Disclaimer: Not mine.

Helpless 15

She thinks. he thinks.

Marron arrived at the River Rat the next morning with a firm resolve to act as it the trip to Taurus had never been. She was once more the temp, and Trunks was her employer. She would concentrate on her work, and adopt a friendly but businesslike attitude.

In spit of her conviction that it was for the best, she couldn't help feeling a little hurt when Trunks seemed only too happy with that arrangement.

In fact, his whole attitude had changed. He no longer teased her, or made frivolous remarks about his private life. Marron had to admit she was relieved about that. She wasn't sure she could listen to any more comments about his glamorous girlfriends.

Although he remained friendly and casual, however, she was aware of a growing tension between them that she couldn't explain. She put it down to Trunks' cabin fever, although he hadn't mentioned anything about wanting to go out again.

Then, a few days after the trip to Taurus, he surprised her by saying, "I'd like to go down to my house today. I need to pick up some more clothes. That's if you don't mind driving to the beach?"

"Of course not. I'll be happy to take you," she assured him. Privately she thought it would do him good. He needed a change of scene, to the point where she'd had to prompt him several times when he was supposed to be dictating notes to her.

He'd dressed in slacks and a gray sweater for the trip to the beach. Marron wished she'd worn her jeans, instead of her customary skirt and blouse. It was too late to go home and change then, she decided, as she settled Trunks in the front seat of her aging car.

She was a bit embarrassed about the cramp, shabby interior of the car, but Trunks insisted on her driving it to the beach. Besides, after the way he'd been living the past few days, she assured herself, he wasn't experiencing anything he wasn't already used to dealing with.

She started up the engine, wincing when it coughed a couple of times before catching hold. The windshield wipers weren't too effective, and Trunks would be forced to watch the road through a smeary mist, but otherwise, he seemed quite comfortable as they took off.

He was adapting remarkably well to roughing it, Marron thought as they left the city behind and bounced along the highway to the coast. In spite of his claustrophobic surroundings, he didn't seem to miss his frenetic lifestyle. He hadn't mentioned his women friends in days.

In fact, in view of the nonappearance of women aboard his houseboat, Marron was beginning to wonder if all those stories about his exploits had been exaggerated a little in order to impress her.

If it wasn't for the article she'd read about him, she would have found it hard to believe if someone had told her that Trunks was a womanizing playboy who lived in the lap of luxury.

Just how much luxury Marron hadn't fully comprehended, however, until she got a look at his house. She recognized it at once. It was the mansion he'd shown her in the picture. She should have known, she thought ruefully as she drove up in front of the magnificent portals. Why else would he carry a picture of it around with him?

The house was even more beautiful than she'd imagined. Thick, pale blue carpet stretched across enormous rooms, elegantly furnished and decorated. A swimming pool sat in a small courtyard in the center of the house, with a tennis court behind it.

Curving staircases swept up to the top floor and basement, where Marron was amazed to see a small comfortable theater with a huge TV screen and several comfortable armchairs lined up in front of it. There was even a popcorn machine in one corner, and a fully stocked bar in another.

Upstairs, glass doors led off the huge master bedroom onto a long balcony, which overlooked the ocean, and Trunks had been right about the bathroom. The River Rat would just about have fit inside.

Eyeing the whirlpool tub, Marron wondered how many women had entertained in that fabulous house. She'd counted five bedrooms, and that wasn't counting the suite of rooms built above the three-car garage.

Trunks' sleek, black Ferrari sat in solitary splendor in all that space, and Marron wondered ruefully what he must have thought about her poor old battered compact.

Utterly overwhelmed by everything she saw, Marron became more and more quiet as Trunks led her through room after room. The kitchen looked as if it belonged in a luxury hotel instead of a private house.

Trunks sank down in a pale green wicker chair against in the breakfast nook and propped his crutch against the wall. He was managing quite well with only one now, and according to his latest check up, was healing faster than the doctor had first estimated.

In another week, Marron reckoned, he'd get to cast off his ankle and would probably be able to drive to work again. And that would be the end of her contract with Trunks Briefs.

Perhaps it was just as well, she thought as she looked around the expansive kitchen with its gleaming appliances that looked as if they'd never been used. All this grandeur could make her discontented with her own modest lifestyle if she hung around it too long.

Perhaps it was, she would miss this job terribly. She'd miss the excitement, and the unpredictable variety of her days. Most of all, she acknowledged reluctantly, she'd miss her client.

She looked at him now, and was concerned to notice the pallor of his lean face. "Are you all right? Is your ankle bothering you?"

"I'm just a little tired," Trunks said, giving her the ghost of a smile. "I haven't been sleeping well lately."

"I can see why, when you've been used to all this." Marron swept her hand out in a wide gesture. "I don't know how you've stood living on the houseboat this long."

"Well, I have to admit, it's a little cramped," Trunks conceded, "but to be perfectly honest, it hasn't been nearly as bad as I expected. I've rather enjoyed having to make do for a change. And it's a whole lot better now that you've worked your special magic on it. I don't know how you did it, but it's almost homey. Though I imagine that working conditions on the River Rat are a good deal more primitive than anything you've enjoyed lately."

Marron laughed. "I've worked in worse. Though not much worse, I have to admit." She dropped her purse on the spotless counter. "Can I get you anything? Do you need me to pack up some clothes for you?"

He shook his head. "Thanks, but I think I can manage. If I need your help I'll yell. Why don't you sit down and relax while I'm collecting a few things together? I've been working you pretty hard lately. You deserve a rest."

She watched him get up from the chair and hobble off to the stairs. It would have been so easy for him just to sit there and issue her orders. He really was a considerate man, she thought with a wistful smile. No wonder so many women fell for him. He could be so charming, and so terribly sexy at times.

He had a way of smiling, as if he were enjoying a delicious secret, that could make her toes curl. Yet he didn't seem to notice his effect on her. Or maybe she was just a good actress, Marron thought, wandering into the sumptuous living room.

It had been a strain on her, hiding her reactions to his magnetic charm. There had been times when she'd found it difficult to suppress a flicker of hope that he might begin to see her as a woman rather than just his employee.

But now that she had seen where he lived, how he lived, she realized more than ever that he was so far removed from her world that no matter what she thought, or did, it wouldn't make any difference.

Trunks Briefs was one of the haves and she was a have-not. And it had nothing to do with money or his material possessions.

It was a way of life, a matter of who she was, or rather, who she wasn't.

The woman who was perfect was perfect for Trunks would know how to dress, style her hair, confident in selecting the right perfumes for her flawless skin. She'd probably speak French fluently, and be familiar with quaint little towns in Switzerland, the latest fashions in ski wear, and the best restaurants in Paris.

She'd make clever and witty remarks, spend her mornings working out to keep her fabulous figure, and more than likely she'd know the latest trends on the stock market.

In short, she wasn't Marron Chestnut. Nor would she ever be. So she might as well drop the day dreaming, Marron told herself sternly, and keep her feet firmly planted on the ground because that was right where she belonged.

Anyway, she was perfectly happy with her life. Or she would be, if only she could find someone to share it with her. The problem was, it would be hard to find someone as interesting, fun to be with or as downright exciting as Trunks Briefs.

Trunks was deep in thought on the way back to Pisces. His little plan had backfired on him, and he wasn't happy about it. Ever since Marron had more or less told him that she was a virgin, he'd begun to notice more and more how different she was from the women he usually met.

Not just in looks, but in every aspect of her personality. She was completely unaffected; she didn't have an insincere bone in her body. He liked the quiet, efficient way she got things done, and he enjoyed her common sense outlook in life. She was stimulating company, constantly challenging him to stay on his toes, and making him laugh with her quirky sense of humor. Most of all, she didn't spend her time trying to impress him. Quite the opposite to most of his female acquaintances.

In fact, he had to admit his pride was more than a little wounded at her indifference in that respect. And that's what worried him. He was afraid he was becoming just a little too interested in Marron Chestnut.

Trunks shifted his injured foot to a more comfortable position and stared grimly out of the window at the dripping firs as they raced by.

He'd taken great care not to get seriously involved with a woman. Most of his so-called romantic encounters that had earned him his reputation were blown out of proportion by his female companions in order to save face. He never went on a date with anyone without making it very clear where she stood. He wasn't interested in a permanent commitment and that was that.

The problem was, he could very easily become interested in Marron.

At first it had been purely sexual. He'd fantasized about making love to her, until she'd told him she was a virgin. That's when things had become complicated. He'd started concentrating on other things about her, and the more he got to know her, the more wonderful qualities he discovered.

Even her practicality and take-charge attitude, which drove him crazy at first, now seemed translated into strong and valuable assets in a permanent companion.

That kind of thinking had been seriously worried. He didn't want to get involved. He was perfectly happy with his life the way it was - no responsibilities, no hang-ups and answerable to no one.

He'd put his preoccupation with Marron down to the fact he'd been closeted with her in a cramped environment for so long. Except for the trip to Taurus, which he'd enjoyed far more than he'd expected, he hadn't seen another soul except Marron. No wonder he was getting dangerous ideas.

That's why he'd suggested taking her down to his house.

He'd figured that seeing her in his own environment, he'd get things back into their proper perspective.

Except it hadn't happened. Instead, he'd pictured her cooking in his well-ordered kitchen at the vast state-of-the-art stove that had yet to be lit. He'd envisioned her lounging next to him in the armchair in his home theater or lazily swimming with him in the pool.

Worst of all, he'd imagined her in his bed, and had spent a few miserable minutes getting his body back under control again.

Nothing seemed to be working. Thank heaven he only had another week or two, and then she'd be out his life and he wouldn't be tormented by these crazy fantasies that had no place in the grand scheme of his life.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" Marron's voice said next to him. "There are still a couple of hours of the day left."

He looked out, surprised to see they were back at the River Rat's mooring. He'd been so deep in thought he hadn't noticed.

"No," he said, reaching for the door handle, "Let's call it a day. I'm feeling tired." It was true he hadn't slept well. His dreams had been too disturbing.

Marron jumped out of the car and rushed around to help him. He could feel the warmth of her fingers through the sleeve of his jacket. The longing to take her in his arms almost suffocated him.

"I'll come over tomorrow and cook dinner for you," she said, concern clouding her beautiful blue eyes.

He frowned, realizing the weekend had snuck up on him. "Tomorrow's Saturday," he said, trying to sound casual. "I'm sure you have better things to do than hanging around here all weekend."

It hadn't come out right. He could see by her face that she was hurt.

"Oh, well, if you'd rather I don't," she said in a tight off-hand voice that didn't deceive him for a minute.

He weakened at once. He had no defense against that bleak look in her eyes. "Of course I wouldn't rather you didn't," he said warmly, "I just don't want to be selfish, that's all. I've used up enough of your free time as it is."

"I really don't mind." She turned away. "But then I'm sure you can find someone else to come over and cook your dinner for you."

He would have laughed at that if she hadn't looked so miserable. "No one who can cook half as well as you do. If you're really sure you don't mind, I'd love to have you cook dinner for me tomorrow night."

Her face lit up at once. "About six? I could bring the Scrabble again."

He groaned. "You always beat me at Scrabble."

"You're getting better. You only lost by fifteen points the other night."

"All right, bring the Scrabble."

"You'll beat me tomorrow, you'll see."

He wagged a finger at her. "I don't want you throwing the game."

"I never throw a game."

She looked so adorable it was all he could do not to fling his arms around her and kiss her until she cried for mercy. "No," he said slowly, "your conscience would never allow you to throw a game."

She gave him a troubled look. "You make me sound prissy."

He laughed at that. "Prissy?"

"That's what you called me the first day I worked for you."

"I did? I don't remember saying that."

"You were drinking. What's that saying? Only fools and drunks tell the truth."

"If that's so, then we're in more trouble than I thought."

Her face cleared. "See you tomorrow." She flapped her hand at him and climbed back into her car.

He watched her until she was out of sight. The silence settled around him, bleak, cold and incredibly lonely. He found himself longing for tomorrow.

Hunching his shoulders, he hobbled up the ramp to the River Rat. He was in deep trouble. And if he didn't do something about it soon, someone was going to get deeply hurt.

I went away for a couple of days and had tons of fun at my get-away. I swear, I have an old soul. I wouldn't be enjoying old Spanish colonial houses and cobblestone streets if I were a being that has not been reincarnated yet.

I was just teasing you about ending the story last chapter. I wanted to know if you'd like the happy ending or the "other" ending. You see, Leona is a fan for sad endings and I was just wondering. It was fun reading your reactions, though. They were very extreme. Anyway, I won't toy with you anymore so you can now resurrect/ throw away your sporks/ continue reading in peace. That is. until I decide to stir things up again. Hehehe

This was fun! I didn't expect that many people would mind.

Thanks for reading. Mata ne!