Fourth of July (9 page)

“No, no,” Robert soothed. “All Alexis was saying is how terribly sad she feels for those who were killed or injured.”

“I am sad,” Alexis interjected, “but what I was implying is she
is
insensitive.”
Close your mouth
, commanded the voice of reason. She ignored it. “I think it’s terrible someone would be so selfish. You seem to be concerned only about your ruined plans. Obviously you do not feel or display sympathy for someone’s plight which is much, much worse than your own.”

Robert gave her a look that told her she could quit speaking any time. The plump lady pushed her voluptuous chest farther out, raising both her chins. She shot bullets Alexis’ direction with her eyes. The mouths of everyone else in the circle gaped open at her lack of etiquette.

“I’m sorry,” Alexis said, though she didn’t feel repentant. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to freshen up.”

With one last glare at the woman, Alexis speed-walked away. Her eyes stung from unshed tears of rage. She didn’t look back to see if Robert would make their excuses and follow.

She rushed out a set of French doors to a wide veranda dotted with terra cotta plants spilling over with geraniums, impatiens, and petunias. Realizing she still held a drink in her hand, she sipped the cool liquid. The refreshing night air soothed her anger as she relished being removed from the group of haughty, over-perfumed elite.

Robert had no intention of following Alexis. He was more concerned about the political ramifications of not being able to keep his “little date” in check. He quickly patted the woman’s ruffled feathers with his best smile.

“I’m so sorry,” he soothed, grasping her squishy fingers. “Alexis lost a close friend in the blast, and obviously she’s a bit irrational. It has been a terrible time for her, just terrible.”

A complete untruth, but it worked. Disbelief of Alexis’ tirade changed to clucks of compassion and hands held over surgically enhanced bosoms.

“Oh, the poor, poor dear.”

“Bless her little heart.”

“What a tragedy.”

“I hope she’s okay.”

“Thank you. I hope she will be,” Robert said. What he really hoped was Alexis wouldn’t return and catch him in his lie.

Chris nodded, agreeing with the mayor’s assessment of the cowardice of the July Fourth attack. Dating Danielle did come with extra benefits. He thoroughly enjoyed his association with the mayor and his wife. Chris risked another sidelong glance toward Alexis and her date. She looked stunning in her black evening gown.

It appeared she was discussing something with passion. Her cheeks were tinged red and her brown eyes sparkled with intensity. A moment later she raced toward the open veranda.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” Squeezing Danielle’s hand, he released it and turned from the group.

“Where are you going without me?” Danielle arched her perfect eyebrows.

Chris forced a smile. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t be long.” She gave him one more sultry look before turning toward the celebrity at her left.

Chris strode through the French doors where Alexis had disappeared moments earlier. Glancing about, he spotted Alexis leaning against the railing of the veranda. Even in the darkness her short red hair caught his eye. It dipped and swirled in soft curls. He’d give a month’s salary just to touch it.

Her black dress was modest, but fit perfectly. Her toned arms and calves were revealed, while the rest of her firm curves showed just enough to be appealing. He decided he’d give a year’s salary for a snapshot of her in that dress.

He stealthily approached her.

“Hey, Half-pint.”

Chris’ deep voice rumbled too close to her ear. The warm scent of his musky cologne overwhelmed her. Alexis gasped, her glass of orange juice slipping through her fingertips. The handcrafted goblet bounced off the railing then fell two stories and burst into shards of crystal on the patio below.

Alexis wished she could crawl into a hole.

Chris chuckled. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” Alexis shook her head. She admired the way he filled out his tuxedo. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone, and you were so close...” She looked away. “I’d better go clean that up.”

Chris arched an eyebrow. “In that dress?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’ll find someone to take care of the mess when I go back inside.”

“Thanks.” Alexis didn’t trust herself to say more.

“Would you like another drink?” An amused expression played on his firm lips. “What was it—wine, champagne?”

“Orange juice,” Alexis murmured. She felt blood rushing upward.

“Orange juice?” His smile broadened. “That must have been a special request.”

“Not really.” She squirmed, uncomfortable. “Several specialty drinks are made with orange juice.”

“Why no alcohol?”

“Well...” Alexis hedged, watching the cars creep down the wide street below.

Should she explain her religious convictions to Chris? Would he think she was a fanatic? Was it possible he might have the same beliefs? The only way she would know would be to speak up.

“Well,” she began again, turning her concentration to the night skyline. “I don’t drink alcoholic beverages.”

“Why not?”

She risked a glance in his direction. He appeared interested. “I’m a Christian.”

She studied his face for understanding, but his eyes darkened to granite. They weren’t warm in any sense of the word. “I know Christians who drink alcohol.”

Alexis nodded. “I’m sure you do, but the church I go to takes the Bible pretty literally. In the Old Testament the Lord commanded Aaron and his sons to not partake of any strong drink.”

Chris held up a hand, stopping her. “I know the Bible.” His voice was clipped; his mouth drawn into a thin line.

“You do?”

He nodded curtly. “I know a little about religions like yours.”

“Something tells me the ‘little’ you know isn’t good. You’ve had a bad experience with a Christian?”

Chris started. “Oh, no, nothing like that. Christians are fine.” His eyes withdrew from hers. “I think highly of the Christian people I know.”

“So, you understand why I don’t drink alcohol?” Alexis asked, trying to understand the conflicting messages his words and eyes were conveying.

There was a long pause. Finally, he looked in her direction again.

“I understand.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Let me guess. You want to share scriptures with me.”

“Well...” He didn’t seem very receptive.

“Need to get some missionary work in?” Chris asked. This time his smile was teasing.

“Every chance I get,” she retorted.

“That’s a good little saint.” He winked. “Okay. Give me the spiel. Why don’t you drink?”

“I don’t think you want to know,” she said, having a hard time recovering from his wink.

“Come on.” He straightened his lips, but a sparkle still lit his dark eyes. “I
really
want to know.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You’d better give me the speech or you’ll be thrust down to outer darkness for missing this golden missionary opportunity.”

She opened her mouth to protest. A person who had a grudge against religion was not a golden missionary opportunity.

“So, tell me. What’s wrong with a little alcohol?”

“Nothing, if you want to make a fool of yourself and die from liver disease.”

“Oh.” He arched one eyebrow. “Somebody’s told you not to drink, and you just blindly follow?”

Alexis folded her arms across her chest. “I have a testimony of my own. I don’t blindly follow anything.”

His lips twitched. “Uh-huh. So what else aren’t you supposed to partake of?”

“Alcohol, illegal drugs, tobacco, any harmful substance.”

“No wonder you look so good.” His eyes never left her face.

Alexis’ eyebrows raised in surprise. Her cheeks grew warm. Any frustration with Chris fled as she relished the compliment his eyes and words gave her.

Chris cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence.
“I’m not a Christian, but I don’t drink alcohol, either.”

“Why not?”

“I...well,” he paused. “I hate to have my senses dulled.”

Alexis nodded, wondering what was behind the double meanings.

Chris followed every movement Alexis made. She was breathtaking in the fitted, cap-sleeved gown. If only she wasn’t a Christian, bubbling with Biblical passages. He forced himself to quit staring, turning to gaze over the spectacular view of the city. Millions of lights blinked against the black sky.

“How do you like the party?” He initiated the small talk when Alexis didn’t respond to his earlier comment about not drinking. He smiled to himself. He liked this feisty side of her.

Alexis shrugged. “A little too joyous for my state of mind.”

“Exactly.” Chris angled his body toward hers. “I don’t think it would be asking too much for the elite to mourn for those who were killed.” He shoved his fingers through his wavy hair. “Maybe I’m wrong. They’re probably acting happy to disguise their shock.”

“I hope so.” She tossed her short curls. “A lady in there just had the nerve to tell us how the events of the Fourth had ‘ruined her fireworks.’ It made me so mad I told her off.” Alexis’ doe-like eyes glistened in the soft light. When she continued, her tone was much softer. “I’m so heartbroken for all of the victims and their families. How could she be so callous?”

“Oh, Half-pint.” Were those tears? His softly spoken words seemed to bring more brightness to the dark depths.

“I’m okay,” she muttered, brushing at her eyelids. The tears spilled over, clinging to her lashes despite her efforts to hide them.

“No, you’re not.” He wiped the proof from her silken cheeks.

Tilting her chin up, he read sadness and heartache in her dark gaze. Chris couldn’t resist. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. The hug was meant to be something akin to a brotherly expression of concern. The feelings it stirred in Chris were nothing of the sort.

Fighting desire, he ushered her head to his chest before he made the mistake of kissing those soft lips. Her intoxicating perfume floated up to him and he experienced the urge to protect her and...no, he wouldn’t let himself think that.