Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon or The Prospective Wife and make no money from writing this story.
Warnings:This is an adaptation the published work mentioned above. I mean no harm or profit but to use the story as a setting for my favorite anime couple. You have been warned.
Summary:Hired for marriage? Darien Shields is the ultimate millionaire playboy, and irresistibly charming. The members of his family are constantly trying to find him a suitable wife. Then Darien has an accident, and his suspicions are aroused when blond, beautiful Serena is hired to help him recover. However, Darien is surprised at Serena's cool professionalism as a physiotherapist; maybe she is there to massage, not marry him. So why does he find her touch so arousing; has he at last found his potential wife?The Potential Wife
Chapter 6
Pretend to be in love? Kissing and touching, wouldn't be almost obligatory under such circumstances? On one level, she found the idea exciting in a wild reckless sort of way. Another part of her instinctively knew she couldn't settle for make believe.
Serena drew a deep sustaining breath as it hit her with the force of a tidal wave. She wouldn't be pretending.
"It would probably cure her of matchmaking for good."
"Rough justice, how poetic. You are just a warped and manipulative as she is!" She accused shakily. She felt as if the truth were written all over her face.
Darien shrugged. "It was just a thought."
"Do me a favor. Don't think." She took a deep breath and changed the subject. "You were giving me the lowdown on your father. If I'd thought about him at all, I suppose I had assumed he was dead." For some reason this last comment seemed to amuse Darien the most.
"No, he is very much alive," he told her gravely. "With emphasis in the very. He is very fond of mentioning he's got more energy than a man half his age."
"Would that younger man be you?"
"Give the lady a prize."
"You don't get on with him...?"
"Go straight to the top of the class. My father and I haven't communicated for several years; he's disinherited me."
"And I take it there is a lot to disinherit you from...?" She prompted. A person just couldn't start a story and leave it like that!
"You have heard of Golden Airlines?"
Serena nodded. "Of course."
"That's my father."
Her eyes widened. "Gosh!" She looked around her surroundings, realizing now why he took such opulence for granted. "Then you set up in..."
"Competition." He inclined his dark head. "That's right. He wanted me to be the dutiful son and learn at the master's feet."
"I can see how that might cause a bit of friction. But surely after the accident...?" She exclaimed, unable to comprehend the sort of paternal animosity that could survive this life threatening crisis. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry." She added uncomfortably.
Darien's muscle packed shoulders lifted, and Serena, to whom the mechanics of muscle and sinew were no mystery, found herself distracted by this simple action...This is getting silly, she told herself angrily.
"It's no secret," he told her. "It's the old nurturing a snake in his bosom story. He's considered me a traitor from the day I became the opposition. So, you see, you got caught up in a long running family feud. Mom never gives up on the idea of a big reconciliation. She's got this master plan, you see, to get Dad and I back together."
"That's got nothing to do with me..."
Darien shocks his head slowly. Now that they were both officially victims of Drusilla, he seemed inclined to view her in an almost sympathetic manner.
"Me producing a son is meant to reduce the old man to a sentimental push-over..."
Privately, going in the information she had, Serena thought such an event was highly unlikely, given the two men involved both seemed extraordinarily obstinate and inflexible.
One dark brow lifted. "That's where you come in..."
"Me...?" She echoed innocently.
"I can't produce a son alone..."
"Does it have to be a boy?"
"No," he conceded, "Just a Shields. Well, half Shields...the other half..."
Serena's eyes widened to saucer size. "She picked me for my child bearing hips?"
"Don't panic. I think she's backing a loser, too."
Serena couldn't decide if this was a direct indictment of her hips or her overall appeal, or lack of it. Either way, it was hard to stand there and act as if you didn't care when the man you were crazy about casually dismissed you as a possible mate.
"Poor Drusilla!" Putting aside her unhappy personal involvement, she couldn't help but feel for the other woman. It was the ultimate divided loyalties scenario: caught between husband and son. Serena couldn't imagine a situation she'd like less. "It must be hard for her. Does your father know you are staying here?"
"Probably," Darien conceded carelessly.
Serena noticed he had the same closed expression on his face every time he mentioned his father.
"They've come to some sort of compromise, they don't discuss me but I'm sure he knows what she's up to."
"I thought my family was odd..." A cloud passed over her face as it hit her anew that she no longer had a family, odd or otherwise.
Her tactlessness amused him; the shadow in her eyes intrigued him. "Perhaps we could exchange odd anecdotes some time...?"
Serena didn't respond to his smile. "Perhaps," she said, confident that she'd never feel inclined to confide her family secrets to this man. She moved down the wide shallow steps until her ankles were covered by the water. When she lifted her head she found her eyes were on level with the scars on his left leg.
A naturally emphatic person, Serena had been forced over the years to build up the necessary defenses against other people's sufferings. She'd learnt that she couldn't identify personally with someones pain without affecting her work. But one glance at the surgeon's clever handiwork here and those rudimentary defenses were stripped clean away. She stood there, feeling emotions so raw it hurt.
"Want a guided tour of the scar sites?"
Only a total deviant could have found the invitation erotic. Serena lowered her troubled gaze, feeling deeply ashamed.
He touched the one above his knee. "This is from the external fixation. When that got infected, they eventually opted for the internal metalwork." He traced a vertical line. "Quite a mess."
Serena had this crazy explosive image on her head of tracing the fading line with her fingers...her lips. Her entire body was shaken by a hot shiver. "I've seen worse," she croaked. "Here, let me help you into the water." Pity it's not cold, she certainly could do with it!
"Give it to me from the female angle."
"Female angle?"
"You know what I mean. What is your gut reaction?" he elaborated casually. "Pity, distaste, revulsion...? Don't pull your punches. I'd like to know what to expect."
Serena shook her head in disbelief. "You know, the vanity of men never ceases to amaze me," she marveled angrily. "You think women are that shallow?"
"Now that you come to mention it..." Ignoring her extended had, he maneuvered himself down the first couple steps pretty slickly. From what she could see, Serena didn't think he'd need her services for too long.
Serena wished she'd concentrated harder when Drusilla had been explaining about some girlfriend – or had it been fiancée? – who had dumped Darien because she had panicked at the idea of disfigurement. Silly fool, Serena thought, intensely scornful of this fickle airhead...If you loved someone, what did a few scars matter?
"Just because you've had a bad experience..." She immediately sensed the wary aggression in his tense stance. "Drusilla mentioned a girl..." she admitted with a brief conciliatory grin. Her bosom swelled with indignation. "She didn't sound very...nice," she sniffed.
"Not nice, but very naughty." Darien told her with a nostalgic gleam in his eyes. He hadn't expected nor wanted Beryl to hang around when the going got tough; they hadn't had that sort of relationship.
Serena, her stomach churning queasily, didn't want to think about what sort of behavior naughty covered. Neither was she totally convinced by the fact that he was displaying none of the classical symptoms of rejection. Pride would never permit him to admit that he'd been hurt...Maybe he was trying to play down the incident deliberately? Perhaps he was genuinely seeking reassurance...? Part of her ached to provide that reassurance; part of her ached to give him whatever he wanted!
Looking at his hard, almost painfully handsome face, Serena found it hard to believe the latter could be true. He had to be the most confident person she'd ever come across. Appearances could be deceptive, she remained herself. Maybe the ego thing was a cover up.
Just when she felt inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt and her concern for his emotional welfare had risen accordingly he went and spoilt it with a scornful, "If I wanted nice I'd buy a dog."
"Niceness and fidelity don't seem to feature very high on your list of virtues," she observed tartly as she backed down the steps. It was fortunate monitoring his progress was a part of her job because Serena didn't think she could have torn her eyes from him if her life depended on it!
"I take it they do in yours?" He gave a sigh of pleasure ad the warm water closed about his waist.
"Well, I haven't lost hope of finding someone who can see beyond a D-cup, someone who loves me for more than my body."
A very worrying expression had slid into his eyes when she'd mentioned D-cup. It occurred to her she was in danger of exacerbating an already tense situation!
"Let's try this first, shall we...?" She began to demonstrate a few gentle exercises which Darien immediately copied. After a few moments, she was satisfied he was more than up to the task.
"And would you love him, this paragon," Darien continued their conversation as if nothing had been said in the interim, and the contemptuous curl of his lip spoilt the gentle rhythm Serena had built up "for more than his body?" Loving her body wouldn't be too onerous a task for most men.
She could hardly beg him to avoid the L subject without inviting unwelcome speculation. What was she meant to say...? I've fallen madly, deeply, dangerously in love with you, so please don't bring up the subject? "Did you see me falling about in revulsion at your scars?"
"That's not the same. You don't fancy me..." Was it her guilty conscience that imbued his tone with skepticism? "You don't even like, or have you forgotten?"
"I haven't forgotten!" she retorted, her bosom heaving as though she'd just sprinted several lengths of the pool. "And I'm not likely to while you continue to go out of your way to be objectionable. Shall we take a break?"
"So soon?" The ends of his hair were wet; when he shook his head the excess moisture transferred itself to his mocking face. "I don't think your fitness levels are what they should be."
This not so veiled reference to her breathless discomposed state brought an angry resentful frown to Serena's brow. "I don't want you to over-exert yourself."
"How can you be so sure?" He seemed to be in the mood to discompose her some more as he leaned back against a mosaic dolphin on the tiled side of the pool. "That you won't fall in love with a pretty face? Don't be so quick to pour scorn!" he warned, as an indignant denial trembled angrily on her tongue. "You may be looking for a guy's inner strength but it's quite likely you'll see his tight behind first."
Under the mockery of his too blue eyes, heat flooded Serena's face. "I don't look at men's bottoms, tight or otherwise." She tried to compress her full and sexy lips into a prim and prissy line and failed in a way that delighted Darien.
"Except professionally, of course..." he added with mock solemnity.
Was this his way of telling her that he'd seen straight through her professional gawping earlier? If it is, I don't want to know, she decided, gritting her teeth and rising above the malicious taunt.
"All right, let's say for the sake of argument that you're not a bottom girl. What happens if you meet a rat who just happens to fulfill all your girlhood dreams...?"
What indeed?
"You'd know about that, I suppose?" If ever a man was the embodiment of female dreams, he was it!
"Why, Miss Alcobar, I do believe you're telling me I'm pretty! I don't know what to say..." He performed a parody of coy and modest that would have had her laughing if she hadn't been so tense and suspicious.
"We can only live in hope." This drew a deep wildly attractive rumble of laughter from him. "And actually I was thinking of the rat part."
"The point I'm trying to make,"
"In a long winded way."
"Is that when it comes to the crunch your loftily principles might prove lacking."
"If they do, you'll be the first to know," she snapped sarcastically. "Are you ready to do a few more exercises before we call it a day?"
"No, I'm ready for a swim."
"I don't think you are ready."
He listened with an expression of deep interest, then gave her a wicked little grin and launched himself smoothly towards the deep end of the pool.
Serena had little choice but to follow him, even though she wasn't the best swimmer in the world and, given the choice, she normally didn't venture out of her depth. He had covered a good half of the pool in a lazy but efficient crawl before she caught up with him. He was leaning on his back, squinting up through half-closed eyes at the elaborate murals of toga-clad women in the high ceiling.
"Hell that felt good!"
Serena began to inexpertly tread water. "That was a stupid thing to do!"
"You breathing could do with some work," he observed regarding her red-cheeked breathlessness critically.
This one piece of provocation too many for Serena, who had been scared stiff that he'd get into trouble in deep water and she'd be unable to help him. "I didn't come here to be your lifeguard, or for that matter your nursemaid!" she yelled. "If you are going to ignore everything I say; I don't see much point in staying!" At that moment she swallowed a large mouthful of water. Coughing and choking, her uncoordinated thrashing movements sent her under water. Panic kept her there longer than was necessary and a strong arm brought her back up.
When her head re-emerged above the water, Darien's arms were linked gently under her arms.
"You're fine," the voice beside her ear soothed persuasively, so persuasively, in fact, that if she hadn't felt as if she'd swallowed half the pool water she might have believed him. "Just relax."
Easier said than done! Serena fought back the instinct that made her want to claw wildly at him.
"Good girl," he approved as she allowed her head to rest against his shoulder. "Let me do all the work."
Every professional instinct told Serena she should do nothing of the sort, but her fright had taken the fight clear out of her. "You'll..."
"Break? I don't think so. Besides, the water is doing all the work; you're as light as a feather."
"That's a novelty."
Her passive acceptance of his aid lasted until she felt the bottom of the pool under her toes. The arm looped across her ribcage fell away as she struggled to regain her feet.
"You can't swim!"
The virulence of his biting accusation took her by surprise. "Of course I can. I just can't swim as well as you." She pushed back her drenched hair from her face with unsteady hands.
An image of his streamlined body moving through the water appeared in her head. He was as supple and confident as a seal in the water. Even in her panic-stricken state, part of her had registered his grace and casual elegance. She instinctively knew that under normal circumstances he would be just as rivetingly, breathtakingly elegant on dry land.
"You call that swimming?" His eyebrows drew into a scornful dark line.
Serena glared mutinously back. Hadn't she been humiliated enough without him rubbing salt in the wound? Still he didn't let it go! It was her near-death experience, for heaven's sake!
"Why the hell swim out of your depth when you knew you couldn't handle it?"
Serena still felt out of her depth; she felt that way every time she looked at him. "Well, someone had to be there to save you if you overreached yourself!" she yelled back, stomping abruptly towards the steps and sitting down in the shallow water with a thump. Her knees were feeling the after effects of her little adventure and her head was spinning. With a sigh she let her head fall weakly to her lap.
"She was going to save me...?" Darien repeated under his breath as he made his way towards her. Out of the water it was a slow, arduous process. "She was going to save me...!" he repeated. A slow grin spread across his face as he shook his head wonderingly from side to side. "Are you all right?"
Serena lifted her head. Her face was pale but otherwise she didn't look too bad...Actually, she looked deeply desirable. His body responded lustfully. If asked at that moment he would have fiercely denied that he'd ever thought her insipidly pretty.
"I'm fine." Thankfully the nausea had receded.
"Are all our sessions going to be this dramatic?"
Serena shook her head. "There aren't going to be any more. I really don't think this is going to work out." She was just amazed that he couldn't see this too. "You must see that...?"
"Why must I?'
Serena's jaw tightened. "We don't get on."
"Do you only treat patients you like?"
Now she knew he was being deliberately obtuse. "This isn't dislike. This is a total clash of personalities! I'm not--"
"Throwing in the towel?" he suggested smoothly.
"I'm no quitter!" she insisted defiantly. "I just can't work in this atmosphere."
"Ah, the atmosphere..."
Serena didn't like the way he said that one bit at all. She shot him a worried furtive glance from under the sweep of her wet eyelashes. "Be careful!" she said sharply as, with his leg extended stiffly, he lowered himself smoothly down besides her.
Serena didn't know if the hair-roughened flesh of his thigh had come to rest against her own deliberately, but she did know that it was the last straw! The hot liquid sensation that pooled low in her belly was even more debilitating than strange, light-headed, airborne feeling and the weakness that afflicted all her limbs simultaneously.
Darien watched as a fine tremor ran through her entire body. "Are you cold?"
Cold, hot...? Both...neither. Serena didn't have the faintest idea, and cared even less.
"Perhaps we should leave and go inside...?"
"I've told you. I'm leaving." As soon as she could trust herself to stand.
Darien allowed his exasperation to show. "You need a job; I need a physio..." If he'd said what else he needed...needed badly, as it happened...he'd really spook her, and probably earn him a lot of bad publicity into the bargain!
It occurred to him that it was a bit late in the day to remember office protocol...There were excuses...This wasn't an office...This was a hot steamy place where a guy didn't wear many clothes to hide his interest! Actually, it was a bit of a relief; after the paraplegic scare he'd been assured there would be no problems on that score. Only when the feeling had returned to his toes and his legs there had been no corresponding awakening in vital areas, not until now!
"How about if I promise to be a good boy and do everything you tell me...?"
A distressed moan escaped from Serena's throat as her fevered imagination came up with several things she'd like to tell him to do; the things could only be termed exercises in the loosest possible sense! Why sis he have to be so vibrantly male? She wondered despairingly.
Her teeth came together so hard it hurt. "I can't!" she told him in a strangled voice.
"Of course you can."
Serena lifted her head from her contemplation of her white knuckled fingers with a snap; her eyes were blazing. "I can't stay here," she grated in a goaded voice. "It might be different if I was a typist or something." Typing didn't require a person to lay her hands on her boss' bare skin. There was nothing even vaguely clinical about the almost overwhelming urge she had to place her hands against his solid chest.
"I don't see the distinction."
Serena's nostrils flared and her cheeks grew hot with shame. "I can't...can't look at you the way I should look at a patient."
There was a frustratingly blank look of incomprehension in Darien's eyes.
"It's not...proper!"