He smiled slowly, the curl of his lip very deliberate and sensual. "You were blushing before I opened my mouth." "The sun--" "Hah!"
Alexi threw her hands up. "Mr. Morrow, meet Ms. Jordan. How do you do? How do you do? Pleasant weather, isn't it? Lovely weather, really lovely. That, Mr. Morrow, is the type of conversation that people who have just met exchange!"
He laughed, leaning back on an elbow. "You're forgetting the way that we met."
"You mauled me."
"And I loved every minute of it."
"Would you stop?"
"If you want me to stop," he said evenly, "why are you out here on my beach in that bathing suit?"
"It is a beach! People wear bathing suits on beaches."
"Mmm. But not people who look like you, in bathing suits like that."
"I'll wear my long Johns next time."
He laughed softly, then suddenly reached out for her shoulder and toppled her down beside him. She gasped, ready to protest, but then the smile left his face and he stared down at her so intently that all words fled from her mind. There was something about him. His eyes were so sharp they were almost pained; his features were taut and haggard.
He drew a finger down her cheek very slowly, barely touching her. Then he breezed that same finger over her lower lip, very slowly, never losing the sharp, hungry tension of his gaze upon her.
For the life of her, she couldn't move. She could only imagine him as she had before: with a nameless woman on the beach--naked.
He was Rex Morrow, the famous, talented recluse, who used women--and the world couldn't possibly know that she was incredibly naive and pathetically vulnerable. Well, she had some pride, and she couldn't be used! "Rex--"
"It's going to happen, you know." "What?"
"Us. You and me. We're going to make love. Maybe right here, right where we are now." "You're incredibly arrogant." "I'm honest. Which you aren't at the moment." "Someone should really slap you--hard," she told him disdainfully, though with some difficulty. He was still halfway over her. She could feel his body, so warm from the sun beating down upon it. So close. And both of them so...barren of substantial clothing. Her pulse was beating furiously again. And she wanted to touch him. She had never before known such temptation--a desire that defied good sense and pride and reason.
"Is that someone going to be you?" he said slyly.
"If you don't watch it," she warned.
"Can't you feel it?" he asked her lazily. "The sun-baked sand, the whisper of the waves, rising, ebbing...rising. Can't you feel the heat from the sun, from the earth, becoming a part of us?''
He touched the rampant pulse at the base of her throat.
"Can't you feel the rhythm...throbbing?"
"You're an arrogant SOB--that's what I can feel," she said coolly.
He laughed. The tension was gone; the hardened hunger of his gaze. He pushed himself up and landed on his feet with the grace of a great cat. He offered a hand to her. "Come on. I've got a present for you."
She stared warily at his hand, causing him to chuckle again.
"Nervous, Alexi? Think I'm going to toss you to the sand and maul you?'' Impatiently he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.
And then against his body. He arched a brow wickedly. "Don't worry. When we get to it, you'll be breathlessly eager."
Alexi coolly took a step backward, raising her chin, smiling as sweetly as she could.
"I hardly think so, Mr. Morrow."
He laughed, slipped an arm around her waist and started back toward the house. When they were nearly there, he lowered his head and murmured near her ear, "Liar."
"Ohh..." she groaned. Really. What incredible insolence, she thought. She stepped ahead of him again and turned around to face him challengingly. "You really like the suit, huh?"
"I like what's in it."
Alexi groaned. "Eat your heart out, then!" she teased.
Rex laughed. But when he caught up with her again and whispered what he did intend to do, it was so insinuative that the sensations that ripped through her, jagged and molten, felt dangerously as if he had followed through.
Chapter 6
At the path to the house, Rex suddenly stood still, crossing his arms over his chest. He nodded toward the front door.
"You first, Ms. Jordan."
She arched a brow, then shrugged, heading down the path. At the door she paused. "I don't have a key with me."
"It isn't locked."
She raised her brow more. "I'm having problems with people and footsteps, and you left the door open?''
"Samson is inside. I assure you--no one is in there with him."
"Oh." Alexi pushed open the door. Rex had been telling the truth; Samson was sitting in the hallway, just like a sentinel. He barked and thumped his tail against the floor. He was standing behind a large wicker basket with a red-white-and-blue checked cotton cloth extended beneath the handle.
"Good boy, Samson, but what is this?" Alexi said, then turned to look at Rex again.
"It's your present," he told her.
He smiled--a little awkwardly, she thought--and she lowered her head quickly, wondering if she was blushing again. There had been a nice touch to that smile. Endearing... frightening. She barely knew him, really. One minute he was making sexual innuendoes, the next he was avoiding her--and then the next he was doing wonderful things for her.
"Well, open it up," Rex urged her. Alexi knelt down and gingerly lifted up a piece of the cotton cloth. She saw movement first, and then she gasped, reaching into the basket. There were two of them--two little balls of silver fur. The one she held mewed, sticking out a tiny paw at her.
"Oh!" It was adorable. The cutest kitten she had ever seen. It was all that soft, wonderful silver color, except for its feet and its nose, which were black. Its hair was long and fluffy--and made it look much bigger than it was.
Samson barked excitedly. Alexi reflected that the giant shepherd could consume the kitten in one mouthful, but he didn't seem the least bit interested in trying. He barked again, watching Alexi as if he had planned it himself or as if he was very aware that he and Rex were handing out a present.
"Oh!" Alexi repeated, stroking the kitten. The second ball was crawling out of the basket, and she laughed, scooping that one up, too. "You're adorable. You're the cutest little things...."
She gazed up at Rex at last, aware that she was starting to gush. But they were a wonderful present. She was also certain that they were silver Persians--and that they had cost him a fair amount of money.
"Rex--"
He stooped down beside her, idly patting the dog. "I don't want Samson here getting jealous," he said lightly. "Do you like them...really?"
He gazed at her--somewhat anxiously, she thought--and she felt that the hall had suddenly become small. The two of them were very close and very scantily dressed, and yet it wasn't that at all, really; it was that expression in his eyes.
"They're darling. But Rex, I--I can't accept them."
"Why?"
"They're Persians, right? They must have cost a mint." "What?" He threw back his head and laughed, relieved. "I was afraid that you were allergic to them or something. Yes, they're Persians. They're three months old, but the breeder assured me they'd be perfect." "Perfect?"
He grinned, a little wickedly now. "Mousers--except that I don't think you have any mice. You could, though-- mice are rather universal. 'Snakers,' I guess you could call them. Cats are simply great to have for anything that creeps and crawls around."
"Oh! Oh, Rex, how thoughtful! Thank you, really. But again, how can I accept them?"
He shrugged. "You did me a great favor."
Alexi laughed. "I did you a favor? I haven't done a thing for you."