"No one will ever know what I do know now," he said. "On my honor, Ms. Jordan."
"Thanks," she murmured uneasily. "If we're playing This Is Your Life, then you've got to give something."
He shrugged, lifting his hands. "I married the girl next door. I tried to write at night while I edited the obituaries during the day for a small paper. You know the story-- trial and error and rejections, and the girl next door left me. She didn't sue for divorce, though--she waited until some of the money came in, created one of the finest performances I have ever seen in court and walked away with most of it. She was only allowed to live off me for seven years. I bought an old house in Temple Terrace that used to belong to a famous stripper. I raised horses and planted orange groves--and then went nuts because my address got out and every weirdo in the country would come by to look me up. They stole all the oranges--and one jerk even shot a horse for a souvenir. That's when I moved out here. The sheriff up on the mainland is great, and it's like a wonderful little conspiracy--the townspeople keep me safe, and I contribute heavily to all the community committees. Gene-- when he was still here--was a neighbor I could abide. Then he decided he needed to be in a retirement cooperative. I tried to buy the house from him; he wasn't ready to let go." He stopped speaking, frowning as he looked at her.
"Have you eaten anything?"
"What? Uh, no. How--why did you ask that?"
He chuckled softly. “Because your eyes are rimmed with red, and it makes you look tired and hungry.
"Want me to call for a pizza?"
"You must be kidding. You can get a pizza all the way out here?"
"I have connections," he promised her gravely. "What do you want on it?" "Anything."
Alexi leaned her head against the sofa again. She heard him stand and walk around to the phone and order a large pizza with peppers, onions, mushrooms and pepperoni from a man named Joe, with whom he chatted casually, saying that he was over at the Brandywine house and, yes, Gene's great-granddaughter was in and, yes, she was fine--just hungry.
He hung up at last.
"So Joe will send a pizza?"
"Yep."
"That's wonderful."
"Hmm."
She sat up, curling her toes beneath her again and smoothing her skirt.
"Hold still," he commanded her suddenly. Startled, she looked at him, amazed at the tension in his features. He moved toward her, and she almost jumped, but he spoke again, quietly but with an authority that made her catch her breath.
"Hold still!"
A second later he swept something off her shoulder, dashed it to the ground and stomped upon it.
Alexi felt a bit ill. She jumped to her feet, shaking out her hair. "What was it?"
"A brown widow."
"A what?"
"A brown widow. A spider. It wouldn't have killed you, but they hurt like hell and can make you sick."
"Oh, God!"
"Hey--there are spiderwebs all over this place. You know that."
Alexi stood still and swallowed. She lifted her hands calmly. "I can--I can handle spiders." "You can."
"Certainly. Spiders and bugs and--even mice. And rats! I can handle it, really I can. Just so long as--"
"So long as what?"
She lowered her head and shook it, concealing her eyes from him. "Nothing." Snakes. She hated snakes. She simply wasn't about to tell him. "I'll be okay."
"Then why don't you sit again?"
"Because the pizza is coming. And because we really should eat in the kitchen. Don't you think?"
He grinned, his head slightly cocked, as he studied her. "Sure."
They moved back to the kitchen. The light there seemed very bright and cheerful, and Alexi had the wonderful feeling that no spider or other creature would dare show its face in this scrubbed and scoured spot.
"Why didn't you have the rest of the place kept up?" Alexi complained, sliding into a chair at the butcher-block table.
He sat across from her, arching a brow. "Excuse me. I kept just the kitchen up because Gene asked me to keep an eye on the place--and I'm not fond of sitting around with crawling creatures. If I'd known that the delicate face that launched ships would be appearing, I would have given more thought to the niceties."
"Very funny. I am tough, you know," she said indignantly.
"Sure."
"Oh, lock yourself in a closet." "Such vile language!"
He was laughing at her, she knew. Tired as she was, Alexi was back on her feet, totally aggravated. "Trust me, Mr. Morrow--I can get to it! And I will do it. I'll make it here. You can warn me and threaten me, but I'm not leaving."
He lowered his head and idly rubbed his temple with his fingertips. She realized that he was laughing at her again "I will, and you'll see."
"Listen, the closest you've probably been to a spider before is watching Spiderman on the Saturday-morning cartoons. You grew up with maids and gardeners and--"
"I see. You toiled and starved all those years to make your own money, so you know all about being rough and tough and surviving. You couldn't have starved too damn long. You're what--? All of thirty-five now? They made a movie out of Cat in the Night ten years ago, so you weren't eating rice and potatoes all that long! And for your information, having money does not equate to sloth or stupidity or--"
"I never implied that you were stupid--" "Or incapable or inept! I've damn well seen spiders before, and roaches and rats and--"
"Hey!" He came to his feet before her. A pity, she thought--it had been easier to rant and rave righteously when he had been sitting and she had been able to look down her nose at him. But now his hands were on her shoulders and he was smiling as he stared down at her and she knew that he was silently laughing again.
"No one likes things crawling on her--or him. And let's face it--you can't be accustomed to such shabby conditions," he said. His smile faded suddenly.
"Or," he added softly, "a different kind of creepy-crawly. Intruders in the place."
"Oh!" She had forgotten all about the footsteps. Forgotten that someone had been in the house. That he or she or they had escaped when the lights had gone out and blackness had descended.
She backed away from Rex. "What...what do you think was...going on?"
Rex shrugged and grimaced. "Alexi, if--and I'm sorry, I do mean if--someone was in the house, I don't know. A tramp, a derelict, a burglar--"
"All the way out here?"
"Hey, they deliver pizza, don't they?"
"Do they? The pizza hasn't even gotten here yet!"
"Well, I'm sorry! It is a drive for the delivery man, you know. He isn't a block away on Madison Avenue."
"Oh, would you please stop it? We are not in the Amazon wilds."
"No, but close enough," Rex promised her good-naturedly. She stared at him with a good dose of malice. Then she nearly jumped, and she did let out a gasp, because the night was suddenly filled with an obnoxious sound, loud and blaring.
"Joe's boy's horn." Rex lifted his hands palm up. "It plays Dixie."
It did, indeed. Loudly.
"I'll get the pizza," he told her.
Still smiling--with his annoying superiority--Rex went out. Alexi followed him.
Joe's boy drove a large pickup. He was a cute, longhaired kid, tall and lanky. By the time Alexi came down the walkway, Rex was already holding the pizza and involved in a casual conversation.
"Oh, here she is."
"Wow!" the boy said. He straightened, pushed back his long blond hair and put out his hand to shake her hand soundly. "The Helen of Troy lady! Boy, oh, boy, ma'am, when I see that ad with your hair all wild and your eyes all sexy and your arms going out while you're smiling that smile, I just get...well, I get--"
"Urn, thanks," Alexi said dryly. She felt Rex staring at her. Maybe he had expected her to be like the woman in the ad. He was probably disappointed to discover she was quite ordinary. "The magic of cameras," she murmured.