A/N: Thanks to Tayryn, Searider-Falcon, Lilydale, and EspoirDio for their enthusiasm and encouragement while I was writing this. My apologies for all movies, songs, and sonnets ripped off herein. Hope everyone enjoys the story, and happy holidays!
Rock You (Like a Hurricane)
Chapter 1
CC Babcock stepped from the taxi onto the icy curb of 75th Street, careful to avoid slick patches as she walked up the sidewalk to the Sheffield mansion. She pulled her long woolen coat closer around her, relishing the brisk wind that blew snowflakes across her path.
"Hello, hello," she said as Niles held the door for her. She slipped her coat off her shoulders and held it out to him, barely making eye contact, then strode across the living room towards the office.
Niles rolled his eyes at her back, and shook the coat once to remove any errant snowflakes before hanging it in the closet. No point in having to try to remove water stains from it later.
As he turned away from the closet, he noticed a slip of paper on the hardwood floor that hadn't been there before Miss Babcock's arrival. He leaned to retrieve the paper and glanced at it. "PK 51, 2 Papeari." He wasn't sure what the notation indicated, but he recognized her bold handwriting. Shrugging, he put it back in the pocket of her coat and walked towards the kitchen to clean up the breakfast dishes.
"No," she answered Maxwell's question about her holiday plans. "This year I'm getting as far away from this place as possible." She slipped her compact back into her bag, satisfied that her makeup was perfect.
"Oh, Santa got my letter," Niles drawled, and CC schooled her features to keep the smirk off her face. He was in the mood to play.
She felt fully justified in insulting him when Niles found out he wouldn't be going to Colorado with the Sheffields as he usually did. He reacted to the news like a kicked puppy. What grown man wouldn't appreciate the chance to get away from his employer for a vacation?
A volley of insults revolving around Niles's "frugality" resulted, and CC found herself feeling more awake than she had all day.
"Where do you stash your cash?" She asked him.
"Somewhere you'll never get near," he responded archly.
"Oh. Your mattress." She laughed at her own joke, ignoring the tingle she felt at the possibility. Ever since the drunken kiss they had shared in the living room three months prior, she had been doing a lot of ignoring inappropriate… tingles brought on by proximity to the butler.
"No, his." Niles taunted, jutting his chin towards Maxwell.
CC pursed her lips and left the room, dodging Nanny Fine in the doorway. She'd have bet a nice sum of money that Niles would follow her, and she wasn't disappointed. This time she couldn't keep the smile off her face.
"Don't you have anything better to do than follow me around like a puppy?" She pushed through the kitchen door and walked to the subzero for a bottle of water.
"Woof," he said dryly. "Hand me one of those, would you?"
She reached him a bottle over her shoulder, then turned to look at him. "What, no clever retort?" She held her hand to his forehead as if to check his temperature.
Niles couldn't stop the shiver that went through his body as she touched him with her cool hand. "I've been in your presence too much today; surely you're not surprised that I'm feeling quite ill," he said, his hand moving of its own accord to cover hers at his temple. The gesture belied his harsh words, and her gaze drifted to his hand on hers.
"Do I give you fever?" She deliberately deepened her voice on the last word and quirked her eyebrow at him.
"You have no idea, Babcock," he began, "how sick you make me." He couldn't keep his eyes off her lips, especially as she moistened them with her tongue.
She shrugged off his hand and gave his cheek a pat that was closer to a smack. "Then you'll be glad to know I'm heading to the theater. Fetch me my coat, please."
"Please?" He put his palm on her forehead, mimicking her movements from moments before. "Are you sick, too?" He asked with feigned concern. "I don't think I've ever heard you say please before in my life."
"I have impeccable manners and you know it, servant." She couldn't keep from leaning slightly into his touch, but she pulled away almost immediately. "My coat?" She said impatiently.
"Yes, yes. Come on, I'll see you out."
"Yes, Daddy, I've got the address and the curator's name… I spoke with Jack this morning; he'll have the plane ready on Friday afternoon…" CC sat on her leather couch, phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear as she stroked Chester's soft fur. "You've already informed Maeva of my arrival, so she'll have the house ready? Oh, yes. I'll get the painting for you. Don't worry about that." In fact she looked forward to the negotiation, and she flexed her fingers in anticipation after ending the call with her father.
She moved into her bedroom and eyed her wardrobe critically. What to pack for two weeks in Tahiti? She hadn't been to the islands in years, but she remembered the gentle breezes, the afternoon rains, the dark sand of the beaches and the drinks no bartender in Manhattan had ever managed to duplicate. Sundresses and bathing suits it would be, with perhaps the Chanel suit for her meeting with the curator.
The next day, CC left the kitchen, energized for an afternoon of work after sparring with Niles. On a whim she had brought him the stack of brochures her travel agent had sent by courier. When her father had suggested she combine her vacation with an attempt to acquire a certain Gauguin he had recently decided he must have for his personal collection, her use for the brochures had come to an end. She had even brought the two about Tahiti. Though it had been a while since her last trip, she had spent the majority of her childhood summers at the sprawling beachfront property her father owned. The brochures had at least been good for a dig at Niles's tendency to cling to his money.
He had already made his travel plans, though. She felt vaguely let down about that, though she couldn't imagine why. She supposed the old man deserved a chance to get away, though it wasn't as if he did any actual work most of the time. Shrugging, she walked back to the office.