Between The Sheets (18 page)

That look made her sigh inside, made her imagine what it would be like to have her own family. A family a lot like this one, she decided, one that liked to have fun.

But longing wouldn't change her situation or the fact that she only had these precious moments with Rex. She needed to savor his smiles, savor her temporary place in his life, savor this unfamiliar feeling of contentment. She only had
now
—this man and his smile, his family and a leprechaun's miracle.

And she was determined to make the most of her time and every time her thoughts strayed, she only had to glance at the river—which only stayed green for four or five hours, another fleeting miracle—to be reminded to enjoy the moment.

Fortunately the Holts made enjoying the moment easy. They hurried her away from the river to find a spot along the parade route, where the kids took turns sitting up on the adult's shoulders for a bird's-eye view of the floats. Even Uncle Rex lent his shoulders to the cause, much to the delight of his nieces and nephews who shrieked and waved
at two fifteen-foot high shamrocks and a thirty-five-foot high leprechaun.

After the parade, they congregated at the Irish club to enjoy corned beef and cabbage,
boxty
with applesauce and mugs of green beer. April, who hadn't worn anything green, found herself the recipient of a bowler hat, a half-dozen shamrocks, or
seamógs,
in assorted sizes, including one that had been painted on her face by a children's artist, after the nieces and nephews insisted Uncle Rex buy one for Miss April, too.

This ethnic celebration could have taught an Irishman like John Patrick Mooney a thing or two about celebrating. She liked the Holt family's pride in their heritage, something a person unfamiliar with her own history had no experience with. Every one of the Holts proved very generous at sharing their pride, though, and April couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so comfortable with anyone except for the Mooneys.

She liked to think that Rex's massages were doing the trick, after all, but found it more likely that the Holts were just easy to be around. Even Rex. Comfortable with his family in a way she'd never seen him before, he stuck close, always aware of her needs or to answer her questions, yet never overbearing. He treated her as if he expected her to have as much fun with his family as he was. And she did.

She liked this side of him, enjoyed the camaraderie he shared with his family. On the road he'd been focused on work, and she was reminded of his admission that work typically superceded everything in his life, how he'd been accused of not making time to have fun.

She suspected part of the trouble was the nature of the work itself. Being out on the road was an isolated business. She didn't really travel often and was definitely no social
butterfly, but even she had her handful of friends that she interacted with at work or with the Mooneys.

Rex claimed to have friends, but they'd been together around the clock for the better part of two weeks and she hadn't seen one.

The lone ranger.

Who'd said that? Charles Blackstone had, and he'd been right. Rex was the lone ranger and she'd never noticed how much until she'd seen him surrounded by the people he loved.

But he'd identified the problem and now all he needed was a woman in his life to give him a reason to slow down and make more time to enjoy himself. Preferably a woman who could share his work so he wouldn't be alone in hotels for those long stretches. And definitely a woman who didn't mind that high-handed attitude he got while he was ordering everyone around.

A woman a lot like her.

Minus all the baggage.

When the afternoon waned and the children began passing out from exhaustion, April's hosts headed back to the house Rex had been raised in, a neatly kept home in a quiet residential neighborhood. The sisters all headed back to the bedrooms to settle the little ones.

April offered to help Gina out of the kitchen and Rex insisted he needed to supervise the preparation of the Tipsy Cake, which was a very sweet, very alcoholic Irish treat that his Italian mom needed help with.

“Don't be ridiculous, Rex,” Gina said with a scowl. “Everything is already made. All I have to do is whip cream and brew coffee and I think I can handle that. Go wait for Grandma and Grandpa and keep them in there with you or else I'll be tripping over them, too. This house is too small. I'm telling your father I want to move.”

“You do that, Mom.” Rex kissed the top of her head and escorted April from the room. “She has been saying that since Deirdre was born.”

“Hasn't found anything yet?”

Rex shook his head. “I don't think she's ever looked.”

He motioned to the couch and sat down beside her. She wanted to melt back against him, but positioned herself on the edge suddenly awkward as they were alone for the first time since their arrival.

“It must have been fun growing up with your family.” She took a stab at polite conversation.

“They're a crew. That's for sure. Noisy,” he added as Juliet's oldest son cruised down the hallway, yelling after his cousin at the top of his lungs.

April laughed. “The size of the house wouldn't make any difference. John's house is just as noisy on the holidays.”

“Do you spend them with his family?”

She nodded, struck at how little Rex knew about her in some regards, when in others he knew more than any man had ever known. Where to kiss her to make her shiver, or sigh, or climax.

Yet he'd missed a few important basics like the real reason she'd become his assistant. He'd welcomed her into his home, introduced her to his wonderful family, while she'd crossed the line by becoming his lover while she was spying on him.

“So John has a big home.” Rex leaned back into the corner of the leather couch, hooked his hands behind his head and got comfortable. “Tell me about him.”

“He reminds me of your dad with all these women around.”

“It's always been interesting.”

“I'll bet.”

When she stifled a yawn, he asked, “Tired?”

“We got an early start.”

Rex had intended to fly out of Tampa after a late dinner with Wilhemina and Charles last night. When he couldn't arrange her a seat on his flight, he'd rearranged his plans to get them both out of Tampa at 4:00 a.m. the following morning, which meant arriving at the airport at two.

“Turn around and come here.” He slipped his hands over her shoulders, tried to pull her back against him.

“Not here, Rex. Anyone could walk in.”

“Trust me. They take numbers around here for one of my massages. Even the kids. They're all just being polite because you're here and my mother threatened them.”

“Why did she threaten them?”

“Because she likes that I brought you home to visit and she wants everyone to behave so they don't scare you off. Come sit here, so she knows I'm doing my bit to make you feel welcome. She says I have magic hands. Let me use them on you.”

Magic hands. April had made the very same observation herself. And she wouldn't deny him. She needed his hands on her, so she wouldn't be able to think. He'd distract her from thinking about how his family wanted to make her feel welcome, about how much she wanted them to like her.

His magic hands chased away all her thoughts. That slow, steady motion worked the tension from her muscles, made that now familiar languidness creep into the edges of her brain. Her breathing slowed. Her body melted against his.

But his magic hands worked only too well. April couldn't think, but she could feel. And as she sat in Rex's childhood home, surrounded by his family, she felt like she belonged.

 

F
OR A MOMENT
Rex couldn't figure out how he'd gone from giving April a massage to being jarred awake by his grand
father's comment about how nice it must be to sleep whenever and wherever the mood struck.

He opened his eyes to find April stirring against him, her face against his shoulder, her arm tossed casually across his middle and three generations of Holts and sundry in-laws crammed into the living room watching them.

He knew the exact second April awoke, because her entire body tensed. Only, Rex had learned an important lesson. This time when she bolted upright, he neatly dodged her head, saving them both the pain and embarrassment of a public collision.

“Time for dessert?” she asked, husky-voiced from sleep.

Rex noticed a number of smiles, but his mother simply said, “Yes it is, dear. I hope you're hungry.”

She took April's arm and led her through the crowd, shooting a scowl at Betsy, who'd opened her mouth, presumably to make some remark about them falling asleep together. Betsy returned the scowl but kept her mouth closed.

Another Saint Patrick's Day miracle.

Rex watched his family escort April into the dining room, feeling no particular rush to follow. She'd been holding her own all day, seemed more calm and comfortable than he'd hoped. He was a good influence on her, Rex decided.

And April was a good influence on him.

They each brought something to the table and as far as Rex was concerned that's exactly how a relationship should work. He hadn't found this with any woman he'd dated before. Admittedly, he hadn't spent much time looking, but he'd dated his fair share of women and he recognized it when he found it.

He'd found it with April.

When he finally made his way into the dining room, Rex saw that April had been placed in the seat of honor by his
dad. He was struck by the sound of her laughter, the way her incredible eyes sparkled and her beautiful smile lit up the room.

“Grandpa likes her, Rex.” Juliet appeared beneath the kitchen archway and pressed a mug into his hands.

This was no small accomplishment and he took a swig of coffee, contemplated his dad and grandfather who were talking over each other with their separate versions of the Saint Patrick's Day celebration the year Juliet had been queen of the parade. A celebration that had seen three hundred people crammed onto their property, along with the Shannon Rovers, a troupe of Irish dancers and the mayor.

His mother and grandmother rolled their eyes good-naturedly but his sisters tried to interject reality into the tale.

“Dad, you couldn't get three hundred people in this house if you had a crane lift off the roof,” Deirdre scoffed.

“The mayor spent most of his time in the kitchen with Mom and Grandma, sneaking spoonfuls of
brim brack,
” Theresa added.

Through it all, April laughed, so beautiful he was content to stand there and watch her. His entire family, from his grandparents to Betsy, had welcomed her in their own way and she'd gotten past her nerves to respond with the warm charm that was hers alone, a charm that made it impossible not to like her.

“I like her, too,” Juliet said, before going to sit on her husband's lap to join the fun.

As he watched her go, April lifted her gaze to his, a dazzling look that reflected her good mood and singled him out as if he was the only person in the room.

They might not have discussed their feelings, or their relationship or what the future might hold, but the tender look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

And Rex knew exactly what he wanted from April—a future of celebrations where she sat at that table by his side.

To: April Stevens (mailto:[email protected])

Date: 21 Mar 2003 10:02:54-0000

Subject: Well-Earned Praise

 

Brava, April!

 

A job very well done! I just posted John to sing your praises and wanted to jot you a quick note of thanks. You provided me with enough documentation about Rex's activities so I was armed to take on the board at our meeting this morning.

They latched on to his unaccounted online activities as a cause for concern but I was able to counter with the surplus of proof you've provided that he's conducting business on the up-and-up. Bottom line is they don't have enough evidence to get a warrant to access his business files so they were just trying to bully me into submission. Thanks to you, I was able to sidestep this latest obstacle and buy both Rex and me some more time to do our jobs.

You're a dear and I appreciate all your help! And it was so very lovely to see you outside of Paula and John's house. I'd like to make the effort to do this again once the dust settles after the launch. What do you say?

 

Auntie Wil

 

What did she say? April said this was plain stupid. Sure, she'd provided enough documentation about Rex to arm
Wilhemina against the latest reports—reports she'd also provided that happened to throw suspicion on Rex's credibility.

April said this situation sucked, plain and simple.

She'd just spent two of the most glorious days as a guest in the Holts' home, squeezing incredible orgasms into a very tight schedule of family events and pretending that she actually
belonged.
Now they were back on the road—Denver this week—and reality was crashing down around her ears again.

Wilhemina had only meant to thank her but how was April supposed to feel good about compromising Rex's credibility? She'd known questions would arise when she'd sent the first report, of course, but it felt even more horrible now that she'd gotten emotionally involved with not only this man, but his family.

Thou shalt not become emotionally involved with thy client.

She should have listened. Could she have listened?

No. Traveling the straight and narrow—had she been able to—would certainly have been the easiest road to take. But even now, knowing she'd leave after their fling, knowing her work had lost all credibility because of her choice, April couldn't regret what she'd shared with this man.

The only thing she could have done was to have refused this assignment. But she hadn't, which meant another hard truth to face—John and Paula were right, she'd been hiding from life, avoiding the types of situations that required her to get out and face situations that might require her to stand up and say, “No.”

Then again, if she'd stuck to her guns she would've never met Rex, would have never known orgasms, would have never glimpsed exactly what she'd want her happily ever after to be if she were anyone but April Accidentally.

And now here they were, back together 24/7, without the benefit of that delightful family to sidetrack her from the fundamental truth that she'd gotten involved with this man when she shouldn't have.

She'd come to him to do a job and the kicker was that she was actually doing it more competently than she'd ever dreamed possible. Instead of feeling good that she was managing the job without screwing up, she felt like she was screwing up her whole life and any possibility of a happy future with this man.

Not that there was much of a possibility for
that.
Rex hadn't said he was interested in anything more than a good time.

But she could dream about all the things she'd sworn out of her life forever—orgasms, a man to love, her very own family and a happily-ever-after. With Rex.

Just as long as she didn't forget that she would be leaving after their fling.

A knock on the door jolted April from her thoughts.

“Are you expecting anyone?” she asked Rex, who was still in the process of setting up his peripherals.

He peered around a table leg. “No. Grab it, will you?”

April nodded, already heading toward the door to find a young, spiffily uniformed hotel clerk with a package.

“For Mr. Holt,” he said.

She accepted the brown box, tipped the clerk and walked back into the dining area. “A package arrived for you.”

“From StaticSaver Industries?”

She glanced at the return address. “Mmm-hmm. Something you're expecting?”

To her surprise, Rex shimmied out from under the table, a vision of firm butt and sculpted thighs that his dress slacks molded to muscular perfection. “About damn time.”

“Here you go.” She handed him the package, curious. “What is it?”

“A surprise. Come sit with me while I open it.”

Without waiting for a reply, he led her into the sitting room and pulled her down on the sofa with him. He sliced through the packaging tape with a Swiss Army knife and scattered foam peanuts all over the sofa and the floor. Grabbing the box, she held it steady before it tumbled off his lap and they had an even bigger mess.

“Rex, what is it?” she asked again.

He didn't answer. He was too busy fishing out the contents and tearing off the plastic to inspect…

“What are those?” They didn't look like any kind of wristwatch she'd ever seen, and why on earth would he need two?

“Perfect.”

“They are?”

“Yes.” He lifted his gaze at her, seeming awfully excited for a reason she hadn't figured out yet. “They're StaticSaver wrist straps. Not half-bad-looking, either. What do you think?”

“Are you planning on taking up computer repair so you need to be grounded?”

“No. I ordered them for you.”

“If you're planning on having me work inside your machine, I'd seriously rethink that. I'm not very good at—”

“No, April.” He slid off the sofa and sank to his knees in front of her, an unexpected motion that made her stare as he dropped one of the wristbands into her lap and proceeded to grab her arm. “I don't want you to work on my computer. I want you to wear these and see if they make any difference in how you feel.”

She stared down at him, at the wristwatch-looking band
he was fastening on her, not understanding what he wanted and not quite sure what she'd missed.

“How do you think they'll make me feel?” she asked.

“Calmer.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Sitting back on his haunches, he met her gaze, the warmth in those dark eyes seeming wildly out of sync with the moment, with the funky-looking gifts that so obviously pleased him. But the caring in his expression touched the raw edges of her heart, and she found herself holding her breath, waiting expectantly.

“I mentioned the project I conducted that got me interested in massage, remember?”

She nodded.

“That research foundation studies all sorts of stuff. I acquired data about massage as treatment for various ailments so the foundation could meet the requirements of a federal grant. One of the other areas of interest they study is Electro Hypersensitivity. I didn't know much about it but what I did know got me to thinking that you might have it.”

April could only stare, so surprised she wasn't sure what to think, let alone what to say. “I don't understand.”

“Did you notice how sparks fly every time we touch?”

His grin might have lightened the moment had her brain not been racing, attempting to comprehend the implications of what he was saying.

“I didn't put it together right away,” he went on. “You shocked me that first night in Atlanta when you handed me your computer cable and I remembered that the same thing had happened when we'd been introduced at corporate headquarters. I figured you were one of those ‘electric people.' You know, the ones who can't wear watches. I've been having our hotels provide antistatic mats to offset the effects
around the equipment and it seems to work. You were on the mat the first time I tried to kiss you and we touched without a shock. And we seem to do okay if you touch me through my clothes first.”

She must have looked stunned, because he smiled. Grabbing the remaining wristband, he fastened it around her wrist, telling her all about the scientist who ran the research foundation and how they'd discussed her symptoms and believed it possible that she suffered from this EHS.

She wasn't absorbing a tenth of what he was saying because she was still stuck on the fact that he'd been researching this ailment, which likely explained why he'd been sneaking out of bed at night to use his computer.

To help her.

“You told me you were high-strung but that may just be a symptom,” he said. “Harold invited us to the foundation so you can be tested. We'll find out either way. If you do have EHS, there are devices to help minimize the effects, like these wristbands. What do you say? We can work it in while we're in Phoenix.”

What did she say? She couldn't say a thing. She didn't even know what to think. His every word was playing through her head in slow motion as she tried to comprehend that this condition might explain her nerves and her accidents.

“I suppose that explains why my family blew through vacuum cleaners while I was growing up,” she finally said, shooting for casual and failing miserably. “My parents had the house rewired. Would have been a lot cheaper to give me another chore. I hated vacuuming anyway.”

Her laugh sounded more like a sob. She couldn't get past the fact that Rex had cared enough to research her symptoms, to formulate a game plan and buy her antistatic wristbands.

No man would do this without caring, and not a little.

But Rex couldn't care for her because she was leaving when her job was done, she was slipping out of his life and leaving him with fond memories and a smile and no knowledge of why she'd really come. She was slipping away right now before she dissolved into a puddle before his eyes.

Rex wouldn't let her get away. Sliding his hands up her thighs, he held her down when she tried to scoot from under him.

“What's wrong?” Those dark eyes searched her face, the concern she saw there so much more than a man who wanted a good time. “I thought this would be a good thing.”

“It is.”

“Then why do you look like you're about to cry?” Rex recognized tears when he saw them and he was more than a little surprised by her reaction.

She tilted her head so her hair fell forward to hide her face. “It's just…you've been so…thoughtful.”

Obviously thoughtful wasn't a good thing.

“No big deal, really. Ordered online. They weren't that expensive. Will you come to the foundation to be tested?”

She nodded, but even though she avoided his gaze, he couldn't miss the two fat tears that rolled down her cheeks.

“April, what is—”

“Thank you.” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head then pulled away and shot to her feet so fast she knocked him off balance.

Rex fell backward and watched in amazement as she disappeared into the bedroom.

Okay. Apparently he'd touched a nerve. Unfortunately, he wasn't a mind reader and there was a lot more going on here than he understood. What bothered her about his buying her wristbands? He hadn't actually thought of what he'd
done as thoughtful. Practical, maybe. He'd had a suspicion so he'd followed up on it. What about that bothered April?

He didn't have a clue so he followed her into the bedroom, found her leaving the bathroom.

She gave him a watery smile. “I'm sorry. I'm okay. Just getting hormonal.”

Hormonal?

True, they'd been together around the clock for weeks so hormonal had been bound to happen eventually. But her explanation came at him sideways. His sisters usually went into attack mode if anyone even hinted at PMS as the cause of anything other than the source of their superhero femininity.

Despite April's reassurance, Rex would have bet money that that there was a lot more than hormonal going on. She looked pale and worried and he had the almost overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around her and tell her everything would be all right.

Unfortunately, he couldn't do that. Not only was he uncertain what was really bothering her, but she'd retreated, emotionally and physically, and was hitting the double digits on the nervous meter if the way she mutilated that tissue was any indication.

“Massage time.”

“Thank you, but I couldn't possibly tonight. You've given me a lot to think about. I was hoping to get online and do a little research.”

Again, Rex was struck by the impression that there was a lot more going on here. “I've already researched online and trust me there's not much there. I'll send Harold a post, though, to ask if he wouldn't mind you surfing the foundation's site. But I do think we need to talk about what's happening between us, and you'll be more comfortable if you're relaxed.”

“What's there to talk about, Rex?” she asked. “We're great. We don't need to talk. We need to work.”

He frowned. That was panic in those beautiful eyes.

She forced an unconvincing smile. “We've got to go over tomorrow's schedule for the Rodeo Collection. Come on. I want to try out my new wristbands.”

She swept past without glancing up, but then she didn't have to. The trail of mutilated tissue pieces she left in her wake told him everything he needed to know.

April was comfortably ensconced in front of her laptop by the time he'd left the bedroom, puzzling through his next move.

Buying her lame explanation didn't even make the list.

He glanced from her to the pullout sofa in the sitting room, presently displaying the sheet set of the week—the Rodeo Collection.

Rope 'Em and Ride 'Em With Supple Leather Sheets Made From Doeskin, Calfskin and Suede.

Rex went straight for the storage pockets.