Love Songs (11 page)

Finally she was relieved. Things had happened much too quickly. To have been carried away by an overwhelming physical craving would have been wrong. She was a woman of calm and careful deliberation, not one to be bowled over by a singularly attractive man. And he was attractive. No,
magnificent.
Her eye skimmed over his physique in appreciation; then she was jarred out of her reverie by his low bark.

“If you continue to look at me that way I won’t be responsible for anything I do. So help me,” he looked over his shoulder, “I’ll make love to you in the bathroom with my back against the door to keep Sylvia out!”

Alanna burst into spontaneous laughter. “That’s an amazing picture,” she finally gasped, crossing her arms over her chest in a token gesture of propriety. “I don’t think Sylvia would appreciate your efforts.”

“My efforts, Alanna, are going to be played through in another minute if you don’t do something to stem the tide.” Standing, he hauled her up beside him, turned her toward the bathroom and gave her a firm but gentle shove. “Take a shower or something.
I
intend to!”

Smiling now from another emotion entirely, she took his advice, seeking haven in the bathroom, stepping out of her slip and panty hose and finally discarding the wisps of silk that were her panties atop the pile. Her thoughts were of Alex as she bent to turn on the water, then stretched to adjust the shower spray. He was, in spite of his arrogance and his one-tracked determination to marry her, an endearing sort. And the effect of his lovemaking on her—that went unchallenged. Standing nude before the mirror, she reached back to wind her hair atop her head when her attention was caught by a movement in the mirror.

“Alex!” She whirled around, then stood stock-still, caught anew in the web of enchantment he cast so well.

His eyes didn’t miss an inch of her, yet she stood proud and unwavering before him. When he approached she let her hands fall to his shoulders. His shirt was on but still open. It had taken only his gaze to ignite the sparks of passion, barely banked at best, within her. His nearness now was more than she could bear. If he intended to carry out the threat he’d uttered moments before she wouldn’t stop him. Her own need was far too great.

“I love you,” he moaned against her lips, kissing her deeply, plunging his tongue into her mouth, tasting every recess before wrenching his lips away. Her fingers were white as they clutched his shoulders, her shudders visible when he bent his head to kiss her neck and tongue her breasts. When he moved lower she could only let her head fall back and sigh her delight. That Alex should take such pleasure in her body was heady enough in itself; that his pleasure should set off such shock waves of ecstasy within her was even headier.

At what point her knees buckled she didn’t know. Suddenly she found herself kneeling with him. His hands framed her face; his lips caressed her features. It was only the taste of the moisture on his upper lip that brought a returning glimpse of reality.

“The shower!” she cried, jumping up to fumble with the controls until a deep voice from behind gave a firm order.

“Get in, love. I’ll see you later.”

She turned in time to see him leave the bathroom and its penetrating cloud of mist.

Hot, hot water punished her body in a steady stream as Alanna tried to understand what had happened. There was Alex—Alex who declared his intent to marry her, Alex who claimed he loved her, Alex who wanted her very much. And there was Alanna—a passionate Alanna she barely recognized. The Alanna she thought she’d known had no need for a man; this one craved Alex desperately. The Alanna she thought she’d known was in full and absolute control of herself; this one had thrown caution to the winds and lost herself in desire. The Alanna she thought she’d known was a professional, with her life neatly mapped out; this one wondered what the future held.

Without doubt she was still opposed to marriage. She had spent the past ten-plus years of her life building defenses against it. Hadn’t her mother told her, “Don’t succumb, Alanna. You have too much to give. Develop yourself to your full potential. Don’t end up
this
way.…”

She grasped the shower control and twisted it until the water ran cold and sharp. The frigid battering was just punishment for thoughts of yielding to the autocracy of Alex Knight. If she married him
she
would be a Knight. Her mind conjured up the image of a docile society bride, sweetly accompanying her husband to dinner parties and openings and yachting meets and Labor Day barbecues. What would happen to Alanna Evans? Though poised and polished, she was not of that ilk. She had her own life … and liked it that way.

With a muffled groan she turned off the shower. As she dabbed the moisture from her skin her thoughts turned to the phenomenal physical attraction she felt for Alex. It was mutual—and that made it all the more exciting, all the more dangerous. Where would it end?

“Don’t be stupid, Alanna,” she chided herself aloud. “You know perfectly well where it will end if you don’t watch yourself.” Her eye moved to the bathroom door. For a moment of reckless imagining she wondered what it would have been like had Alex made love to her here. She pictured his limbs, long and tanned, his hips, narrow and strong. When a tingling erupted in her middle she fought the image, but it persisted. In all the years during which she’d built her career she’d never been attracted to a man this way—and there had been plenty,
plenty
, of men to choose from had she wished. Why Alex? Why now? Why here?

Cautiously, she opened the door, saw that her room was empty and held a towel against herself as she retrieved her nightgown from her bag and slid it over her head. That done she brushed her hair with a fierceness born of frustration, then settled down to tackle the questionnaires and sleep log she had neglected the night before. By eleven-thirty she was asleep.

By two-fifteen, however, she was awake. The room was dark and quiet. She lay on her side, one hand tucked under her pillow, the other comfortably before her on the bed. The pale sliver of light which crept beneath her door was the only source of illumination. It took several moments for her to awaken enough to move, then stretch, then gradually make out shapes in the darkness. She sat up with a gasp.

“It’s all right, love.” Alex rose in one fluid motion and crossed to her bed from the chair in which he had been sitting. “It’s only me.”

“How long have you been here?” she whispered, her perceptions still hazy.

“I’d guess for about half an hour.”

“If Sylvia knew…” All grogginess had vanished.

“Forget Sylvia.” He lifted the covers and slid in beside her before she could anticipate him. “I’m tired, but I can’t sleep. Just let me lie here for a while.”

It was the sound of true fatigue, the innocent need in his voice, that Alanna found most irresistible. With tentative obedience she let him pull her back against him, curving her body to the firm lines of his. His arm fell across her waist, anchoring her in place.

“Don’t you think we’re playing with fire, Alex?” she whispered.

“I know we are. But we have no choice. It’s either this—or freeze.”

His analogy was not quite apt, but she let it go without a fuss. In truth, lying here with him like this was a treat! Then, feeling guilty, she thought back on what Ellen had told her, seeking some justification for this late-night rendezvous.

“What were you thinking when you woke up, Alex?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped in odd annoyance, then calmed quickly. “I just woke up.”

“Right
after
you did, what kept you awake? Normal people simply fall back to sleep once they awaken. We don’t. Ellen suggested trying to pinpoint what type of thoughts keep us awake.”

“Don’t ask.”

“I
am
asking.” When he remained silent she tried a different approach, one that appealed to the sense of challenge they shared. “You said you loved me, Alex. If that’s true you should feel free to share your thoughts with me.
Do
you love me—or are those simply three empty words?”

She felt his body tense behind her, then relax once more. “You play a mean game, Alanna.”

“What were you thinking?” she persisted. “If I’m supposed to help you and in the process help myself, as Ellen suggested, we have to talk.”

He pondered her words, stirring for a moment to draw her even closer. “You really want to know?”

“Yes!”

He inhaled deeply of the scented jasmine in her hair, rubbing his cheek against its silken flow before speaking. “I had a dream. It’s the same one, over and over and over again, but I can never remember it after I wake. The feeling is always the same though, the feeling it leaves me with.”

“What kind of feeling?”

“Emptiness. A pervading sense of emptiness.”

Alanna suppressed a shudder. “Is that what kept you awake when you woke up tonight?”

“No.” He seemed to hug her more tightly. “This time, when I woke up I thought of you.”

“Alex…” she warned in a whisper, but he overrode her objection.

“You asked. You’ll listen. I thought of you. I pictured you standing in the bathroom the way you were earlier. Your skin, pale and satiny. Your breasts, ripe and full. Your hips, slim and … so very ready for me—”

“Alex! No wonder you can’t fall asleep! Why do you torment yourself over something you can’t finish?”

Somehow Alex sensed her own torment. His voice was suddenly clearer. “Why do you say that?” When she had no ready answer he prodded, “Come on, Alanna. I may be reading between the lines—”

“You’re not.” She sighed, realizing that she’d fallen into a trap of her own making, one from which only the truth would free her. “I said that because it was the only thing that allowed
me
to fall asleep earlier. Men aren’t the only ones with needs, you know.”

“I thought you told me that you could do very well without me.”

“I said,” she corrected softly, “that I had no need for marriage, to you or anyone else.”

“Haven’t you
ever
considered it?”

“No.”

“You’ve never fancied yourself in love since Harding?”

“I’ve learned the difference between ‘fancying’ and ‘being.’ No, I’ve never been … either … since Shep.”

“But you do date.”

“Once in a while.”

“Who?”

“Who what?”

He tugged her closer in mock punishment. “Who do you date?”

Alanna shifted to peer up into his stern face. “Don’t get yourself worked up, Alex. They’re all just … friends.”

“All?”

“There aren’t a whole lot. And I rarely date anyone more than once or twice.”

“A policy?”

“No, it just turns out that way.”

“Would I know any of your men?”

“They’re not ‘my men’ and I doubt it. They’re as far away from the business world as possible.”

Alex resettled himself in the darkness, sliding one long leg through hers. “No risk of compromise?”

“None.”

“Smart girl.”

“Only half of me is smart,” Alanna quipped, feeling surprisingly at ease. “The other is selfish. I have no desire to spend an evening out discussing business when I deal with it every hour of the day.”

“What
do
you like to do?”

“Oh, I enjoy a fine restaurant now and then, the theater, a movie.”

“Parties?”

“A quiet one once in a while. Usually not, though. I like my free time to be more private.”

“Ahah! A woman after my own mind! Just me and thee—”

“Alex…” Her tone held a gentle warning and his facetious singsong faded. In the next instant she almost wished she’d let him go on with his kidding, for he grew less playful, more pensive.

“A minute ago you spoke of needs, Alanna. Were you serious?”

She hesitated, suddenly fearful of the direction his thoughts were taking. But she couldn’t lie. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Why ‘unfortunately’?”

Her shrug was cushioned by his chest. “I always liked to believe that I had total control.…”

“According to what you’ve said you haven’t been with a man for a very long time.”

“I haven’t.”

“Then why would you suddenly have this problem with
needs?
Why the flare of raw physical desire?”

Alanna flinched at his bluntness. “You put that so delicately,” she muttered beneath her breath, but he ignored her subtle rebellion.

“Why, love?” he asked softly. “Why now?” He pondered her silence as she asked herself the same question. But Alex came up with the answer she had hitherto refused to acknowledge. “It’s
me
, isn’t it?” Again he paused and again there was silence. “Answer me, damn it, Alanna. Am I the first one to stir those feelings since—”

“Yes.” Though she whispered the word almost grudgingly, he heard it well. A tremor passed through him in response.

“Ahhhhh,” he breathed against her hair. “That’s the nicest thing I’ve heard in years. It almost makes insomnia worthwhile.”