She stiffened and drew away from him abruptly.
'Alexi!'
He caught her hands. She stared into his eyes. At that very moment, she wanted the earth to open up and swallow her. She groaned.
'Alexi, shh--'
She couldn't understand that he meant to soothe her; she knew only that she had led him where he had gone and that she had then pulled away from him.
She tore at the door handle and wrenched it open. She was so awkward, caught upon his lap in the small bucket seat.
'Alexi!'
Sobbing, she stumbled over him. Her shoes were lost; her nylons were a tangle. She yanked them off and set out upon the sand, running. The night was dark, with only the moon and the stars to guide her, but it didn't matter; she didn't know where she was running to, only that she had to escape.
Pine and sand were beneath her feet. Bare feet. The beach was out there, through a trail of pines that both sheltered and mysteriously darkened. Ahead, she could hear the waves, so soft and gentle here. Waves of the mighty Atlantic.
She reached the beach, the sand soft and cool now beneath her feet. She looked up and saw the stars and the crescent of the moon, and she inhaled raggedly, desperately.
She gasped, startled, as arms swept around her. Rex's arms.
'Oh, don't!' she pleaded. She couldn't look at him. He turned her around anyway, pulling her to his chest, running his fingers down the length of her hair.
'Please, don't. I'm so sorry. I--' she said brokenly.
'Alexi, stop. Listen to me. Stop.'
She tried; she couldn't. She felt as if she sobbed raggedly for the longest time, yet she couldn't pull away from him; he held her firm. Then she tried again to tell him how embarrassed she was and how sorry, and he comforted her again. At last she inhaled a long, ragged breath and exhaled it and stood still.
Rex pulled off his shoes and socks and took her elbow. 'Let's sit in the surf. And you can tell me about it.' 'No!'
'Yes. I deserve that much.'
'No, no, just forget about me, please. Believe that I didn't mean to do what I did--'
'Come on, Alexi.'
She had little choice. Before she knew it she was sitting in the surf beside him and the waves were rippling over their feet and he was as unconcerned about his dress trousers as she was about the hem of her knit. He didn't make her talk at first; he just held her against him, her head against his chest, his arms around her waist, his chin resting upon the top of her hair.
'John Vinto?' he asked.
She shuddered.
'What in God's name did he do to you?' Rex exploded.
She didn't want to start crying again--and she knew he wasn't going to let her go. When she started to talk, she discovered that she could do it almost impersonally, as if it had happened to someone else, as if it were history, long gone.
'I, uh, I knew a lot of what he was doing. Granted, it took me a while. The spouse is always the last to know it all. And I was so desperate to make my marriage work, you know. I had more or less run away from a great home to make it on my own. My parents hadn't wanted me to marry John. Gene didn't even approve of him. It was simply so hard to admit I'd made a mistake....'
Her voice trailed away for a moment, and then she shrugged. “I became ill during a makeup session one day and came home. John was in bed with another of his models. I think it was then that I realized he probably fell a little bit in love with every woman he photographed. It hurt, though. A lot. I didn't make any threats or accusations or anything. I just turned away. I tried to call for a cab. By then the girl was running out of the house only half- dressed, and John was slamming down the receiver. He said that we had to talk. I said there was nothing to talk about; nothing would change my mind. I wanted a divorce. He became irate. He kept telling me that I didn't want a divorce. I tried to call a cab again, and he told me that I couldn't live without him, I couldn't survive without him, that I wanted him--and that he'd prove it to me.' She stopped speaking, staring out at the ocean, wincing. It seemed so horrible even to say aloud. So humiliating. So degrading.
Rex didn't say anything. He tightened his arms around her. She wasn't even aware that she was speaking again.
'It was an awful fight. I realized what he meant, and I threw the phone at him and ran. He caught me and dragged me through half the house. He kept telling me that I was still his wife.' She lowered her head. 'And, of course, I was his wife, and just the night before, I'd loved him. I just can't describe the terror of being powerless. Of having no control over being forced...'
'My God,' Rex whispered. Like quicksilver, he moved his fingers gently over her cheek. “To think that I accosted you like that on your first night at the house. Alexi, I'm so sorry. So, so sorry.' He was silent for a moment. She felt his kiss, tender and light, over her brow. She felt his arms around her, and she wasn't afraid; she felt secure.
'You kept working with him!' Rex said incredulously. 'You should have taken the bastard to court.'
She shook her head. 'Do you know how hard it is to prove spousal assault? I would probably have lost--and the publicity would have marked me for the rest of my life.' She sighed softly. 'John didn't want the divorce. I did threaten to take him to court. That was the only reason he agreed to the divorce--no-fault and quick. I agreed to finish out the Helen of Troy campaign as long as he swore never to touch me or come near me again.'
'Alexi, Alexi...'
She felt the soft brush of his kiss again; she felt the strength of his arms. The night was cool with the breeze, but the water was' warm as it washed over her feet.
'I'll kill him!' Rex swore suddenly, savagely. He was tense, as taut as piano wire. 'I swear, I'll damned well kill him!'
Alexi twisted, startled by the vehemence, by the passion, by the caring in his tone. He was her willing champion, a fury in the night. Touched, she stroked his cheek, somewhat amazed that he could show such fierce concern.
He caught her fingers and kissed them, and she met the dark fires of his eyes. She inhaled sharply, feeling everything within her quicken. She wanted him so badly! So very badly. And she was so frightened that she would pull away again. He wouldn't want her. He was fierce against brutality and injustice, but he could not want her again. A neurotic who teased.
But he was smiling, and smiling so gently, while the starfire blazed in the depths of his night-dark eyes. He kissed her fingers again, reverently, then dropped them, and to her amazement he was up beside her, struggling out of his jacket and vest and then his shirt as she stared up at him, incredulous of his strange, abrupt behavior.
'Ever been skinny-dipping?' he demanded.
She flushed, staring at the ocean while he stripped. 'Rex, you saw what just happened!'
His trousers landed in her lap, then his briefs. In the darkness she saw the bright flash of his muscled buttocks as he raced past her, splashing seawater all over her knit. In seconds he had swum out into the surf. 'Come on!' 'Didn't you ever watch Jaws?' she retorted. 'I promise you--no great white is in water this hot!' 'How about a small shark?'
'Minutely possible, but highly implausible. Come on! I dare you. I double-dare you.'
'Rex...'
'Alexi! Come on! The least you owe me is a bit of good ogling.'
She bit her lower lip, then recklessly stood. What else could happen? He knew the truth now. Her worst nightmare had already happened. Rex knew that she was basically asexual. And that she couldn't really help it--and why.
He'd sworn he'd kill John. She trembled suddenly, remembering his vehemence. It had just been a turn of phrase, she told herself. Rex didn't even know John. 'Come on!' Rex called to her.
