'Bert, I'm not--'
She broke off. A pair of heavy hands had taken hold of Bert. He was lifted off his feet and set down in the hallway. Rex was there, rigid and scowling angrily.
“Hey, bud, I was just--''
Harold broke in nervously. 'Bert, let's get home, huh?'
Rex crossed his arms over his chest. “Bert, I do highly suggest you leave--now.'
Bert wasn't about to be put off. He straightened his coat and looked around the wall of Rex's chest. 'Honey, you wanna stay here with this animal?'
'Now!' The command sounded like a bark; Rex took a lethally charged step toward Bert.
'Rex!' Alexi protested.
'Gentlemen, gentlemen! Have we a problem? How may
I help you?' The pretty hostess, anxious and distressed, came running down the hallway, speaking softly.
'Rex!' one of the other men said. 'Hey, you're Rex Morrow, aren't you? I've seen your picture on the book covers! Hey, I hate to bother you, but could I have an autograph? My wife would be so thrilled. She buys all your books. In hardcover. And we both read them, every word.'
Bert stepped back as if he had been slapped. 'You're him?' He gaped. Alexi thought that at any second he would stutter and say 'Gaw-ly,' just like Gomer Pyle.
'Gentlemen?' the hostess asked anxiously. She glanced at Rex pleadingly. Alexi saw him relax, and then he laughed. 'I'm sorry. I haven't paper or a pen--'
They were quickly supplied. Rex scrawled out his name several times. When he had finished and the men started walking away, 'Bert paused long enough to look at Alexi longingly.
'So you're with him tonight, huh?' He gazed back at Rex. 'She's expensive, but she's worth every penny.'
'What?' Rex murmured.
'Good night, Bert,' Alexi said sweetly.
Bert followed the others. Alexi turned on Rex. 'That wasn't necessary.'
'They asked me--'
'Manhandling that poor drunken sot wasn't necessary.'
He was silent for a long moment, walking around to sink back into his seat at the table. Once there, he crossed his arms over his chest to stare at her. 'So you enjoyed teasing that drunken sot, huh?'
'No--but I can take care of myself.'
'Great. Next time four men are descending upon you, remind me that you can take care of yourself.'
'You would've gotten into a fight if your ego wasn't so colossal that you were more determined to sign your name.'
He stared at her a moment longer and then reached for one of the chafing dishes. Alexi didn't sit again, and he didn't pay her any attention. He dished out fried rice and then crisp, succulent little pieces of honey-garlic beef. The smell reminded Alexi that she was starving, and she wasn't sure whether she was still angry or embarrassed-- or even a bit awed, since she had been taken for a prostitute and the whole explosive moment had been defused by his lousy signature.
At last his gaze fell on her again, and as it flickered over her length, the corners of his lips twitched with amusement. 'So you're expensive, huh?'
'Maybe I should have gotten the old dear to take me home,' Alexi said, sitting at last.
'Dear child, he was after one thing.' 'Mmm. And what are you after?' He grinned. 'Several things.' Then he sobered again, mechanically moving chafing dishes around to fill Alexi's plate. 'I couldn't find him.' 'Him who?'
'Him who was spying on us.'
'Oh.' Alexi shrugged. She was beginning to think that either Rex or she was crazy--or perhaps they were both imagining things. He was a mystery writer. Maybe--after a certain amount of time--that type of work played havoc with the brain. So there had been someone in the hallway. So what? Probably a hundred people walked down the hallway during the day.
'Rex--' She paused as she discovered that the honey-garlic beef was really delicious. 'This is wonderful.' 'Thank you.'
'Rex, I don't think it's anything to worry about. Maybe it was another fan--'
“Yeah. And that was a fan running downstairs at Gene's the minute the lights went,' he said.
Alexi set her fork down. Rex was eating with the chopsticks; she had decided not to make a fool out of herself with the effort. And now, on top of everything else, she was trembling.
'I thought you didn't believe me,' she murmured.
'I never said that.'
'You implied--'
'I implied nothing. You might have been reading me wrong.'
She shook her head. 'No. You didn't believe me. But I think you do now. Why? What changed your mind?'
'Nothing. Really. All right--I am worried about you. Nothing has happened out on the peninsula in all the time that I've been there, and you show up and it's a three-ring circus. Footsteps on the road, footsteps in the house, snakes, etcetera. And it's not as if the girl next door or Mary Pop-pins moved in. You're Alexi Jordan.'
'Not Mary Poppins,' Alexi agreed sardonically.
'I didn't say you were Jezebel--just not Mary Poppins. Alexi, do you have any enemies?'
She lowered her head over her chicken and shook her head. Did she? No, not real enemies. She had never stepped over anyone to get anywhere. The only enemy she could possibly have was--
'Alexi, what about your ex? Was he mad enough at you to come here and try to scare you? Make you a little crazy?'
John? She shook her head again. She trembled. John could be violent--but she couldn't see him being stealthy. When he had decided to accost her, he hadn't played any games. He had come straight to the apartment--and straight to the point.
'I--I don't think so.'
Rex sighed softly. 'Well, maybe we are imagining things, huh?'
She nodded woodenly.
'You're not eating.'
'Oh. It's wonderful. It really is, Rex. I'm sorry.'
Alexi was startled when he touched her very gently. With his knuckle he raised her chin. For the longest time his dark eyes gazed into hers; for the longest time he seemed to question what he saw there and to muse tenderly upon her.
Then he moved, lowering his face toward hers. His lips touched hers. She knew her mouth was sweet with the taste of plum wine and honey. His lips hovered just above hers, tasting them.
She felt his hand caressing her cheek. Then she felt the movement of his tongue within her mouth, hot and supple and sensual. She trembled, neither protesting the movement nor joining it, but feeling the rise of excitement inside of her, a longing, a sexual tension that knotted in the pit of her belly and seemed to flare throughout her.
His hand still at her nape, he moved back. His dark eyes surveyed hers again. She didn't know what he sought or what he saw.
Or what he felt. Perhaps he was thinking that it was all a loss. That she didn't even know how to return a kiss decently.
Her mouth went dry. She drew her eyes from his to look down at her hands. A tiny glass of plum wine sat before her; aware that he was watching her, she drank it quickly, not sure of what to say or do.
'Maybe you should leave the peninsula,' he said. She shook her head.
'Footsteps in the dark. Maybe something frightening is happening.'
'I--I don't want to leave.'
'Mmm. But you won't protest if I sleep on your sofa again, huh?'
