Journey in Time (Knights in Time) (7 page)

Alex's breath tickled her cheek as his lips hovered inches from hers. His nearness lit a firestorm from her center outward to the tips of her fingers, down to her toes. A most unprofessional flame. The rational, but growing ever smaller part of her brain reminded--he's your client. He's your client. He's your client
.
Her double-crossing body turned a deaf ear.

"After interviewing your collection of women, I'm sure you could. I imagine you know how to bring a sweat to an Eskimo in January."

She needed to move away from his reach and the sexual heat that radiated off him. "I'll just run down and make a pot of coffee. I only have a couple more exercises. The coffee will be ready when I'm done."

"I'll make the coffee." Alex gave her thigh a light squeeze and his large hand slid up an inch with the offer. Another inch and she might fling herself at the man and have her way with him. "I can find my way around your kitchen while you finish. I've something to discuss with you."

Shakira breathed a sigh of relief as he rose and left the room. Every time she saw him, her resolve disintegrated a little more. She pulled the Lat bar down behind her neck. With each repetition, she tried to recount all the reasons why it was poor policy to date a client.

"Are you still on that same machine?" Alex came in with two cups of coffee.

She’d lost track of the time and repetitions after one. "Ah...no...I'm done now." She blotted the perspiration from her face, draped the towel around her neck, and took the coffee.

Alex relaxed on the floor with one knee up and leaned back against the wall. Shakira joined him. "What did you want to discuss?" She assumed it regarded the case.

"I'm going to ask you something, but..." he raised a hand to cut off any premature objections, "let me finish before you answer."

Shakira peered at him over the rim of the cup. Her left brain went into red alert mode, whatever it is, say no. However, her right brain whispered, hear the man out.

Tentative, she said, "All right, go on."

"I want you to spend the weekend with me." Alex winced at her sudden intake of breath. "Remember, you agreed to let me finish."

She stifled a protest and nodded.

"I have a small, rather humble cottage close to my horse farm in Gloucestershire. Instead of driving back and forth, why not stay there? It will be fun. We can fiddle around with some musical arrangements, go riding tomorrow too.”

“Sounds like a date.”

“No, it’s two people sharing a love of music and the country.
 
If you agree, I do have one caveat. There’ll be no talk of the case."

Shakira forced herself to keep her topsy-turvy emotions from showing. She maintained a bland expression while she weighed the options. One was the proper thing to do. The other was what she wanted to do. She was acquainted with a number of criminal attorneys who made a fortune defending people who did what they wanted to do. That should have been answer enough. Still, she waffled. Maybe Kristen was right. Some risks are worth taking.
   

"Usually, I have no trouble reading a woman's mood or mind,” Alex said, a quizzical air to his look. “You're not making it easy. However, I shall press on. I promise to be a complete gentleman, everything strictly platonic. I won’t lie. I’d be ecstatic if you chose to make it more, but I’m happy with the pleasure of your company alone. This is between the two of us. No one else need know. Even my groundskeeper lives a good five-minute walk down the road."

"I don't know, Alex." Indecision plagued her. "Can't we do this when the case is over?"

"We could, but why should we? I only ask for us to spend a simple weekend together." She arched a skeptical brow. "There aren't many women a man can be himself with, have fun with, for the sake of having fun, without mind games." He ran his index finger down the length of her nose. "You're a rarity.” His finger dipped into the well above her upper lip then traced the outline of her mouth. "Say yes."

"Some people are sent guardian angels to help them be good. You, on the other hand, are a charming demon sent to bedevil and tempt me. I wonder why that is?" She tilted her head back and blew out a puff of air and groaned.

"I've been called worse." He bent so his mouth touched the shell of her ear. "So, is that a yes or no?"

"It's a yes."

Chapter Nine

     
Eager to show Shakira his land, Alex called ahead to the stable. He wanted both horses tacked and ready when they arrived.

Thor, his seventeen-hand grey Percheron stood groomed and saddled. Shakira scowled as the groom led out the dark bay thoroughbred Alex ordered for her.

"Why isn’t my mount a Percheron too? I thought you bred them."

"I do. But I wasn’t sure of your skill level. I thought you might be more comfortable on this horse,” he said and gave her a leg up.

"I’m an accomplished rider. You needn’t worry."

"Good.” He patted her booted calf. “Tomorrow, I’ll saddle one of the Percheron geldings for you."
 

They rode west. At the top of the steep hill, Shakira halted her horse. "This shire is known for the stunning landscape. You said the countryside around your cottage was exceptionally pretty for the area. I’m not sure your description does it justice," she said as Alex sidled up. They sat quiet, taking in the panoramic view. "This is incredible. Isn’t that where the Vales of Berkeley and Gloucester come together?" She pointed to the lush valley below, a checkerboard of variegated greens.

"Yes and the slash of silver is the Severn River."

"The shimmer of a Celtic warrior’s torque," Shakira said. “It steals your breath away.”

"Every time I see it."

"Wouldn’t you love to have this view to yourself?"

"I do. This is my land. I own a thousand acres. At harvest time, you can stand on my western boundary and smell the apple orchards." She didn’t say anything other than "wow," but she said it several times, which pleased him. "Shall we ride on?" He turned his stallion and headed down another trail.

"Why do you want so much acreage? You’re not a farmer."

"The land is my buffer against the tourists who swarm this part of the shire. My substantial property keeps me isolated from their usual route. Thank God." The cottage was his place of solace, ‘
far from the madding crowd.’
 

"With that much land, I imagine so." Shakira trotted up next to him, "Off the subject, the long grassy field abutting your stables, is it for polo?"

"Yes and no. Some of the riders who board with me and play practice there on occasion. Why, do you like polo?"

"Oh, yes." She stretched the words, sounding a bit breathless, as if she were saying "oh, yes" to something else entirely.

Alex swallowed hard.

"Such an exciting sport to watch, the speed, the heavy sound of galloping horses, manes and tails flying. The riders hanging off the sides of their mounts, mallets swinging as they drive the ball. I especially like those mini melees when the players crash into each other. Very cool. They remind me of jousting knights, if that makes any sense."

"I can see where you could relate the two." Encouraged, by this romantic side of her, he pursued the subject. "I can arrange a demonstration of a joust when we get back, if you'd like."

"I’d love that." Her smile brightened. "Funny, but I had a feeling you knew how to joust." She looked sideways, a coy tilt to her chin, and in a low, sultry voice said, "You know what I'd really love?"

Alex knew exactly or thought he did. "To see it done with knights in armor and you in a medieval dress. And of course, you'd want to give one of them a favor of yours to carry," he added, confident in his answer.

Shakira wrinkled her nose. "Yes, but that wasn’t what I had in mind. What I'd really like is to try it a couple of times myself." She batted her lashes and said, "I bet you could show me."

"Cunning woman, you led me right into that." Tempted to lean over and kiss her, a hairsbreadth from doing so, he stopped himself. Don’t rush.
 

They rode for awhile discussing the nuances of the joust and other tournament events then moved on to more personal talk. She asked how often he came to the cottage.

"Whenever my schedule allows," he told her. "This place is my reprieve from the chaos of the entertainment industry. Here, I’m simply Alex, part-time neighbor and horse breeder, rotten-to-mediocre darts player, depending on what local pub I’m in, and who, today, happens to be out for a ride with his lady."
 

She nodded and seemed to understand his desire for peace. "I’ve noticed an odd phenomenon with your mistresses," she commented in an abrupt change of topic.

He groaned. "I see we're back to talking about the lawsuit."

Shakira’s cheeks flushed hot pink at his censure. She stammered an apology. "I’m sorry. I-I forgot. Please, forget I mentioned anything."

"Don’t worry, ask your question."

Her eyes stayed fixed on the path ahead as she shook her head, "No. It’s not important."

"Ask your question."
 

She let out a long sigh, and reined in her horse. "Fine, fine, fine, I'll ask and then we'll talk about something else. Agreed?" She waited, refusing to speak until he agreed to her terms.
 

"All of your mistresses seem to have, how shall I put this?" She tapped a forefinger to her lips, "An expiration date."

Confused, he shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"They either last three months or six months, but six months appears to be the maximum 'sell-by' date. Why is that?"

Both nudged their horses into a walk.

"Those seem to be the magic timeframes for women. Most women," he corrected himself. "Some at three months get possessive. Others at six months begin to get marriage minded. They equate longevity with monogamy or a commitment I’ve no intention to make. Please understand, mistresses they may be, exclusive relationships they're not. I don’t make false promises. This is their assumption."

It danced across his mind to tell her she'd be the exception. With her, the relationship would be exclusive for a long time. He started to say as much and changed his mind seeing her expression and how she gaped at him. "Why are you giving me that look?"

"Because I'm astonished by how naïve you are. Do you honestly believe a woman isn't going to see your affair as serious after awhile?" Brows high, one hand rested on her thigh, a loose hold on the reins with her other.

The saddle creaked under him as his weight shifted. Gossips and ex-girlfriends often labeled him an aloof womanizer, never naive.
  

"Alex, all women," Shakira paused, "even the worldly women you know, were little girls once. All little girls are raised on fairy tales where the handsome prince comes along or the knight in shining armor saves the damsel. We're brought up to believe the fairy tale ending will happen to us too. Of course, your mistresses see you as their knight. You're handsome, witty, smart, and successful." She waved a dismissive hand. "You get my drift. They see the happy ending in you and want to grab it."

"You're saying it's
my
fault these women delude themselves."

"No, I’m not saying that at all. It's nobody's fault. There’s no blame to be laid. I'm just telling you what is. You say ‘magic time’ like it's premeditated on the part of a woman. I'm saying it's not premeditated, but ingrained."