The doorbell rang. Luke let loose a string of curses that would have blistered the ears of a sailor.
Alexandra rested her forehead on his. “Your bright idea. Not mine,” she said huskily. They got to their feet, neither of them at all steady. No longer was she the tallest, no longer the one in charge. He continued to move his hands on her—now they stroked her upper arms. She felt sad, bereft.
He read her like a book. His mouth twisted ruefully. “Alexandra, it’s important. I wouldn’t have called him otherwise.”
“I understand, Luke. Really I do.”
When West arrived he was distracted, affected by the same sort of mood as Luke. He poured himself coffee when she offered it, then he and Luke disappeared into the dining room.
She didn’t know whether to be offended or not when they closed the door firmly between the two rooms. It wasn’t as though she would deliberately listen to their business, or that she would understand it if she did. She finished her coffee, took the cup to the kitchen and rinsed it.
Rather than stay in the living room where the drone of their voices was audible but not the words, she went to her room. Before she got ready for bed, she called David. He seemed to be happy enough.
She bathed, and brushed her teeth. Finally, she climbed into bed and pulled the sheet up over her. She lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling and thinking.
This evening had certainly turned out differently from what she’d expected. And thought she wanted, at the time. Now that she could look back on those moments, though, she realized that she should be scared witless.
Never had she responded like that to a man. Never.
It seemed that all he had to do was kiss her and she completely lost sight of who and where she was. She was too aroused, too provocative, too passionate when she was with him.
* * *
Early the next morning, Luke stood with his hands in his pockets at the window overlooking the quadrangle behind Alexandra’s condo.
He had spent the night here, in David’s very interesting room, but he’d risen before daylight, cadged Alexandra’s keys from her dressing table—and resisted with a giant will the temptation to crawl into her bed.
He left briefly, returning to his place to shower and dress. He couldn’t bring himself to move clothes into her home.
He put on jeans and his running shoes. Not that he had any plans to run. But the shoes gave him an idea.
Last night had not turned out as he’d expected. He and West had talked until well after midnight and resolved nothing. The problem was, deadline or not, Henderson was being very cagey. Maybe if the police caught Austin and he could be convinced to talk—
He heard soft noises from the kitchen. In a few minutes, the smell of frying bacon reached his nostrils and he realized he was hungry. He walked to the kitchen door. Alexandra was still in her robe, a floor-length, zipped-to-the-throat affair. He smiled to himself, wondering what she was wearing under it.
Her back was characteristically straight. She moved with grace as she flipped bacon onto a waiting paper towel, though he knew she had to be anxious.
“Can I help?” he asked, startling her. “Sorry.”
“Yes, you can set the table,” she said stiffly when she regained her breath. “Place mats and napkins are in the top drawer of the buffet.” She reached for the eggs and began cracking them into a bowl.
He nodded and withdrew. She was oddly subdued this morning. He could understand that, he was feeling the same way. To be so aroused, so hot, and have to turn it off like a spigot—last night was a lost opportunity that he might regret more as time passed.
He took green, woven mats and napkins from a drawer and brought them to the kitchen table, lining them up carefully parallel to the edge. “Silverware?” he asked.
“In the buffet, second drawer,” she answered without turning.
The task was completed too quickly. Once again he stood beside the table watching her move efficiently through her kitchen. “Anything else?”
Alexandra glanced up. Luke stood with one shoulder against the wall, hands thrust into the pockets of his well-worn jeans. He had on a fresh blue shirt, open at the throat, with the sleeves folded back to his elbows.
No man had the right to look that exciting in the morning. She was fully aware of how she herself looked, with her carelessly combed hair and sexless robe. She should have dressed before she came into the kitchen, but this was the way her morning routine went, and she hadn’t thought about changing it until it was too late.
She concentrated on scrambling the eggs. “This is nearly ready. You can pour the juice and coffee. Jelly is in the refrigerator, if you like it.”
Silently, they finished the preparations and finally it was time to sit down. Together. Luke held her chair.
Alexandra offered him the platter of bacon and eggs. He passed her the basket filled with buttered toast. She took a piece, bit into the crisp bread and flinched. The crunch of her chewing seemed to echo in the hush between them. She met his eyes, saw amusement there and looked away.
At last the interminable meal was over. Luke rose, taking his plate and glass to the sink. Alexandra followed. “More coffee?” she asked.
“No, thanks.”
“Excuse me, then. I’ll get dressed.”
Luke spread his papers out on the dining room table and tried to concentrate. The sound of water rushing through the pipes, however, was a major distraction. All he could see when he stared down at the legalese was Alexandra, naked in the shower—or bath. He wondered which.
He could easily picture her standing under the spray, water running from her wet hair, off her breasts, over her belly, down her long, beautiful legs. But he could just as easily picture her reclining beneath a layer of bubbles, her hair curly and pinned haphazardly on top of her head, lifting one leg to squeeze a spongeful of lather on her calf, her thigh.
He groaned and shifted in his chair, easing the pressure of his jeans.
* * *
Alexandra came out of her room, determination in her stride. Luke was in the living room, staring out the window. She was surprised not to find him working but that fit right into her plans. “Listen, Luke.”
He dropped the side of the sheer drape and turned. She swallowed against a sudden dryness in her throat. He was so good-looking. “I can’t stand this quiet. I want to do something,” she stated, ready to argue.
“I was thinking about that earlier. Would you like to go to my health club for a workout?”
Well, that had been easy enough, thought Alexandra fifteen minutes later. They were on their way into the city. She didn’t know what arrangements had been made, but Luke had been on the phone with Zarcone for ten of those fifteen minutes. The FBI man seemed to think a trip downtown was a good idea.
Knowing she was bait was hard for Alexandra. But being alone in the condo with Luke was the real hazard.
* * *
“Have you talked to David?” Luke asked after they had returned to the car. They’d spent all morning at the health club. Alexandra had jogged and sweat, joined an aerobics class and sweat some more. Now she felt like a different person, more relaxed, stronger.
The tension that she’d been living with had knotted her muscles more than she realized. So she’d finished with a pummeling massage, and her shower had dissipated the last traces of achiness.
She’d dressed again in the khaki skirt and white safari shirt she’d hurriedly donned when Luke had issued his invitation. She hadn’t taken time to dry her hair, just pulled it back from her face and twisted it into a bundle at her nape. She had no makeup with her. She hadn’t thought it mattered, but now she wished she’d made just a bit more effort to look nice.
“Yes, last night. He’s fine.” She studied him from across the seat. He drove, as he did everything, with confidence and mastery. His dark brown hair was damp from the shower and his face was slightly flushed from exertion.
“Thank you for suggesting the health club
, Luke. It helped a lot.”
“Would you like to go somewhere for lunch?” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “I notice that we still have Zarcone’s man with us.”
“I can’t,” she said, dismayed to realize that she wanted to go into a restaurant on the arm of this man, but when she did, she wanted to be dressed in her very finest. “Look at my hair—my clothes are a mess and I haven’t a smidgen of makeup on.”
Luke took his eyes off the road for the briefest glimpse of her. “You look beautiful,” he said in a low, husky voice.
She didn’t doubt for a minute that he was trying to make her feel better, but the compliment warmed her face, made her heart flutter and her lips yearn for the taste of his. “Thank you. That was a good try.”
He opened his mouth to tell her that every word was the truth, so help him, God. Instead, he grinned. “We’ll go someplace casual. How about the zoo? They have great hot dogs.”
Chapter 9
Alexandra fell asleep on the way back to the complex. Now and then, Luke glanced at her, curled on the seat beside him. Her hair, which had been wet and slick, had dried free to curl around her face, softening her features.
As he drove, it began to rain, an easy, soaking rain. The streetlights alternated with the darkness, tagging her face with silver highlights, then retreating.
She was an extraordinary woman. Smart and beautiful, a good mother, a talented artist. This day, spent together in the most commonplace activities, had reinforced his opinion that she was a welcome and witty friend, besides being sexy as hell.
Their dramatic responses to each other, triggered last night by their brief encounter before West arrived, had engulfed them both with a startling swiftness—even more than the day at the track.
He wanted her and he was sure she wanted him. So why was he still wary about making love to her? Why did he still feel the itch to put distance between them?
If she had been feeling as unsteady as he was this morning, then getting through the day had promised to be touchy. So he’d called Zarcone and set up today’s activities.
Zarcone had been reluctant, but Luke had reminded him, with an intensity that was uncharacteristic, of Alexandra’s cooperation with the authorities from the very first. “She deserves this, Zarcone. Her life has been disrupted, her safety and that of her son has been threatened. She needs to get away from everything that will remind her for a few hours.”
“Okay, okay,” Zarcone had grumbled.
She shifted in her sleep, began to stir.
Hell, he could have her and distance, too.
Just because they made love, they didn’t necessarily have to make promises.
He pulled into his parking space and turned off the engine. The soft drumming of raindrops on the roof of the sedan and the ting of the cooling engine were the only sounds.
Alexandra awakened slowly, unaware of her surroundings, but without feeling any anxiety or apprehension. She knew that Luke was nearby somewhere.
She moved her shoulders, stretched her arms in front of her, turning her linked fingers inside out. She yawned—discreetly. Finally, she opened her eyes.
And smiled, that pretty curve of her lips, which activated a dimple. “Hi,” she said.
Luke was as weak as a day-old kitten by the time she spoke. He swallowed hard. “Hi, yourself. We’re home.”
Home. What a lovely sound the word had, thought Alexandra, like a comforting mantra. She sat up and looked around. “And it’s raining,” she said in surprise as she unbuckled her seat belt. “How long have you been driving in the rain?”
“Ever since we hit the perimeter. It wasn’t a bad drive, though—the traffic was light.” He opened his door and got out.
The dome light came on and Alexandra cringed, knowing what she must look like. He reached into the back seat for the bag containing her exercise gear.
When she hesitated before getting out, he stuck his head back inside. “Do you need an umbrella?”
“Goodness, no.” She got out of the car and scooted up the pathway to the porch. Nevertheless, they were both wet by the time they got inside. He followed her into the kitchen.
“How about coffee?” she asked. “It won’t take a minute to fix.”
“Sounds good.”
She took the bag from him and put it in the tiny laundry cubicle off the kitchen. She used a towel there to dry her face and arms, then tossed it to him.
“Do something for me,” Luke asked when they were seated at the kitchen table over steaming mugs of coffee.
She propped her chin on her hand. Her green eyes glimmered with amusement. “Should I be wary?”
“Let you hair all the way down. I’ve only seen it that way a couple of times.”
“I always wear it up in the summer. It’s too hot on my neck.” Alexandra laughed self-consciously as she reached back to release the barrette that held the twisted bundle. “It’s already fallen almost all the way down—ouch, I’m caught.”
“Here, let me.” Luke was on his feet and around the table. His fingers made quick work of the disorder, while setting off a few shimmers of excitement on her scalp. Then they remained to finger-comb through the strands. She thought he leaned down to inhale the scent, but she wasn’t sure.
“Your hair is beautiful—the colors are like sunshine and moonlight.” His voice was low and slow and infinitely seductive.
A smile curved her lips. Luke Quinlan, romantic? It was a lovely thing to say. “Thank you.”
When he returned to his seat, she was stunned to see the flames that ignited in his pewter eyes.
They had spent the day in easy camaraderie, first at the health club, then the zoo. Later, they had driven out to Stone Mountain Park, east of the city. They had ridden the paddleboats and wandered through the park itself. No suggestive glances, no molten touches, had inhibited the day.
Though he had held her hand for a while, he had kept things light between them. Light and diverting and fun. Deliberately, she thought. She had just about convinced herself that she liked it this way. At least for now. At least until the ordeal was over.
But now, looking into those hot gray eyes and becoming ensnared like a rabbit in a hunter’s headlights, she knew she had been fooling herself. She could not have looked away if her life had depended upon it.
Her heartbeat became audible in her ears.
The silence in the room was heavy with demands and promises. Her body responded instantaneously to both. The blood rushed through her to nourish all the secret places, readying them for a glorious experience. She felt the dampness between her thighs; her nipples were suddenly sensitive, as though abraded by the touch of a callused thumb. Taking a breath, one efficient enough to sustain her, became an effort.
He reached for her hand and held it between his palms, disturbing but not breaking the spell. “Your skin is so smooth, so soft.” He looked down at their joined hands, and she followed his gaze. Her hand was totally swallowed by his.
She licked her dry lips. “Luke, I haven’t been with a man since—”
His self-satisfied grin cut off her words as surely as if he’d muffled her mouth with his hand. She realized that she had been assuming a lot, when he hadn’t actually said a word.
No, that wasn’t true. He hadn’t said anything tonight, but he’d certainly made himself clear on other occasions.
She withdrew her hand from his. She refused to play games like these. “I didn’t mean that we—”
The grin grew broader; by this time, it had begun to annoy her. She opened her mouth to tell him to forget it—just forget the whole thing.
The comment that came out was on a different track completely. “Dammit, Luke. You sit there looking at me with fire in your eyes, what am I supposed to think? We are headed in the same direction, aren’t we?”
For a second, Luke seemed surprised by her clear-cut question. Then he recovered. “Oh, yes,” he said with a slow smile and a soft laugh. “Yes, we’re definitely headed in the same
direction. Down the hall and into your bedroom.”
Well, that was certainly direct enough. Her lips twitched. And he saw.
Without saying a word, he rose and came around the table. He bent over and simply lifted her, one arm beneath her knees, one across her back. She automatically wrapped her arms around his neck. She was no lightweight, but on his face, so near to hers, there was absolutely no evidence of strain, none.
All at once, Alexandra felt a twinge of misgiving. Or cowardice. He was so tall, so strong. And what did she know about this man, anyway?
Her emotions must have shown clearly. His smile faded; a muscle jumped spasmodically in his jaw. “We can stop right now, Alexandra. But it will be damned hard if we go any further.”
The concession was a clear demonstration of his self-control. Her misgivings—if that’s what they were—evaporated like smoke on the wind. She touched his face with her fingertips. Then she sighed and laid her cheek on his shoulder.
“I don’t want to stop,” she said softly. “But I am feeling a bit unsure.”
“We’re going to take this very slowly, I promise you,” Luke said. He moved down the hall toward her bedroom, his footsteps unhurried. When he reached the door, he paused. “Turn on the light.”
Her head came up off his shoulder. “Do we have to?”
He looked at her, a half smile quirking his mouth. “I’ve dreamed of undressing you slowly, of seeing you naked, your hair spread across a pillow. Please.”
She was about to tell him that she was thirty-five years old, that she’d had a baby and that she didn’t think she chose to be seen. But then he added the last word. Slowly she reached out and flipped the switch.
The bedside lamps came on, casting their soft glow over her yellow comforter-covered bed. But she wasn’t looking at the bed. She was looking at the man who held her so effortlessly in his arms.
He walked forward to stand beside the bed and released her legs, letting her toes touch the floor, letting her body come into full, breath-stealing adjustment to his. Her arms remained linked around his neck.
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