In a most compromising position. He was nearly stretched on top of her. And her robe...
Was nearly pushed to her waist.
And they were both aware of the position. Very painfully aware. Alexi couldn't think of a word to say; she couldn't move. She could only stare, stunned and miserable, into the hard, dark eyes above her. It seemed like an eternity in which she felt her naked body pressed to him, an eternity in which she felt all his muscles contract and harden.
An eternity...while she wished that she could be swallowed up by the sand.
Abruptly he pushed himself away from her. With supple agility, he landed on the balls of his feet. Blushing furiously, Alexi pushed her robe down.
"Damn you!" he said angrily. "Now, this time you just keep quiet! Throw out your accusations once we're there."
His arms streaked out for her so fast that she almost shrieked, afraid for a second that he meant violence. He picked her up again, his arms as rigid as pokers, shaking with anger. He started off again, his pace faster than ever. He walked her up the steps to the porch, threw open the screen door and carried her inside. He turned almost instantly to the left, to the parlor. Seconds later she was deposited roughly upon a couch that was covered in soft beige leather. She scrambled to right herself, to pull her robe down around her knees.
"Don't move!" he warned her sharply. She tried miserably to relax. She made herself breathe slowly in and out as she looked at her surroundings. It was a nice room. Contemporary. The soft leather sofa sat across the width of a llama-skin rug from two armchairs, all on warm earthen tile. A deer head sat over the mantel, and a wall of arched windows looked out on the sea below. Her house and his were similar in construction, but here two rooms had been combined to make one huge one. To the rear, bookshelves lined the walls, and there were two long oak desks angled together with a computer-and-printer setup. She imagined that Rex must like his view of the sea very much. He could work, then stop and walk to the windows to watch the endless surf and the way the sun played over the water. She tried not to imagine Rex at all. And then he was back.
He had a bowl of water and a little box, and he sat by her on the sofa without a word, pulling her foot up onto his lap. His dark hair fell over his forehead; she couldn't see his eyes.
He moved quickly and competently, not apologizing or saying a word when she winced as he washed off her foot.
"Shell...it was still there," he said at last. She didn't reply, but bit her lip. He wasn't big on TLC, she mused wryly.
He opened the little box and sprayed something on her foot, then wrapped it in a gauze bandage. He moved back, dumping her foot less than graciously on the sofa. He stood, picked up the bowl and the box and disappeared again. The pain, which had been sharp, began to fade, and she wondered distractedly what he had sprayed on it. She felt like a fool. She realized that he most probably had not dug around in the ground to find a pack of snakes to set loose in her bathroom. Snakes. It was just the damn snakes. Anything else she could surely have dealt with....
She'd been half-naked. He'd known it; she'd known it. And they'd both felt the hard, erotic flow of heat. Where was he? She had to get out of here. Her palms began to sweat. She couldn't go back if there were more snakes. But she couldn't stay away forever. She couldn't stay on his couch, barely dressed....
Then he was back. He set a steaming mug on a small side table beside her, then walked across to sit in one of the chairs, staring at her. With hostility, she was certain. He had his own mug of steaming liquid, and sipped it broodingly.
Alexi tried to sit properly. She had to moisten her lips to speak. "Rex, I'm sorry. Perhaps--"
"Drink the coffee. It's spiked. It will help."
"I doubt it--"
"It's sure as hell helping me."
She didn't know why; she picked up the coffee cup. She didn't know what it was laced with, but it was good, and it was strong. It warmed her hands and her throat, and it did help.
"I--" she began.
"The exterminators don't really do snakes," he told her dryly, "but they're coming out. I talked to a guy who said that they were probably just washed up by the rain and came through the broken window. When they finish, you won't have anything else. No spiders, no bugs. And a friend of mine from Ace GlassWorks will be out this afternoon to fix that window. His sister manages a cleaning outfit, and they'll be out, too. They do the works--sweep, wash and steam-clean. You should be in business then." "Rex, thank you, but really--" "You've got objections?"
"No, dammit, but really, it's my responsibility--" She broke off, frowning. She could hear the front door opening. Rex heard it, too. His brow knit, and he started to rise. Then he sat back.
"Who is that?" Alexi asked.
But by that time the woman was already in. "Rex?" She came into the parlor, carrying a bag of groceries. Trim and pretty, she looked to Alexi to be approximately fifty. There was an immense German shepherd at her heels; the dog instantly rushed to Rex, barking, greeting him.
The woman stared uncomfortably at Alexi, who sat there in a robe and nothing else, curled on the couch, the coffee cup in her hands. The woman blushed.
Rex smiled. "Emily, hi. I forgot you were coming this morning." He stood. The dog sat by his chair, panting, and woofing at Alexi.
"Shush, Samson. That's Alexi. She's a...friend. Alexi, this is Emily Rider. Emily, Alexi Jordan. Emily keeps everything in order for me."
"How do you do," Alexi said, wishing she could scratch Rex's eyes out. "I--I cut my foot."
"Oh," Emily said in disbelief. She smiled awkwardly, then gasped. "The Alexi Jordan?"
"There's only one," Rex said. "I hope." "It's--it's a pleasure," Emily murmured. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
"There's nothing to interrupt!" Alexi said quickly--too quickly, she realized, for a woman who was sitting in her robe on a man's couch.
"Ah, well...have you had breakfast? I make wonderful omelets, Ms. Jordan."
"Really," Alexi protested. "Please don't go to any trouble--"
"No trouble at all!" Emily insisted. It was obvious to Alexi that the woman was dying to escape.
"Thanks, Emily," Rex called. Samson whined. Rex sat again, watching Alexi as he scratched the dog's head. "That is a most glorious shade of red," he told Alexi.
"What?"
"Your skin."
She whispered an oath to him.
He stood, still smiling. Samson trailed along with him, loyal and loving.
"Emily might need some help," he said.
Alexi rose carefully on one foot, using the couch for balance.
"Tell her the truth! She thinks that..." "That what?"
"That I--that we--that we were sleeping together!"
"I suppose she does."
"Well, set her straight! Do you want her to think that?"
Rex chuckled softly. He cupped her cheek for an instant; the warmth of his breath feathered over her flesh. "Why not?"
"Why not?" Alexi echoed furiously.
"Doesn't every man fantasize about sleeping with the face that launched a thousand ships?" His brow was arched; he was mocking her, she was certain.
"Rex, damn you--"
"Of course, Alexi, there's much, much more to you than a beautiful face--isn't there?"
Samson barked; Rex walked out. Alexi, trembling, wanted to scream at him.
But she didn't want to scream with Emily there, so she sank weakly back to the sofa.
Chapter 5
Emily was busy cracking eggs when Rex came into the kitchen. He walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out the milk for her, smiling as he set it on the counter. He had seen her watching him covertly as she pretended great interest in the eggs.
"She's cute, huh," he commented, stealing a strip of green pepper and leaning against the counter.
Emily arched a brow. "Alexi Jordan? All you have to say about her is 'cute'?"