The Perfect Temptation (66 page)

smile; ''I enlisted in the
army
hoping to leap in front of a bul
let"

"You obviously failed."

His smile was weak
and
just
a
bit
cynical.
''I assure you

that
it
Wasn't
for a
lack
of
trying.
The
only
reason
I'm still

alive is time, sheer luck,
and
the
friendship of
Carden

Reeves:'

And
he'd managed in
the
process,
Aiden
knew,
to come to

tends
with whatever it
was
that had driven
him
to the edge

and
the desire to
throw
himself
over it. Aiden sighed and

looked back at
those
days and months of his
own
life. But not

in
exhaustion this
time. And not through a haze of overwhelming

regret or despair.
Barrett
was right. His father had

been
just as right a
full year ago. He hadn't loved and wanted

to
be a husband as
much as he'd wanted with all his heart
to

be Mary Alice's dashing,
daring
hero. And he'd failed her

and his glorious illusions in a most
spectacular way.
It
was a

fact, undeniable and irrevocable. It
was
also
in
the past.

''I can't undo what's been done,
Barrett," he said as acceptance

wrapped around the memories and laid them
into

silent rest. "I can regret it forever,
but I can't undo it. The

only choice I have is
to
accept
that and live or to lie down

and die. And I've discovered that living,
even with regrets, is

preferable."

Barrett sagged and expelled a long, hard
breath. 'Those of

us who manage to survive ourselves long
enough usually get

around
to
understanding that,"
he
said, smiling as he leaned

against the buffet again. "I'm glad to
know that you've arrived

in one piece. How did you happen to finally
do it?"

Aiden chuckled. ''Time, sheer luck, and the
friendship of

Barrett Stanbridge. You forced me to live
for a while. Thank

you."

“The only thing I did was agree to you;
father's request

and get you sober.
If
you owe anyone a debt of gratitude, it's

Alexandra Radford. She's the one who made
you
want
to

live again."

"Yes," Aiden countered as the
center of his chest tightened

painfully, "but you're the one who set
me up. You sent

me off with her knowing damn good and well
that I'd notice

how beautiful she is and want to seduce her.
You shamelessly

used her to salvage me."

"I'll admit it," he replied.
"Not the least honorable, but

after four weeks of trying to talk some
sense into you, I was

desperate. And you have to admit that, in
the end, it's

worked out largely as I intended. Your
head's, more or less,

back on your shoulders:"

Oh,
yes,
Aiden thought derisively. His head was moderately

centered again and because that had needed
to happen,

he couldn't complain. But, unfortunately,
the rest of
him
felt

twisted and battered and decidedly
off-kilter. 'That's only

because you're looking at it all from the
outside," he

groused, considering the brandy bottle and
his original puzzle

again.

"Well, I didn’t count on you handing
her your heart," Barrett

rejoined, sounding both a bit defensive and
marginally

disgusted. "I really thought that you'd
been burned recently

enough
to
scramble away from that."

“Apparently
once a hero,
always a hero," Aiden chuckled

wryly.
“At
least it turned out better this time than it did the

last." He snorted and added, "I'm
going
to
have to get
myself

a white horse. Maybe even have some business
cards printed."

Barrett rubbed his jaw with his hand and
heaved a sigh.

After a long moment, he shifted, crossed one
ankle over the

other, and drawled, "Just out of idle
curiosity ... Did Alex

make you laugh?"

His mind arrowed back with startling speed
and clarity.

''All the time," he supplied, grinning.
"Not that she tells jokes

or amusing stories, you understand. She has
such a different,

unexpected way of looking at the world, at
life. I can't explain

it any other way." He laughed softly.
"It's just her. Alex

being delightfully Alex."

Barrett seemed to digest that for a moment,
then hummed

and ventured, "What do you suppose it
was that made her

special?"

"Everything," Aiden instantly
replied. "She's independent

and strong but she also knows how and when
to bend.

She's a survivor and ... " He stopped
and shook his head,

then turned in the chair to square up to his
friend. "No, that's

not quite right," he amended. "You
see, Alex
knows
that

she's going to survive whatever comes her
way so nothing

really frightens her. She accepts what is,
adapts, and goes on

with such extraordinary grace and serenity.

"She's not passive, though," he
hastened to add, not wanting

Barrett to have the wrong impression.
"Alex is anything

but passive.
Or
coy. I've never known a woman who was so

honest, so unaffected. You can't imagine
what a difference

that makes. Take flirting, for instance. You
know how most

women do it. They bat their lashes and say
something that

you can interpret as an invitation or not.
They make you do

the hunting, take all the risk. But Alex ...
Honest to God,

Barrett. She can smile-just
smile-and
it'll curl your toes.

You can forget about breathing. Not that you
even
care
about

such things.':

Obviously working at containing a smile,
Barrett nodded

and observed, "Sounds as though she was
an interesting

lover."

"Oh, sweet Jesus;' he whispered, the
memories, the inconceivably

wondrous feelings deluging him. How she

looked in the candlelight, the scent of her,
the creamy satin

of her skin, the cascade of her hair, the
unstinted measure of

her passion, and the joy that she so sweetly
poured into his

soul. The extraordinary satisfaction, the
rightness of joining

with her and surrendering himself to the
unimaginable, indescribable

pleasure she gave him.

"God," he groaned, knowing that
even if he lived for a

thousand years, he'd never meet another
woman like Alex.

His beautiful, passionate, giving Alex.

"Do you know what makes Alex really
special?" he murmured,

staring blindly at the carpet between his
feet as realization

wormed slowly through his brain and his
heart swelled

with aching.

"What?"

"She loves without condition. There are
no strings, no

hidden traps. She gives everything-every bit
of her heart

and soul-and asks for nothing in return.
Absolutely nothing."

He looked up at his friend. "Do you have
any idea of

how powerful that is?”

Barrett shook his head. "I've never
been that incredibly

fortunate."

Aiden stared off into his future, knowing
that every time

he lay with a woman he was going to close
his eyes and pretend

she was Alex. He'd rise every morning,
reaching out to

touch her, turning to talk to her. He'd
retire to his
bed
every

night thinking he'd find her there. A
thousand times a day

he'd listen for the sound of her voice, the
sweetness of her

laughter, hope to see the delightfully wicked
sparkle in her

eyes. And it would never be there. None of
it. Alex was

gone. He'd let her go and walked away.

The emptiness of his heart overflowed and
flooded his

soul, washing away all the pretenses, all
the denials, all the

shoulds and oughts of his existence. And
there, under it all,

stripped bare and obvious, was the solid
bedrock of a stunning,

utterly indisputable truth.

Aiden again met his friend's somber gaze.
"I love her,

Barrett.
Her."

"I know," he said, barely nodding.
"I've been watching

you for the last few weeks. I've been
standing here listening

to you pour your heart out and hoping to
hell that you'd finally

see it for yourself. There isn't a doubt in
my mind that

you've found the great love of your life,
John Aiden. The

question right now is what you're going to
do about it."

Aiden stared off into the distance,
listening to the rapid

hammering of his heart and knowing the
decision was already

made. The course was set.

Barrett picked up the bottle and filled the
glass, then

shoved it closer, saying,
"If
you don't go after her, you might

as well climb back in because you are never
again in your

life going to be as alive and happy as you
were when you

were with Alex. No man is that lucky
twice."

"Very true," he agreed, rising as
he picked up the glass

and threw the contents down his throat in
one smooth, quick

motion.

"Dammit, John Aiden," Barrett
snarled. "Don't you