Strangers in Paradise (10 page)

She stared warily at his hand, causing him to chuckle again.

“Nervous, Alexi? Think I'm going to toss you to the sand and maul you?” Impatiently he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.

And then against his body. He arched a brow wickedly. “Don't worry. When we get to it, you'll be breathlessly eager.”

Alexi coolly took a step backward, raising her chin, smiling as sweetly as she could.

“I hardly think so, Mr. Morrow.”

He laughed, slipped an arm around her waist and started back toward the house. When they were nearly there, he lowered his head and murmured near her ear, “Liar.”

“Ohh...” she groaned.
Really.
What incredible insolence, she thought. She stepped ahead of him again and turned around to face him challengingly. “You really like the suit, huh?”

“I like what's in it.”

Alexi groaned. “Eat your heart out, then!” she teased.

Rex laughed. But when he caught up with her again and whispered what he did intend to do, it was so insinuative that the sensations that ripped through her, jagged and molten, felt dangerously as if he had followed through.

Chapter 6

A
t the path to the house, Rex suddenly stood still, crossing his arms over his chest. He nodded toward the front door.

“You first, Ms. Jordan.”

She arched a brow, then shrugged, heading down the path. At the door she paused. “I don't have a key with me.”

“It isn't locked.”

She raised her brow more. “I'm having problems with people and footsteps, and you left the door open?”

“Samson is inside. I assure you—no one is in there with him.”

“Oh.” Alexi pushed open the door. Rex had been telling the truth; Samson was sitting in the hallway, just like a sentinel. He barked and thumped his tail against the floor. He was standing behind a large wicker basket with a red-white-and-blue checked cotton cloth extended beneath the handle.

“Good boy, Samson, but what is this?” Alexi said, then turned to look at Rex again.

“It's your present,” he told her.

He smiled—a little awkwardly, she thought—and she lowered her head quickly, wondering if she was blushing again. There had been a nice touch to that smile. Endearing...frightening. She barely knew him, really. One minute he was making sexual innuendos, the next he was avoiding her—and then the next he was doing wonderful things for her.

“Well, open it up,” Rex urged her.

Alexi knelt down and gingerly lifted up a piece of the cotton cloth. She saw movement first, and then she gasped, reaching into the basket. There were two of them—two little balls of silver fur. The one she held mewed, sticking out a tiny paw at her.

“Oh!” It was adorable. The cutest kitten she had ever seen. It was all that soft, wonderful silver color, except for its feet and its nose, which were black. Its hair was long and fluffy—and made it look much bigger than it was.

Samson barked excitedly. Alexi reflected that the giant shepherd could consume the kitten in one mouthful, but he didn't seem the least bit interested in trying. He barked again, watching Alexi as if he had planned it himself or as if he was very aware that he and Rex were handing out a present.

“Oh!” Alexi repeated, stroking the kitten. The second ball was crawling out of the basket, and she laughed, scooping that one up, too. “You're adorable. You're the cutest little things....”

She gazed up at Rex at last, aware that she was starting to gush. But they were a wonderful present. She was also certain that they were silver Persians—and that they had cost him a fair amount of money.

“Rex—”

He stooped down beside her, idly patting the dog. “I don't want Samson here getting jealous,” he said lightly. “Do you like them...really?”

He gazed at her—somewhat anxiously, she thought—and she felt that the hall had suddenly become small. The two of them were very close and very scantily dressed, and yet it wasn't that at all, really; it was that expression in his eyes.

“They're darling. But, Rex, I—I can't accept them.”

“Why?”

“They're Persians, right? They must have cost a mint.”

“What?” He threw back his head and laughed, relieved. “I was afraid that you were allergic to them or something. Yes, they're Persians. They're three months old, but the breeder assured me they'd be perfect.”

“Perfect?”

He grinned, a little wickedly now. “Mousers—except that I don't think you have any mice. You could, though—mice are rather universal. ‘Snakers,' I guess you could call them. Cats are simply great to have for anything that creeps and crawls around.”

“Oh! Oh, Rex, how thoughtful! Thank you, really. But again, how can I accept them?”

He shrugged. “You did me a great favor.”

Alexi laughed. “I did you a favor? I haven't done a thing for you.”

He grinned. “Want to pay me in trade?”

“Ha-ha. No.”

“Ah, well.” He shrugged. “I didn't think so. But, honest, you did me a favor.”

“What?”

“I have my best plot in ages going now—thanks to your little murder victims all over the house.”

“What?”

“The snakes,” he explained. “I turned them into people. All murdered. One with the spade, one with the pipe wrench, and so on. I added some family greed and passion and jealousy, etcetera. It's going great.”

“Oh!”

“See what I mean? You did me the favor.”

“Oh. Oh...” Alexi stood up, cradling the kittens to her. She looked down the hallway. There wasn't a speck of dust. She hurried to the parlor door and threw it open. The window she had broken on her first night had been repaired; the room had been cleaned. The whole place smelled faintly and wonderfully of fresh pine. There couldn't possibly be a living bug in it, it was so spotless.

Rex stayed in the hallway, leaning idly against the doorframe. Alexi glanced at him, then brushed past him, hurrying to inspect the rest of the house. The ballroom had been scrubbed from ceiling to floor; the library, too, was devoid of a hint of dirt. The drapes and furniture even seemed to be different colors—lighter, more beautiful.

And there wasn't a trace of a snake—or of any of the weapons she had left lying around.

Rex was by the stairway, watching her. She maintained a certain distance from him as she rubbed her cheek against the kitten's soft fur.

“It's fabulous,” she murmured. “Rex, thank you.”

“Want to see upstairs?”

She nodded. He didn't move; he waited for her to precede him up the stairs. Samson rushed by, though, barking, and she nearly tripped over him.

She couldn't remember climbing the stairs as a child, so she didn't really have any comparisons to make. But it was wonderful. The subtle, clean scent of pine was everywhere; the windows were all open, and sunlight was streaming in. The house, which had always been fascinating, although a bit depressing in its dirt and darkness, now seemed warm and welcoming and bright. The runners over the hard wood were cream, with flower patterns in bright shades of maroon and pink and green. The hallway draperies were a cream tapestry, and the eight-paned windows were crystal clear.

Alexi switched both protesting kittens to one arm and began to throw doors open. There were four of them, two on either side of the landing. To her left was the master bedroom, a man's room with heavy oak furniture. She found the mistress's bedroom next, all done more delicately than Pierre's. The molded plaster showed beautifully on the clean ceilings. The wood was shining; the beds were immaculate.

Alexi stopped by Rex in the hallway and shoved the kittens into his arms, startling him so that he had to straighten and abandon his lazy lean against the banister.

“It's wonderful,” she said.

“Thank you. Well, I didn't do it. The company did—and they'll bill you, you know.”

“Oh, I know, but...” Her voice trailed away, and she walked down the hall to the next doors.

One of the rooms was a nursery. A shiny wooden cradle rocked slightly with the breeze coming in through an open window. The closet stretched wall-to-wall, and there was an old rocking horse, a twin bed and a cane bassinet. How darling! Alexi thought, and she hurried on out, eager to finish exploring.

The last room was a guest room—a genderless room, comfortable and quaint. The headboard was elaborately carved and went on to stretch the distance of the wall on either side of the bed to create great bookcases. The opposite wall was covered with a tapestry of a biblical scene. There was a fine brocaded Victorian love seat and another rocker; both faced the window, a little whatnot table between them.

Alexi loved it. She determined right away that this would be her room. She'd fill the cases with her TV and books. She could modernize for convenience without really changing anything.

She started to turn, only to collide with Rex. All of him. He must have set the kittens down somewhere, because she hit solid chest. Solid, masculine, hairy chest. Coarse dark hair teased too much of her own bare skin, and she stepped back.

“It's spotless. It's wonderful. They did a great job,” she told him quickly.

He nodded. “They've got a good reputation.”

Alexi stepped around him. The day wasn't hot; it was perfect, with a nice cooling breeze. But she was suddenly warm. Hot flashes soared through her, and now she was very determined not to be alone with him. Her imagination had come vividly alive, all in an instant, living color. Perhaps it was more than imagination. Maybe it was the feel of the heat in the room, of the tension...of his nearness. She could visualize him sweeping her into his arms and falling with her upon the antique bed. They really shouldn't have been past the “How do you do, lovely weather” stage, and she wanted to reach out and stroke the planes of his cheek. Intimacy had never been that easy for her; making love had taken time, and it had come far from naturally. It was, by its nature, something that should come after knowing a man deeply and well.

But this one...she wanted simply by virtue of something that lived and stirred inside her, an aching, a wanting. And, though she was certain she could never instigate anything, he surely could. But to him it wouldn't mean anything; to her it would.

Alexi hurried into the hallway. Her heart was thundering; her palms were damp. She didn't want him to see her eyes, knowing they could bare her soul, tell him everything she'd been thinking. One thing she had decided about Rex Morrow—it would not pay for him to be aware of all her weaknesses.

He was following her; she could feel him. She hurried on down the stairs, talking.

“Rex, it's all wonderful. No spiderwebs, no dirt, no creeping, crawling creatures. Thank you. Thank you so much. And you went to just the right degree... I mean, thank you, but if you'd gone any further, it wouldn't have been good. Do you know what I mean? I'm trying to prove that I can do it. No, I don't have to prove anything. Well, that's not the truth, really. I suppose that I am trying to prove—”

“You're babbling—that's what you're doing.”

She'd reached the landing; he spoke from behind her—close. A tingling crept along her spine, she was so aware of him. I'm confused! she wanted to scream. She'd never had feelings like this, and she didn't know what to do with them—but she did know that she should take things slowly and carefully.

“Am I?” she said, but she didn't turn around. She started walking again, pushing through the kitchen doorway. She let the door fall back, aware that he had plenty of time to catch it. She went straight to the refrigerator. “I'm dying of thirst. Don't you want something? The sun is murderous out on the beach. Hmm. I don't even know what's in here. I'm going to have to get out to the store today.”

He curled his fingers gently around her arm and pulled her head out of the refrigerator and her body around so that she faced him. He wore a quizzical expression that was handsome against the fine, strong lines of his face. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” She was breathless. “What do you want?”

He smiled slowly. “You.”

“To drink.”

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.

“Not in the least.”

“Good. I'll have a beer. And I'll get it myself, thanks. Want one? That is all you've got in the refrigerator.”

“I shouldn't—”

“Why?”

He brought two out. Alexi nervously sat at the table. He sat across from her, and their knees brushed.

“Ah...” he murmured, and she saw that a secret smile had curved into his lips. “You
are
afraid.”

“Of what? That you're going to attack me in my house? You've already done that, right? The first night.”

“There's attack, and then there's attack....”

“Whatever.” She waved a hand dismissively in the air. He reached across the table and opened her beer. Damn him! She took a long sip, and he was still smiling, fully aware that she was drinking the beer as if reaching for a lifeline.

He lifted his bottle to her.

“Me and thee and Eden.”

“Do you try to pick up every woman over eighteen and under fifty?”

“No. Actually, I don't.” He took a long swallow from his bottle, watching her. “Alexi...you have to know that you're beautiful. A woman who does Helen of Troy commercials has to be aware that she—”

He broke off abruptly. Alexi's eyes widened, wondering what he had been about to say that would have offended her.

“That she's what?” she demanded.

“Beautiful,” he said with a shrug.

“That's not what you were going to say.”

“All right.” He sounded angry, she thought. “Sexy. Sensual, sexual. Is that what you want to hear?”

“No! No—no, it's not!”

“Well, then, why the hell push the point?”

“Could you go home, please?” She realized that she was sitting very straight, very primly, and that, in the bathing suit, she wasn't dressed for dignity. Nor did the beer bottle she was clutching do much for a feeling of aloofness, either.

“Yeah,” he said thickly, rising. “Yeah, maybe I should do just that. 'Cause you know what, lady? You scare the hell out of me, too.”

“What?” she demanded, startled. No one could scare him; it had to be a line. But she felt bad—no, she felt guilty as hell. He had done everything for her. And somehow he seemed to understand her. She didn't want anyone in the family to know that she was anything but entirely competent; Rex didn't think that she wasn't competent, just because the snakes had nearly paralyzed her. He'd had the cleaners in; he hadn't really changed anything. He'd known instinctively just how far to go. He'd given her his own home; he'd spent time here—and he was a busy man. He'd bought her the beautiful kittens, just so that she would feel that she had some protection against things that slithered and crawled.

Rex reached across the table and gently cupped her cheek in his hand, stroking her flesh lightly with his thumb. “I said you're kind of scary yourself, my sweet. You own and you possess and you steal into a soul...without a touch.”