Strangers in Paradise (8 page)

Abruptly he pushed himself away from her. With supple agility, he landed on the balls of his feet. Blushing furiously, Alexi pushed her robe down.

“Damn you!” he said angrily. “Now, this time you just keep quiet! Throw out your accusations once we're there.”

His arms streaked out for her so fast that she almost shrieked, afraid for a second that he meant violence. He picked her up again, his arms as rigid as pokers, shaking with anger. He started off again, his pace faster than ever.

He walked her up the steps to the porch, threw open the screen door and carried her inside. He turned almost instantly to the left, to the parlor. Seconds later she was deposited roughly upon a couch that was covered in soft beige leather. She scrambled to right herself, to pull her robe down around her knees.

“Don't move!” he warned her sharply. She tried miserably to relax. She made herself breathe slowly in and out as she looked at her surroundings. It was a nice room. Contemporary. The soft leather sofa sat across from two armchairs, all on warm earthen tile. A wall of arched windows looked out on the sea below. Her house and his were similar in construction, but here two rooms had been combined to make one huge one. To the rear, bookshelves lined the walls, and there were two long oak desks angled together with a computer-and-printer setup. She imagined that Rex must like his view of the sea very much. He could work, then stop and walk to the windows to watch the endless surf and the way the sun played over the water.

She tried not to imagine Rex at all.

And then he was back.

He had a bowl of water and a little box, and he sat by her on the sofa without a word, pulling her foot up onto his lap. His dark hair fell over his forehead; she couldn't see his eyes.

He moved quickly and competently, not apologizing or saying a word when she winced as he washed off her foot.

“Shell...it was still there,” he said at last. She didn't reply, but bit her lip. He wasn't big on TLC, she mused wryly.

He opened the little box and sprayed something on her foot, then wrapped it in a gauze bandage. He moved back, dumping her foot less than graciously on the sofa. He stood, picked up the bowl and the box and disappeared again. The pain, which had been sharp, began to fade, and she wondered distractedly what he had sprayed on it. She felt like a fool. She realized that he most probably had not dug around in the ground to find a pack of snakes to set loose in her bathroom. Snakes. It was just the damn snakes. Anything else she could surely have dealt with....

She'd been half-naked. He'd known it; she'd known it. And they'd both felt the hard, erotic flow of heat. Where was he? She had to get out of here. Her palms began to sweat. She couldn't go back if there were more snakes. But she couldn't stay away forever. She couldn't stay on his couch, barely dressed....

Then he was back. He set a steaming mug on a small side table beside her, then walked across to sit in one of the chairs, staring at her. With hostility, she was certain. He had his own mug of steaming liquid, and sipped it broodingly.

Alexi tried to sit properly. She had to moisten her lips to speak. “Rex, I'm sorry. Perhaps—”

“Drink the coffee. It's spiked. It will help.”

“I doubt it—”

“It's sure as hell helping me.”

She didn't know why; she picked up the coffee cup. She didn't know what it was laced with, but it was good, and it was strong. It warmed her hands and her throat, and it did help.

“I—” she began.

“The exterminators don't really do snakes,” he told her dryly, “but they're coming out. I talked to a guy who said that they were probably just washed up by the rain and came through the broken window. When they finish, you won't have anything else. No spiders, no bugs. And a friend of mine from Ace GlassWorks will be out this afternoon to fix that window. His sister manages a cleaning outfit, and they'll be out, too. They do the works—sweep, wash and steam-clean. You should be in business then.”

“Rex, thank you, but really—”

“You've got objections?”

“No, dammit, but really, it's my responsibility—” She broke off, frowning. She could hear the front door opening. Rex heard it, too. His brow knit, and he started to rise. Then he sat back.

“Who is that?” Alexi asked.

But by that time the woman was already in. “Rex?” She came into the parlor, carrying a bag of groceries. Trim and pretty, she looked to Alexi to be approximately fifty. There was an immense German shepherd at her heels; the dog instantly rushed to Rex, barking, greeting him.

The woman stared uncomfortably at Alexi, who sat there in a robe and nothing else, curled on the couch, the coffee cup in her hands.

The woman blushed.

Rex smiled. “Emily, hi. I forgot you were coming this morning.” He stood. The dog sat by his chair, panting, and woofing at Alexi.

“Shush, Samson. That's Alexi. She's a...friend. Alexi, this is Emily Rider. Emily, Alexi Jordan. Emily keeps everything in order for me.”

“How do you do,” Alexi said, wishing she could scratch Rex's eyes out. “I—I cut my foot.”

“Oh,” Emily said in disbelief. She smiled awkwardly, then gasped. “
The
Alexi Jordan?”

“There's only one,” Rex said. “I hope.”

“It's—it's a pleasure,” Emily murmured. “I didn't mean to interrupt.”

“There's nothing to interrupt!” Alexi said quickly—too quickly, she realized, for a woman who was sitting in her robe on a man's couch.

“Ah, well...have you had breakfast? I make wonderful omelets, Ms. Jordan.”

“Really,” Alexi protested. “Please don't go to any trouble—”

“No trouble at all!” Emily insisted. It was obvious to Alexi that the woman was dying to escape.

“Thanks, Emily,” Rex called. Samson whined. Rex sat again, watching Alexi as he scratched the dog's head. “That is a most glorious shade of red,” he told Alexi.

“What?”

“Your skin.”

She whispered an oath to him.

He stood, still smiling. Samson trailed along with him, loyal and loving.

“Emily might need some help,” he said.

Alexi rose carefully on one foot, using the couch for balance.

“Tell her the truth! She thinks that...”

“That what?”

“That I—that we—that we were sleeping together!”

“I suppose she does.”

“Well, set her straight! Do you want her to think that?”

Rex chuckled softly. He cupped her cheek for an instant; the warmth of his breath feathered over her flesh. “Why not?”

“Why not?” Alexi echoed furiously.

“Doesn't every man fantasize about sleeping with the face that launched a thousand ships?” His brow was arched; he was mocking her, she was certain.

“Rex, damn you—”

“Of course, Alexi, there's much, much more to you than a beautiful face—isn't there?”

Samson barked; Rex walked out. Alexi, trembling, wanted to scream at him.

But she didn't want to scream with Emily there, so she sank weakly back to the sofa.

Chapter 5

E
mily was busy cracking eggs when Rex came into the kitchen. He walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out the milk for her, smiling as he set it on the counter. He had seen her watching him covertly as she pretended great interest in the eggs.

“She's cute, huh,” he commented, stealing a strip of green pepper and leaning against the counter.

Emily arched a brow. “Alexi Jordan? All you have to say about her is ‘cute'?”

“Real cute?”

Emily sniffed. “She's probably the most glamorous woman in the world—”

Rex broke in on her with soft laughter. “Emily! Glamorous? You just saw her with wet hair in a worn terry robe!”

“She's still glamorous.”

“She's flesh and blood,” Rex said irritably, wondering at the bitterness in his own tone. He wanted her to be real, an ordinary woman, he thought dismally.

“Nice flesh,” Emily commented dryly, pouring the eggs into the frying pan.

“Very nice.” He grinned.

“When did you meet?”

“A few nights ago.”

“Oh.”

Her lips were pursed in silent disapproval, and Rex couldn't help but laugh again and give her a quick hug. “There's nothing going on, Emily. Alas, and woe is me—but that's the truth. She called over here this morning because her house was suddenly infested with snakes.”

“Snakes?”

“Just some harmless ringnecks.”

“How many?”

“Five.”

Emily shuddered. “That poor creature! Well, you were right to bring her over here. I wonder if she should stay the night.”

“I'd just love it,” Rex told her wickedly.

“I'll stay, too, Casanova,” Emily warned him. When she saw that he was about to take another pepper, she rapped him on the hand with her wooden spoon.

“Emily...you're showing no respect to me at all.”

She sniffed again. Emily had a great talent for sniffing, he thought with a smile.

“Well, Mr. Popularity, maybe this is just what you need. The lady is far more renowned than you.”

“Oh, really?”

“She's glamorous. You're merely...notorious.”

Rex laughed good-naturedly.

“And you're usually rude to women,” she went on.

“I am not.”

“You are. You had a bad break with your wife, and you think they're all after something. So you figure you'll just use people first—and not get hurt in the end.”

He was grateful that Emily didn't see that his features had gone taut; she was busy adding ingredients to her omelet. She wouldn't have cared anyway; she loved him like a son and had no qualms about treating him like one.

“Emily, Emily, you should be opening an office instead of cooking and cleaning for me,” he said coolly.

“Well, it's true,” Emily murmured. “I've seen you do it a million times. Some sexy thing moves in and you're all charm. Then you get what you want—and you're bored silly when the chase is over. But you always win. You've got the looks; you've got the way with women.” She turned, pointing her spoon at him. “But maybe you are in trouble this time. She has tons and tons of her own money, and...” Emily paused to grin. “She's prettier than you are, too.”

“Thank you, doctor!” Rex retorted. “What makes you think I'm after her?”

“You're not?”

“I'm not half as black as you paint me,” Rex said flatly. “I only deal with ladies who know the game—and are willing to play. By my rules.”

“The rule being fun only.”

“Emily, come on! Fine, I've been around; they've been around. What's so wrong?”

“What's wrong is that you're lacking caring and commitment, growing together—love!”

“Love is a four-letter word,” Rex told her flatly. Then he paused, swinging around. He could have sworn he'd heard movement by the kitchen door. He strode toward it and got there just in time to see the figure clad in white hobbling across the hall toward the parlor. He followed, angry. He didn't like being spied upon.

She had almost reached the couch. He didn't let her make it; he caught her elbow. “Can't I help you, Ms. Jordan?”

She spun to look at him, her cheeks flaming. “I—”

“You were spying on me!”

“Don't be absurd! You're not worth spying on! I was trying to see if I could do something, but I realized that I had stumbled on a personal conversation and I didn't want to hear it!” She jerked her elbow away from him, lost her balance and crashed down onto the couch.

Rex didn't know why he was so enraged at her. He didn't move to help her; he just stared at her. “The thing to do would have been to make your presence known!”

“This is ridiculous!”

Her eyes really were emerald, he mused, especially when they glittered with righteous anger.

She squared her shoulders, undaunted by his wrath or his form, which was rather solidly before her. She managed to stand, shoving by him, limping out of his way. “This whole thing is ridiculous! Thank you—I really do thank you for picking up the snakes. But I think I'll go home now. The snakes, at least, have better manners!”

She really was going to try to stumble home by herself. She was already heading toward the door.

“Alexi!”

She just kept going.

“Alexi, dammit—” He came after her, caught an arm and swung her around. He knew she would have to clutch at him to maintain her balance. She did; she curled her fingers around his arms and swore softly under her breath, tossing back her head to stare at him. Her hair was drying and it was wild, he saw, a beautiful, disheveled golden mane to frame her exquisite eyes and perfect features. He inhaled sharply, remembering what it was like to feel her body. Fool, he chided himself. He knew why he was so angry. She had heard everything that Emily had said to him. Every damning thing.

And he wanted her. Really wanted her, as he had never wanted anything in his life.

“Alexi... I'm sorry.” Apologies weren't easy for him. They never had been.

“And I'm leaving,” she said.

He smiled. “Back to the snakes?”

She looked down fleetingly. “There are all kinds of snakes, aren't there, Mr. Morrow?”

He laughed. She had heard everything. “Look, Ms. Jordan, I really am sorry. Be forgiving. After all, you cost me ten years of life with that scream this morning. Stay...please.”

She lowered her head. “I feel—ridiculous. Your housekeeper must think that I'm—that I'm worse than what the tabloids say. And I can't wear a robe all day...”

“You can take it off,” Rex said innocently, which immediately drew a scathing glance from her.

He shook his head ruefully. “No...you can't take it off. Look, sit down with Emily and have some breakfast. I'll go back over for your things. Maybe the exterminators will be there by now and I can get them started.”

“You don't need to—”

“I want to. Relax. Enjoy Emily's company.” He stepped away from her and whistled. “Samson!” The German shepherd came bounding in. He was huge, and when he swept by Alexi, she teetered dangerously, trying to catch her balance again. “Samson!” Rex chastised him, stepping forward quickly to catch Alexi. He smelled the soft, alluring scent of her hair as he caught her; he felt its velvet texture graze his cheek. He wanted to swear all over again.

“You'd better stay seated,” he muttered, lifting her swiftly and depositing her upon the couch. Another mistake. He felt too much of her body. Too much smoothness beneath the terry. Smoothness that reminded him that there was nothing beneath it.

“I'll be back with your things,” he said brusquely, then strode out, the shepherd obediently at his heels.

He was barely gone before Emily came to the doorway, smoothing her hands over her apron. She smiled shyly at Alexi. “I have everything ready.” She frowned. “Where's Rex?”

“He—he went back over to my house. To Gene's house,” Alexi said apologetically. She flushed again, wondering what the woman must think of her. Rex Morrow—he was like a cyclone in her life. She never knew what to think. One moment she was fascinated; the next second she wanted to carve notches in his flesh...slowly. He was dangerous to her. To any woman, she thought, flushing all over again at the pieces of conversation she had heard. Oh, she couldn't be so foolish as to imagine having an affair with him. He was striking, sensual and sexual—and she was still reeling from the impact of her marriage. If there was anything she didn't need, it was an affair with someone like him.

Emily smiled at her suddenly; the smile was warm, shy, only slightly awkward.

“You really are beet red. I apologize if I gave you the idea that I was thinking...something...that I shouldn't have been thinking,” she added hastily. “Rex told me about the snakes.” She shuddered. “Ugh. I
know
they're harmless snakes—and I would have been in a tizzy, too, I assure you.”

“Thanks,” Alexi said, a little huskily. And before she really thought she murmured, “Rex told you—the truth?”

“Oh, he can be a pill, can't he?” She shook her head, but then it was clear to Alexi that Emily's affection for him rose to the fore. “But he's really very ethical.” Emily laughed. “Honestly. He can be hard—but he does play up-front, and he's a strangely principled man. For this day and age, anyway,” she added with a soft sigh. “Oh, here I am, going on and on, when your food is nice and hot. I'll bring it out—”

“Oh, no, please don't bother! I can get to the kitchen with no problem, really. I have to start walking. I have a lot of things to do.”

“Let me help you.”

Alexi protested; Emily insisted. They walked back to the kitchen, Alexi learning to put a little more weight on her foot with each movement.

Emily sat down with her, sharing the omelet that Rex had left behind. Alexi found out that Emily was a widow with four grown children. She also learned that Emily counted Rex as an adopted fifth child—and adored him with a fierce loyalty.

There was something about Emily, she reflected. The woman was warm and open and giving, and Alexi found herself trying to explain what she wanted to do. It began when Emily asked her why on earth she would want to leave modeling.

Alexi smiled, then laughed. “It's a miserable profession, that's why. People poke at you and prod at you for hours for a ‘perfect' look. It's hour after hour under hot lights doing the same thing over and over again. But still, it isn't really that I'm trying to leave modeling.” She hesitated, smiled ruefully, and stumbled into a lengthier explanation. “It's strange; I did come from money. But there's always been a golden rule in the family: everyone goes to work. Gene, my great-grandfather, owns a number of businesses, and everyone does something. We aren't expected to go into a family business, but there can be no freeloaders. My older brother is a lawyer; my cousins went into the business side of things. But then, suddenly, when I came along, no one thought that... I don't know; they didn't seem to think I was capable of anything! I went to college and studied interior design, and they all thought, Well, great, she can marry the right boy and be a perfect wife, mother and hostess. It was serious to me.” She sighed. “Anyway, I walked out in a huff one night and wound up in New York City. Broke. And I wasn't about to call home. None of the design studios wanted much to do with a beginner—and I didn't have the time to wait for a job. Out of desperation I walked into one of the modeling agencies. And I was lucky. I did get work.”

“But you want to be a designer?”

Alexi chewed on her omelet, thought a minute, then shrugged. “I don't know anymore. I lost a lot of confidence somewhere. But...” She paused, a grin curling her lip. “Gene is great. He has always been willing to take a chance. He was desperate for someone to come take care of the house—he doesn't want it out of the family after all of these years. And he believes in me. So I want to do the house for him, and I want to do it right.”

Emily nodded as if she understood perfectly. “And you will do it!” she said firmly.

Alexi laughed dryly. “I'm not so sure. Last night I couldn't get the old key to work in the lock. This morning I ran in terror from garden snakes. I'm not proving very much, am I? And now Rex is out there with the exterminators and cleaners.”

Emily smiled and put her hand over Alexi's. “Young lady, that doesn't mean a thing. That's one of the problems with people today—men and women! All this role business! Alexi, you'll do just fine. So what if you don't handle snakes well? That does not take anything away from your competence. We all need help now and then, and if people could just learn not only to give it but to accept it, the world would be a better place. And the divorce rate would be lower!”

“I don't know,” Alexi said, chuckling. “I feel like an idiot right now. But maybe things will improve.” She cut off another piece of her omelet, feeling that maybe she had blurted out too much to a stranger, no matter how nice that stranger was.

“Emily, where did Samson come from? Is he Rex's dog or yours?”

“Oh, no! That beast belongs to Rex. Body and soul.” She went on to tell Alexi about Samson as a little puppy, and Alexi relaxed, feeling that the conversation had taken on a much more casual tone.

* * *

Tony Martelli, from Bugs, Incorporated, was just driving up to the Brandywine house when Rex reached it. He gave Rex a wave and hopped out of his truck, smiling. Rex waved back, smiling in turn. He liked Tony. He was a live-and-let-live kind of a guy. The man had a tendency to chew on a toothpick or a piece of grass and to listen much more than he talked. He gave Rex's house monthly service and was one of the few people Rex had invited to wander his beach when he had the chance.

“Snakes, huh?”

Rex laughed. “And everything else under the sun.”