Strangers In Paradise Page 8

  "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'"

  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 di
d 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."

  Tony squinted beneath the glare of the sun. "Well, we'll spray, but snakes... Well, you kind of have to find the little guys and put them out." He scratched his head. "It rained last night, but it wasn't really a flood. Wonder how they got in."

  "There was a broken window."

  "Maybe." Tony shrugged. "It wouldn't be unheard-of, but I find it kind of strange."

  Rex frowned, remembering how Alexi had accused him of putting the snakes into the house himself to scare her out. She was convinced that someone had been in the house last night. Maybe that same person had come back in after he had left early this morning.

  He walked up the path with Tony and opened the door. Tony whistled. “How long has Gene been out of here?''

  "Awhile. Nine months, maybe."

  "Nine months of breeding bugs. Well, I'll spray her real good. And I'll look out for a nest of ringnecks. I just doubt it, though, you know? If they were in the house, Miz Jordan should have noticed them when she came in, not this morning." He laughed suddenly, "I've heard of ghosts in this place, but not snakes."

  "Yeah." Rex laughed with Tony, but he wasn't amused. Tony went out for his equipment. Rex went on into the parlor and called the sheriffs office. A friend of his--a budding story-teller named Mark Eliot--was on the desk. Rex listened patiently to Mark's newest plot line, then told him that he was pretty sure someone was sneaking around the Brandywine house.

  "Anything broken into?" Mark asked.

  "Well...only by the rightful tenant. She couldn't get her key to work," Rex explained. Then he told Mark about Alexi's hearing footsteps racing down the stairs--and about the snakes. He was annoyed when Mark chuckled.

  "Snakes? You think somebody snuck in to leave a pack of ringnecks?''

  "Never mind..."

  "Sorry, Rex, sorry," Mark apologized quickly. "Want me to come out?"

  "No, there's nothing you can do now. Maybe someone could make an extra patrol at night and keep an eye on things."

  "Sure thing, Rex. Will do."

  Rex hung up, wondering why he still didn't feel right about things. He heard a whining sound and felt a cold nose against his hand. He patted the dog absently; he had forgotten that Samson was with him. "You should have been here last night, monster," he told the dog affectionately. “You might have caught whoever ran. If there was a 'whoever.' Come on, boy. Let's get Alexi's stuff, huh?" That didn't even seem to be such a good idea. In the kitchen, Rex began to close the open suitcase on the table; he hesitated. Everything of hers had a wonderful scent. Her clothes...

  He picked up the soft silk blouse on top and brought it to his face. It seemed to whisper of her essence. He dropped it back into the suitcase and slammed the suitcase.

  Samson stood by him, thumping his tail against the floor. "This is getting serious, Samson. Frightening. I barely know her."

  How well did someone need to know a face that could launch a thousand ships?

  He groaned out loud at the thought and picked up the suitcase. He found her purse in the parlor, called out to Tony that he would be right back and left the house. Ten minutes of brisk walking brought him back to his own.

  To his own amazement, he didn't go in. He set Alexi's suitcase and purse inside the screen door, called out that he was dropping them off and turned around to walk back, Samson still at his heels.

  His fingers were clenched into fists, braced behind his back. He knew he wouldn't go back that night. He'd give Emily a call and tell her that he would just stay at Gene's--making sure no more snakes appeared--and that he'd be back in the morning.

  He just couldn't see Alexi Jordan again right away. It was still true that he barely knew her, and it was damned true that she was having an extraordinary effect on him. Unsettling. Insane.

  The exterminator was just finishing up when Rex returned, and when Tony pulled out with his van, the cleaners were pulling in with theirs. Rex let them in with all their heavy-duty equipment, then went into the kitchen and heated up the remainder of the pizza, which he found in the refrigerator. He had it with a beer, reflecting that everything had suddenly turned into a sad state of affairs. He should have been working, and instead he was over here, hiding out from a blonde.

  "Well, she is damned good-looking," he told Samson, stretching his legs out under the table. "The type that can seduce a guy and steal his soul, you say, Samson, boy? I agree, a hundred percent. I should stay away, huh? Hmm. Those eyes. With my luck, I'd be dumb enough to fall in love again. And she'd stay around for a month, then take off for the big city and her glamorous career. Aha!" He was silent for a minute, staring at the bottle. "I'll go nuts if I don't give it some good, sturdy effort." He sipped his beer reflectively. "But not until tomorrow. I'm not so sure I could take seeing her again today--take it and behave civilly. Okay, Samson, so I haven't been so civil so far. I'm supposed to be a rude eccentric. I have my reputation to live up to, you k
now."

  Just then the phone started to ring. It was Emily, worried. He assured her things were going fine. "Just tell Alexi to stay there tonight and I'll stay here. The cleaners seem to be doing just fine; Tony sprayed, and I can still smell the stuff all over. It will be much better by tomorrow.... Okay, take care."

  He hung up, and walked into the hall, his hands in his pockets. The cleaning crew consisted of four men. They all knew what they were doing; they moved economically and efficiently. The house already looked better, and they hadn't even started with the steaming. He wandered back to the kitchen, restless. This was rough. He didn't know what to do. He didn't really know how to be idle.

  He stared out the window over the sink for a moment, then smiled. In the drawer was a legal pad. He drew it out and sat at the table again. He could make this work.

  He sketched out a rough story line about a wealthy family with a suddenly deceased patriarch. A family that began to die off rather quickly. He used Gene's house, and his victims fell as the snakes had, by the same weapons Alexi had utilized.

  Within ten minutes, his fingers were flying over the page. A studious frown knitted his brow, and time became meaningless. His concentration was complete.

  But then he realized that his heroine looked exactly like Alexi.

  And his hero was strangely similar to himself.

  He sat back, then forward again.

  Well, what the hell, he thought. Who was he to argue with creative forces?

  He was planning an awful lot of sex scenes for a murder mystery, though, he reflected. He paused, then laughed dryly.

  What the hell...

  Alexi stared up at the sun through the swaying fronds of a huge palm. She closed her eyes, the sun was so bright But the warmth felt good against her flesh.

  She rolled on her beach sheet and stared out at the water. The surf curled in softly, then ebbed in near silence. It was beautiful. Exquisitely beautiful. From here, the Atlantic seemed to stretch away forever. The sky tenderly kissed the water. It was exquisitely peaceful and private. The sand was fine and white; the palms gave lovely shade.