'Rex--'
'Alexi--dammit! I--' He cut himself off, his jaw twisting into a rigid line. He shook his head again and walked into the parlor. She heard the door slam. Hard.
Alexi retreated to the kitchen. She leaned against the door and breathed deeply. He was going to sleep in her house. She shouldn't make him do it. She shouldn't allow him to do it.
She trembled. She couldn't help it. She was very, very glad that he was just a few feet away.
Chapter 4
Even though she knew Rex was in the house--or perhaps because she knew Rex was in the house--Alexi spent a miserable night.
The kitchen floor was still a horrible bed; she swore to herself that she would get going on the house. When she first dozed off she nearly screamed herself awake, dreaming of a giant brown widow. She hadn't even known that 'widows' came in 'brown'--but she didn't want to meet another one.
Having woken herself up, she ate some of the pizza. Rex, bleary-eyed and rumpled, stumbled in, and at last they shared some of the pizza. When he returned to the parlor, she determined to settle down to sleep again. More dreams and nightmares plagued her. Disconcerting, disconnected nightmares in which men and women in antebellum dress swirled through the ballroom, laughing, chatting, talking. Beautiful people in silks and satins and velvets--but the dancers were transparent and the ballroom retained its dust aids and webbed decay. The only man with substance in her dreams was Rex Morrow--darkly handsome and somewhat diabolical, but totally compelling as he grinned wickedly and pointed in silence to the portraits of Pierre and Eugenia on the wall. She kept trying to reach him through the translucent dancers. She didn't know why, only that she needed to, and the more time that passed, the more desperate she became. Then, at the end, a giant brown spider with John's face pounced down between them and Alexi gasped and sprang up--and came awake, swearing softly as she realized a warm sun was spilling brilliantly through the windows.
She put coffee on and went in search of Rex, only to find the sofa empty, with a note where his body should have lain.
Gone home to bathe, shave and work. Checked on you--you were sleeping like a little lamb. Well, a sexy little lamb. Libido, you know. It's light and all seems well. Fix the window today, dammit! If you need anything, give me a ring. I'll be here.
So he was gone. Funny...she had been looking forward to seeing him. To sharing coffee. To laughing at her fears by the morning's light. She smiled, remembering how they had shared cold pizza. Neither of them had really been awake. She could barely remember anything they had said. She'd liked his cheeks looking a little scruffy; she'd liked all that dark hair of his in a mess over his forehead.
Well, Rex probably wouldn't be the same by daylight, either. He'd be hostile, annoyed, superior, doing that eccentric artist bit all over again. She swore that the next time she saw him she'd be in control. Competent, able-- fearless.
Oh, yeah! But she had to get started.
Definitely. She had to do something here, she warned herself. When her dreams began to include shades of The ply, she was falling into the realm of serious trouble.
By morning's light she was able to roam around the lower level of the house. The place appeared even shabbier.
'Steam cleaners will make a world of difference,' she promised herself out loud.
Still hesitant of the creepy-crawly possibilities, she kept her suitcase in the kitchen. When the coffee had perked, she poured herself a cup and sipped it while she opened her suitcase. It tasted good. Delicious. But not even the dose of caffeine really helped her mood. Her extended-wear contact lenses weren't 'extending' very well--her vision was all blurry, and she swore softly again, wishing she could wear them with comfort and ease. She peered at her watch. It was only eight. She'd take a long shower, then remove her contacts, clean them and put them back in.
Alexi found her white terry robe, finished her coffee and considered exploring the upstairs for a bedroom and bath. Then, deciding that she would tackle the upstairs after she was dressed, she called and asked the steam cleaners in town to come out. Once they were finished, she would start vacuuming and sweeping and choose a room for herself. She really wasn't afraid of a few spiders and bugs--she just wanted to be a bit more fortified to deal with them.
So, determined, she grabbed her robe and headed for the little powder room beneath the stairs. She had noticed the night before that it did have a small shower stall. In fact, the little bathroom was really quite nice--tiled in soft mauve, with a darker purple-and-gold-lined wallpaper. Gene must have had it updated fairly recently.
Alexi turned on the light and grimaced at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. There were purple shadows beneath her red-rimmed eyes. She certainly didn't look one bit like the Helen of Troy lady. She was pale and drawn and resembled a wide-eyed, frightened child. She pinched her cheeks, then laughed, because she hadn't given them any color at all. She reflected a bit wryly that the only real beauty to her face lay in its shape; it was what was called a classical oval, with nice high cheekbones. John had told her once that a myriad of sins could be forgiven if one's cheekbones were good.
She laughed suddenly; she looked like hell, cheekbones or no.
'Tonight,' she promised her reflection out loud, 'I am going to sleep!'
Sobering, she turned away from her image and stripped off her clothing; there were a million things she wanted to do that day. Clean, clean, clean. And Rex was supposed to be bringing a new hose for the car. She also wanted a stereo system and a television--modern amenities that had never interested Gene.
Alexi stepped into the little shower stall, surprised and pleased to see the modern shower-massage fixtures. She fiddled with the faucets, gasped as the water streamed out stone-cold, swore softly--then breathed a sigh of relief as heat came into the water. For several long, delighted moments she just stood there, feeling the delicious little needles of wet heat sear her skin. Steam rose all around her, and she closed her eyes, enjoying it. The shower felt so good, in fact, that everything began to look better. The Brandywine house was beautiful. A little elbow grease and she could make it into a showplace again. Gene had really done quite a bit already; the kitchen was warm and nice, and this little bathroom was just fine. Of course, she could see all sorts of possibilities. The kitchen could use a window seat, a big one, with plump, comfortable cushions,
Some copper implements, some plants. It was a huge room and could be made into an exquisite family center.
Alexi reached for the shampoo, scrubbed it into her hair and rinsed it. She paused then, reflecting that she really did mean to get things together.
She really couldn't wait to ask Rex in for a drink or a cup of coffee once she had things straightened out. I wonder why, she thought as the water beat against her face. Because, she reasoned, everything had gone wrong every time she'd seen him. She just wanted something to go right.
As she stood there, a little curl, warm and shimmering, began to wind in her stomach. She inhaled and exhaled quickly, alarmed at the realization that she wanted to see him again...just because she wanted to see him again. She was eager to hear the tone of his voice; she felt secure and comfortable when he was near.
It was a foolish feeling. She didn't want any entanglements; she didn't think she was really even capable of an entanglement. But the feeling was there, an ache, a nostalgia, poignant and sweet. She wanted to see him. No...he didn't even want her in the house. He wanted the land all to himself. He saw her as an intrusion on his privacy. But she couldn't help it; she found herself wondering about his relationships with other women. He had been blunt about his divorce, more cold than bitter. Yet she knew that his marriage had left a taste of ash in his mouth. Still, having met him...having experienced that strange feeling of intimacy on the first night, she started to shiver again.
She couldn't imagine him being alone, either. He was a man who liked women, who would attract them easily-- with or without fame and fortune. But once burned... She Knew the feeling well. He was quiet in his way; he spoke Plainly but gave away very little emotion, it wasn't there to give. But she had been determined to come into the shower and scrub her hair and herself and be as...perfect as she could be. For when she saw him again. She didn't want to be breaking in; she didn't want to be running because she'd blown a hose in the car. She wanted to be composed and poised. Perhaps even cool...cool enough to regain the control that seemed to be slipping from her.
Alexi sighed and turned off the shower. She had steamed herself until the water had gone cold as she'd
