Strangers In Paradise Page 5

  "Who knows what is truth?" she said, not opening her eyes. She didn't know why she should tell Rex Morrow-- of all people--anything. But an intimacy had formed between them. Strange. They were both hostile; neither of them seemed to be overladen with trust for the opposite sex. Still, though he was blunt about wanting the peninsula to himself, she felt that she could trust him. With things that were personal--with things she might not say to anyone else.

  "We're definitely not friends," she blurted out.

  "Hurt to talk?" he asked quietly. She felt his voice, felt it wash over her, and she was surprised at the sensitivity in his tone.

  She opened her eyes. A wary smile came to her lips. "I can't tell you about it."

  "No?"

  "No." She kicked off her shoes and curled her stockinged toes under her, taking another long sip of the beer. She hadn't eaten all day, and the few sips of the alcohol she had taken warmed her and eased her humor. "Suffice it to say that it was all over a long time ago. It wasn't one woman--it was many. And it was more than that. John never felt that he had taken a wife; he considered himself to have acquired property. It doesn't matter at all anymore."

  "You're afraid of him." It was a statement, not a question.

  "No! No! How did--?" She stopped herself. She didn't want to admit anything about her relationship with John.

  "You are," he said softly. "And I've hit a sore spot. I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. I'm not. Really."

  "You're a liar, but we'll let it go at that for the time being."

  "I'm not--"

  "You are. Something happened that was a rough deal."

  "Ahh..." she murmured uneasily. "The plot thickens."

  He smiled at her. She felt the cadence of his voice wash over her, and it didn't seem so terrible that he knew that much.

  "You don't need to be afraid now," he said softly.

  "Oh?"

  She liked his smile. She like the confidence in it. She even liked his macho masculine arrogance as he stated, "I'm very particular about the peninsula. You don't want him around, he won't be."

  Alexi laughed, honestly at first, then with a trace of unease. John could be dangerous when he chose.

  "So that's it!" Rex said suddenly.

  "What?"

  He watched her, nodding like a sage with a new piece of wisdom that helped explain the world. "Someone running after you on the sand, footsteps on the stairway, your blind panic last night. You think your ex is after you." "No! I really heard footsteps!" "All right. You heard them." "You still don't believe me!"

  He sighed, and she realized that she was never going convince him that the footsteps had been real. "You seem to have had it rough," he said simply.

  She wasn't going to win an argument. And at the moment she was feeling a bit too languorous to care.

  "Talk about rough!" Alexi laughed. She glanced at her beer bottle. "This thing is empty. Feel like getting me another? For a person who doesn't like people, you certainly are curious--and good at making those people you don't like talk."

  He stood up and took the bottle. "I never said that I don't like people."

  She closed her eyes again and leaned back as he left her. She had to be insane. She was sitting here drinking beer and enjoying his company and nearly spilling out far too much truth about herself. Or was she spilling it out? He sensed too much. After one bottle of beer, she was smiling too easily. Trusting too quickly. If he did delve into all her secrets, it would serve her right if he displayed them to the world in print. He would change the names of the innocent or the not-so-innocent.

  But, of course, everyone always knew who the real culprit was.

  Something cold touched her hand. He was standing over her with another beer. She smiled. She was tired and lethargic enough to do so.

  "My turn," she murmured huskily.

  "Uh-uh. We're not finished with you."

  He didn't move, though. He was staring down at her head. If she'd had any energy left, she would have flinched when he touched her hair. "That's the closest shade I've seen to real gold. How on earth do you do it?"

  She knew she should be offended, but she laughed. "I 'grow it, idiot!"

  "Oh, yeah?"

  "Oh, yeah. How do you get that color? Shoe polish?"

  "No, idiot," he said in turn, grinning. "I grow it." He returned to his chair and cast his leg easily over it to straddle it once again. "So let's go on here. Why are you so afraid of John Vinto? What happened?"

  "Nothing happened. We hit the finale. That was it." "That wasn't it at all. You married him...what? About four years ago or so?" "Yes."

  "You've been divorced almost a year?" "Yes," Alexi said warily. "He, uh, was the photographer on some of the Helen of Troy stills," she said after a moment. She shrugged. "The campaign ended--publicity about the breakup would have created havoc on the set." "You worked with him after."

  "Yes."

  "And you spent that year working--and being afraid of him."

  She lowered her head quickly. She hadn't been afraid of him when there had been plenty of other people around. She'd taken great pains never to be alone with him after he...

  She sighed softly. "No more, Mr. Morrow. Not tonight. Your turn." She took a sip of her new beer. The second didn't taste half as bitter as the first, and it was ice-cold and delicious. She mused that it was the first time she had let down her guard in--

  Since John. She shivered at the thought and then opened! her eyes wide, aware that Rex had seen her shiver. Something warned her that he missed little.

  "You shouldn't have to fear anyone, Alexi," he told softly.

  "Really..." She suddenly sat bolt upright. "Rex, I don't talk about this--no one knows anything at all."

  "I don't really know anything," he reminded her with smile. There was a rueful, sensual curve to the corner of his lip that touched her heart and stirred some physical response in the pit of her abdomen.

  "No one will ever know what I do know now," he said. "On my honor, Ms. Jordan."

  "Thanks," she murmured uneasily. "If we're playing This Is Your Life, then you've got to give something."

  He shrugged, lifting his hands. "I married the girl next door. I tried to write at night while I edited the obituaries during the day for a small paper. You know the story-- trial and error and rejections, and the girl next door left me. She didn't sue for divorce, though--she waited until some of the money came in, created one of the finest performances I have ever seen in court and walked away with most of it. She was only allowed to live off me for seven years. I bought an old house in Temple Terrace that used to belong to a famous stripper. I raised horses and planted orange groves--and then went nuts because my address got out and every weirdo in the country would come by to look me up. They stole all the oranges--and one jerk even shot a horse for a souvenir. That's when I moved out here. The sheriff up on the mainland is great, and it's like a wonderful little conspiracy--the townspeople keep me safe, and I contribute heavily to all the community committees. Gene-- when he was still here--was a neighbor I could abide. Then he decided he needed to be in a retirement cooperative. I tried to buy the house from him; he wasn't ready to let go." He stopped speaking, frowning as he looked at her.

  "Have you eaten anything?"

  "What? Uh, no. How--why did you ask that?"

  He chuckled softly. “Because your eyes are rimmed with red, and it makes you look tired and hungry.

  "Want me to call for a pizza?"

  "You must be kidding. You can get a pizza all the way out here?"

  "I have connections," he promised her gravely. "What do you want on it?" "Anything."

  Alexi leaned her head against the sofa again. She heard him stand and walk around to the phone and order a large pizza with peppers, onions, mushrooms and pepperoni from a man named Joe, with whom he chatted casually, saying that he was over at the Brandywine house and, yes, Gene's great-granddaughter was in and, yes, she was fine--just hungry.

  He hung up at last.
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  "So Joe will send a pizza?"

  "Yep."

  "That's wonderful."

  "Hmm."

  She sat up, curling her toes beneath her again and smoothing her skirt.

  "Hold still," he commanded her suddenly. Startled, she looked at him, amazed at the tension in his features. He moved toward her, and she almost jumped, but he spoke again, quietly but with an authority that made her catch her breath.

  "Hold still!"

  A second later he swept something off her shoulder, dashed it to the ground and stomped upon it.

  Alexi felt a bit ill. She jumped to her feet, shaking out her hair. "What was it?"

  "A brown widow."

  "A what?"

  "A brown widow. A spider. It wouldn't have killed you, but they hurt like hell and can make you sick."

  "Oh, God!"

  "Hey--there are spiderwebs all over this place. You know that."

  Alexi stood still and swallowed. She lifted her hands calmly. "I can--I can handle spiders." "You can."

  "Certainly. Spiders and bugs and--even mice. And rats! I can handle it, really I can. Just so long as--"

  "So long as what?"

  She lowered her head and shook it, concealing her eyes from him. "Nothing." Snakes. She hated snakes. She simply wasn't about to tell him. "I'll be okay."

  "Then why don't you sit again?"

  "Because the pizza is coming. And because we really should eat in the kitchen. Don't you think?"

  He grinned, his head slightly cocked, as he studied her. "Sure."

  They moved back to the kitchen. The light there seemed very bright and cheerful, and Alexi had the wonderful feeling that no spider or other creature would dare show its face in this scrubbed and scoured spot.

  "Why didn't you have the rest of the place kept up?" Alexi complained, sliding into a chair at the butcher-block table.

  He sat across from her, arching a brow. "Excuse me. I kept just the kitchen up because Gene asked me to keep an eye on the place--and I'm not fond of sitting around with crawling creatures. If I'd known that the delicate face that launched ships would be appearing, I would have given more thought to the niceties."

  "Very funny. I am tough, you know," she said indignantly.

  "Sure."

  "Oh, lock yourself in a closet." "Such vile language!"

  He was laughing at her, she knew. Tired as she was, Alexi was back on her feet, totally aggravated. "Trust me, Mr. Morrow--I can get to it! And I will do it. I'll make it here. You can warn me and threaten me, but I'm not leaving."

  He lowered his head and idly rubbed his temple with his fingertips. She realized that he was laughing at her again "I will, and you'll see."

  "Listen, the closest you've probably been to a spider before is watching Spiderman on the Saturday-morning cartoons. You grew up with maids and gardeners and--"

  "I see. You toiled and starved all those years to make your own money, so you know all about being rough and tough and surviving. You couldn't have starved too damn long. You're what--? All of thirty-five now? They made a movie out of Cat in the Night ten years ago, so you weren't eating rice and potatoes all that long! And for your information, having money does not equate to sloth or stupidity or--"

  "I never implied that you were stupid--" "Or incapable or inept! I've damn well seen spiders before, and roaches and rats and--"

  "Hey!" He came to his feet before her. A pity, she thought--it had been easier to rant and rave righteously when he had been sitting and she had been able to look down her nose at him. But now his hands were on her shoulders and he was smiling as he stared down at her and she knew that he was silently laughing again.

  "No one likes things crawling on her--or him. And let's face it--you can't be accustomed to such shabby conditions," he said. His smile faded suddenly.

  "Or," he added softly, "a different kind of creepy-crawly. Intruders in the place."

  "Oh!" She had forgotten all about the footsteps. Forgotten that someone had been in the house. That he or she or they had escaped when the lights had gone out and blackness had descended.

  She backed away from Rex. "What...what do you think was...going on?"

  Rex shrugged and grimaced. "Alexi, if--and I'm sorry, I do mean if--someone was in the house, I don't know. A tramp, a derelict, a burglar--"

  "All the way out here?"

  "Hey, they deliver pizza, don't they?"

  "Do they? The pizza hasn't even gotten here yet!"

  "Well, I'm sorry! It is a drive for the delivery man, you know. He isn't a block away on Madison Avenue."

  "Oh, would you please stop it? We are not in the Amazon wilds."

  "No, but close enough," Rex promised her good-naturedly. She stared at him with a good dose of malice. Then she nearly jumped, and she did let out a gasp, because the night was suddenly filled with an obnoxious sound, loud and blaring.

  "Joe's boy's horn." Rex lifted his hands palm up. "It plays Dixie."

  It did, indeed. Loudly.

  "I'll get the pizza," he told her.

  Still smiling--with his annoying superiority--Rex went out. Alexi followed him.

  Joe's boy drove a large pickup. He was a cute, longhaired kid, tall and lanky. By the time Alexi came down the walkway, Rex was already holding the pizza and involved in a casual conversation.

  "Oh, here she is."

  "Wow!" the boy said. He straightened, pushed back his long blond hair and put out his hand to shake her hand soundly. "The Helen of Troy lady! Boy, oh, boy, ma'am, when I see that ad with your hair all wild and your eyes all sexy and your arms going out while you're smiling that smile, I just get...well, I get--"

  "Urn, thanks," Alexi said dryly. She felt Rex staring at her. Maybe he had expected her to be like the woman in the ad. He was probably disappointed to discover she was quite ordinary. "The magic of cameras," she murmured.

  "Oh, no, ma'am, you're better in the flesh!" He blushed furiously. "Well, I didn't mean flesh--" he stammered.

  "I don't think she took any offense, Dusty," Rex drawled. "Well, thanks again for coming out. Oh, Alexi, Dusty wants your autograph."

  "Mine?"

  He lifted his hands innocently. "He already has mine."

  She gave Dusty a brilliant smile--with only a hint of malice toward Rex.

  "Dusty, if you don't mind waiting a day or two, I'll get my agent to send down some pictures and I'll autograph one to you."

  "Would you? Wow. Oh, wow. Could you write something... kind of personal on it? The guys would sure be impressed!"

  "With pleasure," she promised sweetly.

  "Wow. Oh, wow."

  Dusty kept repeating those words as he climbed into the cab of his truck. Alexi cheerfully waved until the truck disappeared into the night. She felt Rex staring at her again, and she turned to him, a cool question in her eyes.

  "Well," he said smoothly, "you've certainly wired up that poor boy's libido."

  "Have I? Shall I take the pizza?"

  "No, my dear little heartbreaker. I can handle it."

  He started back toward the house. Alexi followed him-To her surprise, she discovered herself suddenly enjoying the night. She felt revived and ready for battle.

  But there was to be no battle--not that night.

  Rex went through the hall to the kitchen and put pizza box on the table. "There's a bolt on the wood to the parlor. If you just slide it, you can be sure that one will come in by way of the window you broke. It was probably just some tramp who thought the house was unoccupied, but I'd bolt that door anyway. You can get the window fixed in the morning. You should have done it today."

  "You're leaving?"

  He nodded and walked to where she stood by the door, pausing just short of touching her. He placed a hand against the doorframe and leaned toward her, a wry grin set in the full, sensual contours of his mouth.

  "You're playing a bit of havoc with my libido, too." He pushed away from the wall. "If you should need me, the number is in the book by the phone. Good nig
ht."

  For some reason, she couldn't respond. She felt as if he had touched her...as if some intimacy had passed between them.

  Nothing had happened at all.

  By the time she could move, he was gone. She heard the front door quietly closing.

  She hurried to it, biting her lower lip as she prepared to lock the door for the night. She was still so uneasy. Rex's being there had given her a certain courage. She knew that someone had been in the house. Had he really left? Was there, perhaps, some nook or cranny where the intruder could be hiding?

  She gasped. There was another tapping at the door. Her fingers froze; she couldn't bring herself to answer it.

  "Alexi?"

  It was Rex. She threw the door open and prayed that he wouldn't hear the pounding of her heart.

  Rex," she murmured. She lowered her face quickly, trying to hide her relief, trying not to show the sheer joy she felt at seeing him again. "Urn, did you forget something?”

  "Yes." out.

  He leaned against the doorframe, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He studied her for the longest time, and then he sighed.

  "You're making me absolutely insane, you know."

  "I beg your pardon," she murmured.

  He shook his head ruefully, then straightened. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her into the hallway to allow himself room to enter. Wide-eyed, Alexi stared up at him.

  "I'm staying!" he seemed to growl.

  "You're what?" she whispered.

  "I'll stay."

  "You--you don't need to."

  He shook his head impatiently. "I'll curl up in the parlor. Since you haven't gotten the guest rooms prepared yet," he added dryly.

  "Rex...you don't have to."

  "Yes, I have to." He started for the parlor.

  "You should at least have some pizza!"

  "No. No, thanks. I should lie down and go to sleep as quickly as possible."

  "Rex--"

  "Alexi--dammit! I--" He cut himself off, his jaw twisting into a rigid line. He shook his head again and walked into the parlor. She heard the door slam. Hard.

  Alexi retreated to the kitchen. She leaned against the door and breathed deeply. He was going to sleep in her house. She shouldn't make him do it. She shouldn't allow him to do it.