He gave her a long, penetrating look. “Because you’re not some other woman, Ali. I fell in love with you because you’re intelligent, determined, spunky and breathtakingly beautiful.”
Merrick traced the outline of her cheekbone with a fingertip. “And what would it look like if my girlfriend got up every morning to go to work and left me home to lie around on my behind like a scrub? I couldn’t do that and still feel like a man, querida.”
Alex closed her eyes and rested her head on Merrick’s shoulder. He’d referred to her as his girlfriend, but at that moment she wanted to be more than a girlfriend. She wasn’t certain whether her stance had changed toward marriage because she’d found herself more in love with Merrick Grayslake, or if it was seeing Moira and Hernando Rivera together as husband and wife, but she no longer wanted to be a girlfriend but a married woman.
“Merrick?”
“Yes, darling?”
“I’m ready to go back to the room.”
Beckoning to their waiter, Merrick settled the bill, then escorted Alex out of the restaurant, walking the three blocks that would take them back to the hotel.
As soon as they exited the elevator, Alex felt the intensifying effects of jet lag. She didn’t remember Merrick undressing her, putting her to bed or joining her in the king-size bed. She dozed off and on for the next two days, and when her circadian rhythms stabilized she looked forward to reuniting with Merrick and Rome.
Chapter 16
Alex woke to find Merrick sitting at the table in their hotel suite, in a pair of pajama pants, sipping coffee and reading a newspaper. The strands of his coarse hair stood on end as if he’d run his fingers through it.
A smile parted her lips. It was the first time she’d seen him wearing pajamas. In fact, she didn’t know that he’d even owned a pair because he’d always come to bed naked.
She lay motionless, studying the man with whom she’d fallen in love, the man whom she prayed she would one day call husband. The reasons she resisted marriage were always the same: she hadn’t met the right man, and because her parents were exerting pressure for one of their adult children to marry and make them grandparents—her father in particular. David Cole resented his four older siblings’ good-natured teasing that he would never become a grandfather when all of their married children had made grandparents and great-grandparents.
And she’d asked herself over and over, was Merrick Grayslake the right man? And each time the answer was a resounding yes!
Alex had disclosed to Merrick that eventually she wanted to marry and have children sometime in the future. His response was that he had no desire to marry or father children, which had proven an amicable arrangement for both—at that time. But with time she’d changed and her feelings toward him had changed.
She’d agreed to meet him in Italy, knowing that she would never become Mrs. Merrick Grayslake. What Alex had to resolve before she returned to the States to begin a new career was whether she would continue in a relationship that represented perpetuity without matrimony.
Without warning, Merrick turned and stared at her. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”
She smiled at him. “Good morning, Sir Grayslake. How long have I been out of it?”
Merrick folded the newspaper. “A couple of days. You were good as long as we were moving, but every time you sat down you fell asleep.”
Pushing into a sitting position, Alex stretched her bare arms above her head. She hadn’t remembered putting on the pale yellow nightgown, so it was obvious Merrick had dressed her for bed.
“It usually takes me a couple of days to adjust to the time difference whenever I cross the international date line. What did I miss?”
He angled his head, unable to believe Alex hadn’t remembered anything since she’d arrived. Was she that affected by jet lag or was she that exhausted?
“What do you remember?”
Sighing, she closed her eyes. “I remember we threw coins in the Fontana di Trevi.”
The tradition was to throw a coin into the fountain if one wished to return to Rome. The Trevi was Rome’s most famous fountain. Neptune, the fountain’s central figure, flanked by smaller figures representing a calm and stormy sea, had become the focal point of the classic romance film Three Coins in the Fountain.
Merrick smiled. “Do you remember what you said when you tossed your coin?”
Alex sat up straighter. “No.”
What she did remember was that she’d drunk too much wine at dinner that night. They’d eaten at a sidewalk café around Piazza Navona and met an American couple visiting Rome for the first time. They spoke no Italian and their waiter, who spoke very little English, was unable to communicate with them until Merrick intervened. They wound up sharing a table for four and the native Chicagoans ordered several bottles of wine to accompany dinner.
“Did I do or say something embarrassing?”
Pushing back the chair, Merrick stood up and walked over to the bed. He crawled in beside Alex, rested his back on the headboard and pulled her gently to his bare chest.
There was a full minute of silence before he spoke. “You said you wanted to come back to Rome for your honeymoon.”
Letting out her breath in an audible sigh, Alex met his penetrating gaze. She hadn’t embarrassed herself. “I’ve always said if I married I’d want a Roman honeymoon.”
“You want to get married?”
A slight frown furrowed her smooth forehead. “I told you before that I want to get married and have a child.”
“Some other man’s child?”
Pulling out of his loose embrace, Alex’s frown deepened. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re not going to marry another man.”
Alex was totally baffled at Merrick’s behavior. He was talking in riddles. “What I’m not going to do is marry you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not the marrying kind.”
Merrick shrugged his shoulders. “I changed my mind.”
Going to her knees, Alex leaned closer. “Just like that,” she drawled, snapping her fingers, “you’ve changed your mind. I’m sorry, but I don’t buy it, Merrick. Wasn’t it you who said there’s no reason why we can’t enjoy each other without marriage and children becoming part of the equation? I told you what I want for my future and you’ve told me what you want, and we’re not in agreement.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Ali. I do want what you want. I want you to become the mother of our children.”
Wave after wave of shock assaulted her senses as a buzzing in her head increased to a roaring that made it impossible for her to think, hear, feel. Rage replaced her shock as she launched herself at Merrick.
“Don’t play with my head!”
Ali was quick, but Merrick was quicker when he held her wrists, shaking her gently. “I’m not trying to play with your head, darling. I love you too much to do that.”
“But I’m confused.”
“What about?”
“About you, Merrick, about us. We start out as friends, then become lovers. I respect what we have because we’re able to talk about everything—what we like, don’t like. What we want and don’t want. And we decided to have a relationship that would not end in marriage.
“I’ve floundered for years, and now when I’m back on track you try to derail me with mixed messages. You say you love me and you want to spend the rest of your life with me although marriage will not become a part of our future. I love you, Merrick. I love you more than I’ve ever loved any man, yet—”
“Then marry me, Alexandra Cole,” Merrick said, cutting her off.
“No!”
He tightened his hold on her wrists. “Why not?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Because you don’t believe in marriage, Merrick Grayslake!”
A wry smile parted his lips. “That was before I met you.”
Alex struggled to free her hands. “Let me go.”
“Why? So you can
hit me?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m going to do more than hit you,” she threatened.
Merrick released her, then extended his arms out to his sides. “Take your best shot, Ali,” he beckoned. “Come on, baby. Hit me if it will make you feel better.” The seconds ticked off as they stared at each other in what had become an impasse. His expression softened as he reached out and cupped her chin in his hand. “You don’t want to hurt me any more than I can hurt you.” Warm, fat tears dotted his palm. “If you’d changed your mind about marriage I would’ve accepted it without question because you’d claim it’s a woman’s prerogative. Well, what’s good for the goose is also good for the gander. Don’t dudes have equal rights? Are we not allowed to change our minds?”
Alex smiled through her tears. “Yes.”
Resting his forehead against hers, Merrick kissed her nose. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, you’re allowed to change your mind.”
“Good. I’m glad we’ve settled that.” He kissed her again. “I love you, and I want you to marry me. It doesn’t have to be now. It can be next year, the following year, whenever you want.”
Alex wanted to accept his proposal, but something Merrick said nagged at her. Something he’d said about not wanting to lose her to another man had triggered warning bells. Did jealousy play a part in his changing his stance toward marriage? Or was it because once she began working and traveling she wouldn’t be that available to him?
“I’ll let you know,” she said softly. Even though she wanted to commit, she couldn’t. Not yet.
Cradling her face between his palms, Merrick pressed his mouth to her throat. Increasing the pressure, his mouth moved lower as her stomach muscles contracted.
Alex barely had time to react when she found herself in Merrick’s arms as he slipped off the bed and carried her into the bedroom. Time stood still, the earth stopped spinning on its axis as they stood under the warm water from an overhead shower and demonstrated wordlessly their love for each other.
With her legs wrapped around Merrick’s waist, her back pressed against the tiled wall, she breathed the last of her passion against his throat. This coming together was different from the other times. Merrick hadn’t used contraception.
Alex didn’t panic because it was the safe phase of her menstrual cycle. “This cannot happen again,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath.
Merrick supported her body until her feet touched the floor of the shower stall. “You mean making love in the shower?”
“No, Merrick. Making love without using a condom.”
“I pulled out in time.”
Resting her cheek on his chest, she looped her arms under his shoulders. “And if you get me pregnant, then I’m going to name the baby Pull Out.”
Merrick threw back his head and roared with laughter. He didn’t know what he was going to do with Alexandra Cole except love her until his last breath.
Alex arrived in Venezia, or Venice, reuniting with the city built on water and made up of canals; she felt like a glutton consuming copious amounts of food yet never feeling satiated. If she loved Rome, then it could be said she had a passion for Venice that was akin to an unrequited love.
She’d never tired of the crowds, the countless pigeons in Piazza San Marco, the overrated and overpriced gondola rides, the museums, galleries, the dark callesellas or alleys, or high-priced souvenirs.
Merrick had secured lodging on an upper floor of a furnished palazzetto along the Grand Canal. Alex opened a bedroom window and inhaled a lungful of air.
“It smells like Venice.”
“How is Venice supposed to smell?” asked the voice behind her.
Alex turned and smiled at Merrick. If possible, she’d fallen more in love with him. He hadn’t mentioned marriage again, and for that she was grateful. She knew he wanted her as his wife, and when the time came for her to marry she knew it would be to Merrick.
“Like the sea.”
Merrick stared at the petite woman with the curvy body with whom he’d begun his days and ended his nights. He never tired of making love with her. He also had acquired a newfound appreciation for art. Unlike when he and Alex had toured the D.C. museums, they’d embarked on a walking tour of Rome, and whenever he asked about a particular statue or building Alex would explain its origin and identify the artist.
And because he was more fluent in Italian than she, he assumed the responsibility of ordering meals, negotiating with shopkeepers and asking directions. She taught him how to navigate crossing the streets with traffic coming in both directions as Vespa-riding Romans played a frightening game of tag with pedestrians brave enough to step off the sidewalks. Alex also turned him on to gelato, and he set out on a campaign to sample every variety of the custard-based Italian ice cream.
They’d spent five days in Rome before traveling northward to Florence. They’d varied their nighttime routine of walking to sitting on their hotel’s rooftop as the lights of the city sparkled below. Florence was a shopper’s haven for jewelry and leather goods. Larger than usual crowds cut short their stay in Tuscany, and Merrick decided to end their two-week European sojourn in Venice.
Reaching for his hand, Alex threaded her fingers through Merrick’s. “Beautiful, decadent Venice is like a woman no man can resist.”
Wrapping his free arm around her waist, he pulled her close. “Then your parents should’ve named you Venezia rather than Alexandra.”
She lifted her chin to see gray eyes boring into her. As of late she’d begun analyzing everything Merrick said to her to uncover a hidden meaning. It was as if she had to erect a wall of defense to shield herself against him.
Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. “We should try and relax until siesta is over. I can assure you that we’ll get very little sleep tonight, because Venice doesn’t really start jumping until after sunset.”
As in France and Spain, Italian shopkeepers, banks and other places of business closed for several hours in the afternoon for siesta.
Merrick disengaged his hand and began the task of unbuttoning her blouse. His touch was deliberate as he pushed it off her shoulders and it floated to the floor. Reaching around her back, he unhooked her bra, and it, too, joined her blouse. Alex went completely still as he unzipped her slacks, pushing them and her panties down her legs until they pooled around her feet.
She stepped out of them at the same time she repeated his action when she unbuttoned his shirt; a minute later, both stood nude in the middle of the bedroom in an apartment dating back to the 13th century.
Hand in hand, they made their way to the antique bed, floating down to the crisp, ironed sheets. She wanted Merrick, craved him because she was ovulating.
Her body felt heavy, like ripened fruit waiting to be picked. Her breasts were tender and she couldn’t control the spasmodic trembling between her legs.
“Hurry,” she pleaded as he slipped on a condom.
Merrick knew this joining would not become the unhurried, leisurely lovemaking he was used to sharing with Alex. Her quick, shallow breathing, the lines of tension on her face and the bite of her fingernails on his biceps urged him to follow her command.
There was no foreplay as he entered her in one, sure swift thrust. Her urgency was transferred to him and he rode her like a man possessed by invisible spirits whose intent was to swallow him whole.
Her hot flesh pulsed around his sex, squeezing tighter and tighter. Every muscle, nerve and tendon in his body screamed for release. The sound of his runaway heart was that of a galloping horse as he struggled not to release his passion—not yet. It was too quick.
Alex’s raw sensuousness lifted him beyond himself, her fire spreading to him, and he lost it; he lost himself in a fiery downpour of uncontrolled passion in which he experienced la petite mort for the first time in his life.
Flames of fire heated the blood in Alex’s veins as she surrendered all she was and had to the man who’d taken her to unknown heights of passion. Their shared
moment of ecstasy ended, Alex too emotion-filled to speak.
They lay together, entwined, the burning memory of their first day in Venice imprinted in their memory forever.
“Walk faster, Merrick.” Alex, a vision in white, pulled Merrick along with her as she turned down an alley.
He smiled. She was like a child in FAO Schwarz at Christmastime. The white sundress with an empire waist and tiny pleated skirt that ended at her knees made her appear younger, virginal. He hadn’t been the one to claim her innocence, but he could’ve been when he thought about the first time he’d made love to her. It was obvious she had only experienced conventional lovemaking because whenever he introduced another technique she’d become shy or embarrassed by it. Not one to push, Merrick waited for her to take the initiative before adding it to their sexual repertoire.
They left the alley and crossed a small bridge. The sight unfolding before him was humbling. The setting sun had turned the sky blood red, the outline of magnificent structures across the lagoon standing out in stark relief.
“It’s incredible.” There was no mistaking the awe in his voice. He pointed. “What’s that?”
Alex followed the direction of his finger. “Chiesa della Salute.”
“How do you remember the names of every church, cathedral, or duomo?”
“Memorization. Unlike you, I don’t have a photographic memory.”
Merrick stared at her delicate profile. “Who told you I have a photographic memory?”
She turned and stared directly at him. “No one. You proved that the day we were in the National Museum of African Art. You’d recalled works of art I’d forgotten we saw. You’re not just smart, Merrick. You’re brilliant. Now I see why the CIA wanted you. And now I know why you’re going back.
“You told me you need normalcy in your life, but I believe it’s because you feel as if you’re losing it, losing your edge. You miss the thrill of being offered a new assignment, and with the heightened threat of terrorism you believe you have to do something to protect your country.”
Merrick took her face in his hands, his eyes making love to her. “You’re right, Ali. But you left out one piece of the puzzle.”
Stranger in my Arms Page 16
