****
A few hours later, Cole woke with a start. His neck burned all down one side from lying at such an odd angle. Stranger still was the very pleasant sensation of warm, female curves stretched out, full-length on top of him. He blinked down at the top of Alex’s head, and recalled she wasn’t—
absolutely
was not
—supposed to be sleeping.
“Shit,” he hissed, shifting her in his arms until he had a clear view of her face. He stroked her soft hair back from her cheek. “Alex…
Sweetheart, wake up.”
She didn’t stir, didn’t so much as flutter an eyelash. Alarm swam through his veins like acid.
“Alex!” Cole exclaimed, giving her shoulder a gentle shake. “Alex, open your eyes, baby, come on.”
She began to show signs of life. She snuggled closer to him with a slight frown of displeasure puckering her brow. Groaning a little, she strained to hold the morning back, pressing her face to the side of Cole’s throat.
“Alex, you have to wake up.”
He glanced to the clock. Ten-thirty. Thank the gods she’d left her blinds closed, or she’d be lying in a pile of ash right now. There was no telling how long they’d been asleep. The last time he recalled looking at the clock, it had been just after five. She stretched, catlike, in his arms and lifted her head to peer down at him. Confusion wrinkled her brow. Her voice was husky with sleep, and it stirred him.
“Did I sleep
on
you?”
132
He let his gaze drop to where her breasts crushed against his chest, and lifted his bold stare to hers, as if that were sufficient answer.
Then again, if that weren’t enough of an answer, the rigid swell of his arousal pressing intimately at the juncture of her thighs should have been explanation all by itself. Blushing, Alex rolled to Cole’s side, untangling their legs before she dropped to the floor. She pushed herself up and away from him.
“How are you feeling? Head hurt? Dizzy?”
“My head’s a little sore, and my cheek throbs a bit. Other than that I’m fine.” Cole sat up and rubbed at the stiffness in his neck. Noticing his discomfort, she climbed to her knees on the couch at his side and pushed his hand away. Her hands replaced his, and she began kneading at the knot between his neck and shoulder. In a matter of minutes, she’d dissolved the knot and moved on to the rest of the soreness in his shoulders and upper back. He groaned deep in his throat and gave himself over to the pleasure of her hands on his body.
At length he drawled, “Screw the music, can I keep you just for this?”
Then the realization hit him right between the eyes, right through his hammering heart that the music and all the rest didn’t matter. He just wanted to keep
her
. End of story.
Laughing, oblivious to his line of thought, she patted him on the shoulder and scooted back to sit beside him. “Sorry, big boy, I’m out of your price range.” Then her look turned serious, and she remarked, “You took such good care of me last night, Cole. I don’t know how to thank you.” He stared at her, lost in the aquamarine brilliance of her eyes for a moment. Gradually, he pulled himself free, but he let his gaze drop to her 133
lips, and he sank again, suggesting, “Oh, I’m sure we could think of something.”
Alex’s eyes widened. She slid back a bit, pushing a little more space between them.
Disappointed, Cole yawned and pushed to his feet. “Take today off. You’re overdue.” Stifling a yawn of her own, she stretched and blinked up at him. “You’ll get no argument here.” As soon as she began to stretch, her breasts straining the fabric of her shirt, he clamped his teeth together, fangs stretching long, and spun on his heel, darting for the door. She trailed in his wake. “I think I just might take a quick swim, and then head back to the city for the day. I need to check in on my place. Maybe I’ll do a little shopping. I’ll be back this evening.” He nodded and, unable to stop himself from glancing over his shoulder at her, he hesitated.
The craving hit him. Wave after wave of hunger.
His hands gripped the doorframe so hard he left indentations in the wood.
Instead of sweeping her up into his arms, as he so desperately longed to do, he offered, “Drive carefully.”
Then he forced himself to walk away. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
134
Alex broke the undisturbed surface of the pool in one long, smooth dive. She swam beneath the surface for nearly the length of the pool then came up for air before making the return trip to the other end. The water was cool and deliciously invigorating as the warm late-morning sun kissed her skin. It was pure bliss. Quiet. Serene.
As a rule, the band and their devoted hangers-on didn’t stir until well after noon, at the earliest. Alex took advantage of the opportunity for a solitary swim every chance she got. She gave into the urge to take one last lap before climbing from the shimmering water. As she stood on the patio, toweling herself dry, Alex caught a flash of movement from the corner of her eye near shrubbery on the south lawns. Blinking, she paused and peered closer, but whoever was there had gone. Shrugging, she wrapped the towel around her as she headed for the French doors.
A little more than an hour later, Alex had showered, dressed, and buckled herself behind the wheel of her car. She eased the Shelby from Cole’s garage, slowing for the security gate, then let the powerful machine roar on the drive back to the city. There was something therapeutic about throttling the motor wide open and letting the wild whip of wind rake through her hair. A wide, self-satisfied smile curved her lips as the ache in her muscles and the throb in her temple dissipated with each passing mile.
Her cell rang as she pulled up in front of a 135
modest gray townhouse with its cranberry trim, its tidy lawns stretching back toward the beach.
Nearby, waves crashed against the shoreline, the rhythm of the ocean’s heartbeat, fierce and relentless. Gulls cried their distinctive greetings, circling and diving from the crisp azure skies to snag a meal from the ocean’s bounty. Myriad flora perfumed the salty air, sinking through her, relaxing her as no manufactured aromatherapy ever could.
Her gaze swept over the lush lawns with a distinctive note of pride. This was
her
domain.
The first thing she’d purchased when she’d broken into music and begun to live on her own terms. This piece of real estate had been her stab at independence. A real home. It had been the best thing she’d done for herself to date, the only thing she’d done that hadn’t resulted in one regret or another. Her brow wrinkled as her eyes skimmed over the hedges separating her yard from the neighbors. They were a little ragged around the edges, and weeds were making a debut appearance in the flowerbeds lining the walk. Alex made a mental note to speak to her gardener about that as she flipped her insistent cell open.
“Alex Sinclair.”
“Good afternoon, boss lady,” chimed a cheerful, feminine voice. “How goes the music biz?”
“Hello, Rita.” Alex jingled her keys as she made for the front door. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to see what you thought of the column,” her assistant hedged.
Alex zeroed in on the cagey note in her assistant’s smooth and collected voice. “And?” Rita paused for half a heartbeat and heaved a troubled sigh. “Someone called the office this 136
morning. Claimed he was a reporter, though he refused to give his name or the name of the paper he worked for. He was asking a whole lot of questions about you…personal questions, Alex.
Questions that didn’t seem to have anything to do with Griffin.”
A slight frown puckered Alex’s brow as she let herself inside and nudged the door closed with the back of her foot. Distracted, she dropped her purse onto the small table just inside the door and murmured, “I see.”
“I told him I’d be happy to make an appointment, and I refused to answer any questions.” Alex could hear the faint click-clicking in the background as Rita toyed with her pen…a sure sign her assistant was anxious. Then Rita’s voice skated into the arena of agitated, and the fine hairs on the back of Alex’s neck came to attention. “Whoever he was, Alex, he got…freaky.” Alex paused as she set the keys down beside her purse. It wasn’t like Rita to become flustered, and she wouldn’t be calling Alex with this if she didn’t think it was important. “How so?”
“He kept telling me I wanted to help him. Kept saying I wanted to tell him whatever he wanted.
His voice was…weird, soft, like…I don’t
know…coaxing. He was just kinda creepy, you know?” She paused, as if expecting her next comments would earn her a reprimand, though Alex had always been more than accommodating as a boss. “When I refused to cooperate, his patience seemed to…snap. He started ran
ting and rambling about ‘Cole’ this, and ‘Cole’
that…making him see what a mistake he’d made sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. It was just…” Rita trailed off. “Alex, I know I’m supposed to remain professional no matter the provocation, but he was just so…I hung up on him. I’m sorry.” 137
“That’s okay, Rita,” Alex reassured her. “Don’t worry about it. Just let me know if he calls back.
Document the time and date of the call, take notes of whatever he says. And don’t give out any information to anyone. You did just fine.” Sounding a bit more steadied, Rita replied,
“Sure thing.”
“Oh, Rita,” Alex added. “I read over the proofs, everything looks great. Terrific job! I knew I was leaving the column in good hands, but you blew me away.”
“Thank you!” Rita’s pleasure glowed through the line. Then, without so much as a momentary pause, she rushed on in her effervescent way.
“So, spill the beans. Is he as gorgeous as all his pictures?”
With feigned innocence, Alex murmured,
“He?”
“Cole Gunnarrson! Honestly, Alex,” Rita exclaimed. “I swear! You’re torturing me here.”
If she only knew…
“I’ll be in touch,” Alex remarked with a small, self-deprecating smile, before flipping her phone closed.
She watered her plants, called the gardener, and putzed around the house for an hour or so.
She’d come to fill her days—and her nights—with work. Now that she didn’t have that to focus on, she was bored senseless.
She stared at the ornate clock on the wall and chewed her lip, sighing. She didn’t want to return to Cole’s just yet, but she didn’t have much of anything to do here either, certainly nothing that would require more than ten or fifteen minutes of her attention. There was no question about it.
She needed to get a life.
Flipping her cell open again, she thumbed in the number to her salon. Luck was smiling on her 138
today. A slot to have her nails done had come available just moments ago, and, as luck would have it, that appointment flowed into an available opening with her stylist. By the time she hung up the phone, Alex had the rest of her afternoon booked full of nothing but personal pampering time at the salon. Something she hadn’t done in too long to remember.
Late that evening, as Alex drove back to Cole’s she glanced in the rear view mirror to survey the small mountain of department store bags, smiling without the slightest hint of guilt.
She’d topped off her day at the salon with a small shopping spree.
Okay, she allowed with a slight smirk, so it hadn’t been so small. Her Visa was, most likely, traumatized—passed through so many hands it probably needed therapy—but she shrugged with glee, floating on a euphoric rush of shopping adrenaline. She consoled herself with the knowledge that she’d pay it all off tonight with a couple clicks of the mouse.
Already, her mind sorted through the clothes and the shoes filling her back seat, snagging on one ensemble in particular. It was a sleek little red number with matching stilettos. She couldn’t wait to try it on again. She determined she’d save that one for a special occasion, but she hadn’t been able to resist wearing the black belted sheath dress right out of the store. The designer original had just looked so damn good with her new haircut she couldn’t fight the urge.
Glancing down at the svelte, black dress and matching mile-high heels, she couldn’t help but wonder what it was about a new dress, a day at the salon, and a new pair of shoes that made a woman feel…well, like a new woman. If only she didn’t have that hideous bruise on the side of her 139
face, she’d be sitting on cloud nine. The facial and the expert make-up application hadn’t gone very far towards concealing the nasty reminder of her run in with Cole’s intruder.
She flipped the air conditioner on to fend off the stifling summer heat, unwilling to open the windows and end up ruining her new hairstyle.
She loved the way it flipped away from her face. It made her feel…girly. Alex gave the security camera a small, cheerful wave as she drove through the already open gate, then glanced into the rear view as the wrought iron closed behind her. That sight didn’t bother her as much as it once had. Curious.
Alex guided the car back into the stall Cole designated for her use, then slid from of the vehicle. As she reached up to lay her purse on the roof of the Shelby, her nails glinted against the car. Red on red, identical in shade. What a fluke.
She giggled. Catching herself, she shook her head in wonder. After all, she was not the kind of girl to giggle. With a soft snort, Alex bent at the waist and scooped her shopping bags from the back seat.
Humming, Alex backed out of the car, her small fists full of shopping bags. She juggled until she could reach for her purse, dropping it into one of the bags. Elbowing the car door closed, she turned around and bobbled the bags, gasping in surprise to find Cole a few, short feet away.
Where had he come from?
He stared at her with enough heat in his eyes to turn her golden skin bright, sunburned red. He was clad once again in worn, low-riding jeans and combat boots, but he wore no shirt at all, his smooth, muscled chest stripped bare for her admiring stare. A smear of oil adorned his brow and right shoulder. The allure of sexual bliss 140
oozed from his every pore. He was scrumptious, sexy enough to devour in large greedy gulps. Her arms fell to her sides beneath th
e manageable weight of her purchases—beneath the
unmanageable weight of his hungry stare—and her lips parted uncertainly.
Desire—raw lust—had been wreaking havoc on her common sense from the moment she’d first laid eyes on him. Now it reached inside her with a fist of searing hot iron and set down roots—deep,
deep
roots. The sight of him right now damned near brought her to his knees for a devout round of hallelujahs and amens.
His bold icy-blue eyes swept downward, over the curve-enhancing dress, lingering on the daring, plunging vee that reached to her sternum.
His gaze was as intimate as a physical caress, tracing the dip of waist and flare of hip, and the muscle in his jaw ticked with a fury. His heated stare skated down her legs to the tips of her sexy, black heels. She felt…naked…beneath his intense perusal.
Unable to speak, Alex watched him watching her as he drew a long, labored breath, and then he lifted his burning stare back to her face…very slowly. Her pulse tripped double-time as he walked forward—stalked forward—without a word, trapping her in the hypnotic snare of his stare. He didn’t stop until scant few inches separated them.
“I went shopping,” she managed to squeak, frantic to break through the heady tension.
“I see that.” He reached up to slip a finger beneath the thin strap of material at her shoulder. The back of his knuckles grazed her skin, gliding downward, feathering over the upper curve of her breast.
Her breath snagged in her throat as his finger 141
lingered there, so close, yet not touching, her nipple. Then his fingers slid back up the length of the strap…up, up, until his thumb hovered deliciously at the erratic pulse at the base of her throat.
“New dress?”
She forced a swallow, cleared her throat, and tried twice before she managed to murmur, “Uh-huh.”
He edged a little closer, his thighs brushed against hers, and he tilted his head, his eyes probing, entrancing. Compelling. His voice dropped to a deeper, sensual note. “New shoes?”
“Mm-hmm,” she breathed, her eyelids sank to half-mast.
His other hand came up to feather through the soft wisps of hair near her ear. “New haircut?”
“Hhhh…” Her head wobbled, as close to a nod as she could muster. What happened to all the air? Her lungs struggled for oxygen as a swarm of butterflies took flight in the pit of her stomach.
Cole’s head dipped close to the side of her neck. His lips hovered, brushing over the raging pulse below her earlobe. Her head swam with the heady scent of him, with the velvety heat of his lips on her skin. She could
hear
him drawing her scent deep into his lungs, and the erotic sound did odd things inside her.
His voice dropped another octave, husky and hungry. His breath soothed her hot flesh. “Same perfume though.”
By now she’d lost all ability of speech, was fast losing her tenuous hold on the ability to think, and so she wobbled her head again. His head dipped closer, shifted, his lips whispered over the skin at the crook of her neck, branding her flesh. He lifted his head, and their stares connected. His mouth drifted over hers, so 142
close…so close…but just not quite there. The deep, husky rumble of his voice—the very essence of seduction in its purest form—a dark, possessive sound growled forcefully, “
Never
change that. I like it.
Very much
.” She whimpered.
Their lips collided, and, at that first contact, desire arced between them like a hot, live electrical current. His tongue swept into her mouth, hot and questing, possessive and elemental, intimate. He leaned into her, pressing her back, pinning her between the car and his towering, hard body.