Love Songs (2 page)

Slowly, as the meal before her disappeared, she began to unwind. It might have been a trying day, but it had been a good one. Hard work was an integral part of her approach to life. Alanna thrived on it. Her penetration into the elitist ranks of the male-dominated executive level at WallMar Enterprises had been—contrary to recent rumor—the result of long hours, persistence, innate ability and sheer hard work. Realism held taut rein over bitterness in her musings; despite all recent advances against sexism, a woman still had to work
twice
as hard to achieve a niche comparable to her male counterparts in the corporate structure. But, it was worth it. As Vice-President of Development her days were challenging and rewarding, petty aggravations and innuendo notwithstanding. Why, then, her present dilemma?

Insomnia. Millions of Americans suffered from it, yet that fact held small solace when, in the middle of the night, she awoke to find sleep an elusive quality. The pattern was always the same. For no apparent reason her sound sleep would be shattered at one, perhaps two, in the morning. Tossing in bed, she would think, wonder, brood, awaiting the imminent slumber that grew less imminent with each passing moment. For the longer the wakefulness persisted—and it frequently lasted for two or three hours—the more annoyed she became, keying herself up in a way that denied sleep even further.

It was a self-perpetuating nuisance. And Alanna Evans was not one to suffer nuisances willingly, particularly one that rendered her groggy and irritable at seven o’clock each morning, when her alarm rang. Granted, her good nature was usually in order by the time WallMar saw her at eight-thirty, but as the day wore on it became harder and harder to maintain. A steady year of tension and exhaustion was enough; she had finally taken the offensive. Hence the IAT study.

Recalling her immediate purpose, Alanna sat back in her seat, nibbling on a thick steak fry as her eye skimmed the room. There was a scattering of hospital personnel in small clusters here and there and a fair share of visitors. There was also—her teeth clamped down into the soft potato and held—a man walking directly toward her, his dark suit, exquisite physique and daring height identifying him instantly. Had they not, his charcoal eyes would certainly have done so, for they captured her gaze with the same glittering depth and intensity she had fallen victim to in the elevator, and they held unwaveringly as he moved with animal grace through the maze of tables to her corner.

Who was he? Alanna felt a twinge of familiarity, yet she couldn’t quite make the identification. Nor did she have time to ponder it for, too soon, the man reached her side. In his hands he held two cups of a steaming brew she half suspected to be his own secret potion. Without even sipping it, she felt under an inexplicable spell.

“I see you haven’t had coffee. Will you join me?” His voice was as smooth as the rest of him. Alanna was entranced by his aura of command, so much so that she hadn’t moved a muscle since she’d first seen him approaching. Now, snapping back to life, she bit through the steak fry and chewed slowly, pensively, as she regained her poise. What was it about this man that was so compelling? Almost from instinct, with years of training behind her, she steeled herself against his charm.

“I’m sorry,” she answered calmly, rising to his subtle challenge, “but I don’t drink coffee in the evening. It disturbs my sleep.” When she would have looked away in dismissal she found herself challenged anew. For the smugness of her refusal brought an equally cocky smile to the face across from her.

“Then I’m glad I ordered it decaffeinated. Cream? Sugar?” Her headshake was meant as a refusal of his company, but he chose to make a different interpretation and the black coffee was beside her plate before she could protest. Deftly, the man eased his long frame into the chair opposite hers. “It seems we share the problem. How was your dinner?”

With this stranger now firmly ensconced at her table it occurred to Alanna that she’d been given absolutely no say in the matter. “Not bad,” she spoke evenly, eyeing the man through her tinted lenses. “I was enjoying the solitude. Time to oneself is a precious thing nowadays.”

“And I’ve shattered it…?” Silvery sparks of humor glittered in his eyes.

“Let’s just say you … intruded on it.” This man needed no ego reinforcement; that he could easily shatter the peace of mind of many a woman was a given. “Are you always this aggressive?”

“Not usually. Actually, I surprised myself right now. I, too, usually enjoy being alone when I have the chance … which isn’t very often. Aggressive?” He frowned, seeming to consider the word. “Only when I want something badly enough.”

“You want something?” she asked innocently. She looked around in a mocking search. “I don’t see much that’s available. Am I missing something?” Underlying her tone was a streak of amusement. Alanna relished good verbal sparring; this man had the potential to be a worthy opponent. Not to mention the fact that his voice was deep and resonant … and very pleasing.…

“I believe you are,” he countered, “but it’s not your fault. You had no reason to be on the lookout for it in as improbable a setting as this. In time you’ll understand.”

Alanna took refuge behind the rim of her coffee cup, sipping slowly as she studied the stranger. By all rights she should ask him to leave. In fact, it surprised her that she hadn’t. She sensed something different in him—something she had felt in the elevator that was even more pronounced now. There was an arrogance about him—but a depth as well. He challenged her.

“What
do
you see?” he asked, surviving her scrutiny unscathed.

Alanna put down her cup, shifted in her seat, and cocked her head in contemplation. “I see a man, perhaps thirty-seven or thirty-eight—”

“Thirty-nine.”

“Thank you. Thirty-nine.” She stifled a grin. “Tall—oh, say six-three or so?”

“Close enough.” He nodded, smiling faintly.

“Weight … I won’t even make a guess, since I’m no expert at that and since it’s quite unimportant.” She narrowed her gaze, fully involved in the game. “Athletic build, however. I’d guess you either work out regularly or play tennis—”

“Handball.”

“That’ll do.” She smiled sweetly, feeling immune to his charm as long as she could describe him dispassionately. “Classic features—no, more rugged than classic. Brown hair with sandy highlights,” she continued, glancing at the overhead light responsible for the last, “a nose that has been broken at least once, firm lips that express a distinct stubbornness,” she grinned as the items in question twitched, “and eyes of charcoal gray that can be even more eloquent than that very glib tongue.”

“No offense intended, of course?”

“Of course,” she agreed drily, taking another sip of her coffee.

“Go on.” Truly enjoying himself, he sat back in his chair, the fabric of his shirt stretching enticingly across his chest.

Alanna ignored the latter with a shrug. “What more is there to say?” She wasn’t about to sum him up as perhaps the most handsome man she had seen in years, though it was the truth.

“Use your imagination,” came his soft command. “I’m curious to see how the female mind sizes up its adversary.”

“Adversary,” she echoed. “Very good.” So, he knew how she saw him, did he? Well then, she decided, she would let her imagination roam free. “All right.” She cleared her throat. “I see a man used to giving orders without having them questioned.”

“Would you question them?”

“You bet your life I would!” she flashed back with more vehemence than she had intended. Quickly she caught herself, steadying her voice. “I like giving an order or two myself on occasion. But that’s beside the point,” she added, reluctant to offer much about herself. “And speaking of that shirt, it
and
your suit are of very high quality—private tailor, perhaps?”

“Europe.”

Alanna nodded, as though it were the most normal thing in the world. “Europe. I’m sorry I questioned that.” A slender finger pushed her oversized glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. “Then, of course, you must be quite successful at what you do … to be able to shop in Europe.…”

He nodded, more modest than she would have expected. “I’ve been fortunate.”

On the subconscious level, his vague familiarity got to her. Tilting her blond head, she frowned. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“You’re great!” he laughed softly, sparring still. “Isn’t that supposed to be
my
line?”

“Tradition, my dear sir,” she replied unfazed, “is irrelevant in this day and age. Well…?”

“Well what?”

“Look.” She sat forward with a sigh of impatience. “I really don’t make a habit of talking to strange men.”

Any discomfort she felt was totally her own. This strange man was quite pleased. “I’m glad to hear that. One less thing for us to argue about.”

Alanna leaned down to retrieve her purse. She had begun to feel her control of the situation slipping and she was disquieted. “Please, either identify yourself or I’ll be on my way.” She paused. “Actually, I do have an appointment in another few minutes. Every game has to come to an end and this one is beginning to wear thin.” She paused, her cocoa gaze narrowing. “You walk around as though you own this place and everyone in it. It’s a very subtle air—but very much present. Well, you don’t own
me.
And I think you owe me the courtesy of an introduction.”

His deep, charcoal eyes grew suddenly more serious, remaining as intense as ever. Formally extending his hand across the table, he introduced himself. “I’m Alexander Knight. Alex.”

Alanna hesitated, yet somehow her slim hand found its way into his larger, stronger one, warmth spreading through her. Only after several moments did his identity sink in. And with the realization came a heightened flush of pink to her cream-soft cheeks. Her smile crept out unbidden. “So you
do
own the place—or practically. I understand that the new wing—the Knight Center—was your doing.” Her hand remained in his. She was aware of the strength he exuded and found it strangely comforting.

“Only in part. My family made the original gift. The rest was the work of other donors and members of the hospital staff. They deserve most of the credit.”

“Ah, such modesty,” she chided, though her teasing was gentle, her voice soft. His smile was quite disarming—as was his touch. He continued to hold her hand, even faintly caress her fingers. Clearing her throat, she smiled. “My hand, please?”

He released it reluctantly, his eye falling to its partner with curiosity, even a certain tension. “No rings?”

“No.”

“Husband?”

“No.”

“Fiancé?”

“No.” Her gaze now held his with confidence.

“Special guy?”

“No.”

She didn’t actually hear his sigh of relief when he paused, yet he chose his words with care. “Any particular reason? I mean, you
are
striking enough…”

She overlooked his compliment in the urgency of expressing her deepest feeling. “I’m unattached because I choose to be so. It’s as simple as that … and as irrevocable.” The last was added in warning; it had always been quite effective in the past. Now, however, it merely elicited a broad white grin from amid his tanned features.

“I’ll enjoy seeing you eat those words one day.”

“I doubt it.” She was equally as calm and composed. “But,” her pause was punctuated with a frown, “I’m curious as to why you seem so sure of that. You don’t know anything about me.”

“Well, then, we’ll just have to do something about that, particularly since you’re going to be my wife one day.…”

If he had expected an outburst of disbelief or indignation, even fury, he did, indeed, have much to learn about Alanna Evans. She was given to neither, particularly on a subject about which she felt so sure of herself. Her laugh was light and airy, as though it had flitted off the wings of a butterfly on a warm spring day.

“I may have a name for the face, now, Alex,” she said melodiously, “but you’re still
strange!
Whatever would put such a bizarre thought in your mind?”

“There’s nothing at all bizarre about it,” he returned, equally as good-humored, yet oddly sober. “You
will
marry me.”

Again she laughed. “I’ve never heard anything so improbable! I don’t know you, nor you me. You’ve never laid eyes on me before now. Besides, you happen to be talking to a confirmed bachelor-ess!”

“Even the most confirmed of bachelors can change.” His dark gaze broke through her veneer of humor with its raw intensity. “I have.”

“On a moment’s notice?” Incredulity replaced amusement, covering up a more significant emotional spark.

“Not just a moment’s notice.” He spoke with a velvet tongue and frightening conviction. “I’ve had years to ponder who and what I want. I’ve never even caught sight of it … until now. And now that it’s finally appeared I have no intention of letting it slip through my fingers.”

“
It?
You sound as though you’re referring to a business deal. If that’s the case, this is one business that’s not on the market.”

“Perhaps not on the
open
market,” he persisted softly, “but available, to say the least. It may just take you awhile to acknowledge it.”