Strangers in Paradise (11 page)

Into a soul... She couldn't look away from his eyes. Dark and fascinating. All of him. She remembered spilling out everything on their first meeting, remembered thinking of him on the beach, aware that he was there, strong and masculine, and wishing that she could curl against him and laugh, because he seemed to understand so easily the things she needed.

She lowered her head; his hand fell away. She wondered if it wasn't time for a little more honesty, and she was amazed that she could bluntly say what she intended. “You'd find me atrociously disappointing,” she said. Her voice was low, even weary. But she looked up and met his eyes again and felt the warmth suffuse her. “Looks can be deceiving. What you see isn't the real me.”

“I see fire and warmth and beauty.”

“It—it isn't there.”

“It needs only to be awakened.”

“And you're the one to do it, I take it.”

“I think I already have.”

“I think you have tremendous nerve.”

He laughed suddenly. “Probably. But then, like I said, you do things to the psyche and the body....” His voice trailed away, and he shrugged. He had a bunch of papers on the counter, and he turned away, shuffling them together.

“Don't forget to feed the kittens.”

“You're leaving?”

“You told me to.”

“Well, I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. All right, well, I meant it when I said it, but only because—”

“Because I was hitting on you?” He was amused, she thought. She cast him an acid gaze, and he laughed again. “Well, I can't promise to quit, especially when you're half-naked.”

“You're more naked than I am.”

He smiled. “I suppose I should be glad that you noticed. Aha! That's it.”

“What's it?”

He thumped an elbow onto the table, then leaned forward. “You're more afraid of yourself than you are of me.”

“Don't be absurd.”

“You are. You don't want me asking, because you're willing to give.”

Alexi groaned, wishing she weren't trembling inside. “You win; I give up. Go home.”

“For now,” he promised, straightening and going for his papers once again. “But you know how it is. A man, a woman, an island—”

“This isn't an island.”

“Close enough. But for now, goodbye, my love.”

Alexi stood and followed him out to the hallway. He whistled, and Samson came bounding out from the parlor. The kittens followed after him. Poor Samson had a tortured look about him. It seemed that the kittens hadn't recognized the fact that the shepherd was a hundred times their size; they had adopted him as a surrogate parent.

“Henpecked by a couple of kittens, huh, boy?” Rex said, laughing.

“His master would never be henpecked, I take it?” Alexi queried, crossing her arms over her chest.

He looked at her across their menagerie. He took a long moment to answer, and when he did, his tone was careful, measured.

“No. His master would never be henpecked. Nor would he peck in return. Any relationship only works with give-and-take.”

Alexi lowered her head suddenly, feeling a little dizzy. There were things she liked about him so much. He'd been amazed that she had been somewhat insane over a nest of little snakes, but he hadn't played upon that fear. She realized suddenly that he was blunt because he was honest, but that he would never gain his own strength from the weakness of another.

He opened the door and started to leave. Alexi nearly tripped over the kittens to reach him, bracing herself against it as she called him back.

“Rex!”

“Yeah?” Shading his eyes from the sun, he turned back to her.

“Thank you. For the kittens, for the house...thank you very much.”

“How much?”

She merely smiled at the innuendo. “Dinner? I really can cook.”

“I believe you. But not tonight. Let's go out.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.” His expression turned strangely serious. “I want to ask you a few questions.”

“About what?”

“We'll eat at about eight; I'll come by here by six-thirty.”

“Why so early?”

“I have all your clothing, remember?”

“Oh!”

He was right; her suitcase was now at his house, and she was here.

“See you then.” He turned and walked away then. Samson barked, as if saying goodbye, too.

Alexi didn't leave the doorway. She watched them walk away, the man and his massive dog. She looked at Rex's broad, bronzed shoulders and at the ripple of muscle as he moved, and she shivered. He was right; she was very afraid of herself.

* * *

At precisely six-thirty, Alexi heard him knocking at the door. She answered it in one of Gene's scruffy old velvet smoking jackets, but apart from that she was ready. She had showered for nearly an hour, washed and blow-dried her hair and carefully applied her Helen of Troy makeup. She was smiling and radiant—and the warm caress of his gaze as it swept over her was a charming appreciation of her labors. He also issued a tremendous wolf whistle.

Alexi tried to whistle in return—she wasn't very good, but he did look wonderful all dressed up. His suit was a conventional pinstripe, his shirt was tailored, his tie was a charcoal gray. Color meant nothing—it was the fit upon him that was so alluring. That and the crisp scents of his clothing and after-shave.

“You're gorgeous,” she said.

“So are you.”

“Thanks—but I really do have to change. Where are we going?” He had a bouquet of flowers for her in one hand and her suitcase in another. She smiled and thanked him, and he followed her into the kitchen so that she could put them in water.

“Can I help?” he offered.

“I've got a vase—”

“I meant with the changing.”

“You would,” Alexi retorted, but she was still smiling. It seemed fun. She felt curiously secure with him, even though she didn't doubt his intent for a moment.

And somehow it was tremendously exciting. He definitely let her know he wanted her; he also let her know that it would be at her time, when she was ready.

And that she wouldn't have to be frightened.

“You seem happy,” he said.

Alexi poured water into the vase. “I am. I've been studying the original blueprints all day. I talked to Gene, and I checked on some contractors. I thought you might know something about them.”

“I know a few.”

“How about a glass of wine? I found a super-looking Riesling down in the cellar.”

His brows flew up. “You ventured into the cellar?”

She chuckled softly. “I took the kittens with me. Your bug man did a good job—there's nothing crawling down there.”

He smiled and said lightly, “A Riesling sounds great.”

Alexi set the flowers in the water and made a little face at him. “Good. You open and pour. I'll run up and get dressed.”

He nodded, reaching into the right drawer for the corkscrew. “Call me if you need any help,” he told her.

“I'll do that,” she promised sweetly.

He'd left her suitcase in the hall. Alexi grabbed it and raced up the stairs. She set it on the bed in the room she had chosen and quickly opened it. She wished she had followed him back earlier, for then her things wouldn't be so crushed.

She dumped everything, trying to decide what to wear. She settled on a cream knit dress, since it wouldn't need to be ironed, and then brushed aside other things to find stockings to go with it. Slipping into her underwear, she wondered if it was Rex who had repacked for her; then she knew that it must have been, because Emily had left to run errands right after breakfast this morning. She colored slightly, wondering what he must have thought. Her slips, chemises, panties and bras were all very feminine and exotic—her agent's sister owned a lingerie shop, and for every occasion, from her birthday to Valentine's Day, Alexi received some frothy bit of underwear. She smiled, glad that her things were respectable.

She hadn't realized that she was trembling with excitement until she tried to put her stockings on. She paused, inhaling a long breath. She was frightened. Rex was new to her, completely new. He was overwhelmingly male, yet there was that wonderful streak of honesty to him. She was excited, maybe dangerously so. But it was nice, too. The feeling was as wonderful as a fresh sea breeze, and it touched all of her. It was wonderful, and she felt that if it was dangerous, too, she really had no choice. She couldn't resist. He was as compelling as the relentless pull of the tide.

Alexi slipped into a pair of high heels, dumped her things from her large purse into a smaller, beaded evening bag and hurried downstairs, afraid to sit and ponder her feelings too long. She glanced at her watch; it was barely seven. She was pleased that she had gotten ready so quickly.

Rex was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, sipping his wine and watching the kittens as they tumbled over each other. He smiled when Alexi walked in, and his eyes fell over her with the same provocative warmth once again. He lifted his wineglass to her. “Stunning.”

“Thank you.”

He picked up a second glass of wine and handed it to her. She murmured a thank-you, then sipped at it far too quickly. Rex watched her, amused.

“Did you name them?”

She picked up one of the little silver bundles. “I went with Silver and Blacky—so far.” She gazed at Rex and admitted. “I, uh, wasn't sure about their sexes, so I wanted to be careful.”

Rex chuckled. “You've got one of each. Silver here is a—” he paused, picking up the kitten “—a girl. Blacky must be the male.”

Alexi nodded, set her wineglass down and retrieved both kittens. She went to the back door with them and set them both outside. They tried to come in; she wouldn't let them.

“Cruel!” Rex said.

“Hmph!” Alexi retorted. “You didn't get me a litter box for them,” she reminded him.

“How could I have been so remiss! We can stop by the store on our way to the restaurant.”

Alexi picked up her wine again, swirling the pale liquid as she said, “I thought you hid out a lot, Mr. Fame and Fortune.”

He winced. “That sounded like a low blow. I probably should be hiding out with
you
. But we're going to an Asian restaurant just north of Jacksonville where every table is secluded.”

“You didn't recognize me when you first saw me,” Alexi reminded him. “And people just point at me, anyway. They don't want my autograph.”

“People don't usually recognize me, either. And not everyone is a mystery fan. The only reason I ‘hide out' here is that there are a few nuts out there.”

“Excuse me,” Alexi teased. She bit her lip then, wishing that she hadn't spoken. She remembered him telling her that someone had actually shot his horse. No wonder he liked solitude.

But he didn't seem bothered by her words. He came closer to her and touched his glass to hers. “This time you're excused,” he promised solemnly. He didn't move away from her. His eyes were on hers, dark and deep. Again she was aware of the delicious scent of him. For the longest time, she thought he was going to kiss her, and she didn't think she would protest. She wouldn't have the mind left to do so.

But he didn't. He turned around suddenly, going to the door. He started to call the kittens, but they were right there, tumbling over each other to get back into the house.

“They have to be locked in the cellar,” Alexi said. She wrinkled her nose. “I don't want to have to search the whole house for what they might have needed to do.”

“Sorry, guys,” Rex told the playful pair. “You're being jailed for the evening.”

“Well, where's Samson?” Alexi challenged.

“Probably lolled out on the leather sofa,” Rex admitted. “I forgot to tell him when he was a puppy that he was a dog.” With that, he led her out.

His car was a sporty little Maserati. He asked Alexi if she minded the top down, and she assured him that she loved the air. They didn't speak much on the thirty-minute drive to the restaurant; the wind did feel good, and Alexi found herself content to lean her head back on the fine leather upholstery and close her eyes. He had a good sound system, and the music and air seemed to blanket her in a shroud of comfort and lethargy.

“We're here—if you're awake,” Rex told her when he parked.

“I'm awake—just a mess,” she replied, fumbling in her bag for her comb. Rex came around to open the passenger door; when she stepped out, he took her hand, then smoothed back all the straying gold strands. Alexi didn't move; she just let him do that, wondering how such a simple service could feel so intimate and sensual.

“Ready?” he asked huskily.

She was ready...for almost anything.

The restaurant was beautiful. The lobby was dusky and intimate with ornately carved and very heavy chairs. A hostess in black silk trousers greeted Rex like an old friend, and Alexi experienced a moment's jealousy, wondering how often he came here—and with whom.

They were led down a little hallway. It was very intimate; silk screens and paneling divided each little room. The music was soft. When they reached their room, Alexi saw that the tables were low; she was to remove her shoes, and she and Rex would sit on cushions on the floor. The table was round, and they were seated very close to each other. Rex asked her if he could order the wine, and she said sweetly that since he knew the place so well, he should certainly do so.

Their hostess left them. Rex reached for her fingers and played with them idly in the small space between them.

“Jealous?” he asked.

“Why should I be?”

“I see...just naturally catty.”

Alexi pulled her fingers back. “You forget, Mr. Morrow, I was in the most uncomfortable position of getting to hear all about your sex life.”

“You didn't hear all about it. But if you want the finer details, I can always give them to you.”