Strangers In Paradise

by Heather Graham

She lay on her stomach, her chin cupped in her hands. She could even understand why Rex had seemed so aggrieved to discover that she was taking over the house. This was a paradise. Remote and exotic. Who would want intrusion?

  She stretched and rolled onto her side again, idly drawing patterns in the sand.

  Then, despite herself, she began to wonder if he came here often. Of course he did. Who wouldn't? The beach belonged to him. Not to both houses--to him.

  He loved it, surely. His windows looked out over it. He probably walked over the sand all the time, possibly at sunset. At sunset, it would probably be even more beautiful. So very private.

  And if he had a date...

  He probably took her here. At sunset. He would hold hands with her, and they would walk along the sand. And maybe they would play where the water washed over the sand in a soft gurgle. Maybe she would laugh and spray him with water, and maybe he would retaliate and they would fall to the sand. They would make love with the water sliding over them, warm and exciting. Their clothing would lie strewn on the beach, but they really wouldn't need to worry; it was so private here. What would he look like...nude? Beautiful, she decided. He was so tall, broad-shouldered, lean where he should be, bronzed and so nicely, tightly sinewed. "Hello."

  Alexi gasped and whirled around. Instantly fire-red coloring flushed her cheeks.

  It was Rex. Of course it was Rex--it was his beach. But she hadn't expected him here. She hadn't seen him since he'd dropped her suitcase on his hallway floor. That was almost two days ago. She still hadn't been back into her house; she'd been in his, and he in hers. Impatience had brought her to the beach. Impatience and frustration. The cleaners had stayed so late on Monday that she hadn't gone back, and on Tuesday he had told Emily that the fumes were still too strong for Alexi to be able to do anything worthwhile.

  Alexi had been determined to go back anyway. Emily had convinced her to stay, telling her that she would do much better for herself in the next few days if she allowed her foot to heal properly. And, Emily had told her with a wink, Rex was working--he was too immersed to notice the fumes.

  "I said 'Hello,' not 'Take your clothes off, please.' Do you have to look so horrified to see me?"

  "I'm not," she said quickly. She was. She looked down to the sand, not sure how to explain that he had interrupted her when she was imagining him without his clothes.

  Not that he was wearing much. He was in a pair of cutoffs--and what she could see was very near what she had imagined. His flesh was very bronze, very sleek. His shoulders and chest were hard and sinewed; his legs were long and his thighs powerful. Dark hair grew on his chest in a swirl that tapered into a soft line down to the waistband of his shorts. He wore a gold St. Christopher medal and a black-banded sports watch.

  He sank down beside her. She felt his gaze move over her, and it touched her with greater warmth than the sun. Actually, she wasn't exactly cocooned in clothing herself.

  Her bathing suit was one-piece, but it had no back, and the cut was very high on the thighs. To her horror, she felt her heartbeat quicken. Surely he could see the throb of her pulse in a dozen different places.

  "Must you?" she demanded huskily.

  "Must I what?"

  "Come out with all those things."

  "What things?"

  “About clothing. Or lack of them. Or sleeping with the Helen of Troy Lady."

  He was silent for a moment, looking out to sea. He shrugged, then stared at her again. It took a lot of effort, but she finally lifted her eyes to his--and watched him as coolly as she could.

  He smiled slowly, the curl of his lip very deliberate and sensual. "You were blushing before I opened my mouth." "The sun--" "Hah!"

  Alexi threw her hands up. "Mr. Morrow, meet Ms. Jordan. How do you do? How do you do? Pleasant weather, isn't it? Lovely weather, really lovely. That, Mr. Morrow, is the type of conversation that people who have just met exchange!"

  He laughed, leaning back on an elbow. "You're forgetting the way that we met."

  "You mauled me."

  "And I loved every minute of it."

  "Would you stop?"

  "If you want me to stop," he said evenly, "why are you out here on my beach in that bathing suit?"

  "It is a beach! People wear bathing suits on beaches."

  "Mmm. But not people who look like you, in bathing suits like that."

  "I'll wear my long Johns next time."

  He laughed softly, then suddenly reached out for her shoulder and toppled her down beside him. She gasped, ready to protest, but then the smile left his face and he stared down at her so intently that all words fled from her mind. There was something about him. His eyes were so sharp they were almost pained; his features were taut and haggard.

  He drew a finger down her cheek very slowly, barely touching her. Then he breezed that same finger over her lower lip, very slowly, never losing the sharp, hungry tension of his gaze upon her.

  For the life of her, she couldn't move. She could only imagine him as she had before: with a nameless woman on the beach--naked.

  He was Rex Morrow, the famous, talented recluse, who used women--and the world couldn't possibly know that she was incredibly naive and pathetically vulnerable. Well, she had some pride, and she couldn't be used! "Rex--"

  "It's going to happen, you know." "What?"

  "Us. You and me. We're going to make love. Maybe right here, right where we are now." "You're incredibly arrogant." "I'm honest. Which you aren't at the moment." "Someone should really slap you--hard," she told him disdainfully, though with some difficulty. He was still halfway over her. She could feel his body, so warm from the sun beating down upon it. So close. And both of them so...barren of substantial clothing. Her pulse was beating furiously again. And she wanted to touch him. She had never before known such temptation--a desire that defied good sense and pride and reason.

  "Is that someone going to be you?" he said slyly.

  "If you don't watch it," she warned.

  "Can't you feel it?" he asked her lazily. "The sun-baked sand, the whisper of the waves, rising, ebbing...rising. Can't you feel the heat from the sun, from the earth, becoming a part of us?''

  He touched the rampant pulse at the base of her throat.

  "Can't you feel the rhythm...throbbing?"

  "You're an arrogant SOB--that's what I can feel," she said coolly.

  He laughed. The tension was gone; the hardened hunger of his gaze. He pushed himself up and landed on his feet with the grace of a great cat. He offered a hand to her. "Come on. I've got a present for you."

  She stared warily at his hand, causing him to chuckle again.

  "Nervous, Alexi? Think I'm going to toss you to the sand and maul you?'' Impatiently he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.

  And then against his body. He arched a brow wickedly. "Don't worry. When we get to it, you'll be breathlessly eager."

  Alexi coolly took a step backward, raising her chin, smiling as sweetly as she could.

  "I hardly think so, Mr. Morrow."

  He laughed, slipped an arm around her waist and started back toward the house. When they were nearly there, he lowered his head and murmured near her ear, "Liar."

  "Ohh..." she groaned. Really. What incredible insolence, she thought. She stepped ahead of him again and turned around to face him challengingly. "You really like the suit, huh?"

  "I like what's in it."

  Alexi groaned. "Eat your heart out, then!" she teased.

  Rex laughed. But when he caught up with her again and whispered what he did intend to do, it was so insinuative that the sensations that ripped through her, jagged and molten, felt dangerously as if he had followed through.

  Chapter 6

  At the path to the house, Rex suddenly stood still, crossing his arms over his chest. He nodded toward the front door.

  "You first, Ms. Jordan."

  She arched a brow, then shrugged, heading down the path. At the door she paused. "I don't have a key with me." />
  "It isn't locked."

  She raised her brow more. "I'm having problems with people and footsteps, and you left the door open?''

  "Samson is inside. I assure you--no one is in there with him."

  "Oh." Alexi pushed open the door. Rex had been telling the truth; Samson was sitting in the hallway, just like a sentinel. He barked and thumped his tail against the floor. He was standing behind a large wicker basket with a red-white-and-blue checked cotton cloth extended beneath the handle.

  "Good boy, Samson, but what is this?" Alexi said, then turned to look at Rex again.

  "It's your present," he told her.

  He smiled--a little awkwardly, she thought--and she lowered her head quickly, wondering if she was blushing again. There had been a nice touch to that smile. Endearing... frightening. She barely knew him, really. One minute he was making sexual innuendoes, the next he was avoiding her--and then the next he was doing wonderful things for her.

  "Well, open it up," Rex urged her. Alexi knelt down and gingerly lifted up a piece of the cotton cloth. She saw movement first, and then she gasped, reaching into the basket. There were two of them--two little balls of silver fur. The one she held mewed, sticking out a tiny paw at her.

  "Oh!" It was adorable. The cutest kitten she had ever seen. It was all that soft, wonderful silver color, except for its feet and its nose, which were black. Its hair was long and fluffy--and made it look much bigger than it was.

  Samson barked excitedly. Alexi reflected that the giant shepherd could consume the kitten in one mouthful, but he didn't seem the least bit interested in trying. He barked again, watching Alexi as if he had planned it himself or as if he was very aware that he and Rex were handing out a present.

  "Oh!" Alexi repeated, stroking the kitten. The second ball was crawling out of the basket, and she laughed, scooping that one up, too. "You're adorable. You're the cutest little things...."

  She gazed up at Rex at last, aware that she was starting to gush. But they were a wonderful present. She was also certain that they were silver Persians--and that they had cost him a fair amount of money.

  "Rex--"

  He stooped down beside her, idly patting the dog. "I don't want Samson here getting jealous," he said lightly. "Do you like them...really?"

  He gazed at her--somewhat anxiously, she thought--and she felt that the hall had suddenly become small. The two of them were very close and very scantily dressed, and yet it wasn't that at all, really; it was that expression in his eyes.

  "They're darling. But Rex, I--I can't accept them."

  "Why?"

  "They're Persians, right? They must have cost a mint." "What?" He threw back his head and laughed, relieved. "I was afraid that you were allergic to them or something. Yes, they're Persians. They're three months old, but the breeder assured me they'd be perfect." "Perfect?"

  He grinned, a little wickedly now. "Mousers--except that I don't think you have any mice. You could, though-- mice are rather universal. 'Snakers,' I guess you could call them. Cats are simply great to have for anything that creeps and crawls around."

  "Oh! Oh, Rex, how thoughtful! Thank you, really. But again, how can I accept them?"

  He shrugged. "You did me a great favor."

  Alexi laughed. "I did you a favor? I haven't done a thing for you."

  He grinned. "Want to pay me in trade?"

  "Ha-ha. No."

  "Ah, well." He shrugged. "I didn't think so. But, honest, you did me a favor."

  "What?"

  "I have my best plot in ages going now--thanks to your little murder victims all over the house."

  "What?"

  "The snakes," he explained. "I turned them into people. All murdered. One with the spade, one with the pipe wrench, and so on. I added some family greed and passion and jealousy, etcetera. It's going great."

  "Oh!"

  "See what I mean? You did me the favor."

  "Oh. Oh..." Alexi stood up, cradling the kittens to her. She looked down the hallway. There wasn't a speck of dust. She hurried to the parlor door and threw it open. The window she had broken on her first night had been repaired; the room had been cleaned. The whole place smelled faintly and wonderfully of fresh pine. There couldn't possibly be a living bug in it, it was so spotless.

  Rex stayed in the hallway, tearing idly against the doorframe. Alexi glanced at him, then brushed past him, hurrying to inspect the rest of the house. The ballroom had been scrubbed from ceiling to floor; the library, too, was devoid of a hint of dirt. The drapes and furniture even seemed to be different colors--lighter, more beautiful.

  And there wasn't a trace of a snake--or of any of the weapons she had left lying around.

  Rex was by the stairway, watching her. She maintained a certain distance from him as she rubbed her cheek against the kitten's soft fur.

  "It's fabulous," she murmured. "Rex, thank you."

  "Want to see upstairs?"

  She nodded. He didn't move; he waited for her to precede him up the stairs. Samson rushed by, though, barking, and she nearly tripped over him.

  She couldn't remember climbing the stairs as a child, so she didn't really have any comparisons to make. But it was wonderful. The subtle, clean scent of pine was everywhere; the windows were all open, and sunlight was streaming in. The house, which had always been fascinating, although a bit depressing in its dirt and darkness, now seemed warm and welcoming and bright. The runners over the hard wood were cream, with flower patterns in bright shades of maroon and pink and green. The hallway draperies were a cream tapestry, and the eight-paned windows were crystal clear. Alexi switched both protesting kittens to one arm and began to throw doors open. There were four of them, two on either side of the landing. To her left was the master bedroom, a man's room with heavy oak furniture. She found the mistress's bedroom next, all done more delicately than Pierre's. The molded plaster showed beautifully on the clean ceilings. The wood was shining; the beds were immaculate.

  Alexi stopped by Rex in the hallway and shoved the kittens into his arms, startling him so that he had to straighten and abandon his lazy lean against the banister.

  "It's wonderful," she said.

  "Thank you. Well, I didn't do it. The company did-- and they'll bill you, you know."

  "Oh, I know, but..." Her voice trailed away, and she walked down the hall to the next doors.

  One of the rooms was a nursery. A shiny wooden cradle rocked slightly with the breeze coming in through an open window. The closet stretched wall-to-wall, and there was an old rocking horse, a twin bed and a cane bassinet. How darling! Alexi thought, and she hurried on out, eager to finish exploring.

  The last room was a guest room--a genderless room, comfortable and quaint. The headboard was elaborately carved and went on to stretch the distance of the wall on either side of the bed to create great bookcases. The opposite wall was covered with a tapestry of a biblical scene. There was a fine brocaded Victorian love seat and another rocker; both faced the window, a little whatnot table between them.

  Alexi loved it. She determined right away that this would be her room. She'd fill the cases with her books and also store discs and tapes for a stereo and television system. She could modernize for convenience without really changing anything.

  She started to turn, only to collide with Rex. All of him. He must have set the kittens down somewhere, because she hit solid chest. Solid, masculine, hairy chest. Coarse dark hair teased too much of her own bare skin, and she stepped back.

  "It's spotless. It's wonderful. They did a great job," she told him quickly.

  He nodded. "They've got a good reputation." Alexi stepped around him. The day wasn't hot; it was perfect, with a nice cooling breeze. But she was suddenly warm. Hot flashes soared through her, and now she was very determined not to be alone with him. Her imagination had come vividly alive, all in an instant, living color. Perhaps it was more than imagination. Maybe it was the feel of the heat in the room, of the tension...of his nearness. She could visualize h
im sweeping her into his arms and falling with her upon the antique bed. They really shouldn't have been past the "How do you do, lovely weather" stage, and she wanted to reach out and stroke the planes of his cheek. Intimacy had never been that easy for her; making love had taken time, and it had come far from naturally. It was, by its nature, something that should come after knowing a man deeply and well.

  But this one...she wanted simply by virtue of something that lived and stirred inside her, an aching, a wanting. And. though she was certain she could never instigate anything, he surely could. But to him it wouldn't mean anything; to her it would.

  Alexi hurried into the hallway. Her heart was thundering her palms were damp. She didn't want him to see her eyes knowing they could bare her soul, tell him everything she'd been thinking. One thing she had decided about Rex Morrow--it would not pay for him to be aware of all her weaknesses.

  He was following her; she could feel him. She hurried on down the stairs, talking.

  "Rex, it's all wonderful. No spiderwebs, no dirt, no creeping, crawling creatures. Thank you. Thank you so much. And you went to just the right degree... I mean, thank you, but if you'd gone any further, it wouldn't have been good. Do you know what I mean? I'm trying to prove that I can do it. No, I don't have to prove anything. Well, that's not the truth, really. I suppose that I am trying to prove--''

  "You're babbling--that's what you're doing." She'd reached the landing; he spoke from behind her-- close. A tingling crept along her spine, she was so aware of him. I'm confused! she wanted to scream. She'd never had feelings like this, and she didn't know what to do with them--but she did know that she should take things slowly and carefully.

  "Am I?" she said, but she didn't turn around. She started walking again, pushing through the kitchen doorway. She let the door fall back, aware that he had plenty of time to catch it. She went straight to the refrigerator. "I'm dying of thirst. Don't you want something? The sun is murderous out on the beach. Hmm. I don't even know what's in here. I'm going to have to get out to the store today."

  He curled his fingers gently around her arm and pulled her head out of the refrigerator and her body around so that she faced him. He wore a quizzical expression that was handsome against the fine, strong lines of his face. “What is wrong with you?"