She was still shivering, still yearning to give way again to panic and strike out at him and run. She was dazed and she needed to think, desperately needed to be clever, and she could not come up with one rational thought. She could smell him so keenly in the black void of this world of fear, and that made her panic further, for his scent was pleasant, subtle, clean, like the salt breeze that came in from the ocean. She was so well-known for her reserve, for her cool thinking under pressure, and here she was, in stark, painful panic, when she most desperately needed a calculating mind. But how could she have imagined this situation? So close to that which she had run from, taking her so swiftly by surprise, stripping away all veneers and making her pathetically vulnerable.
Fight! she warned herself. Don't give up__
'Please...' She could barely form the whisper.
But then, quite suddenly, there was light. Brilliant and blinding and flooding over her features. She blinked against it, trying to see. She raised her arm to shield her eyes from the brutal radiance.
'Who are you?' the voice demanded.
Dear God, she wasn't just being attacked; she was being attacked by a thief or a murderer who asked questions. One of them was mad. She had every right to be! She was going to be living here. He had been prowling around in the darkness He must have waited while she had fumbled with the door; he had stalked her in silence, watching while she came to the window and broke it to tumble inside--and into his ruthless hold.
She couldn't speak; she started to tremble.
'Who are you?' he raged again.
Harsh, stark, male, deliberate, demanding. She lost all sense of reason. Her arms were free. He had even moved back a little; his weight rested on his haunches rather than full against her hips.
'Arrgh!' Another sound escaped her, shrill with effort. He swore, but did not lose his balance. Alexi managed to do more than twist her skirt higher upon her hips and bring him harder against her as he struggled to maintain his new hold on both her wrists with one hand and keep the flashlight harsh against her face with the other.
She wanted to think; she kept shaking, and her words tore from her in gasping spurts. 'Don't kill me. Please don't kill me.'
'Kill you?'
'I'm worth money. Alive, I mean. Not dead. I'm really not worth a single red cent dead. My insurance isn't paid up. But I swear, if you'll just leave me--alive--I can make it worth your while. I--'
'Dammit, I'm not going to kill you. I'm trying very hard not to hurt you!'
She didn't dare feel relief. Still, sweeping sensations that left her weak coursed through her, and to her amazement, she heard her own voice again. 'Who are you?'
'I asked first. And...' She could have sworn there was a touch of amusement in his voice. 'And you're the one asking the favors.'
She swallowed, stretching out her fingers. If he'd only move that horrible flashlight! Then she could think, could muster up a semblance of dignity and courage.
'Who the hell are you? I want an answer now,' he demanded.
His fingers were so tight in their grip around her wrists. She clenched her teeth in sudden pain, aware of the fearsome power that held her.
'Alexi Jordan.'
'You're not.'
He had stated it so flatly that for a moment she herself wondered who else she might be.
'I am!'
He moved. The heat, the tight, vibrantly muscled hold he had on her body was gone; he was on his feet and was dragging her along with him.
'Ms. Jordan isn't due until tomorrow. Who are you? Speak up, now, or I'll call the police.'
'The police?'
'Of course. You're trespassing.'
'You're trespassing!'
'Let's call the police and find out.'
'Yes! Let's do that!'
He was walking next, pulling her along. Alexi was blinded all over again when the light left her face to flash over the floor. She tried to wrench her hand away as the light played eerily over the spiderweb-dusted living room, with its shrouded sofa and chairs.
He wrenched her hand and she choked, then spewed forth a long series of oaths. She was close to sobs, ready to laugh and to cry. She should have been handling it all so much better.
'You'll go to jail for this!' she threatened.
'Really? Weren't you just asking me nicely not to kill you?'
She fell silent, jerked back against him, this unknown this stranger in the darkness. Her heart was pounding man at a rapid, fluttering speed; she could feel its fevered pulse against the slower throb of his own, so close had he brought her to himself.
And she still didn't know his face--whether he was young or old, whether his eyes were blue or gray. She would never forget his voice or mistake it for another, she knew. The low, husky quality to the sure baritone. Cool and quiet and commanding...
And he had just said 'kill.' She was at his mercy and she had forgotten and lashed out in fury and now...
'What do you want?' she whispered, licking her lips.
She gasped as he lifted her; she landed upon the dusty sofa before she could protest again. He fell into the chair opposite her; she heard the movement, heard the old chair creak. The small splay of illumination from the flashlight fell upon her purse, which was in the hands that had so easily subdued her. She thought about bolting-- but she could never make an escape. She could see the outline of his body. He was casually sprawled in the chair as he delved into her bag. She was still certain that he could move like the wind if she made any attempt to rise.
Alexi cleared her throat. It was only her purse, not her body. Despite that, despite her fear, she felt violated. 'You don't--you can't...'
Her voice faded away, she could feel his eyes on her. She couldn't see him, but she could feel his eyes-- compelling, scornful... amused?
“Five lipsticks? Brush, comb, pencil, pad, more lipstick, compact, keys, more lipstick, tissue, more lipstick-- aha! At last, a wallet. And you are really...Alexi Jordan.'
The light zoomed back to her face. Alexi bit her lip, reddening, and she didn't know why. If he was going to kill her, she didn't need to blush for her own murderer. But he had said something about calling the police. He had said that he didn't want to hurt her.
'Please...'she said.
He was silent. The light continued to play mercilessly over her features.
She was something out of a fairy tale, Rex decided, staring at her in the flood of light. Surely she was legendary. He barely noted that her eyes were still filled with terror; they were so incredibly green and wide. Tendrils of hair were escaping from a once-neat knot--hair caught by the light, hair that burned within that light like true spun gold. It wasn't pale, and it wasn't tawny; it was gold. It framed a face with the most perfect classical features he had ever seen. High, elegant cheekbones; small, straight nose; fine, determined chin; arching, honeyed brows. Even in total dishevelment, she was stunning. Her beauty was breathtaking. Stealing the heart, the senses, the mind...
He realized he was still standing there, thoughtlessly leveling the light into her eyes. At last he saw how badly she was shaking.
She Was Alexi Jordan. Gene's granddaughter. Hell, he'd supposedly been guarding the place. He'd attacked her. He hadn't wanted her here--he hadn't wanted anyone here. But he sure as hell hadn't meant to battle it out with her. He opened his mouth to say something. Then he knew that it wouldn't be enough. He had to go to her, touch her. She was still so afraid.
Alexi gasped as fear again curled through her. The man was coming toward her. She cringed; he leaned over her, touched her cheek, then took her hand.
'My God, you're shaking like a leaf!'
'You, you-'
