He lifted his bottle to her.
"Me and thee and Eden."
"Do you try to pick up every woman over eighteen and under fifty?"
"No. Actually, I don't." He took a long swallow from his bottle, watching her. "Alexi...you have to know that you're beautiful. A woman who does Helen of Troy commercials has to be aware that she--"
He broke off abruptly. Alexi's eyes widened, wondering what he had been about to say that would have offended her.
"That she's what?" she demanded. "Beautiful," he said with a shrug. "That's not what you were going to say." "All right." He sounded angry, she thought. "Sexy Sensual, sexual. Is that what you want to hear?" "No! No--no, it's not!" "Well, then, why the hell push the point?"
"Could you go home, please?" She realized that she was sitting very straight, very primly, and that, in the bathing suit, she wasn't dressed for dignity. Nor did the beer bottle she was clutching do much for a feeling of aloofness, either.
"Yeah," he said thickly, rising. "Yeah, maybe I should do just that. 'Cause you know what, lady? You scare the hell out of me, too."
"What?" she demanded, startled. No one could scare him; it had to be a line. But she felt bad--no, she felt guilty as hell. He had done everything for her. And somehow he seemed to understand her. She didn't want anyone in the family to know that she was anything but entirely competent; Rex didn't think that she wasn't competent, just because the snakes had nearly paralyzed her. He'd had the cleaners in; he hadn't really changed anything. He'd known instinctively just how far to go. He'd given her his own home; he'd spent time here--and he was a busy man. He'd bought her the beautiful kittens, just so that she would feel that she had some protection against things that slithered and crawled.
Rex reached across the table and gently cupped her cheek in his hand, stroking her flesh lightly with his thumb. "I said you're kind of scary yourself, my sweet. You own and you possess and you steal into a soul...without a touch."
Into a soul... She couldn't look away from his eyes. Dark and fascinating. All of him. She remembered spilling out everything on their first meeting, remembered thinking of him on the beach, aware that he was there, strong and masculine, and wishing that she could curl against him and laugh, because he seemed to understand so easily the things she needed.
She lowered her head; his hand fell away. She wondered if it wasn't time for a little more honesty, and she was amazed that she could bluntly say what she intended. "You'd find me atrociously disappointing," she said. Her voice was low, even weary. But she looked up and met his eyes again and felt the warmth suffuse her. “Looks can be deceiving. What you see isn't the real me."
"I see fire and warmth and beauty."
"It--it isn't there."
"It needs only to be awakened."
"And you're the one to do it, I take it."
"I think I already have."
"I think you have tremendous nerve."
He laughed suddenly. "Probably. But then, like I said, you do things to the psyche and the body...." His voice trailed away, and he shrugged. He had a bunch of papers on the counter, and he turned away, shuffling them together.
"Don't forget to feed the kittens."
"You're leaving?"
"You told me to."
"Well, I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. All right, well, I meant it when I said it, but only because--"
"Because I was hitting on you?" He was amused, she thought. She cast him an acid gaze, and he laughed again. "Well, I can't promise to quit, especially when you're half-naked."
"You're more naked than I am."
He smiled. “I suppose I should be glad that you noticed. Aha! That's it."
"What's it?"
He thumped an elbow onto the table, then leaned forward. "You're more afraid of yourself than you are of me."
"Don't be absurd."
"You are. You don't want me asking, because you're willing to give."
Alexi groaned, wishing she weren't trembling inside. "You win; I give up. Go home."
"For now," he promised, straightening and going for his papers once again. "But you know how it is. A man, a woman, an island--"
"This isn't an island."
"Close enough. But for now, goodbye, my love."
Alexi stood and followed him out to the hallway. He whistled, and Samson came bounding out from the parlor. The kittens followed after him. Poor Samson had a tortured look about him. It seemed that the kittens hadn't recognized the fact that the shepherd was a hundred times their size; they had adopted him as a surrogate parent.
"Henpecked by a couple of kittens, huh, boy?" Rex said, laughing.
"His master would never be henpecked, I take it?" Alexi queried, crossing her arms over her chest.
He looked at her across their menagerie. He took a long moment to answer, and when he did, his tone was careful, measured.
“No. His master would never be henpecked. Nor would he peck in return. Any relationship only works with give-and-take. ''
Alexi lowered her head suddenly, feeling a little dizzy. There were things she liked about him so much. He'd been amazed that she had been somewhat insane over a nest of little snakes, but he hadn't played upon that fear. She realized suddenly that he was blunt because he was honest, but that he would never gain his own strength from the weakness of another.
He opened the door and started to leave. Alexi nearly tripped over the kittens to reach him, bracing herself against it as she called him back.
"Rex!"
"Yeah?" Shading his eyes from the sun, he turned back to her.
"Thank you. For the kittens, for the house...thank you very much."
"How much?"
She merely smiled at the innuendo. "Dinner? I really can cook."
"I believe you. But not tonight. Let's go out."
"Tonight?"
"Tonight." His expression turned strangely serious. "I want to ask you a few questions."
"About what?"
"We'll eat at about eight; I'll come by here by six-thirty."
"Why so early?"
"I have all your clothing, remember?"
"Oh!"
He was right; her suitcase was now at his house, and she was here.
"See you then." He turned and walked away then. Samson barked, as if saying goodbye, too.
Alexi didn't leave the doorway. She watched them walk away, the man and his massive dog. She looked at Rex's broad, bronzed shoulders and at the ripple of muscle as he moved, and she shivered. He was right; she was very afraid of herself.
At precisely six-thirty, Alexi heard him knocking at the door. She answered it in one of Gene's scruffy old velvet smoking jackets, but apart from that she was ready. She had showered for nearly an hour, washed and blow-dried her hair and carefully applied her Helen of Troy makeup. She was smiling and radiant--and the warm caress of his gaze as it swept over her was a charming appreciation of her labors. He also issued a tremendous wolf whistle.
Alexi tried to whistle in return--she wasn't very good, but he did look wonderful all dressed up. His suit was a conventional pinstripe, his shirt was tailored, his tie was a charcoal gray. Color meant nothing--it was the fit upon him that was so alluring. That and the crisp scents of his clothing and aftershave.
"You're gorgeous," she said. "So are you."
"Thanks--but I really do have to change. Where are we going?" He had a bouquet of flowers for her in one hand and her suitcase in another. She smiled and thanked him, and he followed her into the kitchen so that she could put them in water.
"Can I help?" he offered. "I've got a vase--" "I meant with the changing."
"You would," Alexi retorted, but she was still smiling. It seemed fun. She felt curiously secure with him, even though she didn't doubt his intent for a moment.