"Rex--" She paused as she discovered that the honey-garlic beef was really delicious. "This is wonderful." "Thank you."
"Rex, I don't think it's anything to worry about. Maybe it was another fan--"
“Yeah. And that was a fan running downstairs at Gene's the minute the lights went," he said.
Alexi set her fork down. Rex was eating with the chopsticks; she had decided not to make a fool out of herself with the effort. And now, on top of everything else, she was trembling.
"I thought you didn't believe me," she murmured.
"I never said that."
"You implied--"
"I implied nothing. You might have been reading me wrong."
She shook her head. "No. You didn't believe me. But I think you do now. Why? What changed your mind?"
"Nothing. Really. All right--I am worried about you. Nothing has happened out on the peninsula in all the time that I've been there, and you show up and it's a three-ring circus. Footsteps on the road, footsteps in the house, snakes, etcetera. And it's not as if the girl next door or Mary Pop-pins moved in. You're Alexi Jordan."
"Not Mary Poppins," Alexi agreed sardonically.
"I didn't say you were Jezebel--just not Mary Poppins. Alexi, do you have any enemies?"
She lowered her head over her chicken and shook her head. Did she? No, not real enemies. She had never stepped over anyone to get anywhere. The only enemy she could possibly have was--
"Alexi, what about your ex? Was he mad enough at you to come here and try to scare you? Make you a little crazy?"
John? She shook her head again. She trembled. John could be violent--but she couldn't see him being stealthy. When he had decided to accost her, he hadn't played any games. He had come straight to the apartment--and straight to the point.
"I--I don't think so."
Rex sighed softly. "Well, maybe we are imagining things, huh?"
She nodded woodenly.
"You're not eating."
"Oh. It's wonderful. It really is, Rex. I'm sorry."
Alexi was startled when he touched her very gently. With his knuckle he raised her chin. For the longest time his dark eyes gazed into hers; for the longest time he seemed to question what he saw there and to muse tenderly upon her.
Then he moved, lowering his face toward hers. His lips touched hers. She knew her mouth was sweet with the taste of plum wine and honey. His lips hovered just above hers, tasting them.
She felt his hand caressing her cheek. Then she felt the movement of his tongue within her mouth, hot and supple and sensual. She trembled, neither protesting the movement nor joining it, but feeling the rise of excitement inside of her, a longing, a sexual tension that knotted in the pit of her belly and seemed to flare throughout her.
His hand still at her nape, he moved back. His dark eyes surveyed hers again. She didn't know what he sought or what he saw.
Or what he felt. Perhaps he was thinking that it was all a loss. That she didn't even know how to return a kiss decently.
Her mouth went dry. She drew her eyes from his to look down at her hands. A tiny glass of plum wine sat before her; aware that he was watching her, she drank it quickly, not sure of what to say or do.
"Maybe you should leave the peninsula," he said. She shook her head.
"Footsteps in the dark. Maybe something frightening is happening."
"I--I don't want to leave."
"Mmm. But you won't protest if I sleep on your sofa again, huh?"
Alexi stiffened. "You're being obnoxious again. I won't ever let you sleep on my sofa again. I promise."
"Damned right. If I sleep there again, Alexi, it won't be on the sofa."
She raised her head, staring at him, a brow arched challengingly. She was still trembling, but she hoped that he didn't know it. Why not? She was certainly of legal age, and she wanted him. She ached for him. His lightest touch had been magic.
Why not? Because she trembled too easily, because she was very afraid that she couldn't go through with it, that she would make an absolute fool of herself. She hadn't even been able to return his kiss.
She smiled, sweetly, seductively. Fever was alive in her veins, racing rampantly through her blood. "You're right, Mr. Morrow. If you ever sleep in my house again, it will be in my bed."
Startled, he drew back, a slow, entirely wicked smile curling the corner of his mouth.
"Do you mean that, Ms. Jordan?"
"I do."
"Then let's go."
He was up abruptly, a strong, bronzed hand reaching out to help her rise. Panic surged inside her; she stared at his hand for several seconds, completely at a loss.
Then she placed her own hand within it. His fingers curled around hers and she was standing beside him. For the longest time they looked at each other, standing together in that rice paper-screened section of the Chinese restaurant. She could hear his heart, and she could see his eyes, and she could see the hunger there, and the longing.
He wanted her. Badly.
And she wanted him.
He didn't say anything else. He turned, his fingers still wound around hers, leading her toward the hall. At the entryway he offered the hostess his credit card. Alexi escaped him to study a display of swords encased in a glass cabinet. She pressed her palm against her breast and felt her own heart surging. She must have been mad. He had teased her, but he'd never pressed her. And she had just all but whistled out an invitation to make love....
He caught her hand again. He smiled when she darted a quick, scared look his way. He wound his fingers around hers again as he led her out into the parking lot and to his car.
It was a beautiful night. Stars abounded in the heavens. Alexi sat stiffly in the Maserati, staring straight ahead. Rex talked casually as he gunned the motor. He pointed out a few of the constellations in the heavens. "Not a bit of fog tonight,'' he murmured.
"Not a trace of it," Alexi agreed. Oh, he was so casual! So comfortable. But then, he was good at this, Alexi reminded herself, while she was only playing at it. She didn't really know the first thing about having a casual affair. She was deathly afraid that when he touched her she was going to scream.
No. She would not. It was all in her mind. She liked him so much, and she ached for him, feeling that sense of sexual arousal when he merely whispered her name. Like a coil inside of her, winding, sweet and heightened, yearning, when he was near. If she could not lie down beside him, she would never know what it was to make love again. "Where?"
"Pardon?" She had to glance his way. And with a whole new sense of panic she realized that they were just about on the road leading out to the peninsula. "Your place or mine?" "Er...er..."
"Mine," he decided softly. "Fine. Except--"
"Except what?"
"Isn't Emily there?"
Against the shadow and glow of the lights, she saw him shake his head ruefully. "Emily has gone home. She usually only works for me two days a week. She stayed longer this week because of you, but now she's gone home. The whole place is ours."
"Oh."
They were on the road out to their houses. Alexi closed her eyes and wondered what it had been like more than a century before. When Pierre had taken his Eugenia here, a bride, alone. Surely it had been completely barren then. It must have seemed as if the world were theirs, as if they owned paradise. The pines would have been the same, and the palms. The moon, rising clear and beautiful against the sky, must have been the same, too. And the stars... diamonds glittering against a panoply of black velvet.
The Maserati stopped. They were in front of the Brandywine house. Rex was smiling at her gently and was twisted slightly toward her. His fingers played idly in her hair.