Stranger in my Arms

by Rochelle Alers

  “What’s that?”

  “You didn’t mention yourself.”

  “How do I figure into the picture?”

  “You’ve helped me to know what love is.”

  A shy smile flitted across her face. “Love is not taught, Merrick. Either you feel it or you don’t.”

  He angled his head. “It could be I hadn’t met the right woman.”

  Her smile widened. “I’ll accept that because I’ve dated my share of losers.”

  “Were they losers, or you just weren’t compatible?”

  “Probably both.” Standing on tiptoe, she brushed a kiss over his mouth.

  Curving an arm around her waist, he dipped his head and kissed her soft, parted lips. “Are you ready to eat?”

  “Does a cat think it’s the meow?”

  Shaking his head, Merrick smothered a laugh. One thing he was certain of, and that was life with Alexandra Cole would never be boring.

  Chapter 17

  Alex returned to the States, tanned, relaxed and more in love. It took two days for her to air out, dust and stock the pantry and refrigerator in her Arlington condo.

  She called Michael to get an update on Jolene but got the Kirklands’ voice mail. Three hours later Michael called to inform her he’d become a father. Jolene had given birth to a perfectly formed, healthy girl. They’d named her Teresa April Kirkland in honor of her paternal grandmother and one of Jolene’s clients. Mother and daughter were well, and Alex told Michael she’d come by the hospital the following day to see Jolene and meet her newest cousin.

  Alex walked into the small private hospital set on twenty acres of prime property in affluent Georgetown. The medical staff housed in a former Georgian mansion provided one-on-one care for patients wealthy enough to pay five-figure-perday fees for maximum privacy.

  Jolene Kirkland’s room wasn’t a room but a suite with a balcony overlooking a formal English garden. She sat up in bed, pillows cradling her shoulders for support, watching a flat-screen television.

  A cradle was positioned on the right side of the bed.

  Alex rapped lightly on the door. “Hello, Mommy.”

  Jolene, reaching for the remote device, turned off the television. “Please come in, Alex.”

  Carrying a cellophane wicker basket filled with aroma-therapy items, Alex walked in and placed the basket on a damask-covered table. Jolene looked incredibly beautiful for a woman who’d just endured thirteen hours of difficult labor.

  “There’s something in that basket for mother and baby.” She approached the bed and hugged Jolene. “Congratulations.”

  Jolene smiled. “Thank you.”

  Alex walked around the bed, peering into the cradle. Wrapped in a pale pink blanket was an infant with tufts of jet-black hair. “She looks like Emily.”

  “That’s what I told Michael.”

  “What color are her eyes?” Alex wanted to know if Teresa had inherited her father’s green eyes.

  “I don’t know. Little Miss Willful has yet to open them.”

  Alex sat on a cushioned chair next to the cradle. “Is she a good baby?”

  “No,” Jolene said without hesitating. “The only time she isn’t crying is when she’s eating and sleeping.”

  “Perhaps she has gas.”

  “Perhaps she wants to be held,” Jolene countered.

  “But she’s only a day old. And who’s been holding her?”

  Jolene rolled her eyes. “Take a guess, Alex.”

  “No!” Alex moaned. “Please don’t tell me that Michael has begun spoiling her already.”

  “You didn’t hear it from me.”

  “I can’t…” Alex’s response was preempted by a knock on the door. Turning, she saw Michael’s broad shoulders filling out the doorway.

  He gave Alex a bright smile. “Hey, cuz.” He walked into the room and kissed her cheek before he rounded the bed to kiss his wife.

  “Congratulations, Michael. Your daughter is beautiful.”

  With clear green eyes dancing in excitement, Michael shook his head in amazement. “I still can’t believe she’s here.”

  “She looks like Emily.”

  “That’s what I told Jolene.”

  “If she’s as outspoken as your sister, then you’re in for it,” Alex predicted.

  “You’re a lot more candid than Emily,” Michael said in defense of his sister.

  “Is this a private family gathering?” asked a deep voice that sent a shiver of excitement throughout Alex. She turned to find Merrick standing in the doorway in a tan suit, with a white shirt and chocolate silk tie.

  Suddenly she found breathing difficult as her gaze met his. Would Michael know just seeing them together that his friend was sleeping with his cousin? Was this the time when she’d reveal her relationship with Merrick?

  “Come on in, Gray.” The two men shook hands, at the same time exchanging a rough embrace. “Have you met my cousin, Alexandra Cole?”

  Merrick extended his hand, belaying her fear that he would reveal the extent of their involvement. “Yes, I have. We met New Year’s Eve.”

  Alex shook his hand, smiling. “We shared a dance New Year’s Eve.” She now was able to relax. Merrick hadn’t let on that they’d just spent two weeks together in Italy. He’d given her a tangible graduation gift on the flight back to the States: an Etruscan-inspired gold necklace with a magnificent ruby briolette.

  Merrick inclined his head. “You’re right.” Reaching into his jacket, he took out an envelope and gave it to Jolene. “Congratulations. It’s just a little something for your daughter.”

  Jolene reached out and patted his hand. “You didn’t have to give her anything.” The moment Teresa drew breath she’d become heir to a share of the ColeDiz billion-dollar empire.

  “That may be true, but I’ve been told that little girls and big girls can never have too many clothes.”

  Jolene opened the envelope and stared at its contents before handing the envelope to Alex. Merrick had given Teresa Kirkland a gift certificate to the finest children’s boutique in the Capitol District.

  Jolene smiled at the man who despite being her husband’s friend frightened her. She’d found him too quiet and very mysterious. “Thank you, Merrick. Teresa’s certain to be one of D.C.’s best-dressed babies.”

  Merrick moved over to stare down at the sleeping infant, his expression softening. “Nice work, Kirk.”

  Alex and Jolene exchanged looks that spoke volumes. “He did have some help,” Alex drawled.

  “Speak, sister,” Jolene chimed in.

  Wincing, Merrick put up his hands. “Did I say the wrong thing?”

  “Hell, yeah!” the two women chorused.

  “I suppose that’s my cue to escape while I can,” Merrick teased.

  “Where are you off to?” Michael asked him.

  “Langley.”

  Alex knew the CIA was headquartered in Langley, Virginia. And like marriage, Merrick’s return to the CIA was not a topic she welcomed—at least not at this time. She knew she was either selfish or in denial, but the only thing she wanted to focus on was securing a position with the National Trust. After that she would deal with her future with Merrick.

  Merrick left as quietly as he’d come and she spent another thirty minutes with the Kirklands before driving back to Arlington. She’d purchased the brand-new Acura Integra a month before closing on her condo, and in two years she still hadn’t put more than three thousand miles on the vehicle. Instead of flying to Boston for her interview, she drove, stopping and touring the states in the Trust’s northeast region.

  CIA Headquarters…Langley, Virginia

  Merrick sat in an interview room, answering the same question posed at least three different ways. What he detested most was the information necessary for security clearance. It was as if the interviewer wanted to know why he’d been born.

  “Have you traveled out of the country in the past three years?”

  “Yes, I have,” he answered truth
fully.

  “When?”

  “Three weeks ago.”

  “Did you travel alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you alone during your return to the United States?”

  “No.”

  “Who did you travel with, and what is your relationship to said person or persons?”

  “I returned to the United States with a woman. Her name is Alexandra Cole.”

  “Did you and Ms. Cole reside together during your travels?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is Ms. Cole a citizen of the United States? If not, then what country?”

  “She is a citizen of the United States.”

  “Where does she reside?”

  “Arlington, Virginia.”

  “Has Ms. Cole always been a resident of the Commonwealth of Virginia?”

  “No. Ms. Cole was born and raised in Boca Raton, Florida.”

  The interrogation went on for hours, every answer recorded for dissemination and follow-up. Merrick was mentally and physically drained when he got into his car in the visitors’ parking lot and drove away. His association with Alex had drawn her into an investigation that was not of her choosing. Her family name or wealth meant nothing to a governmental agency intent on dissecting her life.

  He’d gotten security clearance once and there was no doubt he would again. But he wondered if the Justice Department would uncover something about Alexandra he didn’t want or need to know. And as if he’d executed the maneuver countless times, Merrick took the road leading to Arlington. Activating the hands-free device, he pressed the number to Alex’s cell phone.

  “Hello, stranger,” she crooned.

  “Hello, Miss Cole,” he countered, playing along with her. “What do I have to do to convince you to come out and play?”

  “What are you playing?”

  “Strip poker.”

  She chuckled. “Does stripping translate to the removal of articles of clothing?”

  “Shame on you. Get your mind out of the gutter, naughty girl.”

  “Would you like me if I were a good girl?”

  “I’d like you if you were toothless, bald and covered with carbuncles.”

  “What in the world are carbuncles?”

  “Warts.”

  “Dis-gus-ting.” She drew the word out into three syllables.

  “When should I expect you?”

  Merrick took a quick glance at the dashboard clock. “Sometime after five.”

  He disconnected the call, then began the process that would disassociate of what had transpired in the tiny room back in Langley. He’d relived his entire life during the session, and unfortunately there were events he’d relegated to the deepest recesses of his mind, hoping never to resurrect them. However, they’d resurfaced and would take days if not months to purge again.

  Carl Ashleigh listened to Merrick Grayslake’s taped responses, comparing them to his previous security clearance report. Not much had changed in two years. The only exception was his involvement with a woman—a woman who just happened to be heiress to a family-owned conglomerate.

  It wasn’t what Carl’s superiors wanted, but it couldn’t be helped. They needed Grayslake to flush out a big fish; but if his lady got caught up in the trap it would become Grayslake’s responsibility to protect her.

  Picking up the phone, he dialed an extension. “He looks good,” he said into the mouthpiece. “But there may be one hitch. He’s involved with a woman, and I’m not certain whether we’ll be able to keep her out of the picture until we spring the trapdoor. Don’t worry. I’ll keep you posted on everything.”

  Carl hung up, staring at several framed photographs on the opposite wall. The director was counting on him to put Operation Backslap into motion before the end of the year. He had eight months to bring down the country’s most powerful lobbyist, Chandler Duffy. With Duffy out of the way, the popular incumbent president was certain to lose his party’s nomination for reelection.

  Chapter 18

  It took four days for Alex to drive to Boston for her interview, but she accomplished the return drive to Virginia in ten hours. On the trip northward she’d stopped and toured the historic districts in Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Connecticut, staying overnight in the respective states’ capitals. She’d planned on calling Merrick her first night on the road, but when she checked in to her hotel the only thing she’d wanted was a warm shower and firm bed. When she checked her cell-phone voice message, there was a call from him. His terse reprimand about her not checking in with him raised her hackles, and she waited another day before calling him back.

  She had her first serious disagreement with Merrick when she told him that she hadn’t needed to check in with anyone since she’d celebrated her twenty-first birthday, and now at twenty-nine, soon-to-be thirty, she wasn’t going to begin. Alex couldn’t remember his brusque retort because she’d abruptly ended the call.

  The volatile interchange forced her to rerevaluate her relationship with Merrick Grayslake, that perhaps she hadn’t married or had a serious relationship because she unconsciously valued her independence; that she was unable to commit to sharing her life and future with a man.

  Her interview had gone well, and with her degree and outstanding grades she was offered a position with the National Trust for Historic Preservation. She’d formulated a game plan and had accomplished everything she’d set out to do.

  Alex loved Merrick, enough to marry him and become the mother of his children, but she refused to be subjugated by him or any man. She’d been reared to think for herself, nurtured and taught to take care of herself, and being a Cole meant she would always be able to take care of herself.

  It was late afternoon when Alex crossed the state line from Maryland into the District of Columbia. An accident backed up traffic for miles along the road leading to the Key Bridge, so she headed south to the Fourteenth Street Bridge to cross the Potomac River. It was a longer route to Arlington, but at least she wouldn’t have to sit in traffic.

  Half an hour later, she pressed a device, raising the door to one of the four garages in the rear of her building, parked, then alighted from the car where she’d spent too many hours. Not bothering to remove her luggage from the trunk, Alex unlocked the front door, mounted the staircase and opened the door to her apartment, encountering a blast of hot air that forced her to take a backward step.

  Placing her keys and handbag on the foyer table, she pressed a button, activating the central cooling unit, while chiding herself for not leaving it running during her absence.

  Going into the bathroom adjoining her bedroom, she stripped off her clothes and placed them in a wicker hamper. Just as she prepared to step into the shower, the telephone rang. She returned to the bedroom to answer the call. A smile parted her lips. It was her sister.

  “Hi, Ana.”

  “Where have you been?”

  “Let’s begin again, little sister,” she chastised softly. Ana was as bad as Merrick. What was with them clocking her? “Hello, Ana.”

  “Sorry about that. Hi, Alex.”

  Alex smiled. “What’s up?”

  “I’m in Georgetown. I’ve been staying with Michael, Jolene and the baby for the past two days. Alex, she is the most adorable little girl.”

  Alex hadn’t seen Teresa since the day she’d come to the hospital because she wanted to give Jolene time to recover before she had to entertain visitors. The fact that Michael, as a teacher, did not work summers would make Jolene’s transition from wife to mother easier than it would if she had full responsibility of caring for Teresa.

  “She is beautiful. Why are you staying with them when you could’ve stayed here?” Before she’d left for Europe Alex had given her sister and brothers the key to her condominium so they could use her extra bedroom whenever they were in the D.C. area.

  “I called you, but when I didn’t get an answer I decided to hang out with Michael.”

  “I was in Boston on a job interview. Why didn’t
you call my cell?”

  “I just got a new cell phone, and I hadn’t programmed in your number. Do you want company?”

  “Of course. Come on over.”

  “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  Alex hung up and headed for the bathroom.

  Ana lay at the foot of Alex’s California king bed, her head resting on a mound of pillows. The flickering light from candles on tables provided the only illumination in the air-cooled space.

  “I can’t believe you’re going to get a real job,” Ana teased her sister.

  Alex shifted until she found a more comfortable position against the headboard. “I had a real job, Ana Cole, when I worked for that art gallery.”

  Ana sucked her teeth. “That was play-play and you know it. Now, working for the National Trust is real.”

  Alex smiled. “I think the most exciting aspect of the position will be the traveling and meeting with groups whose focus is on preserving our history for future generations.”

  Turning over on her side, Ana tried making out her sister’s face in the subdued light. “I don’t understand how you get so excited about broken-down old buildings.”

  “That’s because you can’t see the beauty in them. What you see as broken down and worthless I see as the fading beauty of magnificent wraparound porches, moldings, lintels, columns and newel posts. Only in America do we tear down to make way for the new, which isn’t necessarily better or prettier than what stood before. That’s why I love going to Europe, because they value their architecture and history.”

  “Don’t forget that the United States is an infant when you compare it to the rest of the world, Alex.”

  “But that’s no reason not to respect past artisans. Many of the antebellum mansions were designed and built by African slaves.”

  Ana closed her eyes and listened to Alex recount the names of the mansions that rose to glory and splendor under the human toil of their ancestors. She was so caught up in the history that she jumped as if jolted by a bolt of electricity when the telephone on the bedside table rang.