Mrs. Ashford was inclined to be a bit silly, but she was no fool. She knew who would and who would not willingly do it all. She retained Lewis as chauffeur, gardener and handyman. Paula became the cook, washwoman and maid. All with very little increase in salary.

Paula didn’t complain. She was used to hard work. I’m just lucky I didn’t have to drop any classes, she thought that afternoon, as she joined her group in the chemistry lab.

As she was leaving class, Link, one of the boys in her lab group, caught her arm. “Hey, Paula, some of us are going over for a little volleyball and then to the Hut for some pizza. Want to come along?”

“Oh, Link, I’d like to, but I don’t have time. I’m sorry,” she said.

“Jeez, you never have time,” Link complained as he moved off with the gang.

Paula looked after them with longing. But what could she do? She had to get back in time to make dinner.

She couldn’t seem to still the sense of longing. It was intensified that evening after dinner when the Ashford women displayed all the outfits purchased that day. The black linen Whitney would wear at the match, the outfits and fancy masks for the costume party, and turquoise chiffon, sure to be a hit at the final ball.

“That color does so much for my eyes, don’t you think?” Whitney focused her sultry eyes on Paula. “But you’ll have to tuck in the shoulders a bit. Not too much.” She giggled. “Wouldn’t want to spill that cleavage that’s going to knock him out!”

Rae tried to get in a word as Whitney preened before the mirror. “Do you like this blue on me, Paula? And will you do my hair for the dance? You know, like you did last week!”

Paula praised and promised and tried not to be envious. But the next day, as she made the tuck in the turquoise chiffon, her fingers lingered over the soft material. She had never in her life owned such a dress. How would it look on her?

Well, why not see! While they were out buying more. What harm would it do?

Quickly she shed her jeans and shirt. Stepped into the soft folds and zipped it up. It was too big and too long, but she gathered the dress about her and preened as Whitney had.

She brought her face close and peered into the mirror. Did it do something for her eyes? She tried to look sultry.

No good. Her eyes were too big.

But they did take on that color, didn’t they? She bet if she went to the dance and he looked at her, his eyes would melt into hers, and they would dance and dance and...

Oh, for goodness sake, she’d best stop twirling around. If she tore that dress there’d be hell to pay.

And why was she standing here, wasting time? She couldn’t afford such a dress, and, even if she could, where would she wear it? She wasn’t going to any ball, and she certainly wasn’t going to dance with him. And why was she thinking of him, anyway. He wasn’t a real prince. Not that she gave a dam if he was.

She took off the dress and went back to work.

When she had first come to San Diego, Paula had signed up with a caterer. She was often on her own in the evening and could earn a little extra money serving at a catered affair. She was putting away as much as she could for the time when she might enter veterinary school. But with the extra work at the Ashfords,’ she hadn’t had much time for other jobs.

“I’m not sure I can make it,” she told Harry, the caterer, when he called, wanting an extra hand for the Moody costume party. “The Ashfords will be attending, and she likes me to help them get dressed.”

“That’s okay. Aren’t they going to some dinner first? Everybody is.”

“Yes, they are,” Paula said, remembering.

“Well, then, that gives you time. I don’t care if you’re a little late. Please, Paula, I really need you.”

“Can’t you get somebody else this time?”

“Then I’ve got the problem of a uniform.” The caterer was persnickety about uniforms and had had Paula fitted for one.

“Well . . .” Paula felt guilty about the uniform, and the caterer did pay well. “All right,” she said, though she didn’t want to go. She was tired.

But that night, as she stood in the Moodys’ oversize pantry arranging hors d’oeuvres and setting out clean glasses, she didn’t feel at all tired. Somehow, the gala party mood seemed to revive her. She was fascinated by the colorful costumes of the masked figures that talked, laughed and danced to the beat of the band. The scintillating music penetrated the thick walls of the pantry and seeped into her funstarved heart. She threw back her head, humming the melody, her feet tapping in perfect rhythm as she danced around the table.

She did not hear the door open and was unaware that he watched.

“Perfect. Beautiful. But must you dance alone?” The deep voice startled her.

She stopped in her tracks. Despite the mask, she recognized him immediately. He was more handsome than in the newspaper, and his hair was like copper. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she muttered, feeling humiliation flood her cheeks. “I was... I... Can I help you?” she asked.

“Indeed you can.” He held out his arms. “May I have this dance, fair lady?”

She tried to laugh. “No. Sorry, but I’m not a guest. I work here.”

“Oh? Well, let’s fix that.” The amber eyes that showed through his mask glittered with mischief. From somewhere he produced another mask and tied it over her face. “There. Now you’re my guest. Shall we dance?”

She couldn’t resist. He drew her to him, and for a long time she was only aware of the feel of his arms about her, the pleasant fresh smell of aftershave and the gentle firmness of his guidance as the music swelled around them. She followed his lead with easy grace, abandoning herself to the joy, reveling in the colorful pageant, the dance.

From somewhere an old grandfather clock intoned the midnight hour. The music stopped, and someone shouted, “Masks off!”

Dear Lord, she was in the middle of the ballroom!

The man bent toward her, his hand cradling her neck, his lips lightly touching hers. “Time to unmask, little one.”

The slender gold chain of her necklace snapped as she fled.

CHAPTER TWO

“HEY, wait!” Too late. She had slipped through the crowd and vanished. All that was left of her was a slender gold chain dangling from his fingers. Feeling strangely bereft, he started after her. She would be in that room where—

“Brad Vandercamp, take off that disguise!” The daughter of his host blocked his way. She tugged at his mask. “You didn’t fool anybody, anyway. We all knew you.”

“Oh?” He looked at the costume that hugged her figure and glittered with sequins in the shape of fish scales. “Well, my little mermaid,” he said trying to remember her name, “some of us are not as clever as—”

A sultry voice interrupted. “No matter how clever, you couldn’t hide that copper hair.”

“No more than you could hide those eyes.” Sensuous and suggestive, he thought.

Whitney gushed with pleasure. “So you knew me! Tell me, are my eyes distinctive?”

“Indeed they are. They’re, er, so...so expressive,” he said, thinking of the last dance. She had been as light as a feather in his arms, and her blond curls had a fresh soapy scent, more tantalizing than any perfume. He must see her again, ask—

“Come along.” The mermaid took his arm. “Let’s have a refreshing drink. They’ll be serving breakfast in a few minutes.”

She will be serving, he thought, as he was borne off between the two women.

Breakfast, however, was served buffet-style, with several well-groomed waiters attending. No sight of long slender silk-clad legs beneath a short maid’s costume. No sight of merry blue eyes and golden curls topped by a frilly bit of lace.

“You don’t have a thing on your plate. Here, try this.” The woman with the eyes popped a small sausage into his mouth. “Like it?” He nodded, and she piled more on his plate. “There. Now what kind of omelet would you like?”