'll discuss it). And then there were those who sought personal appearances or face-to-face meetings. The media weren't the least of them, but there were also celebrity hounds, undiscovered artists, and would-be models. ("I'm single, wealthy, and under 75. You can imagine.")
"You'll learn that my family has a reputation for mystery and eccentricity. And I'm known for wanting my privacy. Some people don't give a rat's tail about my art – they just want to say that they rubbed elbows with the weirdo. You are here to deal with them, to cover my back. And then there's the book project, but we can go over that tomorrow."
He told Diana that unless they were traveling or he had visitors at the house, she should dress as comfortably as she wished. Being somewhat conservative by nature, her casual clothes consisted mostly of khaki slacks, jeans, and knee-length skirts, together with button-down or polo shirts, so that worked well for her.
Oliver stood and said "I'm sure you'd like to see your rooms, get organized, and perhaps take a bit of a rest."
Diana nodded gratefully. "That would be wonderful. I would like to unpack and freshen up."
"Oh, there is one more thing," Oliver added casually as Diana started to rise. He took a box from his pocket and opened it to show her a delicately carved bloodstone ring. "I'd like you to wear this at all times while you're in my employment."
Diana reached for the ring, then hesitated. She gave him a quizzical look and he continued "The ring has been a part of this house for generations. It needs someone to wear it."
Okay, this is pretty strange, she thought, but she needed the job and what harm could it do, right? She made a joke of it, saying "Well, it is one of the stranger job requirements I've had, but it's certainly one of the more pleasant ones. It's beautiful, and I'll take good care of it."
"Good. Now Julius will show you to your rooms."
After slipping the ring onto her finger, Diana followed Julius as he gave her a brief tour of the house. At one point, Diana started to feel somewhat odd. Not ill, or even uncomfortable, just odd. She brushed the feeling aside as fatigue and stress from wanting to succeed in her new position. Finally, they arrived at a suite of rooms that were beautifully decorated, with a stunning view of wooded hills.
"Dinner will be at 7:30, Miss." And Julius left Diana to prganize herself in her new quarters.
After putting away her clothing and belongings, Diana took a nap. When she woke near seven o'clock, she had faint recollections of a dream that left her vaguely disturbed. The odd sensation she'd felt earlier was still with her, perhaps even intensified a bit. Noting the time, though, she brushed it aside and dressed for dinner. Not knowing how formal the meal would be, she settled on a simple shift dress and sandals.
Arriving at the dining room, she saw that the small table was set for two, and she heard Oliver's step behind her. As he held the chair out for her before taking his own seat, he smiled and gave her a wink. "Arriving a step before your employer will always earn you points."
Julius served a delicious meal. (He'd also prepared it, making him more than worth his weight in gold, Oliver told Diana). Although Oliver's lighthearted stories about the house and his ancestors should have put her at east, it seemed to Diana that their close proximity intensified the odd sensation that she'd had since before her nap. That was ridiculous, though, she reassured herself. It surely was just nerves and a new environment.
After dinner, Diana still fell a bit off. A little lightheaded, a bit tingly, she couldn't quite put a finger on it. But while Oliver spoke, rather than focusing on his words she found her mind drifting to extremely intimate thoughts involving him. Her eyes fell on Oliver's strong looking hands, and she imagined them traveling up the insides of her thighs. Forcing that thought away, she looked into his eyes, only to imagine a hungry look in them as he watched her strip for him. Irritated with herself, she lowered her gaze to his mouth, which did no good whatsoever. All she could think of now was how his lips would feel on her now stiff nipples.
She forced her lust away, unaccustomed to not being in control. Granted, Oliver was an extremely attractive man. Okay, attractive was an understatement. Make that magnificent. But Diana had never been a slave to passion before, and the strong, distracting pull she felt toward Oliver was uncharacteristic.
"Get a grip!" she silently ordered herself. "The last thing you need is to get involved with another man right away, particularly if he's your boss!"
With great effort, she managed to subdue the strange feelings. However, when she again met Oliver's eyes, equally strange was the look of knowing satisfaction that she found there. It was as if he had deliberately incited her lust and was pleased at her response. Shaking off that thought as impossible, she turned the conversation to his art, mentioning a few pieces she had seen in museums.
Oliver suggested that they move to the library to enjoy an after dinner drink. She followed him to an impeccably furnished room that seemed to invite one to relax. The decoration was masculine enough for a man's private retreat, inviting enough to make a woman feel comfortable, but definitely a male domain.
Diana took a seat on a sumptuous leather sofa and Oliver sat facing her on a generously proportioned chair that seemed to have been made for him. In fact, she thought, he looked rather like a pasha in his throne. She was very aware of his air of authority and imagined that he frequently, if not always, took the upper hand in his dealings with others.
The discussion turned to their mutual love of reading, Oliver having offered Diana the free run of the library, when she suddenly became appalled at the posture that she had unconsciously taken. Leaning back onto the sofa with one hand behind her head, and sitting on one bent leg with the other stretched out to the side was inappropriate enough. She realized, though, that her skirt had crept up and that she was giving Oliver a view, obstructed only by her panties, of her crotch.
"This is insane!" Diana thought. "I only had one sherry!"
When she tried to assume a more modest pose, however, her body was reluctant to comply. She felt herself blushing furiously as she forced her legs into a normal sitting position. Fortunately, other than that same satisfied look that Diana told herself was all in her imagination, Oliver didn't seem to have noticed anything untoward.
The rest of the evening was without incident, and after Oliver showed Diana to her room, she felt a tentative confidence that her acceptance of the job as Oliver's assistant had been the right choice.
Laying her head down on her pillow, Diana fell into the deepest sleep that she had experienced in quite some time. When she woke the next day she felt utterly relaxed. If she had dreamed, they must have been pleasant good dreams because she actually felt like she'd had a good sleep instead of feeling like she'd run a marathon, as she usually did when she woke.