Convincing Alex
Page 27
Alex picked up his drink again. "Hardly."
"Anyway, George was a mistake—though I'd never admit it to Lori. She gloats."
"George was a mistake? The others weren't?"
She shook her head. "Learning experiences. But George, well… I was a little rash with him. I felt sorry for him, because he was always sure he was coming down with some terminal illness, and he'd been in therapy since kindergarten. We should never have gotten involved romantically. I was really relieved when he decided to marry Nancy instead."
"Is this like a hobby?" Alex asked after a moment.
"No, people plan hobbies. I never plan to fall in love. It just happens." Her smile was amused and tolerant. "It feels good, and when it's over, no one's hurt. It isn't a sexual thing, like with Vicki. She goes from man to man because of the sense of sexual power it gives her. I know most people think if you have a relationship with a man—particularly if you're engaged to him—you must be sleeping with him. But it's not always true."
"And if you're not engaged to him?"
Because the question demanded it, she met his eyes levelly. "Every situation has its own rules. I don't know what they are for this one yet."
"Things may get serious."
There was a slight pressure around her heart. "That's always a possibility."
"They're serious enough right now for me to ask if you're seeing anyone else."
She knew it was happening. Bess had never been able to prevent that slow, painless slide into love. "Are you asking me if I am, or are you asking me not to?"
It wasn't painless for him. It was terrifying. With what strength of will he had left, Alex held himself on that thin, shaky edge. "I'm asking you not to. And I'm telling you that I don't want anyone else. I can't even think of anyone else."
Her eyes were warm as she leaned over to touch her lips to his. "There is no one else."
He laid a hand on her cheek to keep her mouth on his for another moment. Even as he kissed her, he wondered how many other men had heard her say those same words.
He told himself he was a jealous idiot. With an effort, he managed to smother the feeling. Rising, he took her hands and pulled her to her feet.
"We're supposed to be dancing."
"So I was told. Alexi." Snuggling into love as she would have into a cozy robe, she cupped his face in her hands.
"What?"
"I'm just looking. I want to make sure you're not mad at me anymore."
"I'm not mad at you." To prove it, he kissed the tip of her crooked nose.
No, not angry, she thought, searching his eyes. But there was something else shadowed there. She couldn't quite identify it. "My middle name's Louisa."
With a half smile on his lips, he tilted his head. "Okay."
"I'm trying to think if there's something else you might want to know that I haven't told you." Needing to be close, she rested her cheek against his. "I really don't have any secrets."
He turned his face into her hair. God, what was she doing to him to tie him up in knots like this? He pulled her against him, wrapping his arms tight around her. "I know all I need to know," he said quietly. "We're going to have to figure out those rules, Bess. We're going to have to figure them out fast."
"Okay." She wasn't sure what was holding her back. It would have been so easy to hurry out of the club with him, to go home and be with him. Her body was straining for him. And yet…
The first tremor of panic shocked her enough to have her pull back and smile, too brightly. She wasn't afraid, she assured herself. And she didn't need to overanalyze. When the time was right to move forward, she'd know it. That was all.
"Come on, Detective." Still smiling, she pulled him away from the table. "Let's see if you can keep up with me on the dance floor."
Chapter 7
Alex read over a particularly grisly autopsy report on half of a suspected murder-suicide, and tried to ignore the fact that Bess was sitting in a chair to his right, scribbling in her notebook. She was as good as her word, he was forced to admit. Though she did tend to mumble to herself now and again, she was quiet, unobtrusive, and once she'd realized he wouldn't answer her questions—much less acknowledge her presence—she'd directed them to Judd.
He couldn't say she was a problem. But, of course, she was a problem. She was there. And because she was there, he thought about her.
She'd even dressed quietly, in bone-colored slacks and a navy blazer. As if, he thought, the conservative clothes would help her fade into the background and make him forget she was bothering him. Fat chance, when he was aware of her in every cell.
He could smell her, couldn't he? he thought, seething with resentment. That fresh and seductive scent had been floating at the edges of his senses all morning. Sneaking into his brain the way a good second-story man sneaks through a window.
And he could sense her, too. He didn't need a cop's instincts to know she was behind him, to picture those big green eyes drawing a bead on his every move. To imagine those never-still hands making notes, or that soft, agile mouth curving when a fresh idea came to her.
She could have dressed in cardboard and made him needy.
He was so damn cute, Bess was thinking, smiling at the back of his head. She enjoyed watching him work—the way he scooped his hand through all that gorgeous black hair when he was trying to think. Or shifted the phone from one ear to the other so that he could take notes. The sound of his voice, clipped and no-nonsense or sly and persuasive, depending on what he wanted from the listener.
And she particularly enjoyed the way he moved his shoulders, restlessly, annoyance in every muscle, when he became too aware of her presence.
She had a terrific urge to press a kiss to the back of his neck—and to see what he was reading.
After a couple of scowls from him, she scooted her chair back and stopped peeking over his shoulder.
She was cooperating fully, Alex was forced to admit. Which only made it worse. He wanted her to go away. How could he explain that it was impossible for him to concentrate on his job when the woman he was falling in love with was watching him read an autopsy report?
"Here you go." Bess gave him a cup of coffee and a friendly smile. "You look like you could use it."
"Anyway, George was a mistake—though I'd never admit it to Lori. She gloats."
"George was a mistake? The others weren't?"
She shook her head. "Learning experiences. But George, well… I was a little rash with him. I felt sorry for him, because he was always sure he was coming down with some terminal illness, and he'd been in therapy since kindergarten. We should never have gotten involved romantically. I was really relieved when he decided to marry Nancy instead."
"Is this like a hobby?" Alex asked after a moment.
"No, people plan hobbies. I never plan to fall in love. It just happens." Her smile was amused and tolerant. "It feels good, and when it's over, no one's hurt. It isn't a sexual thing, like with Vicki. She goes from man to man because of the sense of sexual power it gives her. I know most people think if you have a relationship with a man—particularly if you're engaged to him—you must be sleeping with him. But it's not always true."
"And if you're not engaged to him?"
Because the question demanded it, she met his eyes levelly. "Every situation has its own rules. I don't know what they are for this one yet."
"Things may get serious."
There was a slight pressure around her heart. "That's always a possibility."
"They're serious enough right now for me to ask if you're seeing anyone else."
She knew it was happening. Bess had never been able to prevent that slow, painless slide into love. "Are you asking me if I am, or are you asking me not to?"
It wasn't painless for him. It was terrifying. With what strength of will he had left, Alex held himself on that thin, shaky edge. "I'm asking you not to. And I'm telling you that I don't want anyone else. I can't even think of anyone else."
Her eyes were warm as she leaned over to touch her lips to his. "There is no one else."
He laid a hand on her cheek to keep her mouth on his for another moment. Even as he kissed her, he wondered how many other men had heard her say those same words.
He told himself he was a jealous idiot. With an effort, he managed to smother the feeling. Rising, he took her hands and pulled her to her feet.
"We're supposed to be dancing."
"So I was told. Alexi." Snuggling into love as she would have into a cozy robe, she cupped his face in her hands.
"What?"
"I'm just looking. I want to make sure you're not mad at me anymore."
"I'm not mad at you." To prove it, he kissed the tip of her crooked nose.
No, not angry, she thought, searching his eyes. But there was something else shadowed there. She couldn't quite identify it. "My middle name's Louisa."
With a half smile on his lips, he tilted his head. "Okay."
"I'm trying to think if there's something else you might want to know that I haven't told you." Needing to be close, she rested her cheek against his. "I really don't have any secrets."
He turned his face into her hair. God, what was she doing to him to tie him up in knots like this? He pulled her against him, wrapping his arms tight around her. "I know all I need to know," he said quietly. "We're going to have to figure out those rules, Bess. We're going to have to figure them out fast."
"Okay." She wasn't sure what was holding her back. It would have been so easy to hurry out of the club with him, to go home and be with him. Her body was straining for him. And yet…
The first tremor of panic shocked her enough to have her pull back and smile, too brightly. She wasn't afraid, she assured herself. And she didn't need to overanalyze. When the time was right to move forward, she'd know it. That was all.
"Come on, Detective." Still smiling, she pulled him away from the table. "Let's see if you can keep up with me on the dance floor."
Chapter 7
Alex read over a particularly grisly autopsy report on half of a suspected murder-suicide, and tried to ignore the fact that Bess was sitting in a chair to his right, scribbling in her notebook. She was as good as her word, he was forced to admit. Though she did tend to mumble to herself now and again, she was quiet, unobtrusive, and once she'd realized he wouldn't answer her questions—much less acknowledge her presence—she'd directed them to Judd.
He couldn't say she was a problem. But, of course, she was a problem. She was there. And because she was there, he thought about her.
She'd even dressed quietly, in bone-colored slacks and a navy blazer. As if, he thought, the conservative clothes would help her fade into the background and make him forget she was bothering him. Fat chance, when he was aware of her in every cell.
He could smell her, couldn't he? he thought, seething with resentment. That fresh and seductive scent had been floating at the edges of his senses all morning. Sneaking into his brain the way a good second-story man sneaks through a window.
And he could sense her, too. He didn't need a cop's instincts to know she was behind him, to picture those big green eyes drawing a bead on his every move. To imagine those never-still hands making notes, or that soft, agile mouth curving when a fresh idea came to her.
She could have dressed in cardboard and made him needy.
He was so damn cute, Bess was thinking, smiling at the back of his head. She enjoyed watching him work—the way he scooped his hand through all that gorgeous black hair when he was trying to think. Or shifted the phone from one ear to the other so that he could take notes. The sound of his voice, clipped and no-nonsense or sly and persuasive, depending on what he wanted from the listener.
And she particularly enjoyed the way he moved his shoulders, restlessly, annoyance in every muscle, when he became too aware of her presence.
She had a terrific urge to press a kiss to the back of his neck—and to see what he was reading.
After a couple of scowls from him, she scooted her chair back and stopped peeking over his shoulder.
She was cooperating fully, Alex was forced to admit. Which only made it worse. He wanted her to go away. How could he explain that it was impossible for him to concentrate on his job when the woman he was falling in love with was watching him read an autopsy report?
"Here you go." Bess gave him a cup of coffee and a friendly smile. "You look like you could use it."
