Love Songs (7 page)

“Sure you can.” He spoke with such gentle conviction that she had to listen. For while one part of her fought the incipient cry of desire that murmured through her body, the other part sought a rationale to permit its full and joyful expression.

His hands framed her face, tilting it up toward his as he spoke, his lips but a breath away. The dim light from the nightstand cast his manly features into bold relief, imbuing them with even greater positive force. “Forget who you are, what you are. Forget who I am, what I am.” His tone was near-hypnotic; her eyes were glued to his commanding features. “Forget where you were today, where you are now, where you may be tomorrow. All that matters is this moment. Your woman to my man, my man to your woman. Give in, Alanna. Explore the feeling. It’s new and wonderful.”

His soft words were headier than any wine, his nearness more potent than any drug. With the tremor that passed through her went all thought of resistance, all will to protest. In its place was the taste of passion he had given her and the yearning to know more. Yet Alex awaited her sign. He wouldn’t force her, nor would he allow her to remain passive. Intuition told her that he would demand in return everything he gave. The thought excited her. If she wanted him she would have to challenge him as well.

The thought was made all the more exciting by his hands, which drifted from her face to her shoulders, then lightly down her arms to rest expectantly at her hips. “You can’t do it,” he goaded softly. “Why? Not woman enough?”

The spell was momentarily broken. Alanna gasped at his taunt and its implication, stunned by the maelstrom of emotions that swirled within her. Indignance blunted anger, to be quelled in turn by desire, which erupted in a sigh of need, raw and ever-building. Freed of all pretense by his dare, she would meet him head-on.
He
would eat
his
words, she vowed, by the time she was done.

Her hands lifted to his face, her fingers tracing the rugged lines of his cheek, his jaw, then running around to the vibrant hair at the nape of his neck. His pulse throbbed beneath her thumbs, her own quickening to keep time. When she lifted her lips he met them, still holding back, still demanding that she take the initiative. Unspoken, the dare was repeated. And she met it, deepening her kiss, running the tip of her tongue along the firm line of his lips, then venturing further with darting sweetness in a bid to contest his ability to withstand her provocation. His imminent surrender was electrical.

Slowly he raised his arms, his hands tightening around her, lifting her until she was nearly off her feet. She clung to him for support as his lips grew active, demanding. To her starved senses it was a delightful feeling, that of yielding to a power greater than herself, of absorbing that power and gaining strength from it. With that strength she returned his kiss, weaving her hands through the thickness of his hair to hold him closer.

Her feet left the ground as he lifted her, his kiss as strong as ever while he carried her to the bed. The coolness of the sheets against her flaming body, however, was a stark reminder of reality.

“Alex…?” she whispered, only to be stilled by his thumb against her lips.

“Shhh. I said I’d put you to bed. I’m only doing that.”

When his hands reached for the tie of her robe she demurred. “Alex!”

“Shhh. You’ll wake everyone up.”

His lips silenced her further, drugging her anew as his fingers drew the robe apart, then slid within to begin a sensual exploration of the curves that awaited enticingly. He stroked her sides and her midriff with maddening torment until, caught in an explosion of need, she arched toward him. Only then did he touch her breasts, lightly at first and with a tenderness that hit its mark. This gentleness was totally irresistible. Though his touch grew bolder it was exquisitely precise.

Alanna’s palms itched to touch as well. Her gaze followed them as they moved to the vee of his robe, settling against his bronzed chest to allow her fingers access to its hair-roughened warmth. Reveling in this textured landscape, her fingers trailed downward. Muscles rippled beneath her fingertips in a deep tremor of excitement which accompanied his low groan. In the dim light her eyes were bright and alive, her lips moist and open as he reached for them with raw hunger. Then reality entered to shatter their intimacy.

“Are you two at it
again?
”

For a split second they stilled, stunned, tumbling from the heady peak of passion. Alex’s subsequent groan was one of frustration as he pushed himself up to rest on stiffened arms.

“Sylvia,” he growled huskily, identifying the intruder without even looking around, “you’re worse than any chaperone!”

The nurse stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Mercifully, she didn’t approach the bed. Alanna’s flush was mirrored on Alex’s face, a flush of passion, not embarrassment. Her eyes drank in his color, his hair in disarray, his gaze still dark with desire.

Though stern, Sylvia’s voice held an undertone of appreciation. “May I remind you that this is a hospital? We’re all here on official business.”

It was Alex’s discomposure that gave Alanna the strength, despite her lingering exhilaration, to rebound. “That’s right, Alex. This is a hospital.” She grinned, feeling safer from her own rampant desire with Sylvia in the room. “Official business only. You heard the woman.” She felt an odd satisfaction at having the edge on Alex Knight, regardless of how tentative or superficial it might be.

“I hear, I hear,” he muttered grudgingly, admitting defeat only for the moment. “You haven’t heard the last of me, Ms. Evans.” Leaning down, he placed a sober kiss on her cheek in a show of defiance before levering himself off the bed, straightening his robe with dignity and stalking barefooted to the door. “And
you
, Nurse Frazier, had better wipe that smirk off your face. Hmm,” he paused, eyeing her closely as Alanna followed the action from her bed, “what happened to the timidity that gave you such tact earlier?”

“That timidity, Mr. Knight,” she countered with an utter absence of the quality in question, “vanished with your clothes. As soon as you shed them you became
my
responsibility. As is Ms. Evans. And I will have no hanky-panky in this sleep lab.”

Alanna stifled a grin, but Alex was less successful. His head fell back as he chuckled broadly. “Hanky-panky?” He finally caught himself. “This isn’t hanky-panky. I plan to marry that woman.” One steady hand pointed back toward the bed, then shifted to his hip. “What you interrupted was a lovers’ tryst, a meeting of minds and hearts and bodies—”

“Enough, Mr. Knight!” Sylvia threw her hands up in exasperation, then clamped one on Alex’s arm and ushered him through the door as though he were a recalcitrant child. “Back to bed.”

Though Alanna had been unable to see his face during the exchange she had clearly heard his humor. Annoyed as she was that he should reveal his bizarre whim to a third person, the situation was suddenly funny. Or was it the fact that it was nearly four in the morning and she was strangely light-headed? Or was she light-headed because of Alex’s lovemaking? Regardless of the possibilities, the roguish glance he had cast over his shoulder at her just before he disappeared had done nothing to bring her down to earth. Sylvia did, however, returning quickly to—of all things—wire her up again.

“Oh, Sylvia,” Alanna opted for sheer honesty, “my mind is humming, my face is flushed, my pulse is racing—and you’re really going to record
that
for posterity?”

The nurse was well aware of the predicament, as her knowing mock-glower suggested. “It may be the only way to keep him away from you for the rest of the night.” The older woman stopped fussing over her equipment as she reran the earlier conversation in her mind. Her expression was suddenly kind. “Are you two really going to be married?”

Alanna grinned mischievously. “Alex seems to think so. But he’s in for a rude awakening. I have no intention of marrying anyone. Not to mention the fact that I only met him for the first time tonight … in the cafeteria.”

“Oh, dear,” Sylvia moaned, “I’m afraid that was my doing. I had no idea he’d make a pest of himself. It’s usually the women who pester him!”

Alanna could only muster a pointed “Oh?” before the nurse rushed on. “Of course, it’s about time he did settle down. I’ve known his family for years now. They spend their share of time here in the hospital, what with donating such large amounts of money and all. They keep track of everything that happens here—”

“As though they owned the place?” Alanna couldn’t restrain an echo of her earlier statement to Alex, but regretted its sting instantly.

Sylvia, however, didn’t seem to mind. “They’ve been very generous and they happen to be lovely people, every last one of them.” Absently she began to reconnect the electrodes.

Alanna saw the opening and she quickly took advantage. “Every last one of them? Just how many Knights are there?” Though the Knight name frequently graced the pages of the local papers Alanna had never followed the family in detail.

The nurse laughed. “You’d sometimes think there are one thousand and one Knights, what with their presence around this hospital. Let me see,” she rolled her eyes, “there are the senior Knights, the junior Knights, and five Knights of your Alex’s generation, not to mention a handful of grandchildren, most of them born right here in this hospital.”

Alanna ignored the reference to
her
Alex, sighing wistfully. “How nice to be part of a large family. Is Alex the oldest? He said that he heads the foundation.”

Sylvia completed her wire-work, placing the last two electrodes on her patient’s temples. “I believe he has an older sister or two. He
is
the oldest son; that’s why he has taken over the company.”

“Is his father ill?” It seemed the logical conclusion, for a father to turn over the running of the family business to such a relatively young son.

“No. Ironically, the money they donate to this place rarely benefits them. They are, as families go, very healthy.” She stood back, pensive. “No. But the Knight family works in unique ways. The father hands control down to the son early on, the theory being that in order to benefit from the extensive education they give their children, that up-and-coming blood has to have power. Hence, your Alex is now in charge.”

“He’s not
my
Alex!” Once, she could ignore; a second time, she could not. But curiosity came fast on the heels of reproach. “Are his parents still … active?”

“Hah! You wouldn’t be asking that if you had seen them at the dedication of this wing a few months ago. Alex may be the official head of the foundation, but his parents are very visible indeed! Now,” she changed the subject without a blink, “are you comfortable?”

Alanna glanced at the machines beside her. “I suppose so.”

“Then good night. Or rather, good morning. I’ll be going off duty at six. The daytime nurse will wake you at seven. Think you’ll be able to fall asleep?”

“I certainly hope so,” she answered quietly. “Much longer and it will be dawn. Then there will be no point in even trying.” Her lips thinned in frustration. “And I have to
work
tomorrow.…”

Sylvia sensed her frustration. “There, there. Don’t get yourself worked up about it or you’ll never be able to sleep. Concentrate on relaxing. Try to clear your mind of worry and annoyance.” She grinned slyly. “Think of Alex.”

Against her will, that was exactly what Alanna did. She found herself conjuring up images of a face that was bronzed and rugged, a body that was warm and firm, a voice that was deep and resonant. She felt her pulse begin to speed up and determinedly focussed on more steadying topics, only to find her mind drifting back once more to lips that were masterful in the thoroughness of their kiss.

She felt those lips against hers as though they were real—then realized, in a moment of shock, that they were. Her eyes flew open to make out the bare outline of his form in the darkness. It was the world of sensation which was fully illumined for her—the warmth of him, the scent of him, the solidity of him beneath the hand she raised.

“Alex?” She whispered hoarsely.
“What are you doing?”

“Just kissing you goodnight, love.” His breath fanned her cheek, then tickled her ear. “I brought your specs back—you left them in the lounge. They’re on the dresser now. Sleep well.” He kissed her once more, a firm declaration of possession, then was gone.

He was crazy!
That’s all there was to it!
Crazy!
Creeping back into her room after Sylvia had so deliberately ousted him!
Crazy!
And his weird persistence on the subject of marriage…!
Absolutely crazy!
Then she caught her breath at the realization that, for all she knew,
she
was crazy,
too!
Why else would her body be tingling and a strange sense of comfort be floating about her? Why else would she be touched, as she was now, at the thought that he had been looking after her, even in this very small way? Why else would she be wondering when she would see him again? In the morning? That night? When? Oh, yes, there was certainly a touch of craziness in her, all inspired by one Alex Knight. On that oddly giddy note she fell asleep.