Strangers in Paradise (19 page)

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He had no intention of leaving her. From the coffee shop, Rex called Gene and very carefully chose the words to tell him what had happened. Gene was in good health, but Rex was wary, never forgetting that the man was in his nineties and didn't need any shocks in his life.

Rex told Gene that he was wondering if there wasn't a way to get her out of the house. Gene shrewdly warned him that if the danger was directed at Alexi, it wouldn't help to get her out of the house.

Rex asked him harshly, “Then you think that it is John Vinto?”

“I didn't say that,” Gene protested. He paused a moment. “I don't know what to think.”

“Just for the weekend, then,” Rex murmured.

“What? What, boy? Speak up there. I can't hear you!”

“Oh. I said just for the weekend. I've got the sloop in berth in town. Maybe we'll take her out for a sail. Just to have a few days without anything else happening. I'll leave Samson at the house to guard it, and Emily can come over to feed him and the kittens.”

Gene was very silent. Rex barely noticed, he was so busy taking flight with his plans in his imagination.

“I'll be there to see you off,” Gene said. “We'll have lunch.”

“I haven't even mentioned it to Alexi yet,” Rex cautioned Gene.

“You'll figure something out,” Gene said. “I'm a man of boundless faith.”

Rex stayed at Alexi's side, watching her as she slept, and as the night passed he felt as if more and more of her stole into his soul. It seemed to him that she remained too pale, and yet there was an ethereal quality about her that was beautiful. He was afraid to touch; she was so very fine. Small and fine boned and delicate to look at—golden, like exquisite porcelain or china. But she wasn't really so delicate, he knew. Despite the battles she had waged and lost in life, she was still fighting, a golden girl, a glittering, shimmering beauty.

He was in love, he realized as he watched the swell of her chest while she breathed. He folded his hands prayer-fashion and tapped his fingers against his chin and wondered how it had happened. He could remember loving Shelley. Vaguely. It had been a different feeling. They had been growing apart, and he hadn't even known it. She'd whispered at night that she had loved him, too.

And then she had been gone.

Alexi was different. Very different. She didn't bother with the lies. She'd never whispered that she loved him, and he'd been careful to guard his own heart. All good things came to an end. He was a fool if he thought that she would stay. Hers was perhaps the face of the century. He couldn't make her stay. He couldn't make her love him.

But, he decided grimly, he could make her get on his boat for a few days. A little time for dreams and the imagination, time enough to savor all the could-have-beens.

When dawn came he stroked a length of her hair and smoothed the golden tendril over her shoulder. A smile curved her lips. He leaned over to kiss her lightly, then stood and tiptoed out of the room, telling the nurse he'd be back soon.

He drove quickly back to the Brandywine house. Samson nearly attacked him. Rex patted the dog absently and hurried upstairs to the bedroom. He found his duffel bag in the closet and hastily chose a few things for himself, then paused, wondering what Alexi would want for a few days on a boat.

Underwear, of course. He looked through her drawers, then paused again, fascinated by the beautiful collection of slips and panties and bras. Then he smiled—and chose his favorites.

Another few minutes and he had found a few short sets, a bathing suit, sneakers, shirts and jeans. Samson barked when he tried to leave the house. Rex paused, knowing that he was seeing Samson's hungry look.

“Okay, boy. Come on. I'll feed you.”

He had just finished feeding Samson and the kittens when he heard the phone ringing. He reached the parlor to answer it—only to hear a breath, then have it go dead.

He swore at the empty line. When it began to ring again, Rex almost chose not to answer it. But when he picked it up that time, Emily's concerned voice came over the phone.

“Oh, Rex! I've been calling and calling. I tried all night. Is everything all right?”

“Emily! Good, good.” He'd needed to talk to her to see that the animals were fed, he remembered. He told her quickly what had happened—and he admitted that he suspected Alexi's ex-husband. Emily was very upset but thought that Rex was right—getting away for a few days might be best for the both of them.

“Samson will be in the house, Emily. I don't think anyone would dare try anything with him around. Think you'd mind coming by to feed him and the kittens? If you're in the least nervous, I'm sure that Mark Eliot will come out with you.”

Emily told him that she wasn't nervous at all when Samson was around and promised to come and feed the dog and the kittens and let them out for exercise and their daily “constitutionals.” Rex thanked her, then hurried on out, anxious to return before Alexi could awaken. Alexi wasn't at all fond of the idea. “Leave? Rex, I don't think that's a good idea at all.” A frown puckered her brow. “It's like giving up.”

“It's not giving up. It's taking a breather.”

“Or,” Alexi murmured skeptically, “it's like a rest home for a neurotic.”

Rex swore impatiently and walked over to the window, shoving his hands in his pockets. He spun around to her. “Alexi, I believe you—I believe you a thousand times over. I don't think you're a neurotic—I think you were married to a very dangerous man. I need the break if you don't.”

“A break from what? We live in Eden, remember.”

Rex decided to change his tactics. “I'm asking you to do it, Alexi. Just for me.”

“What?”

“You're going back soon, right? Summer ends. Beach bunnies go back to their Northern retreats. Helen has to go launch a few more ships. Let's do it for us.”

Alexi looked down quickly, allowing a fall of her hair to shield her face. She braced herself, then looked up again.

“Sure. Why not? A last fling, more or less.”

They stood there staring at each other for a long moment. Rex wondered how they could be planning any kind of a “fling” when hostility seemed to be raking the air about them with bolts of electric tension.

A crisp-coated doctor stuck his head in to smile and tell Alexi that her release papers were all ready. She was chagrined to be forced to leave in a wheelchair, and Rex tightened his lips with a certain grim satisfaction—someone else had told her what to do that time.

Rex drove his Maserati up to the door to collect her downstairs. She exhaled with a great deal of pleasure when she was out of the wheelchair. Rex turned the car out of the drive, noting that it was going to be a beautiful—but deadly hot—day. There wasn't a sign of a cloud.

“Where are we going now?”

“To the club at the dock.”

“What if I were to tell you that I get seasick?”

“I wouldn't believe you.”

She hesitated, looking down at her hands. “I really don't think that this is such a good idea, Rex. I mean, I was even thinking that I should go home...and that you should go to your own house.”

He had never known that words could cut so deeply. The wheel jerked in his hands, and it took everything within him to straighten out the car and keep his eyes on the road ahead.

“I kind of thought you liked me around,” he said.

She remained silent.

“I can't leave you alone right now, Alexi. You could be dead next time.”

“I can't keep sleeping with you because I'm afraid to be alone in my own house, either.”

This time he did drive the car off the road. The gearshift made a horrible grinding sound as the engine died, and Rex wound his fingers around the steering wheel like steel.

“What?” he demanded in a breath of fury unlike anything she had ever heard.

“I—I—”

She didn't mean it. Not that way, of course. But the words were out and she didn't really know how to undo them. She was, at that moment, more afraid of Rex than of any mysterious entity in her house. His temper was afire, while the way he stared at her was ice; he looked as if he hated her.

“For one thing, Ms. Jordan, you haven't the God-given sense to be afraid!”

“You know I didn't mean it that way!” Alexi cried desperately.

He didn't look at her again. He shoved the car back in gear in such a manner that she wondered about the Maserati's life span, and then her own. He took to the road in a flash. She sat back, biting her lower lip so that she wouldn't cry out. She wanted it—she wanted a “last fling.” But something bitter inside her—maybe common sense—warned her that she was becoming too involved—falling too deeply in love. She was spending too much time fantasizing about a forever-and-ever kind of love. It would be a good idea to end it all now, and maybe that was just what she was going to get. Rex wasn't mad—he was lethally furious. When she glanced his way, his face might have been carved in stone: eyes black as pitch; mouth grim.

Alexi gripped the leather seat, wondering if he wouldn't just head back for the peninsula. She shivered, remembering the feeling of being stalked yesterday. Yes! Yes, she did have the sense to be afraid. But she couldn't keep running away. She had come here to get away from New York and John and all her fears there. She couldn't run from here, too.

But she wasn't suicidal, either. She had to be intelligent about it all. A good security system could be installed. And she could get a wonderful big shepherd like Samson to go along with the kittens. But no other shepherd would be Samson....

Just as no other man would be his master.

But Rex Morrow didn't want to be tied down. He'd been burned once, and he was determined not to trust again. She should understand. She'd been hurt.

But he'd taught her that the world could be beautiful, too. He'd taught her to love and to laugh....

Couldn't she teach him the same things?

The car jerked violently. She didn't even know where they were. Her heart beat violently. Did he still intend for them to go away? She cleared her throat.

“Er, where are we?”

“The marina,” he said curtly. “If you would deign to come into the dining room, someone wants to meet you.”

He got out of the car, slamming the door. Ignoring her, he started toward a building with a painted sign that boasted of the yacht club's famous Florida lobster thermidor.

Alexi followed him slowly. She felt so numb. What had she done? The best thing in her life, and she was letting it all slip through her fingers. Losing it all, because she didn't know how to hang on.

She got out of the car and followed Rex. He had waited for her at the restaurant door and was holding it open for her.

Curious, she stepped inside. The place was bright, pretty and air-conditioned but open to the sun, with wall-length plate-glass windows on all sides. The tables were made out of varnished woods and heavy ropes, and the scent of fine seafood was unmistakable. A hostess in navy shorts and a red-white-and-blue sailor top was just coming toward them when Rex waved toward the back of the restaurant.

Alexi followed his gaze, then gave a glad little cry as she saw Gene standing there, waiting for them to join him.

She hugged him fiercely, receiving his tight hug in return. He talked in fragments, and she did, too. Then she smiled brilliantly, kissed his cheek and told him she was very glad to see him.

Rex came to the table, and they were all seated. Alexi realized after a moment that Gene was studying her as surreptitiously as she was studying him. He lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger, openly looking her over with a thorough scrutiny.

“Still pale,” he commented.

“I'm fine! The doctor let me go.”

“Hmmf. Well, it's good you're going out to sea for a few days. Sea air has always been the best thing in the world.”

Alexi stared at him blankly, wondering just what Rex had told him. It wasn't that she wasn't old enough to indulge in an affair; it was just that it seemed very strange to be quite so open with him.

The waitress came. Alexi quickly ordered some wine and the lobster thermidor. She sipped her wine after it was poured, not daring to look at Rex at all and nervously aware that Gene was still watching her, a good deal of humor in his deep and wonderful blue eyes now.

After a few moments, Alexi realized that Gene and Rex were going on almost as if she wasn't there. They were discussing different security systems for the place, the possibility of a big dog—all the things she had been thinking about herself.

“Hey, I'm here, you know,” she reminded them. They both stared at her. She wished for a moment that she could tell Rex to go jump in a lake, that she could take care of herself. But she couldn't really do that—not then. Although Gene had turned the Brandywine place over to her to reconstruct and refurbish as she saw fit, the property belonged to him, not her.

She sipped more wine, then smiled, a little spitefully, and sat back. “Well, I am here, but please, don't let me bother you. You two just go right ahead without me.”

They glanced at her again, arched their brows at each other, then thanked the waitress as she delivered their lunches. Then Rex went on to tell Gene that he thought maybe Alexi needed to have some sort of peace warrant sworn out against John Vinto.

Alexi decided to ignore them then. Her lobster was delicious, and the wine was dry and good.

Toward the end of the meal, Rex excused himself to get the check. Alexi looked down at her plate, unable to think of a thing to say to Gene. She felt a blush rising to her cheeks; she knew he was watching her.

“You're not surprised that we're together,” she said.

“I'm overjoyed.”

“Oh?” Alexi stared straight at him, but she quickly lowered her lashes again. Gene, it seemed, had amassed all the wisdom of the ages. She had always felt that he was incredibly wise. That his gnarled and leathered face and fantastic eyes held all the wisdom of the ages. He could read her mind—and he could read her heart.