her that someone had actually shot his horse. No wonder he liked solitude.
But he didn't seem bothered by her words. He came closer to her and touched his glass to hers. 'This time you're excused,' he promised solemnly. He didn't move away from her. His eyes were on hers, dark and deep. Again she was aware of the delicious scent of him. For the longest time, she thought he was going to kiss her, and she didn't think she would protest. She wouldn't have the mind left to do so.
But he didn't. He turned around suddenly, going to the door. He started to call the kittens, but they were right there, tumbling over each other to get back into the house.
'They have to be locked in the cellar,' Alexi said. She wrinkled her nose. 'I don't want to have to search the whole house for what they might have needed to do.'
'Sorry, guys,' Rex told the playful pair. 'You're being jailed for the evening.'
'Well, where's Samson?' Alexi challenged.
'Probably lolled out on the leather sofa,' Rex admitted.
'I forgot to tell him when he was a puppy that he was a dog.' With that, he led her out.
His car was a sporty little Maserati. He asked Alexi if she minded the top down, and she assured him that she loved the air. They didn't speak much on the thirty-minute drive to the restaurant; the wind did feel good, and Alexi found herself content to lean her head back on the fine leather upholstery and close her eyes. He had a good stereo system, and the music and air seemed to blanket her in a shroud of comfort and lethargy.
'We're here--if you're awake,' Rex told her when he parked.
'I'm awake--just a mess,' she replied, fumbling in her bag for her comb. Rex came around to open the passenger door; when she stepped out, he took her hand, then smoothed back all the straying gold strands. Alexi didn't move; she just let him do that, wondering how such a simple service could feel so intimate and sensual.
'Ready?' he asked huskily.
She was ready...for almost anything.
The restaurant was beautiful. The lobby was dusky and intimate with ornately carved and very heavy chairs. A hostess in black silk trousers greeted Rex like an old friend, and Alexi experienced a moment's jealousy, wondering how often he came here--and with whom.
They were led down a little hallway. It was very intimate; silk screens and paneling divided each little room. The music was soft. When they reached their room, Alexi saw that the tables were low; she was to remove her shoes, and she and Rex would sit on cushions on the floor. The table was round, and they were seated very close to each other. Rex asked her if he could order the wine, and she said sweetly that since he knew the place so well, he should certainly do so.
Their hostess left them. Rex reached for her fingers and played with them idly in the small space between them.
'Jealous?' he asked.
'Why should I be?'
'I see...just naturally catty.'
Alexi pulled her fingers back. 'You forget, Mr. Morrow, I was in the most uncomfortable position of getting to hear all about your sex life.'
'You didn't hear all about it. But if you want the finer details, I can always give them to you.'
Their hostess bringing in the wine saved Alexi from having to reply. Once she had left again, Alexi turned her attention to the menu. Rex suggested the house specialty, which included samplings of their honey-garlic chicken and beef, and another platter with their mu-shu pork Cantonese and their spicy grilled fish.
Alexi closed the menu. “You know the place, Mr. Morrow.'
He lifted her wineglass and handed it to her. “I wonder if you'll mellow out with age.'
The way he said it, she had to laugh. She sipped the wine and found it delicious. And suddenly the whole evening seemed wonderful. The muted light, the soft Oriental music, the plush cushion beneath her...the man beside her. She felt as if one sip of the wine had given her senses greater power; she could hear more keenly, see more clearly and inhale and feel his scent sweep into her. She could have swirled around very easily, laid her head in his lap, closed her eyes--and luxuriated in the feel of it all.
'Who knows you're in Gene's house?' he asked.
'What?' Alexi shook her head to clear it. Rex was serious and intent; his eyes were brooding.
'Who knows you're here?'
She shrugged. 'Gene. My agent. My family.'
'Anyone else?'
'No--no, I don't think so. I wanted--I wanted to be alone for a while.' Alexi hesitated, wondering. 'Why?'
He shrugged. 'Oh, I don't know. I was just curious, I suppose.'
Alexi studied him. 'You're lying to me. Why?'
He shrugged again, looking toward the doorway. Alexi followed his gaze and saw that their pretty hostess was returning again with another woman and half a dozen small chafing dishes.
The woman opened the dishes to describe the food, then closed them again to maintain the heat. Rex thanked them both, but when they had gone, he still seemed to hesitate.
'Rex!'
'What?'
'Why? Why did you ask me that?'
He didn't answer her. Alexi saw that he was still frowning as he stared at the thin screen that separated their little room from the hallway.
'Rex...?'
He didn't look at her, but he pressed his finger to her lips and indicated the screen. He silently began to rise.
Alexi thought he had lost his mind. But then she saw it; the shadow of a figure standing in the hallway. There was something secretive about the shadow--someone had been listening to them.
Alexi didn't know that she was gasping until Rex swore softly at her, then bounded over the table like a talented linebacker and raced toward the door.
But the shadow, too, had obviously heard her gasp.
It straightened and disappeared just seconds before Rex went racing out after it.
Chapter 7
Rex didn't return. Confused, Alexi waited for several moments, then rose and hurried out to the hall. There was no sign of any shadow man, nor of Rex. As Alexi stood in the hallway, a group of slightly inebriated businessmen made an appearance from a room farther down the corridor. It was a narrow hallway, and Alexi stepped inside again to allow them to pass.
A short, stout man named Harold was telling a tall, lean, bald man he called Bert that now was the time to dump his electrical stock. And while he was at it, Bert should dump his wife, too.
They passed Alexi, and Harold caught sight of her.
'Oh, Nelly, I am in heaven!' Harold slurred out. He had small eyes, which lit up to look like pennies. 'Are you ft' dessert, darlin'?' He braced himself in the slender doorway, leering in at her.
'No, I'm not the dessert,' Alexi told him. He reminded her of her uncle Bob. Mild mannered by day--a lecher after one beer too many.
'You sure look like dessert.'
'Go home,' Alexi said. She couldn't help adding, 'And Bert--I wouldn't dump your wife if I were you.'
'You know Gertrude, huh?' Harold swung on into the room, staring at her incredulously. 'Honey, you are cute. Come to think of it, I'm sure I know you. Don't we know her, Harry? Hey--aren't you from that massage parlor downtown?'
'No! I'm not from any massage parlor! Bert, go home and sleep it off.'
'I'm in heaven!' Bert claimed. He winked. 'We did, honey. We met before.' He turned around to nudge one of the other men in the ribs. 'She remembers me! She gave me the best little, er, massage I ever did have. You here with a loser, honey? You come on now, and Harry and Bert will make it worth your while.'
He clamped sweaty, sausagelike little fingers around her wrist. Alexi sighed. So much for her Helen of Troy fame. He thought that she was a, er, massage artist.
