Finding Home

by Marianne Evans

  Alexa blushed when he focused on her once more, and she lifted an oven-warmed, triangle shaped spinach pie pastry. She busied herself eating rather than focusing on his eyes—and the way she felt when he looked at her. “I love your loyalty, guys.”

  The topic shifted as the meal progressed. Vanessa regaled them with the tale of her morning tangle with a French countess who had strode into the Penthouse—the most exclusive domain of personal shopping to be found at Harrods—and proceeded to terrorize the staff with outrageous demands and expectations.

  Saving the best for last, Alexa reached for a milk chocolate and passion fruit delice. The square-shaped sweet was, at its heart, a white and brown cake that melted on her tongue. Best of all, the treat was topped by swirls of white and brown chocolate glaze with a curled ribbon of edible gold-leaf perched delicately on top.

  “Oh, I hate to leave.” Vanessa stood and took custody of the check. Alexa started to protest the gesture, as did Peter, but Vanessa snapped the folio closed and tucked it beneath her arm. “This is my pleasure. You deserve it, and lots of love, too.” She stood and leaned in to give Alexa a hug. “Back to work for me, but at some point in the next few days, I’m going to treat you to a marathon shopping consult.”

  “My credit cards already thank you.”

  Peter sneered at his sister. “I get the better part of the deal. Now that we’re done here I’m going to indulge her culinary side and we’re going to take a stroll through the food hall.”

  Alexa melted. “I’m spoiled, spoiled, spoiled.”

  Vanessa’s sparkling laughter followed. “Enjoy. I’ll catch up with you tonight.”

  She glided away capturing admiring glances and murmurs as she exited the restaurant.

  That made Alexa smile, until she turned toward Peter and realized, he only had eyes for her. Something odd and mysterious thrummed her senses.

  “Shall we hit the ground floor?” he asked.

  “You know just where I want to be. Clothes are nice, and all, but, give me pastry toys and I’m a happy girl.”

  Minutes later, they strolled between colorful, brightly lit shelves stuffed with every concoction for cooking that could be imagined. Paying no heed to pricing, Alexa picked up a jar of rose petal jelly and a tin of butter cookies. Next, she claimed a package of exorbitantly expensive edible gold leaf, just because it made her smile.

  Alexa pondered for a bit before deciding to broach the topic of Vanessa and prayer. “She’s still resistant, huh?”

  Peter filled a basket with Alexa’s items and added in a few of his own. Supplies for scone making, Alexa noticed with a smile. No subtlety in that hint. Actually, she couldn’t wait to make some treats for her friends. “Yeah—it’s not that she doesn’t believe; it’s that in many ways, she feels as beaten down as you do.”

  Alexa stopped short, fingering a package of filo dough. “You’d never know it.”

  “That’s because she moves in a high-stakes world. We both do. Image is everything where our jobs reside, so let’s just say the atmosphere she inhabits isn’t conducive to worship. It’s a bit easier for me because, to a degree, I get to call the shots. Vannie, on the other hand, has to bend and sway to opinion and perception. It’s a tough proposition all in all.”

  “She’s an angel. I won’t give up on her.”

  Peter moved to the shoulder-high shelf across from hers. He grinned at her over the top. “I know you won’t, and I’m glad for it. She needs affirmation, and from someone other than me. You’re ace, Lexie-love.”

  She giggled. “You rogue charmer.”

  “Always, you heart-stealer.”

  The glance they shared settled into her heart and set butterflies free.

  4

  Business demands forced Peter to resume a normal work schedule, so for the next few days, as Alexa acclimated, he focused on projects at Intellilink Worldwide, all the while determined to leave the job behind just as quickly as he could.

  After all, Alexa had promised to bake scones today.

  There were plans afoot to do a few touristy things. In the days ahead Alexa wanted to explore the Tate, tour Parliament, and she refused to leave London without ogling the crown jewels, so a trip to the Tower was also in their future. Vanessa’s shopping spree was also on the agenda.

  He hadn’t asked Alexa about her dinner plans with Ray Callahan. The idea of doing so left him feeling awkward and out of sorts…as though prickly little thorns were dancing against his skin.

  Shoving that nonsense to the side, Peter unlocked the door of his apartment and walked inside. Warm air and the fragrance of baked goods had him tracking an immediate path to the kitchen.

  Alexa commanded the space, humming in time to the music that streamed from her iPhone. The blue apron she wore—he wondered where on earth she had found such a thing in a kitchen owned by two residents who ate out constantly—carried a dusting of flour near her tummy. Peter went still, letting the scene sink into a spot of his spirit that, until now, had remained quite peaceful and dormant.

  Now, that peaceful spot rose to notice, prompting him to see his friend in an entirely new light.

  I give to you out of a boundless love, My son. Herein is love—herein is life as it could be—covered by an inordinate blessing.

  Oblivious to his stare from the kitchen entrance, Alexa moved in time to the music, swaying a bit as she stood at the counter and worked with the dough she had created.

  Moments of God-speak weren’t uncommon to Peter’s experience. What always amazed him, though, were the startling revelations God provided during such interludes. It seemed God knew just how to shine a spotlight on the areas of his soul he hadn’t even begun to acknowledge, let alone explore.

  So, he continued to stare after her, mesmerized by her simple, easy motions, by her captivating grace. Could she ever be mine, Lord—with so many miles and issues between us?

  The miles and issues belong to Me. Surrender your love. Give freely, just as I have given to you.

  The Spirit-prompt kept him still, and caused him to ponder. What if he fell flat on his face in the process of following that call?

  Peter cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair as he made his way into the kitchen. “It smells wonderful in here.”

  “Hey there!”

  The smile that lit her face was precious—an open gift Peter absorbed with a thirst both unfamiliar and thrilling. “I’m going to need a diet after this visit of yours. I know it already.”

  Alexa snickered. “Not if we go for a run. I used to love running with you. Remember how we’d always end at Vauxhall Bridge and watch the boats drift by?”

  Peter let the idea sink in. It sprouted instant wings. “Let’s do it.”

  She leaned against the counter, tilting her head. “Really? I’d love to, if you’re game.”

  “It’d be fantastic.”

  “Give me fifteen minutes and I’m finished here. I’ll change and we’ll be off.”

  ****

  An hour later, they burst into the apartment, heaving labored breaths and laughing uncontrollably because Peter had cracked incessant jokes as they contested a sprint to the finish line that was the unforgiving, steep stairwell leading to the front door. He had wanted her to lose her breath—and their competition—and he had almost succeeded. Almost, but not quite.

  “You are a world-class cheat and a troublemaker, Peter Royce Colby.” Alexa folded at the waist, huffing and giggling as she propped her hands on her knees and gathered her breath.

  “Excuse me, sulky party, your bus is leaving. You won the battle, stop griping.”

  Alexa howled all over again, stumbling into the kitchen because all she wanted at the moment was a tall glass of water to replenish her depleted body. Peter trailed after. They nearly collided when Alexa drew to an abrupt stop. There sat Vanessa perched on one of the counter stools while she sipped from a goblet of wine and munched a scone. Freshly arrived from work, she looked like she had stepped out of a fashion s
hoot.

  Vanessa’s eyes sparkled merrily. “Well hello, you two.”

  Alexa blushed furiously but joined her friend by collapsing onto the second stool. “Hello yourself, glamour-puss. Enjoying the fruits of my labor?”

  “Without question or remorse. These are exquisite.” In emphasis, Vanessa polished off the treat, dusting her fingertips on a napkin. “You might have slaved over scones, but it would seem you’ve compensated by…exercising.”

  “Vanessa, grow up,” Peter muttered, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet and filling them from the refrigerator dispenser. “Here you go, Lexie.”

  “Thanks.”

  The moment washed her in a girlish sense of shyness when Peter focused on her with a long, intent sweep of his eyes.

  These escalating reactions to him were really out of place, and they were becoming troublesome. Especially since she needed to let them know about her plans.

  She addressed Vanessa. “Enjoy the scone as your due compensation because I need to ask a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “I want your expertise in accessorizing a wardrobe for dinner. I’m meeting with Ray tomorrow.”

  Vanessa’s eyes lit. “I’d absolutely love it. What time, and where are you going?”

  “I’m meeting him at Bank of England headquarters tomorrow afternoon. Five o’clock. From there, we’re going to the Brasserie at 1 Lombard Street.”

  “Ohhh…very nice.”

  Peter remained unusually quiet for a time, leaning against the entryway, fingering his water glass. “If this Ray bloke wants to take you to dinner, aren’t you meeting a bit early?”

  Alexa flinched at his suspicious tone of voice. “Yes, because he wants to show me around the offices at the bank. I think that would be fascinating. I told you we had our jobs in common.”

  “Fine.” Peter spun from the wall and downed his water, turning his back to them both while he stood at the sink, then dumped the glass inside.

  “You don’t sound very fine. What’s wrong?”

  “Who is this guy? Really?”

  Alexa stared at him, aghast, because he was condemning, and uncharacteristically pushy.

  “I mean, what if—”

  “What if? Are you kidding? Over banking chat and dinner? Ease up and skip the whole protective big brother thing. I’ll be fine. I’m anti-romance at the moment, remember? Especially when romance involves half the distance of the world.”

  Vanessa remained a silent, keenly interested observer judging by the rapt way she watched their argument play out. And arguing with Peter was unheard of for Alexa. It made her feel wretched.

  “Fantastic, then.” Storms rode through Peter’s eyes. “Forget I said anything.”

  “I will. I’m going upstairs to get changed.”

  Alexa took off for the stairwell and closed the bedroom door, but she longed to slam it. She collapsed onto the bed with a growl, her emotions a flurry of confusion, tender aches…and something else—something she could only categorize with one fateful word.

  Love.

  ****

  “That was interesting. See also, unprecedented.”

  “Shut up, Vannie.”

  She snorted at Peter’s response, which only served to rankle him further. “Admit it. You wish it were you.”

  “Vanessa, I’m warning you. Don’t push. I’m in no mood.” Peter snapped a cloth towel from a rack next to the sink and mopped his sweat dampened neck.

  “Allow me a question. When did it finally dawn on you that you were attracted to Alexa?” She snatched the towel from him and gave him a shove. “I’ve known it for ages, but it took you long enough. Tell me, was it during the run you just shared? She’s got quite a fantastic figure, really. Bet she made you forget all about your latest flavor of the month. Who is it these days? Sherry? Sharmaine?”

  “Sarah. And while I’ve dated lovely women and enjoyed their company, I’ve never”—he stabbed a finger at her—“ever been a playboy. Let’s be clear on that point. Now, I’ve got work to do.”

  She ignored his curt end to the conversation and tracked him to the study, which made him boil and heave a growling sigh.

  “Then get into some decent clothes and answer my question.”

  “The answer already lies in logistics, Vanessa. She’s made it perfectly clear how she feels about romantic entanglements from half the world away. Wouldn’t work even if we wanted it to. Besides, she thinks of me as a dear friend—a big brother figure, to be even more specific. She’s comfortable with me in that role.”

  Vanessa shrugged. “So revise her perceptions. Shake things up. Make her uncomfortable with that role.”

  “Oh, that’s smashing advice. Really. You ought to write a column for the lovelorn.”

  “Show her something other than friendship, and she might take you by surprise.”

  “Or, we might both end up hurt. She’s raw right now. It’s not worth the risk. I like her too much to love her.”

  “Now you’re being daft.”

  She sat on the edge of his desk, even though she knew it riled him. His desk was chaos, yes, but he knew where everything was, and she was messing things up.

  In a number of ways.

  “Vanessa, drop it.” He glowered at her, building up a head of agitated steam that had precious little to do with her machinations.

  “That’s the third time you’ve called me Vanessa. Don’t let there be a fourth.”

  “Va-ness-a.” He met her eyes squarely.

  She giggled. “Fine, fine. But remember, brother mine, I know you like the back of my own hand. I can hear what you don’t say. Push her. See what happens.”

  “You’re a lunatic.”

  She bent to peck his cheek. “I love you, too.”

  ****

  Peter tried—honest truth, he tried—to push thoughts of Alexa from his mind. He came close to succeeding. During the day that followed, he focused like a laser on business. He mapped out a complex network installation then battled revenue accounting over profit margins for the latest assignment that was about to close.

  But, in the midst of a teleconference, his mind drifted to Vauxhall Bridge, and he saw her, leaning over the stone wall, glancing at the rushing waters of the Thames far below. Late afternoon sunlight and the pastel hues of a building sunset had glimmered across the sky, burnishing her eyes, her hair, as she took in the distant sight of Parliament and Big Ben just beyond a curving stretch of the river embankment. The run and the wind had burned spots of red color onto her cheeks. When she turned to him, chatting about odds and ends, he had visualized touching her face, and even felt the thrumming foretaste of what it might feel like to slide his lips against the silky skin beneath her ear. He imagined she would have tasted of cold air and an atmosphere that hinted at the promise of snow.

  Only a solid nudge from his father, seated at the conference table next to him, had roused Peter to answer a customer’s questions about hubs, links, and default bandwidth levels.

  By three o’clock, Peter couldn’t avoid the mood that came over him. Mired within a deep and thorough stew over Alexa’s date, he opted to call it a day, because it turned out Vanessa was right. Peter did wish he were the one taking her out for a quiet, intimate dinner.

  Once he arrived home, he trooped up the stairs to his room, pulling off his tie and loosening the top button of his dress shirt. He needed comfortable clothes, an engaging book, and some solid peace of mind. Maybe that would be the silver lining in this whole “date” cloud that loomed overhead. Solitude might help him regain proper perspective.

  As he turned off the top stair, he found her, and that idealistic desire self-destructed. She stood at the bathroom sink, atomizer of perfume in hand. She closed her eyes, tilted her head, spritzing her neck a couple of times before lifting a hairbrush and smoothing the full, sleek lines of her hair. The aroma of roses skimmed through the air.

  All the while, she looked into the mirror, oblivious to his presence—thank goodness.
Meanwhile, Peter’s heart charged against his chest. Bad timing fell rapidly to worse when Vanessa yanked open her bedroom door and bustled down the hall. Peter snapped out of his trance and moved forward with just enough grace to cover for his episode of staring. Still, his pulse continued to skyrocket.

  “Here, Lexie. Wear these. They dangle, and they’ll call attention to your neck and drive him crazy!”

  Peter heaved an inner moan. His muscles clenched so tight he ached. At present, his tie was a waded up ball of silk in his fisted hand. He cleared his throat and attempted to move past, but Vanessa got in the way, handing Alexa a pair of sparkly, black crystal earrings that would certainly drive any man to distraction when paired with Alexa’s fair skin and blonde hair.

  Agonized, he tried to move once more, but Vanessa danced him back into place. “Doesn’t she look sensational?”

  “As always.” His interjection lacked enthusiasm, but not sincerity. Alexa’s black skirt, spiky heels, and simple white blouse were a devastating combination. He made once more to leave, seething, pent up, and overly warm.

  “Honestly, Vannie, you troublemaker,” Alexa said. “I’m not after some kind of European love connection. That’s the last thing I need.”

  The words doused Peter’s feet in a stream of cement. He turned and regarded the two women, who now opted to dismiss him.

  Alexa donned the earrings then studied her reflection in the gilt-framed mirror positioned above the pedestal sink. She tilted her head, and sighed softly. “Besides, I’m a numbers nerd. I’m nobody’s glamour queen.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  That verdict came in perfect synchronicity—from Vanessa loud and clear, and from Peter in a tortured mutter.

  ****

  Hours later, Peter heard Alexa return to the apartment. The telltale scrape and squeak of the door opening and clicking closed were his first alert to her arrival. Next, he detected soft footfalls as she moved quietly up the stairs. His gaze darted to the clock next to his bed. It was just after ten o’clock. Not altogether late, considering travel time back and forth, and a tour of the massive bank headquarters—and dinner, of course.