Jordan sat down at the den computer where he had just entered the new data on the spreadsheet. It came out to a solid twelve-pound loss from three days ago, size loss nearly equal everywhere. Carl had been running the data for over nine months now. The initial loss curve stopped plummeting when Jordan was hired on, but it soon showed a second steady decline, and the rate of it was increasing. The catabolic wasting of muscle was draining Carl's body, more so this cycle than ever before. He pressed his head against the computer and thought for a moment. In high school, he had known more about physiology than Carl did, with his independent research on building muscle mass, but the tables were turned now. Jordan wasn't sure he knew what he was doing anymore. What if Carl died, and it was Jordan's fault? He couldn't ignore it much longer. Carl's clothes, once a fashionably good fit, were now hanging on him like sacks. Jordan put his hands to his head and massaged the furrow of his brow as he evaluated the information. He closed the weight file window and opened the diet file – the full, unabridged one. He'd just about decided on an extra-carb/extra-protein diet. If Carl wanted steroids, he could set it up himself.
Carl strode in, hair wet, in jeans, shirt, and socks, a sweatshirt in his hand. "On your toes, Jordan. She'll be arriving soon. I've decided to have you go down to pick her up. You should probably buy the groceries first."
Jordan looked at his watch, feeling his jaws tighten. He tried to speak nonchalantly. "You should have told me earlier. If I leave now, I'll get to the station right before the train arrives. I'll have to get her, then the groceries."
"No. You can't be getting groceries while Diana sits in the car. Even if her presence is inconvenient, she will be treated as a guest until we find a way to send her back home. I'll open a tab for her at the station, she can have a cocktail and something to eat while you're gathering groceries." Carl pulled the sweatshirt on over his head.
Jordan suspected Carl's calmness was an act, there had to be a reason Carl was backing out of his obligation. Regardless, being late was a pet peeve of Jordan's, and he had no desire to pick up Diana and make a bunch of excuses. "What if she doesn't want a drink?" he growled, slamming the wireless mouse against the wall and standing up to face Carl, his broad shoulders thrown back. "Maybe she doesn’t drink. Why didn't you just come in here a little earlier? I thought you were going, or I'd have left eons ago. Months ago. Why in hell did God give you blond hair when you could have had a brain instead?" Jordan leaned over the computer, banged a few keys to save the data and strode toward the door.
Carl finished pulling the sweatshirt on, stood up straight and looked the short distance down at Jordan as only Carl had the guts to do. "Are you going like that?" Carl asked, folding his arms and leaning against the doorjamb.
Jordan looked down at himself. "Like what?"
Carl waved a hand at Jordan's clothes. "Like ratty T-shirt and faded jeans."
"Don't have much choice on short notice, boss," Jordan answered, staring coldly into Carl's steady blue eyes. “My only good pair of jeans is in the laundry, and I don't wear silk. I'll get a newer T-shirt." Jordan turned to brush past Carl.
Jordan felt Carl grab his sleeve, and seethed with rage and frustration, but refused to turn.
"What in the hell are you doing with all that money?" Carl released Jordan's shirt a moment later, and Jordan brushed it flat, his face a storm. Carl continued in the same tone of voice, striding through the doorway. "Dammit, let me get you something of mine. I may have an oversized sweater that'll fit, but the pants..."
Jordan hissed, "What is your problem? Who needs fashion up on the side of a mountain where you never see anyone?" Carl showed no intentions of responding. "Fine. Get me a shirt, if you can find one big enough," he growled, "and let me go do your job for you. Lazy-ass prima donna." As Carl's steps sounded up the stairs, Jordan grabbed the upright bar of a weight machine, pressed his head against it and squeezed it until his knuckles turned white, regretting his hostility. Carl’s size, right now, was Jordan’s fault, if it was anyone’s. He wished he was back in his tiny closet in California, seeing women on the weekends, writing a letter to his mother in his spare time. He barely got a chance to call anymore. Maybe Carl would just die of this thing.
Shocked, he opened his eyes and thought for a moment about Carl dying. He let go of the bar, stood up straight, and dismissed the notion. It was a comforting thought only when he was angry, and it shook him that he thought of it at all. In high school, Carl had had a reputation for diplomacy that Jordan had seen only traces of since the unexpected visit in California. It might be that Carl had changed, but it was more likely the stress that made him unpredictable and short-tempered.
Carl came back with a large polo shirt an aunt had given him. It was much too big for Carl even when he was healthy, but it would be tight on Jordan. Jordan stripped out of his T-shirt to show a broad, wedge-shaped mass of pure muscle fiber, his back crossed with scars that became visible as he turned slightly and started walking toward the laundry room. He almost expected Carl to ask again about the scars, but it seemed his earlier tightlipped silence had made the message clear: don't ask.
Carl crossed over to him and took the big T-shirt from his hand. "Just go."
Jordan stared at him a moment, then left. He stopped at the doorway and bellowed over his shoulder, "Up your protein twenty percent." He hoped his voice sounded confident.
* * *
Jordan slid into the smooth leather seat of the sporty little yellow coupe and took a deep breath, trying to clear his thoughts. He felt like ripping Carl’s head off and dealing with the consequences later. He took another deep breath, put the keys in the ignition, and his foot hit the floor like a jackrabbit. The engine roared into life and Jordan yanked his leg up, letting it slow down to a gentle thrumming. He took another deep breath and counted to five while he released it, closing his eyes and listening to the deep growl of the car he so loved to drive. The idea of having control over the beautiful machine while he was angry, and harming it, put him off more than the thought of ripping Carl to pieces. He forced himself to calm down. His anger wasn’t getting him anywhere, as usual, and he had a job to do. He put the car in gear and crept down the gravel drive, careful to keep the tires from spitting the gravel onto the car’s enamel skin.
He knew Diana’s presence was a threat to Carl, and he tried to think through what Diana would see, and what she would think of it. He wasn’t happy that he had a tight shirt on. He didn’t like drawing attention to his muscles. He focused on the house, on Carl. What would seem normal, what would seem out of place? He tried to remember what had seemed normal to him, and shook his head. The house had changed since then, reinforced with steel bars and silver hardware. It might not seem normal, but it shouldn’t be alarming.
Arriving late at the lounge in the train station, Jordan saw the back of a head of long, black hair at the bar and assumed it was Diana's. Other than that, the lounge was empty. He walked up, feeling awkward. "Diana?"
She turned around and caught him off guard with the intensity of her striking blue eyes. He felt himself falling into them, and focused his mind sharply. She was stunning in a slightly exotic way, could have been a supermodel. He hadn’t expected that at all.
She measured his expression coolly. "Were you expecting someone else?" Her glossy, thick hair was feathered around her face and her full lips and dark eyebrows intensified the deep-blue of her eyes, which presently displayed impatience.
Many typical lines came to mind, and he quickly rejected them. "Would you like to finish your drink?" He reached for a barstool – she had chosen a seat that stood alone.
"Hmm... the first thing he does is quiz me. No, the first thing he does is tell me he can't arrive in time, so would I please be so kind as to get drunk so that I'll be ready when he gets here." Her gaze penetrated him as she tapped her fingers on the varnished wood counter.
Jordan pulled up the stool and sat down at an arm's length from her. He would have liked to have gotten closer, and that annoyed him. "No, the first thing he does is find out whether his boss' instructions have made her as mad as they made him." He paused so the next words would sink in, "I'm Jordan, the houseboy."
Diana appraised him coolly. "In that case, let me finish the drink, Jordan the houseboy." She stared at him as she lifted the glass to her shiny red lips.
Jordan felt her stare measuring him, and he wondered how he looked to her. He thought his dark features, while not particularly handsome, were well-balanced. He was clean-shaven, but his face had a hardness to it that was intimidating to many people, and in pictures, he noticed his eyes were always narrow, as if he were squinting. Or as if he'd seen enough of life and was trying to filter out any more of it than he absolutely had to endure.
"So, you're just a lackey working for an arrogant master?" she asked, her lips parting slowly in a sensual smile.
Jordan looked down for a moment and shook his head. She flustered him as if he were still in grade school. "He just got back this morning, and he had a lot on his mind. We're sorry you had to wait, it wasn't intentional."
"Don't worry, I'll reserve judgment until we meet. I know I'm more impatient than I should be. Actually, I've really been enjoying the view." Diana stared at him as she gestured out the large picture window at the river that wound through a steep, rocky valley.
"If you think this view is nice, wait 'til you see the castle."
She raised her exquisite eyebrows. "The castle?"
He grimaced. It was his own private term for the house. "It's a bit grander than what I grew up with. It also has a beautiful view of the valley and a private stream of its own.” There was no point hiding from her what she’d see with her own eyes soon enough. “It's not a bad place to spend a few days."
"Well then, a couple of weeks should be just grand," she said, twirling a cherry from the condiment rack by its stem.
"Don't settle in until you meet the master of the house. I made that mistake myself, and I'd hate to see you lose all your hair. You must have had it your whole life."
He watched a smile spread across her face as he realized how lame his attempt at humor sounded, and it chilled him. He wasn't sure if it was just that he was too attracted to her, or that she seemed the type to use it against him. "Where's your luggage?" he asked, looking around at her feet.
"I had it put in a locker when I got the message." Diana's dark brows framed her question. "Does he own these people? I haven't experienced such solicitous attention since I won a first-class ticket to Maui."
Jordan shrugged. "He might. He can afford it." His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly before he changed the subject. "If we can't get your bags into the car I can have someone bring them up. You might want to bring just the things you need."
"It'll fit in the trunk of a standard car, I'm sure. I didn't expect to be picked up in a van."
"You won't be disappointed; it's not a van. But your luggage probably won't fit."
"Hmmm. Well, let's see what we can do." She stood up and stretched languorously. His breath caught at the sight of the long, shapely legs utterly exposed between the black miniskirt and the high T-strap leather stilettos.
Diana's short jacket had been hanging over the low back of the bar stool, obscuring the view, and Jordan took the chance to appreciate the swelling curves under the creamy silk blouse. He told himself that he was simply starved for the sight of a sophisticated woman after several months of forced hermitage. It would be a shame to let her go. He followed along behind her casually swaying hips as she led the way to the locker.
"How many of these do you have?" he asked as she turned the key in the lock.
She turned around and let her gaze slide slowly over his face. "I have one. This is it." She slid a suitcase over to him, then reached in again and pulled out a carry-on bag. "I don't think I'll need much, which is good because overseas travel doesn't allow for much. Perhaps one of you could lend me a few things to wear until I go shopping," She added flippantly.
Jordan lifted the heavy suitcase, then led the way toward the car.
"Sorry about the... oh, I guess you didn't notice, did you?" she asked, following him.
"Notice what?" he answered.
"No, you wouldn't," she said. "The suitcase weighs a ton. But then, with a body like yours, what's a ton?"
Jordan smiled to himself as they stepped through the automatic doors and walked toward the Jaguar. He tried not to think about how he moved, but he was afraid he was strutting.
"Is that yours?" She asked when he set the luggage down. "I see what you mean about fitting. These cars don't even have back seats, do they?" She leaned over to look inside the small, two-seat compartment.
Jordan almost missed his cue as he stared at the heart-shaped curves of her backside. "I think we can fit the suitcase in the trunk, but you may have to get cozy with the carry-on." He opened the trunk and stashed the suitcase next to the groceries, then closed it.
She was settled in snugly, bag on her lap, by the time he slid behind the wheel. He pointed out the views as they drove into the woods, forgetting to dissuade her. He loved the scenery. She rolled the window down and breathed the pure, cold air, tainted with ice and fallen leaves.
"How much farther are we going?" she asked.
"It’s just down the other side of this hill. But it’s a long hill, and the road isn’t paved."
She looked out the window again. "I knew it was in the mountains, but I didn't realize it was quite so remote."
Jordan belatedly realized this was as good an opportunity as any to start convincing her not to stay too long. "We were surprised to hear you wanted to stay here. I don't know about that shopping you wanted to do. We might be able to get out in a week or two, if the snow holds off. Otherwise, we’ll be trapped."
"Hmmm. I hope you have several spare shirts." She gripped her seat, looking straight down the cliff at her right. "What size is Carl? Is he another Goliath?" Her voice sounded strained despite the attempt at humor, and Jordan assumed it had more to do with the sheer drop off the side of a mountain road than Carl's possible size.
Jordan shifted into a lower gear. "He's tall but slim."
Diana sighed with relief as they passed the cliff. She shook her head and stared up at the tall peaks, laughed under her breath, then said, "Wonderful. I'm going up into the mountains beyond the limit of standard telephone wires, to be trapped in a castle with a couple of giants."
Jordan pressed the accelerator as they approached a hill. "We're a lot like humans, if you ignore our diet of Englishmen."
She grinned. "Yes, but it's the human part I'm worried about."
"You come from California, don't you?" He reminded himself that secrets ruined relationships, and that would doom this one, so hands off. Not that he had time for a relationship with her before she needed to be gone, anyway.
She laughed, but didn't answer.
They came around a corner and the huge house came into view. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her frown; not the response he had expected.
"Why all the grills in the windows? Surely you don't have to worry about gangs up here?"
He looked up at the house. "No, just the wolves," he said without thinking.
Her glossy black hair flew as she turned to him. "Wolves!"
"And bears, and rabbits," he responded quickly.
"Wolves and bears and rabbits! Oh, my!" She said, her eyes glinting with amusement.
Jordan slowed as they hit the ruts of the graveled drive. "The rangers are reintroducing wolves up north of here, and we don't know what it'll do to the rest of the wild animals' behavior." It sounded lame to him, but she seemed willing to accept it.
He pulled around in the circular drive, right up to the front door, and got out to come around and help her, but she was already standing up. He quickly opened the trunk and pulled the heavy suitcase out, then closed it. She was looking at the door. "And why the silver artwork on the door?"
"Decorative," as well as functional, he thought. "Can I get that for you?"
She appraised him. "Yes, I'm sure you can." She handed him the bag.
"Why don't you just come inside and get comfortable? I'll..."
The big door opened. "Diana– " Carl was standing on the dais holding the silver door handle with a towel.
Diana looked up and smiled.
Jordan sighed inwardly. Carl had looks and a charisma that he would never match. He could write Diana off as Carl's, unless she disliked skinny boys.
Carl stood for a moment, then his good grace took over. "You must be tired; let me show you to your room. Jordan will bring your luggage." He dropped the towel, took her arm and swept her through the huge metal-clad doorway and up the stairs to the guest quarters. Jordan followed a few paces behind with the luggage, stepping to pick up the towel as he passed the doorway.