Love Songs (24 page)

As fate would have it, it was Alex who, appearing in person at her office late Friday afternoon, presented both the best and the worst of her life to date. The best was himself; a sight for love-starved eyes, he was stunningly handsome in his three-piece pin-striped suit, the shadow of a beard on his jaw. The worst, however, was foreshadowed by the look of barely bridled anger in his gaze as he threw down the first edition of the evening paper, opened to the business section and a close-up photo of Jake and herself sharing drinks at the lounge four days before.

“One Woman’s Formula for Corporate Success,” the headline read, its implication all too clear in conjunction with the picture. Instinct outlined the copy for her; Alex’s anger elaborated on it. Tossing her glasses atop the newsprint, she closed her eyes in defeat. No wonder people had been so wary of her all day.

9

“We’ll sue!” Alex yelled, pacing the floor of her office as though he personally had been the subject of the slanderous passage Alanna had finally forced herself to read. It occurred to her that she had never seen him so angry.

“We won’t sue,” she contradicted him softly and distractedly. “It would only make a larger issue out of this entire farce.” Her jaw tensed in frustration. “Someone fed this reporter her information. It could have been any one of the men who might have wanted advancement here. But I can’t start pointing fingers.” She looked up at Alex helplessly. “There are too many possibilities and no proof.”

The eyes that speared her were dark and stormy. In the instant Alanna prayed that she might never have to face this man’s wrath; it was truly awesome.

“Well, you can’t just sit and let this type of thing go unchallenged, Alanna!” he seethed, slapping the newspaper back onto her desk. “There has to be a limit to journalistic freedom. You
do
have a case for libel.”

Sighing, she looked down at the article, bristling freshly. “Of course I do. But be practical. If I go to court it will cost a pretty penny. And realistically, if I go to court someone will try to tear apart my character even
more!
”

She was right. Even Alex, pausing in his anger to ponder her claim, had to reluctantly agree. But his mind ran quickly ahead. “Make a counterstatement.”

“A
what?
” Her tone of voice was infinitely weary, just barely curious.

“A counterstatement.” Alex had calmed down as a sensible course of action formulated itself in his mind. “If it were me,” he eyed her with gentle accusation, “I’d call an immediate press conference—”

“It’s
not
you—” she interrupted, only to be interrupted in turn.

His smile was meager and rueful. “I know. And since you won’t put up with
that
the next best thing would be for you to submit a statement to the paper contradicting this woman’s claims and presenting your own viewpoint. It might actually be,” he grinned, “good PR for you.”

“Alex! Publicity is the
last
thing on my mind. It’s not what I need or want!”

“But a low-key statement, love?” he coaxed her, growing steadily more composed.

Alanna was skeptical. “You really think that would be better than simply ignoring the whole thing?”

“You could ignore it.” He shrugged. “But somehow I always saw you as a more aggressive type.”

There was the challenge once more. Pulling herself up straighter in her chair, she nodded. “A counterstatement it will be, then.”

A counterstatement it was, written jointly by Alex and Alanna and submitted to the newspaper only after a meeting with Jake, two of the members of the board of directors and the public relations specialist on Jake’s staff. It was a simply worded piece, disclaiming the content of the earlier article as being pure fabrication. It enumerated Alanna’s professional qualifications, her achievements at WallMar Enterprises and listed the projects now in the works because of her initiative. When it appeared in the paper there was an atmosphere of dignity about it. Its straightforward presentation of the facts seemed unimpeachable.

Implicit in the statement was a denunciation of the woman’s source, most probably one of the men at WallMar, whose being passed over for promotion had prompted such vindictiveness. The subtle force of Alanna’s words was silently aimed at Brian Winstead. She considered him the most obvious suspect, though she could openly say nothing to that effect.

The counterstatement, however, did not appear in the paper until Monday morning. In the interim Alex was a godsend. He devoted his entire weekend to Alanna, accompanying her as she did each of her usual chores, buoying her up.

He was a gentle and unobtrusively helpful presence in getting Elaine Wallace to and from the beauty shop. He manned the supermarket cart while Alanna shopped, endearingly tossing an extra ten dollars’ worth of his favorite foods into the pile. He even came to the rescue at the swimming pool when one of the girls, a tiny ten-year-old, appeared with a knee-to-toe cast on her leg and an accompanying heartbroken look on her face. Alex took over her care, sitting in the stands beside her, talking steadily, coaxing smile after smile from the child until the meet was over, at which time he led her outside and kept her company until her older sister was dressed and their mother had claimed them.

Sunday was a quieter day. They slept late, brunched out, walked along the waterfront for hours talking and took in an early movie before returning to her apartment. Through it all, however, despite Alex’s encouragement, Alanna was shadowed by thought of the paper and the statement that would be appearing on Monday. Hers was a strong piece, she knew, but, unfortunately, she had been correct in an earlier fear. People would believe what they wanted to believe.

When Monday morning arrived and she dutifully appeared at WallMar with her head held high she met a world of doubting minds and wary eyes. If anything she found an increase in the unease among the men with whom she had to deal. She was deeply discouraged. Perhaps the greatest source of her discomfort lay in the fact that not one of her co-workers made even the slightest reference to the newspaper article—not even in passing. Surely, there would be
some
supportive comment.…

The week passed on leaden feet, seeming to be the longest of Alanna’s life. Had it not been for the nightly comfort of Alex and the daily support of Jake she might have thrown in the towel right then.

Only subtle glances and strained interchanges gave proof of the feeling that seemed to run high against her within the corporation. To her dismay, even the other female faces on the payroll eyed her distrustfully, apparently choosing to believe the gossip rather than give her the benefit of the doubt.

Brian Winstead, historically her most vocal opponent, said nothing. She finally decided that either her personal “promise” to him had hit its mark or it was he who had spread the gossip to the papers in search of revenge and so was now sated. But as she had told Alex so firmly when the story had first broken, she had no proof. To accuse Brian blindly would be as wrong as his having made such unsubstantiated claims in the first place.

To further disturb her peace of mind was the growing sense of love she felt for Alex. As the days passed she came to depend on him—on his being there with her in the evenings, at night, when she awoke in the morning. They spent nearly every free moment together, primarily at Alex’s suggestion, though she would have been distraught had he not done so. It was a tug-of-war, this wanting to be constantly with him yet fighting the urge to depend on him, and it continued unendingly.

For the first time, moreover, the physical was secondary to the emotional in their relationship. The intense attraction was there, as it always had been, as it always would be. But they now found different ways to express their love. There was more talking, more quiet companionship. During this time of tension for Alanna Alex came through with a wealth of understanding and encouragement. He patiently drew from her a retelling of the highs and lows of each day, dealing with both in a thoughtful and caring manner.

Their lovemaking was gentler, with none of the frenzied hunger of earlier encounters. It was as though each sensed the other’s depth of feeling and was satisfied by that alone. They spent more than one night simply lying together, talking, savoring the closeness until sleep claimed them. And there was the quiet pleasure of waking together after an undisturbed sleep to greet the new day.

That she loved him Alanna now accepted fully. That she needed him was a different matter. She fought this reality for as long as she could, finally yielding by the end of the week. What she would have done without his strength she did not know. Without her even realizing it, Alex had insinuated himself into her life, had made himself a vital part of it. What he had originally done in the physical realm—building up her need for him until she was clearly addicted—he now did emotionally. He was always there and she grew to depend on him. She needed him. Yet she couldn’t quite get herself to tell him that … yet.

There was still that matter of long-range commitment. To confess to Alex the true extent of her love for him would only give fodder for his argument in favor of marriage. So far he had kept his word about giving her time, easing the pressure he might otherwise have exerted in that direction. Quite subconsciously she needed to hold something back—a little something of herself, kept in reserve, preventing total surrender. It was a final connection to her past dreams, dreams that, though Alex’s intrusion had rendered them inferior to the new pictures he painted of her future, she was not yet ready to give up entirely. She had spent too long building those old dreams; she still needed time to accept their obsolescence.

As she stood at a crossroads in her life she felt herself pulled in all directions at once. On one side were WallMar and the powerful position of Executive Vice-President, but with suspicion and innuendo shadowing her every move. Then there were Alex and her love for him, growing stronger day and night. And there were freedom and independence and self-sufficiency, long fought for and now threatened by the very love which welled within. For she knew that her life would be empty without Alex. Yet how long would he wait? How long would he be content to satisfy her need for love and companionship and comfort without her satisfying his need for a wife?

With the advent of the weekend her thoughts came full circle. Once more she found herself pondering what her mother might have said or done given the present situation. Once more she found herself wondering whether her parents had ever shared the heights of passion which she and Alex scaled night after night. Perhaps her mother’s bitterness had been, in part, caused by a deep, deep love that was never quite returned. Perhaps … perhaps … perhaps … but Alanna would never know. Therein lay the greatest frustration.

It was with thoughts of her own past fresh in her mind that Alanna found herself, on Saturday evening, dressed in a soft blue sheath and navy heels, her blond hair brushed to a shine and hanging beyond her shoulders, en route to dinner with Alex’s parents.

“But you said we were going out for dinner to a special place, just the two of us!” she protested when Alex informed her of the change of plans.

“Uh-uh,” he chided her with half-hidden amusement. “I never said we’d be alone. You must have assumed that. But I do think that my home is a special place.…”

“That’s not the point! You could have warned me! I’m not psyched up for this. Your
family,
Alex—why didn’t you
tell
me?”

The gray Porsche purred smoothly away from the city, headed toward the suburban countryside in which Alex had grown up. “Relax, love. Where’s that cool I always admire? That crystal-clear poise? That mirror-smooth composure?” The corners of his firm lips twitched. “If I didn’t know you better I’d say you were scared to death!”

“You bet I am!” she agreed readily. She
was
scared and she wasn’t quite sure why. Was it her own insecurity showing? Did she actually fear that Alex’s parents might not like her? Resorting to humor to quell her nerves, she quipped lightly, “In fact, I’d like nothing better than to be in jeans and a shirt, back at my place. I’d cook you anything your stubborn little heart desired…”

His deep voice lilted in gentle harmony. “But you’re here, with me, on the way to the country.”

She sighed. “Yes.”

He cast her a sidelong glance as she slowly gathered her composure. “And you’ll come with me and meet my family.”

“Yes.” Why she was so pliant to his wishes she wasn’t sure, until he filled in the blank himself.

“Because you love me so much.”

His deep growl ignited ripples of now-familiar longing within her. When she reached for his hand he offered it. “Yes, I do love you.” She smiled, finding it impossible to stay angry at him for long. “But you’ve got to do something about these seats!”

“What’s wrong with the seats? I’ll have you know that this Porsche is a collector’s item.”

Alanna retaliated with a playful scowl. “The collectors can have it! Bucket seats are for the birds!”

The deep and steady surge of the motor was as smooth in its power as the man behind the wheel when he let out a low, long chuckle. “I won’t argue with you there. But it may be for the best. If we
ever
hope to get to my parents’ house…”