Love Songs (12 page)

Alanna didn’t know what to say. Her confession was one she would rather not have made. Would he use this information against her? Would he use her weakness to push her toward marriage? Would he take total and merciless advantage of the physical attraction he now knew she shared?

To her astonishment he did nothing but shift more comfortably behind her. She felt his chest against her back, his thighs against her own. A gentle hand tucked a loose strand of her hair behind an ear, then stroked her cheek lightly.

“Good night, love,” he whispered contentedly. Within minutes his slow and steady breathing told of his return to sleep. Alanna had little time to debate the wisdom of his staying, however. Within minutes the warmth of his body and the comfort of his presence put her to sleep as well.

When she awoke the next morning to feel a tentative hand on her shoulder it was that of the day nurse, not Alex. He had, at some prior and unknown point, returned to his room, saving them both a spate of awkward explanations. Indeed, in her morning daze she wondered whether she had imagined the entire episode. It had been lovely and uncomplicated—his crawling into bed to sleep quietly with her. And she could not deny one very notable fact: last night, even given her brief period of wakefulness, she had slept more soundly—and now felt more refreshed—than at any time in recent memory! On that very intriguing note she headed for the swimming pool.

5

When Alanna arrived at the pool, an indoor facility she had had occasion to visit several times with her girls, there were already a dozen early risers swimming laps. She sat on the edge to tuck her hair beneath her cap and position her goggles when something caught her eye. Or rather, someone. A man. He was easily the most proficient of the swimmers. He stroked smoothly from one end of the pool to the other, then flipped underwater to begin the return lap.

Despite her impatience to start her own lap she found her gaze following this man, mesmerized. Powerful arms pulled him forward with every stroke, those same arms glistening beneath the bright lighting as they sliced the air before entering the water again. His motion was unhurried, his breathing steady. His legs scissored only enough to ensure a streamlined stroke.

“Are you going?” The voice of another swimmer waiting for his own turn to enter the water brought her from her trance.

“Thank you, yes.” Lowering her goggles, she slid into the pool and smoothly kicked off from the side.

Lap after lap, she tallied them in her mind. If she made her girls swim half miles each week, she should surely be able to do a mile herself each morning. Forty minutes of swimming. One lap blended into the next as she lost count and the clock remained as the only source of reference.

As she stroked her thoughts returned to that man. He was beautiful. Even now, as he passed her in the opposite direction, overtaking her every fifth or sixth lap and surging ahead with that same steadiness she had admired from the deck, she watched him. How like Alex he was built!

As she began a new lap she conjured up a picture of Alex without his shirt, as he had been for such a short but devastating time on her bed last night. His chest had been broad, like this other man’s; the muscles of his arms flexed similarly. Perhaps it
was
Alex! Was it such an improbable coincidence? The coloring was the same—an even sheen of bronze, hair made darker by the water. The height and build were identical, even given the distortion of her goggles. Could it be Alex?

Thirty minutes—and she continued to swim, pacing herself to avoid exhaustion. Several other swimmers had left the pool; several newcomers had joined the group. The man—that man—continued to swim, smoothly, easily, exerting so little effort that Alanna found herself envious. She also found herself surprisingly relaxed when finally, at the end of the mile, she pulled herself from the pool and headed for the showers. From there it was a simple matter of dressing, applying makeup, brushing her hair back and securing it firmly at her nape. When she emerged into the sunshine of a new day she felt more eager for work than she had in months. The tall, lean figure, smartly outfitted in a gray three-piece suit who sat perched on the edge of the low concrete wall, however, jolted her out of her sense of calm. It
had been
Alex! He was now freshly shaved; his hair, still damp, was neatly combed. In his hand was the sport bag that must have contained his own things. With a convulsive swallow she took in his striking appearance and, chin tilted in a semblance of composure, approached him.

“Not bad.” He checked the wide gold band of a watch that ringed his wrist. “Most women take—” He mustered a grin. “Forget I said that. Have you had breakfast?”

“No.” Her answer was short and breathy; she hoped he would attribute it to haste.

“Then let’s go. I think we can pass up the hospital cafeteria this morning in favor of something a little more … elegant.”

“I really don’t eat much—”

“Don’t argue with me in the morning, owl-eyes,” he growled, leading her by the hand toward the sleek gray Porsche that sat waiting at the curb. “I need time to wake up.”

“Didn’t swimming wake you?”

“Physically, yes. Mentally, not quite.”

“How far did you go?”

“Two miles.”

“You must have been up at dawn!”

He opened the door, then stood back to allow her to slide in. His darkened gaze spoke the accusatory volumes that his tongue was not yet quite up to. “Almost.”

Breakfast was served on white linen tablecloths covered with the finest of china, silver and crystal at a private club where Alex was a member. It was not until after the first full cup of strong, black coffee had warmed him that he was able to speak in sentences once more. In truth, Alanna found his early morning gruffness appealing; she was not usually up to much herself at that hour.

His compliment came on the heels of fresh grapefruit and startled her. “You’re a very good swimmer. I understand you coach?”

“Uh-huh.” She sipped her juice. “You’re not bad, yourself. You didn’t say that you were a swimmer.”

“You didn’t ask.” The twinkling in his eyes softened his tone.

“Your stroke is beautiful,” she burst out spontaneously, then promptly wished she had chosen a different word. This one had a poignant double meaning.

“Felt good, did it?” he drawled softly.

With calm deliberation Alanna spread raspberry jam on her English muffin. “That doesn’t even deserve an answer.”

“What’s on the agenda for today?” He startled her with his abrupt change of subject. His obvious interest, however, soothed her ruffled feathers.

“Oh, a pretty full day. I have to go over the cost sheets on our newest insulation proposal. That should take up most of the morning.”

“Is this another of your pet projects?”

She blushed. “So you’ve heard of them?”

“They’re part of your reputation, love. You should be proud of what you’ve started.”

“I am.” She spoke softly, taking time out for a bite of bacon. “When I first came to WallMar Enterprises it was strictly a manufacturer of paper goods.”

“
High-quality
paper goods,” Alex interjected, “and handling the largest volume of any such company on the East Coast.”

“Did you learn that yesterday?”

“No. I’ve known that all along. Business is my field, too. Although the Knight Corporation hasn’t had any direct dealings with Wallace we’re well aware of his achievements. You, love, have gilded the image.”

“You sound as though I’ve done something single-handedly,” she protested modestly.

“Haven’t you? Jake Wallace may be a whiz, but most of the men beneath him are far from genius material.”

“Hmmm, you can say that again. Ah—strike that! It was very improper of me to bad-mouth my fellow employees.”

His voice lowered. “Even though they bad-mouth you?”

Alanna nearly choked on her coffee. She put down the cup with a thud, then silently sought to calm herself. “I try to ignore that.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t.”

She looked up at him, aghast. “What would you like me to do? Bring them to court for libel? Smear Jake’s name and marriage all over the pages of some scandal sheet just to show that I’m innocent of their charges? I’m not even sure I could do that! People will believe what they want. A person may be innocent until proven guilty, but, once heard, a rumor has this nasty way of tainting things, nonetheless.”

“What does Wallace say about it?” He sat forward, his eyes alert.

“Jake takes the same view I do. The bottom line is the business. If it thrives and we continue to be effective we try to avoid a confrontation. As a matter of fact, when I told Jake that I doubted whether I should be named Executive Vice-President, precisely because of the rumormongers, who would be bound to have a field day, he disagreed completely. Poor Jake, he
does
see me as one of the family.”

“And you?”

Alanna’s brown-eyed gaze beamed straight toward Alex. “I love Jake and Elaine as I might have loved my parents. They’ve been wonderful to me. I only hope that I deserve the faith Jake has shown in me. He gave me carte blanche from the start. From my very first suggestion—the one that led to our entrance into computer software—he’s been behind me.”

“It was a brilliant move.”

“Not brilliant. Simply … timely. When I first interviewed with Jake I sensed his willingness to branch out. The projects I head are ventures that risk a small, very small, percentage of our assets. I’ve had a fair success ratio, thank goodness!”

Alex continued to look at her, his chin resting on one large palm. He seemed content just to sit, moving only slightly when a black-vested waiter refilled their coffee cups. When it occurred to Alanna that she had been doing most of the talking she attempted to remedy the situation.

“How about you, Alex? What are
you
up to today?”

“I’ve got a meeting in New York at eleven.” He sounded totally unconcerned with the matter, despite the fact that time was passing.

“Eleven! And here you’re sitting with me! Shouldn’t you get going?”

“There’s no rush.” His eyes beamed lazily. “I’ll be flying, anyway. I don’t have to be at the airport for a while yet.”

Alanna nodded, her gaze clinging to his. Should she ask? Would he be resentful? Wasn’t it as good a test as any to see if he really meant to make her a part of his life? “Is it a critical meeting?” She finally opted for indirectness, opening a subject that he could easily close with a “yes” or a “no” should he so desire. To her pleasure, he did neither.

“It’s a meeting with the Board of Directors of InterContinental Communications. We’ve been working to establish competitive sources of long-distance communications; they may be our key.”

A vague memory stirred. “Did I read something about that not long ago?”

“You may have, if you’re up to date with the trade journals. We’ve been trying our best to keep it under cover. Unfortunately, the noble people of the press—
whatever
press—have ways of sniffing things out.” Alanna smiled her understanding. “All done?” he asked politely.

“Yes, thank you. That was good. My breakfasts aren’t usually as formal.”

He moved to stand behind her to pull out her chair. “See if it helps with the morning. If it does, it may be worth repeating!” His words were low and spoken by her ear; she recalled them often throughout the day.

Indeed, she thought often of Alex throughout the day—far too often for her peace of mind. She thought of how he had been last evening: alarmingly virile. She thought of how he had been in the wee hours of the night: quietly comforting. She thought of how he had looked swimming in the pool: disturbingly masculine. She thought of how he’d been at breakfast: companionable, despite the hour. As the day slowly passed and she went from one meeting to another, from one phone call to another, from one project to another, she wondered what he would be like tonight.

“Alanna!” Jake called from the door of her office, then entered. “Where have you been?”

Her eyes widened. “Right here, Jake. For the past—”

“I know that. I meant your mind. I called your name three times just now before you finally looked up.” His gaze was uncomfortably knowing. “Off daydreaming somewhere?”

Alanna couldn’t stem the flush of embarrassment that crept upward from her neck. “I guess so.”

“How did it go last night?” He honed in on her thoughts.

“Fine. I slept pretty well … for an insomniac.”

“Do you think the program will help, then?”

She frowned. “I’m not sure.” There were now so many complicating factors. “I hope so.”

“Have a few minutes to talk about that biotechnics proposal?”

“Sure, Jake.” It was a merciful out, a propitious escape. With Jake here and a concrete issue before her it was possible—if only for a short time—to exorcise the ghost of Alexander Knight. No, not a ghost. A ghost implied a relationship from the past. This was more like a glimpse of the future. And that thought disturbed her even more. Her current problem was much like the self-perpetuating wakefulness of the insomniac. The more Alex Knight intruded on her thoughts, the more unsettling he became and the more she found herself engaged in slow brooding on him and on the future.