One Step Away (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 1) (25 page)

“That’s not too difficult. There’s not much
up there. Each time you move your head, I hear a couple nickels
rattling around.”

She entered the kitchenette and chuckled,
glad to see that he wasn’t tip-toeing around her earlier sorrow. He
would have just a few weeks ago. “Don’t be surprised if I toss a
few thumbtacks in your drink.” She pulled out a two-liter bottle of
Diet Coke from the fridge and a bottle of Bacardi from the cabinet
below the sink (he’d brought it months ago, but since she didn’t
regularly drink hard liquor, it had remained untouched).

“Great. A little extra crunch keeps things
interesting.”

“Especially if it shreds up your vocal
chords.”

“As long as you can drive me to the
hospital, we’re good.”

Just as she pulled out a couple glasses,
Marisa realized how and why he’d managed to have found his
confidence. As she had figured, becoming the leader of a large
organization would make a big impact in that area.

But she now realized that having finally
admitted his feelings for her, even if she didn’t give him the
answer he wanted to hear, had given him impetus to get past his
feelings and deal with the truth. It also explained his rather
subdued response to her mentioning that Brad would accompany her to
Lauren’s party. She finished pouring the rum over the two glasses
of Diet Coke, then returned to the living room and found Alex
stretched out across her beige leather sofa.

“Where’s the Bacardi?”

She handed him a glass. “It’s inside.”

“No, I meant that Diet Coke would be great
for you. I’d take the rum straight from the bottle.” He regarded
the glass, pretending to look displeased. “I guess this’ll have to
do…for now.” He gulped some of it down. “So tell me more about this
whole interim-director thing.”

Over the next hour, Marisa described every
detail of her day while going over the account books and every
other significant aspect of her boss’s more esoteric
responsibilities. When she finished, she was shocked to find that
they had replenished their glasses three times, and a pleasant but
potent buzz had come over her.

She looked at the bottles of Bacardi and
Diet Coke that sat on the coffee table in front of them. She didn’t
even remember bringing them from the kitchen. But that’s how it
always went whenever she talked with Alex. They were so connected
that time lost meaning. She’d never shared that experience with
anyone else, and she treasured the sensation.

Marisa yawned and rose from the couch. “I
better hit the hay. Big day tomorrow. Need to ask Lance all the big
questions before he leaves.” She grabbed their glasses and carried
them into the kitchenette, noticing Alex pick up the Bacardi and
Diet Coke before following her.

“Thanks for coming by,” Marisa said after
placing both glasses in the dishwasher. “It really means a lot to
me. I’ve missed you…stopping over.”

Alex returned the Diet Coke and Bacardi to
their rightful places then headed towards the front door. When he
reached it, he grabbed the knob but turned back. “You know…”

“Yes?” she asked, coming up behind him.

“I’m only a phone call away.”

She smiled and stretched her arms out to hug
him, closing the distance between them. When he embraced her, she
felt it for the thousandth time: that unmistakable feeling that
their bodies fit so well together that they had to have been cast
from the same mold. She rested her head against his shoulder,
wanting nothing more than to stay locked inside those strong arms
and fall asleep, content and secure.

How come snuggling with her body pillow
didn’t feel half as good as this? She closed her eyes, imagining
how amazing it would be to cuddle like this each night before
drifting off to sleep.

And then her body lifted off the ground. She
opened drowsy eyes to find Alex carrying her in his arms as though
he carried a small child. With an arm around his neck, staring at
his profile, she’d always found him handsome and fit, but with his
powerful chest against her own and the ease with which he picked
her up, she felt a flutter of excitement pass through her. She
nestled her head inside his neck until he entered her bedroom.

In the darkened room, he had no trouble
navigating his way to the bed, which could prove troublesome
considering that she recalled trying on at least three blouses and
four skirts this morning, some of which currently lay on the bed,
while the others lay on the wooden chest at the front of her
bedframe.

“God, you’re so messy,” Alex whispered into
her ear. “Your clothes snagged my legs like a pair of snakes,”

Refusing to open her eyes, lest this sweet
episode end, she simply smiled, unexpectedly releasing a sigh of
pleasure from deep in her throat. No man had ever carried her in
his arms before, which explained why none of them had ever lain her
down onto her bed. She’d never before felt so fragile, so
protected, so…cherished.

He slid his knee across the surface of her
bed, lying her down with such great care that it felt like feathers
lay beneath her. But, of course, in lowering her, he went down
beside her as well, not even breathing heavily from the effort.

Rather than trying to slip the covers out
from under her, Alex took the blanket on his end and wrapped it
around her before sliding over to the other side and curling the
other end of the blanket so that she lay in a cocoon with Alex
keeping the covers tight against her. Marisa turned to face him but
just lay there, eyes closed, all but asleep.

Her foot reflexively kicked out, as
sometimes happened in the moments before sleep claimed her. She
peeked through an eye to find Alex lovingly stroking the hair from
her eyes. “Sorry.”

“Trying to kick me out of bed?” he
whispered, smiling.

“No.” She hadn’t expected that word to pass
through her lips. But saying otherwise would have been a lie. That
realization made her heartbeat quicken, made her drowsy eyes perk
up, made her mouth dry.

When had that changed? Just as important,
why had it changed? He sifted a hand through her hair. It should
have made her relax. But she felt warmth spreading through her
cheeks, passing quickly through her chest until it settled in her
core.

How could this be happening? His fingertips
barely grazed her forehead. He hardly even touched her. Didn’t even
caress an erogenous zone. And yet, no man had ever made her yearn
with such sudden anticipation.

Perhaps being wrapped up and unable to move
had something to do with it. She wanted him closer, but without the
ability to move her hands or arms, she couldn’t lead him toward
her. Her breath came quick as she tilted her neck upwards, to get
closer to him.

Alex lowered his head towards her, now only
six inches away. Looking deep into her eyes, he stroked her hair
again. “Marisa?” His voice was soft.

“Yes?” she whispered, feeling his
cola-scented breath tap against her lips, eager to taste them.
“Yes, Alex?”

He held her gaze for a long moment. “Sleep
tight.” He backed away from her, lifted himself from the bed, and
walked out. A few seconds later, after engaging the lock, he closed
the front door.

And just like that, he disappeared.

Marisa lay there, stunned. She didn’t move,
didn’t blink, didn’t even breathe. She waited. Waited for Alex to
return. But the door didn’t open.

He’d locked it, after all, revealing that he
had no intention of returning. So what had happened? Without
knowing it, had she frowned or reacted in a way to discourage him
from continuing the quickest and most unexpected seduction she’d
ever experienced?

She replayed every moment since he scooped
her in his arms. She analyzed every angle, every touch, and every
sensation, only to discover that…she’d given him no reason to stop.
Then again, had she given him any reason to continue? On second
thought, she’d raised herself for his kiss, hadn’t she?

If he cared, if he truly loved her, wouldn’t
he have stayed with her? Wouldn’t he have tossed aside the
blankets, crawled in beside her, and continued his temptation?
Wouldn’t he have placed a hand on her leg, traveling upwards until
he slid under her sweater, tantalizing her nipples with his
fingertips?

In her mind, she caught a glimpse of that
last second before he stepped through her bedroom doorway. She
scrutinized his every motion and discovered that…he hadn’t
reconsidered and slowed down, hadn’t even the notion to glance
back. He’d just left. As if sharing that intimate connection meant
nothing to him, as if it happened to him on an everyday basis.

Humiliated, she felt her confusion shifting
into anger. Now wide awake since her brain had done some heavy-duty
processing, she tried wiggling out of the blankets, but Alex had
done a superb job of fastening them around her. She kicked her
legs, beat her arms, and finally wriggled free of the covers.

Her pleasant buzz had turned into a pounding
headache. She went into the bathroom, extracted a couple aspirin
from a near empty bottle, and downed them with some water from the
faucet.

Marisa looked at her hostile expression in
the mirror. Two separate men within three weeks had disappointed
her: Alex, who failed to follow up the most enticing foreplay ever;
and Brad, because…well, she vomited, ending any possibility of
intimacy.

But what was she doing? How could she have
responded so strongly to Alex when she didn’t know where things
stood with Brad? Thinking of Brad made her reflect on his poem. The
more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t imagine him
sitting down to spend the time on such a romantic gesture.

In conversation, Brad tended to stumble
around until finally coming around to his point, and she suspected
he had the same inclination when it came to the written word. How
long had it taken him to compose his thoughts? Three hours? Four
hours?

More than that, the knowledge that Brad’s
narrative seemed to confirm what she’d hoped – that he really knew
what she needed to hear from a partner – disoriented her. But she’d
never really sat down and had a deep conversation with him.

She’d never even cuddled with him while
watching a movie. So why had she assumed that he knew her so well?
Had she simply imagined that he understood her because she wanted
to believe it was true?

She went over to her computer and turned it
on, prepared to do some investigative work. She retrieved the poem,
returned to the computer, and Googled a line of Brad’s poetry. It
didn’t supply a line of his words in bold font. She tried a
different line. Same result.

It proved that Brad hadn’t plagiarized. That
should have satisfied her, but she couldn’t get over the idea that
he hadn’t written the poem. She shut down her computer, determined
to get to the bottom of it later this week when she saw Brad at
Lauren’s Halloween party.

As she got back into bed, Marisa tried to
redirect her thoughts away from Alex but succeeding at that task
became impossible. Now that much of her buzz had worn off, she
presumed that her reaction to the way he’d hefted her in his arms
and lay her down on her bed would have lost its charm.

Far from it, she couldn’t resist replaying
the scene in her mind just to experience that unforeseen rush of
sensuous arousal; his powerful chest was broader than she’d ever
realized, and the arms that held her were warm but when she touched
them, they felt like iron. And after he’d leaned in close to her,
when his lips hovered only inches from hers, did he realize that
she desperately wanted his kiss?

A couple weeks ago, after reading Brad’s
poem, she’d reacted like a giddy teenager consumed by excitement,
because she thought she’d finally made a love connection. But when
he expected sex, she hadn’t even felt a flicker of excitement. Yet,
tonight, when Alex looked like he might kiss her, she felt
otherwise.

In truth, since Marisa met Brad three years
ago, no amount of kissing him had ever left her the least bit
aroused. After Brad had left her room that night, he didn’t return.
In fact, he’d only left her a text message. In contrast, Alex had
left her earlier tonight, only to return a few hours later because
he cared about her and wanted to make sure she was okay.

And after sharing that moment a short while
ago in her bedroom with him, she realized that he’d managed to
touch her soul. That hadn’t happened in years. It made her skin
vibrate and tingle with excitement. And she didn’t know what to do
about it.

After all, if he truly loved her, wouldn’t
he have acted on his impulses? Wouldn’t he have shown her how much
he cared? She concluded It made her feel that he only
thought
he loved her. When it came right down to it, Alex
didn’t really feel a deep connection between them.

And as outlandish as that sounded, for
reasons Marisa couldn’t quite explain, she felt let down by that
realization. Perhaps he didn’t
really
love her. Maybe he
only liked the
idea
of loving her. And that possibility
disappointed her more than she ever thought possible.

CHAPTER TWENTY

A couple days later, Alex called Marisa and
set up a meeting at Bedford Falls, so they could coordinate their
efforts to ensure that both of their libraries presented a
consistent message to their patrons. When he arrived, Esther
stopped him before he entered the conference room.

“How are things going with Marisa?” she
asked.

Hearing her name brought to mind his
unbearable desire several nights ago to kiss the woman he’d
treasured for so long. But since she’d had a few drinks, he
couldn’t give in to his impulses. If he ever kissed those luscious
lips, Alex wanted her to remember every second of it.