Chapter Twenty
The brunch was well-attended Ali noted as she walked into the dining room. A number of familiar faces had attended, including Adam, looking the worse for wear but not the one face she wished she could see. There was no sign of Aidan anywhere.
A newspaper tucked under her arm, she walked across to Adam’s table to touch him lightly on the shoulder.
“Am I still welcome here?” she asked as he looked up.
Adam’s breath caught and embarrassment flooded him but Alex’s eyes were level, kind, and something in him relaxed.
“Of course,” he said, jumping to his feet despite his headache to draw out her chair.
He started to speak but she shot him a look.
“Don’t you dare apologize to me,” she said gently.
Adam looked at her. She was so beautiful. It wouldn’t be easy but he would get used to it. He didn’t want to lose their friendship…and who knew, in time she might change her mind.
He held out his hand. “Friends.”
Letting out a breath, Ali smiled and took it, shook. “Friends.”
A server brought her coffee, took her order and then disappeared.
Sharing the newspaper with Adam, she doodled in the margins as she read when a hand brushed her hair from the nape of her neck as Jacques pulled a chair up a little more closely on the other side of her, settling into it with his arm over the back of her chair.
“What are you doing, cherie?” he asked, looking at the diagram.
She shrugged, as much to dislodge his arm as anything else. It was too possessive a gesture.
Oddly, she was becoming fond of Jacques. In spite of his subtle and not-so-subtle attempts to seduce her, it was flattering to have that kind of attention. She’d never considered herself a femme fatale. Yet when he wasn’t trying to seduce her he had a cosmopolitan charm and an intelligence she appreciated. As she appreciated Aidan’s and still appreciated Adam’s. Here she didn’t feel like so much of a freak, so separate from everyone else as she did at home.
“It’s something I saw the other day that puzzles me,” she said, as Adam leaned over to look, too.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, frowning a little, puzzled by it, “a wiring diagram of some kind I saw somewhere but it doesn’t make sense.”
As it didn’t interest him that much, Jacques said, “What are your plans for the day, Alex?”
“I was going to go for a drive in the country,” Ali said, “but that’s out.”
The rental car company had picked up the car early that morning but they hadn’t brought her a replacement yet.
“Why is that?” Jacques said.
“The brakes went out last night,” Adam said, “as we were leaving the parking garage. It was pretty exciting for a few moments there.”
One of the staff paused by the table, his eyes on Ali.
“Miss,” he said, “there’s a gentleman in the lobby to see you. “
A little surprised, Ali stood. “Excuse me.”
The man waiting in the lobby was a stranger. She looked at him curiously.
“Miss Dearborn?” he asked, taking her elbow gently and leading her away to a quieter corner. “I’m with the rental car company. My name is Brendan Cooper.”
“Yes, Mr. Cooper?” she said.
“Can you tell me what happened last night?”
His expression was noncommittal but there was concern on his broad Irish face. She frowned a little.
Aidan was just entering the hotel when he saw Ali standing off to one side of the lobby talking to a stranger.
The puzzlement and worry in her eyes was enough to draw him over to them.
Any excuse would have done, he thought to himself. It was her he was looking for after all.
“Ali?” he said.
“Aidan,” Ali said, in relief, disturbed. “This is Mr. Cooper with the rental car company. I don’t know if Adam told you we had problems with the car last night.”
“He mentioned it,” Aidan said. “Something about the brakes?”
She nodded. “They went out as we left the parking garage.”
Frowning a little, Brendan looked at her. “Miss Dearborn, to all appearances it looks as if someone was messing about with those brakes. You don’t have anyone who doesn’t like you, do you?”
He couldn’t imagine it, as she seemed a sweet girl.
A little startled, Ali looked at him. “No. Why would someone mess with the brakes?”
“Maybe someone got the wrong car, wanted to put a scare into someone and got the wrong car, I’m sure.” Cooper suggested. “But we’ll have to notify someone.”
Ali nodded, bewildered and a little alarmed.
Running a hand down her arm, Aidan remembered the fall of the day before and frowned. There had been so many people there, all jostling for position. Still. Coincidence? But who would want to hurt Ali? And why?
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Slowly she nodded and grinned. “As Adam said, it was a little exciting there for a few moments but I’m fine. Are you here for the brunch?”
“I am,” he said, smiling, his breath catching at the sparkle in her eyes. Was the ice thawing?
He nodded to Cooper. “If there’s anything, anything we can help with, just call this number.” Aidan handed Cooper his business card. “Someone will find me.”
“Will you join us?” Ali asked as they walked across the lobby toward the dining room.
That was promising.
Almost unconsciously, Aidan’s hand dropped to the small of her back to allow her to pass in front of him. He caught a breath of her scent, evocative, making his heart ache.
Ali was entirely too conscious of that hand at her back.
“Us?” he said, keeping his voice even with an effort.
He wasn’t entirely surprised to see Jacques there but he was surprised to see Adam. Whatever else, Ali had found a way to ease the situation there.
Both men stood as they approached.
Aidan gave a nod to Jacques and Adam.
It was an interesting brunch even so as a few others joined them. Aidan was almost sorry he had a meeting afterward he couldn’t cancel. There was still the evening to come yet, though. There was dinner and a ball on the schedule, giving the couples in the group a chance at a romantic evening, and himself another chance perhaps to continue his campaign for Ali.
Ali was careful not to watch him leave, not after the previous night. Not with Adam sitting next to her and Jacques’ perceptive eyes on her, even as she tried not to feel too disappointed.
“Where did my newspaper go?” she asked, suddenly noticing its absence.
The ballroom was magnificent. Chandeliers glimmered and sparkled where they hung from the coffered ceiling, casting small glimmers of light over the dark-paneled walls. Deep green drapes framed the windows, drawn back with gold tasseled cords to pool on the glossy hardwood floor. Flickering candles in glass enclosed sconces added to the ambiance.
It was marvelously romantic. With the band playing a mix of classical and old romantic standards, it was enchanting.
This was one of two fancy dress occasions, the last being a black tie affair to close the Symposium on Friday night. That would be quite an event. The Prime Minister would be in attendance and most of the major technology dignitaries were said to be intending to make an appearance. There would be speeches, pomp and circumstance. Aidan, Ali noted, was scheduled to be one of those who would be speak.
That was Friday. Tonight was tonight and magical enough for her, to go by the surroundings.
Aidan simply stared as she walked into the ballroom.
She was simply breathtaking in a lace dress the color of good champagne. It was nearly the same color as her brilliant hair, caught back simply with a pair of combs to allow the bouncing curls to stream down her back. The dress was simple and elegant, following the curves of her until is spilled down to the floor.
&
nbsp; It was Jacques, however, who reached her first and swung her into a waltz without a pause. Ali couldn’t refuse him, not politely.
The look in his eyes, however, was gratifying.
“You dance beautifully,” he said, clearly surprised.
Few American women did he’d found but then he was discovering that Alex Dearborn was an unusual American woman. Her form was perfect, her head inclined gracefully with the dance, her arms just so, keeping the frame.
Smiling, Ali bowed her head a little, wondering what he would say if he knew how much she’d paid for the lessons.
“May I also say that you look lovely, Alex,” he said, intensely aware of her body moving gracefully against his.
He wasn’t the only one who noticed. Off to one side Jacques was aware Aidan watched, sipping from the glass of champagne in his hand.
Jealousy wasn’t an emotion Aidan was used to feeling. He laughed to himself, thinking back to the days when he’d been confident he could have any woman in the room. Any woman but the one in another man’s arms and that because of his own foolishness. The one whose heart he’d broken. Carelessly and thoughtlessly.
The music changed to something faster than suited Jacques’s taste and plans for seduction Reluctantly he escorted Ali off the dance floor.
Ali turned gracefully, spun away from the proprietary hand around her waist to snag a glass of champagne from one of the passing waiters.
It was neatly done, even Jacques had to admire it, then someone called her name, drew her into a conversation and the moment was lost.
Adam was there, though, beckoning to her to join his conversation. With a smile, she did.
Drawn by the music back toward the dancers, Ali was relieved to see Jacques had another dance partner but she’d lost sight of Aidan.
Then a familiar hand clasped her waist, the other took her hand and swept her out onto the dance floor.
She looked up into Aidan’s blue eyes, the dark hair falling over his forehead. Her breath caught. He looked so handsome in the dark suit.
With Aidan she didn’t have to think about perfect form. Without thought, she reached up to brush a lock of his hair back from his forehead.
The simple affection of the gesture sent a surge of warmth through Aidan, while the wistful look in her golden eyes made his heart ache. Those small touches, those sweet caresses, had been what had made him fall in love with her, among many others.
“So beautiful,” he said, looking into those eyes, at the hair streaming down her back.
She moved wonderfully in his arms.
Her eyes lifted to meet his, warm, confused, wondering…
“You take my breath away,” he said.
It was nothing more than the truth.
“Aidan,” she breathed but didn’t know what to say to him. She didn’t know what to think, to feel.
“I was a fool,” Aidan said. “Any man would be who didn’t know the value of you. I didn’t know what I’d lost until I let it go. I had stopped believing in magic...until then I met you.”
It was the most romantic thing any man had ever said to her. A thousand emotions poured through her, she wanted so much to believe what she saw in his eyes…
She looked up at him, fear and pain in her eyes, and longing.
“Be sure, Aidan,” she said. “I believed in you, I trusted you. If I do this again, if I take the chance again…”
Her heart ached. She wanted…
“I need to believe in you again,” she said.
Those eyes looked up at him. “I still love you…”
Then she was gone, slipping away to disappear among the dancers.
Chapter Twenty One
It had been too much, just too much, to have Aidan there, Adam’s unspoken demands and Jacques all too obvious ones. She’d come back to her hotel room, torn between the longing to turn around and go back, the need, the loneliness, and the fear of being rejected yet again. His eyes haunted her, and the feel of him, his hands swinging her so surely into the circle of his arms.
Unable to face the big empty bed, she’d curled up in the loveseat as she had every night since she’d arrived ― every night since Aidan had left.
It seemed as if she’d only just fallen to sleep when something woke her.
The hotel room was dark, quiet. Even so, a sound, a movement of air, something had brought her out of sleep and every sense was alert and aware. At first, she wasn’t certain what it was she’d heard, a faint whisper of sound. Then she realized she wasn’t alone, she was hearing the soft movements of someone else in the room with her.
Alarmed, Ali huddled into the shadows of the high-armed loveseat
She’d locked the door…she knew she had. Her heart thudded wildly as terror raced through her.
Where was he?
Wherever he was, he hadn’t yet seen her huddled in the darker shadows of the loveseat. But it wouldn’t be long before he did.
She went as still as she could, fear burning through her, making her want to weep, peering through the darkness for movement, something…
By the bed. A figure darker than the night, a shadow that blocked the thin light from the windows that faced the street. Terror spurted through her. Was he far enough? Far enough away for her to run, to reach the doorway?
He reached for the spare pillow and then hesitated as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, realizing she wasn’t there…
Ali bolted across the dark room for the door.
The figure gave chase, tackled her just before she reached it. Something hard, sharp and cold scraped down her shoulder. It burned.
He grunted as they fell.
Rolling onto her back, Ali kicked desperately, hard, two good solid kicks, furiously. Again. Fear sang through her. The man grunted and released her. Ali leaped for the door, fumbled at the latch as he snatched at her ankles. She hauled the door open and ran.
She reached the central hall and the house phone, grabbed it, dialing even as she spun around. No one was there that she could see.
Her shoulder stung.
It hadn’t been her imagination…it hadn’t!
Half sobbing, she backed into the corner…slid down the wall as she drew the house phone with her into her lap. Something burned. Her shoulder. She reached. Drawing her hand back, she found blood on her fingertips. Her hand shook and she fought back tears.
A voice spoke in her ear. “Front desk. Can I help you?”
“Someone was in my room.”
There was a brief silence.
“Stay where you are, ma’am. Calling the Garda now.”
Ali nodded, fighting back sobs of fear. She pressed her fingers to her lips.
It was the wail of the Gardai’s sirens, so distinctive, that cut through the music in the ballroom jarringly. A few people looked around.
Curiously, Aidan looked toward the hall, seeing uniformed and armed Gardai run down the hall.
Frowning, he followed, keeping his distance, curious, a faint sense of unease teasing at him as some secured the elevators while others raced up the stairs.
Curiously, faintly alarmed as he remembered Ali’s fall and the damaged breaks, Aidan followed.
One of them stopped him at the top of the stairs as he stepped out onto the fifth floor behind them.
The Gardai talked softly to someone standing in a corner of the landing and then they parted enough so Aidan could see past them to Ali, her golden hair tumbled around her shoulders. She was dressed only in a thin white nightgown with tiny straps. She trembled, struggled for control. Her eyes were shadowed and huge in her pale face.
Surrounded by the dark clad Gardai she looked small and fragile…
When the elevator doors opened, Ali almost cried out but she stood slowly as the first of the policemen, the Gardai, stepped out of the elevator in their black armor and gear as more came up from the stairs. Struggling for control she held out her hands, the one still wet with her blood, to them, to show she was harmless.
“Where?�
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“Down the hall,” she had said, fighting back tears. “I think he’s gone…Room 533.”
The Gardai flattened against the walls, two of them turning to shield her as the rest rushed down the hall.
There was a crash as they burst into what had been her room.
Silence.
The Gardai came out, signaled the all clear.
“All right, stand down,” one of them said.
A voice asked, “Can you tell us what happened, miss?”
Ali looked at him, beating back the shock and fear by force of will, nearly blinded by tears. Furiously, she blinked them back, dashed them away impatiently.
“Someone was in my room, I woke up and someone was there,” she said, holding out her bloody fingers.
Slowly, patiently, seeing how frightened she was but still astonished at how composed she was, Declan Monaghan said, “Slowly, miss. What’s your name, again?”
She looked at him.
Dear God in heaven, Declan thought, look at those eyes. He’d never seen the like of them.
With an effort, Ali tried to focus.
“Alexandra Dearborn,” she said, more quietly. It was hardly the first time she’d faced the police, not growing up as she had. Still her fingers went to her mouth, shaking, as she fought back tears. “From Millersburg, Pennsylvania, US. I woke up to find someone was in my room, leaning over the bed.”
“You weren’t in it?”
Slowly she shook her head, biting back the words she couldn’t say, “No, I’d fallen asleep in the love seat…”
It was there in her mobile face, in the sudden welling of tears and Aidan’s heart wrenched at her expression. So, she, too, had lain awake at night, lonely, alone…
“What’s your name again?” Ali asked, sucking in a breath as the Garda officer looked at her.
So pretty, Declan Monaghan thought.
Hanging on by her fingernails, so frightened but yet she was hanging on. He admired her courage.
“I’m Inspector Declan Monaghan…”
Ali looked at him. “So, it’s Inspector…Monaghan, is it?”
Irish Fling Page 14