Chapter Eleven

When they returned from lunch, Alex wasted no time getting back to work. She insisted the television wouldn’t bother her.

So, Beck tuned in to a baseball game, adjusting the volume only loud enough to hear. They were both deep in their respective activities when the doorbell rang.

Alex looked over at Beck, shrugged, and stood from behind the desk. “I’m not expecting anyone.” She started toward the front door, and when he made a move to follow, waved him away. “It’s probably Mr. Millbourne again.”

He ignored her silent command and stood anyway, but instead of following her down the hall, he stationed himself at the doorway where he could see and hear everything that transpired.

“What are you doing here?”

Her quick gasp would have had him at her side in a flash if she hadn’t motioned with a hand behind her back for him to stay where he was.

“I’ve come to talk.” The male voice floated down the hall.

The tone of his voice was not particularly threatening, but the hair on the back of Beck’s neck rose anyway. Only fragments of Alex’s reply, delivered in a hushed voice, reached Beck, the repeated tossing of her wild, blonde curls sending a negative message to whoever was on the other side of the door. When the door swung toward her, she took a quick step backward, the hand behind her back still motioning for him not to interfere.

“Charles, your behavior is really annoying me. I’ve made myself as clear as I possibly can about our relationship.” After a slight pause, she added, “At the moment, I’m entertaining company.”

Beck quickly covered the twenty paces down the hall to stand behind Alex before she could wave him back again. “Need any help, Alex?”

Charles looked from one to the other of them, a slow flush spreading from the V of his open-neck shirt to his smooth-shaved cheeks. He passed his tongue over his lips a couple of times before he spoke, fixing his gaze on Alex. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I need to talk. I didn’t see your car outside, but I saw the light in the den. I came by a couple of nights ago, but—”

“You were here the other night? Out back?”

Beck saw Alex’s breathing accelerate. Her thought was the same as his. The prowler. He fit the old man’s description perfectly. Maybe five nine. Scarcely a hundred sixty pounds. Yeah. The old guy next door might be long in the tooth, but he had the night vision of an owl.

Charles nodded. “I know you’ve been going out to that site, but I took the chance you might be here.”

Alex stiffened her shoulders. “I’ve asked you not to come by or call.”

Beck stepped to the side.

Charles averted his gaze from Alex to Beck but quickly turned back to Alex. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

That did it. Screw Alex’s little hand flutters. Beck spoke directly to Charles. “How about talking to me?”

The flush on Charles’ face deepened. “Listen, pal—”

“I’m not your pal.” Beck stepped up next to Alex. “I don’t have to listen to a damn thing you have to say. What’s more the lady’s already made it quite clear she doesn’t want you here, so I suggest you leave.”

Charles turned to Alex. “Are you sure?”

Beck took a threatening step forward. The guy was being a royal pain in the ass. If this jerk was someone Alex had dated, he couldn’t imagine why. But he sure as hell could understand why she cut it off.

Alex put a hand on Charles’s arm. “Charles, you and I didn’t hit it off. I tried being friends, but that arrangement didn’t work, either. I really think leaving things as they are would be easier. For both of us.”

Beck held his breath. He wasn’t up to a brawl right here in Alex’s home. But he wouldn’t run from one if that was the only way he could get rid of this guy.

“I’m sorry I bothered you, Alex. Maybe we’ll bump into each other again on campus sometime.” Without another word, Charles turned and walked toward his car.

Alex let out a long sigh. “Well, at least one puzzle is solved.”

Beck draped an arm over her shoulder, and they walked back to the den together. “Yeah, babe, but we’re not out of the woods, yet. We still have all those missing pieces of the other puzzle to put together.”

“We should at least sleep better tonight. I really don’t think he’ll come back.” Alex crossed the room and again took her seat behind the desk.

“You’re doing more work?” Now that the prowler was no dangerous maniac and just some moonstruck jerk that couldn’t take no for an answer, he was much more relaxed and in the mood for sharing quality time. He figured she should be feeling a heck of a lot better now, too.

Alex reached for the sheaf of papers to her left. “Only a little while longer. I want to get as much done as I can before I get busy at the site again. Now that one more thing is off my mind…” She hitched her head toward the front of the house and then lowered it to search in the bottom drawer of the desk.

Beck went over to his favorite chair, sat, and glanced over at Alex. His breath caught in his throat as the light from the desk lamp caught the ends of her curls and set them on fire. Her face was partially hidden, but what he could see was softened by the warm glow of the light as it caught her cheek in shadow. She reminded him of the angels in the picture books his grandma read when he was a little boy—golden and innocent, untouchable, desirable. More desirable than any angel or woman had a right to be.

At that moment, he wanted her so badly he would gladly relinquish a year of his life. But he couldn’t have her. Not yet. Maybe never. Oh, he would eventually make passionate love to her, of that he was certain. But he still wouldn’t have her. Women like her didn’t hook up with men like him. If he even suspected she might, he’d never let it happen. He’d run like hell.

He wasn’t cut out for hanging with women who couldn’t be trusted. He hadn’t met a woman yet who could be trusted when the chips were down. To shut out the face that had haunted his dreams every night, he closed his eyes. But even then, her face drifted before him in that mysterious way images slide behind the eyes. Her face was the last thing he remembered, until he felt her hands at his shoulders and her voice at his ear softly calling his name.

Greedily, he breathed in her scent. Today, she smelled like roses. Yesterday, the scent was lilacs or lavender. He couldn’t remember which. He only knew that every day she smelled like a different, sweetly scented flower.

He was fully awake now, but before he took in his surroundings, he needed the fantasy of believing he was waking from sleep in her arms, her hair soft around his face and her breasts so close to his lips he could touch her nipple with his tongue.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. Part of the fantasy was real. She was leaning over him, the upper half of her body close enough to touch. The valley between her breasts beckoned. He heeded the call and slid a finger between the soft mounds of flesh. He waited, not daring to breathe.

She moved imperceptibly closer.

He breathed again, his heart in his throat. He ran his other hand up her thigh, all the while watching the way her lids lowered, her breathing deepened, and moisture gathered at the corners of her mouth. His mouth watered for a taste of hers.

As he coaxed her forward with pressure behind her thigh, she read his mind perfectly, opened her mouth and lowered herself to straddle him on the generous club chair. Her thighs clasped his. Her knees were snug at his hips. Jesus, he was already full-blown hard.

When she locked her hands behind his neck, he couldn’t have disengaged his lips from hers if his life depended on it. His heart pounded so hard from the sudden rush of blood through his veins he thought the top of his head would blow apart and render him senseless.

He moved his hand around to the inside of her thigh, and when she yielded, he cupped his palm between her legs. God damn. Why wasn’t she wearing a skirt so he could work his fingers inside her panties and feel her heat? Feel if she was wet for him.

The rest of the thought vanished when she pressed herself harder into his palm, forcing his knuckles into his already swollen flesh. The pain was so pleasurable he nearly exploded right then. Deftly, he slipped his hand from between their bodies. Only zippers separated them now. One second more and they would both go up in flames. Every parry of their tongues, every soft, sexy bite at the inside of his lower lip, and every purr she breathed into his mouth told him she wanted him.

Where to take her? Here, on the chair in the den? Almost impossible. Upstairs? He’d never make it. On the floor? Not where he’d prefer, but on the floor was the easiest and fastest. And he needed her now. He’d make it up to her later, the next time…

He couldn’t hold back the groan that started when the unwanted thought reared its ugly head. Doing this wasn’t right. He would be taking advantage. But the old familiar hunger that required frequent, healthy doses of hot, hard sex told him he’d have her now anyway and pay whatever price his haste demanded later.

Then, just when he’d figured out the best way to get them both down to the floor, that too moral, unwanted part of him got dredged up again and reminded him what he’d been trying to forget. He could not let this encounter be one of his usual quick fucks with someone he liked well enough but didn’t care deeply about.

As he debated the pros and cons of the situation, she settled the matter for him by ending the kiss so abruptly his head fell backward. She stared in amazement or bewilderment—he wasn’t sure which—he was in too agitated a state to accurately interpret any emotion other than his own fierce need to strip off their clothes and get down to business. He certainly wasn’t prepared for the sobs she suppressed by clamping her lips together, forbidding any sounds to pass through them.

Damn it. What was he supposed to do now? Put his arms around her? Hold her close and tell her everything would be all right? Say nothing? Do nothing? Aw, shit. This relationship was too damn complicated. Caring, even a little, about someone you wanted to screw messed up your mind. Not to mention caring did serious damage to your sex drive. “Okay. What’s wrong? What’d I do?” He trailed the finger between her breasts upward and rested his hand on her shoulder while he waited for her answer.

She pulled back far enough so she could look at him. Her lips were still clenched, and her shoulders had lifted along with her chin. “It’s not what you did. It’s what I did or shouldn’t have done. I’ve led you to believe I could…we could….” She looked at the ceiling. “I can’t let anything start between us. We each have our own agenda.”

He pulled in a breath, held it until his head cleared a little, and then exhaled in exasperation. “I understand all that, but we have an agenda right now, and up until a few seconds ago, you were damn ready to follow it.” Her eyes still avoided his as she continued her soliloquy.

“Just as soon as I can convince you all of this interaction has been blown way out of proportion, that it would be best for both of us if you would get on with your life and let me get on with mine, things will settle down for both of us. You can go back to what you had before we met.” Gripping the side arms of the chair, she eased herself from his lap and stood.

His stomach plummeted. He held his breath and waited for her next move, but when none came, he pushed himself off the chair and stood in front of her, waiting patiently until she finally looked at him. He narrowed his eyes. “You know something, babe? You’re the most stubborn, pig-headed, tunnel-visioned woman I ever met. When you get something in that curly blonde head of yours, a chisel is needed to pry it loose.

“Beside the fact I haven’t signed off on this job yet, I kind of like being around you. Something between us clicks. So, I’ll be as stubborn as you. I’m not giving up until I find out if the sparks we make can build the biggest, hottest damn fire since fire was invented.”

She lowered her head. A deep flush covered her face. “Yes,” she admitted, “we do click on some level. But more than that is needed for two people to put together a meaningful relationship. I have to tell you, Beck, right now I can’t take on one more challenge.” She turned away her face. “I can’t get involved with you. I can’t risk another bad relationship.”

He let out an explosion of air. “Is that what you’re worrying about?” He put his hands on her shoulders and gave them a light shake. “Look at me,” he said in a firm but gentle tone. When she did, he continued, “I’m not looking for a relationship—at least not the traditional kind—so you needn’t worry about that. I gave up on the idea of a long-term relationship a long time ago.”

The stain in her cheeks deepened. Her discomfort and embarrassment had increased. What a stupid ass he was. He needed to explain himself better. “I mean, I don’t expect anything permanent. I’m not into long-term commitments, but I do value a good relationship with a woman. I’ve never had more than one relationship in my life at a time.”

Alex tried to pull away.

He increased the pressure at her shoulders and waited for whatever came next.

“Beck, it’s not just that. You don’t understand. You know nothing about me. Nothing about my background. Nothing about what’s happened in my life.”

Finally, she freed herself, but not before he saw she was ready to break down again. Something about the way she looked this time told him any tears now would be much different than the ones she’d shed earlier. She was hurting again—hurting real bad.

“I don’t think I could even take the chance on a shallow, noncommitted relationship.”

“I didn’t exactly say shallow,” he corrected, forcing a thin smile.

Her flush deepened even more. She hung her head and rubbed her forearms.

“I’m sorry, that was awfully crass. I didn’t mean to imply you were shallow or that your intentions were shallow or….” He dipped his head and met her gaze. “Can we call a truce? Save the rest of this conversation for a better time, when we’re both rested and our heads are a little clearer?”

She hesitated for a moment then a slow smile curved her lips.

Seeing her smile made him feel a hell of a lot better.

“You know, you’re a charmer, Mister St. Romaine. That was the first thing I noticed when you came charging at us that first day at the site.”

His ego shot way up. He figured he could afford as wide a grin as hers, wider even. “I always aim to charm, Ms. Kingsley. You don’t mind my not calling you doctor when we’re alone, do you?” He added a wink to the smile.

“Not if you don’t mind my not calling you mister when we’re alone,” she answered as she started toward the kitchen. “How about a cup of decaf?”

“Great.” He started to follow and only then realized he still had a hard-on half the size of a Mississippi pine tree. He turned quickly on his heel and called over his shoulder as he headed for the front door, “You put on the brew while I go out and check the truck. I want to be sure I locked it. I have some expensive tools in back.”

Outside, dusk was settling as he made a perfunctory try at the door handle for no logical reason other than he had to do something to regain his bearings. He needed the release of sex more than he could ever remember needing it in his entire life. Damn fool that he was, he would torture himself again by spending another night under the same roof with a woman he couldn’t lay for one reason or another. Hell of a fix you’re in, Becker St. Romaine. Becker, Becker, how’s your pecker? “Not doing very well at all tonight,” he mumbled as he cautiously made his way up the walk to Alex’s front door.

****

Alex rolled to her back, slung her arm across her forehead, and sighed deeply. The adrenaline rush she felt was enough to lift her right off the bed like someone possessed. After thrashing about for another quarter hour, she turned on her side and pummeled the pillow next to her head with a fist. Damnable hormones. When you needed them, they left you in a lurch. When you wanted to forget you had any, they dogged you to death.

Again, she rolled to her back and stacked her hands under her head. The room was pitch dark, and she was surrounded by silence. She felt safe with Beck in the house, the mysterious prowler identified, and any cause for worry eradicated. She should be asleep. Hah. She should be. But would she sleep at all tonight with Beck so close and yet so out of her reach?

But he needn’t be, she reminded herself. All she had to do was open the door, cross the hall, and tell him she’d changed her mind. Tell him she was willing to trust a relationship with him—even a short-term, uncommitted one. Especially one that didn’t promise forever, or promise she’d be number one, and the only one until death.

Oh God, why did her thoughts always turn to death? Wouldn’t death come soon enough? She tried to picture what the moment would be like when it finally happened. When she finally got the call. Would she collapse? Bear up well? Grieve herself into a stupor?

She reached for the bottle on the bedside table, opened it, and shook out two capsules into her palm. She picked up the ready glass of water and swallowed the medicine quickly, as if she might change her mind. Rarely now did she take the pills. Usually only when the pain and despair threatened to drag her down so fast and deep, she’d be down for days. Like she’d been a week ago. Like she’d been before… She dared herself to finish the thought. Like she’d been before Beck came into her life.

Turning on her side again, she faced the empty pillow and ran her hand over the cool percale covering. Many a night she had slept next to an empty pillow waiting for Bill to come home. Waiting to see if Bill came home at all. She gave herself a mental shake, not wanting to think of Bill right now. Thinking of him reminded her of every grievous, sinful thing she’d done wrong all the time they were together.

The sound of water rushing through the pipes broke the silence and the train of her thoughts. Beck. Was he having difficulty sleeping, too? Was it because of her? Because he wanted her as desperately as she wanted him?

A thrumming in her veins and a restlessness deep in her core insisted she give in to the need of the moment. After all, in the final analysis, the moment was all she had. The moment was all anyone had. Someone famous said that. But she couldn’t remember who. Nor did she care she couldn’t remember. She listened for a sign that Beck might be outside her door, debating the wisdom of turning the knob and putting her to the test.

A yawn caught hold, and she rolled onto her back once more, searching in the blackness for an answer to an unasked question. A question soon to be reckoned with. Was it worth the risk, or not?

Another yawn, this one longer and deeper, cornered the next couple of seconds. Snippets of the conversation she and Beck had before retiring replayed in her mind. He’d told her he’d checked his message service when he was out in the car in front of the restaurant. Or out in the car talking to a woman. Forget that, or you’ll never sleep.

An inquiry he’d made months ago about a challenging and lucrative job in southwest Georgia looked extremely promising. He’d been invited to a personal interview with the money men. He had to go. This job could be the salvation he and his associates needed in the event the deal to replace the land they’d lost also fell through.

She’d assured him she’d be fine. That all the students would be back, and she wouldn’t be alone at night in the cabin. He’d started his usual salvo of unkind remarks about Kent, but he eventually agreed to let the matter drop.

Her body relaxed. Her thoughts were muddled. Before she lost all ability to recall the last words Beck spoke, she pulled them back into consciousness, ‘I guess you’re better off with him than without him. At least he’ll protect you.’

Yes, she could always count on Kent for that. That truth was another one of the things she felt guilty about where he was concerned. But for now, she didn’t want to think of Kent, or guilt, or anything unpleasant. The mysterious mantle of sleep slowly slipped over her, and all she wanted to do was sink deeper and deeper into nothingness. she wanted to dream. To dream of Beck. Only of Beck.

****

Alexander Kingsley sighed deeply, pulled the door shut behind him, and crossed the hall to ring for an elevator. He usually didn’t work this late on Saturdays, but today was no usual Saturday. Today, he had finally signed the lease on the apartment in Champion Forest.

In the lobby, he opened the heavy glass doors and stepped into the humid downtown Houston air. A gust of wind swirled debris from the street around his feet. The Weather Bureau issued warnings of severe thunderstorms for the rest of the night. The storm would be through this area by morning and heading east toward Louisiana. He thought of Alex. Of how she was and what she was doing. When he would see her next. How she would take his news.

With the remote, he clicked the door open and slid behind the wheel, the smell of expensive, seasoned leather sending a heady rush through his senses. The once-young man in him always surfaced at the smell of leather, the purr of a well-tuned engine, and the authority of three hundred plus horsepower.

The experience brought Alex to mind again. He could still see the expensive new car he bought for her very special birthday. A red convertible. He still felt her excitement when she took him for a spin on the freeway. She was sixteen then, and he was the most important man in her life. He was her hero. When did everything change?

He remembered her at five when she couldn’t wait to sit on his knee. At eight, pouting when business kept him from her softball games. At ten, when she talked about the day she would come to work for him.

Next, he remembered a particularly special day very well. She’d come downtown that Saturday to spend time with him while he worked. He’d returned from a trip down the hall to find her spinning like a top in his black leather desk chair.

“When I come to work here, Daddy, can I have a chair like this one?” she’d asked.

He remembered the pride he’d felt then. More than twenty years had passed since he’d told her, “Of course, sugar plum, and you can have one in any color you’d like.”

“Red?”

“Absolutely, if that’s the color you want.”

Red had been her favorite color. Was it still?

She had jumped out of the chair and raced to the windows that overlooked downtown Houston. “Can I have an office with lots and lots of windows like this one, too?”

“Bigger and with even more windows, if that’s what your little heart desires.” He laid his head back on the car’s leather headrest and swallowed down a fist-size lump in his throat. When had the little girl who wanted to be like him disappeared? What had made that ride up the freeway the last happy experience they shared?

When he turned the luxury sedan into the sweeping half-circle driveway, he took a deep breath. He cut the engine, sat for a few minutes, and prepared himself for what lay ahead. When he could delay the inevitable no longer, he got out of the car, walked the dozen or so steps to his front door, and let himself inside.

The house was dark except for the light in the foyer. With each step, his heart grew heavier. How many nights had he returned home early in his marriage, his step light and his heart filled with hope? Not nearly as many as the nights he’d returned home the last thirty years to a wife whose idea of love was obsession with her own body and a need for adoration of it by him.

He thought back over the last few decades and assessed his life and assessed himself. He had always considered himself an honorable man. Honorable even during these last three decades when he might have lost all ability to love were it not for the one person in his life who had never lost faith in him and who had never stopped loving him.

Perhaps he’d been even more honorable these past thirty years than ever before in his life. After all, hadn’t he honored all the vows he’d made on his wedding day that were always the most important to his wife? For these past thirty years, he had sacrificed what meant more to him than anything else in his life just to make her happy.

But no more. Today, his life would change. Today, he would put himself and the woman he loved first.

Today, he would tell his wife he wanted a divorce.