The Love of a Stranger

by Jeffrey, Anna

  The latter she believed and she was tempted, but tomorrow’s mission came before anything else. When she didn’t answer, he arched his brow and said, “Please?”

  “I can’t. I need to get to bed. Tomorrow I have to be alert and on my toes.”

  “What’s so important about tomorrow?”

  “I have to get a signature on a contract. I expect it to be difficult. Not to get the signature, but enduring the process.”

  “Whatever that means. Breakfast, then. We could meet in the lobby.”

  “I’m really letting you off the hook, but I suppose we could do that. On one condition.”

  “Which is?”

  “We cut out the insults.”

  He chuckled, his mouth tipped into that cute half grin he had. “We can do that. But damn, how will we communicate if we can’t insult each other?”

  “You’re entirely too smart-aleck for your own good, Doug Hawkins.”

  She started for the door and he followed. The strolled through the empty lobby toward the elevators without talking. When they stepped inside a car, he asked her which floor. She told him and he pressed it and stood back. The car rose with a purr. Though they were the only passengers, they stood side by side against the back wall, arms touching as they silently watched the progress of the lighted numbers above the steel doors.

  He loosened his tie and stripped it off, stuffed it into his pocket and undid his collar button. Seeing him do something so personal sent a tremble through her stomach and she thought of the unplanned intimate moments they had shared: her seeing him with his fly undone at Granite Pond, his helping her out of her shirt in her bathroom after the incident in Carlton’s, her seeing him scantily clad in his house when she had dropped in on him unannounced, seeking information about the old military road. Yet, watching him remove his tie somehow seemed more intimate. “You don’t like ties?”

  The corners of his mouth tipped up. “They remind me too much of court.”

  The perfect opening for her to ask him about his troubles in L.A., but before she could, the elevator car landed at her floor and the doors glided open. When she stepped out into the hall, he followed her and her heart made a little bump. “You don’t have to escort me. I can find my own way.”

  “But why should you when I’m here to escort you?”

  At her room’s door, she turned to say goodnight. He leaned down, his hands cupped her face and his mouth covered hers. Instinctively, her hands flew up and grasped his wrists.

  The kiss was gentle, his mouth shaping her lips to his. It left no doubt of his desire, but there was more. She tasted the loneliness and the need of a man who had spent the whole of his life alone, as she had. She parted her lips and welcomed him. His tongue came in and she slid her arms around his shoulders. A keening sound came from him as his big body pushed hers against the door jamb. She felt the fit of his rigid organ against the notch of her thighs and a thrill of awareness crawled through her. She had an insane urge to reach between them and caress his erection.

  His mouth dragged to her ear, his breath heavy and warm against it. “Invite me in,” he whispered gruffly.

  “No, I—”

  “Sh-shh. Say yes.” His gaze came back to her eyes and if she had wanted to look away, she couldn’t have. “I promise, I’m not selfish in bed.”

  Her heartbeat had gone from thumping to thundering in her ear. She shifted, but found herself surrounded by his scent and trapped inside the heat of his closeness. “I—I should tell you something.”

  His warm lips brushed beside her nose, the corner of her eye. His fingers played with the button at her nape. She felt dizzy and hot in places she usually didn’t notice. “It’s…it’s about sex.”

  “Appropriate subject at the moment.”

  His hand slid down and covered her breast and she shuddered from a sensation she didn’t want to end. His tongue flicked at the corner of her mouth and she would swear her knees weakened. “I haven’t had sex…in about eight years is my guess.”

  He stopped kissing her and frowned into her eyes. “Say that again?”

  She dredged up a weak smile. “I knew that would cool your jets.”

  Seconds passed while their gazes held. “Didn’t work,” he said softly and kissed her again.

  His warm hand covered her bottom and pulled her against him, but she squeezed her arms between them and pushed herself away. “I’m going in. I have to be ready for my meeting tomorrow. I don’t want to be distracted.”

  His hand braced against the door facing beside her head. “Is that a no? Or a later?”

  “I don’t know.” And she didn’t.

  He leaned forward and placed an open-mouthed kiss beneath her ear. “I’m taking your word about the importance of tomorrow, but my jets are a long way from being cooled.” He turned the doorknob, pushed open the door. “Damn, I want you. I hate to leave you.”

  “Doug, I—”

  “No more talk. I’ll live.” He caught her arm, gently nudged her through the doorway. “Lock your door. Sleep tight. And don’t forget the old Chinese proverb. I’ve saved you. You belong to me.”

  He pulled the door shut and left her standing alone in her room.

  “Oh, my God,” she mumbled and threw her purse into her suitcase.

  Chapter 25

  Doug waited in the hotel lobby with the Los Angeles Times and a Styrofoam cup of coffee bitter and black enough to match his mood. He felt as if his dick had been hard all night. In wakeful moments through the night, and even in his dreams, he had stripped Alex out of that black dress a dozen times. Then, while busting his ass to be in the lobby by eight, he cut himself shaving with hotel soap and a throw-away razor he had bought in the gift shop. Now she was fifteen minutes late.

  He glanced up every time the elevator landed. Then, as he rose to refill his cup, the doors glided open and there she stood. His heart did a back flip.

  Her hair was pinned up in a knot at her crown. She wore a purple-looking suit and gray high-heels. The skirt struck her mid-knee, a sharp contrast to last night’s costume. And an improvement, Doug thought. The suit, no doubt, had a designer label. Her jewelry was understated, but elegant. The Sama sunglasses covered her eyes. She looked every inch the woman in charge as she rolled her suitcase off the elevator and took command of the lobby.

  He placed his empty cup on a lamp table beside his chair and stood, folding his newspaper and tucking it under his arm.

  “I’m in a hurry,” she said. “My appointment’s at ten. Let’s grab something in the coffee shop.”

  “Nice outfit,” he said. “You look good in purple.”

  “Thanks. It’s mauve.”

  “We’re certainly short this morning. Bad dreams?"

  “Don’t you dare start needling me.”

  She led the way to a counter in the coffee shop and ordered hot tea with milk and a bagel. For the sake of expediency, he abstained from his usual he-man breakfast and ordered toast and coffee. She ate without removing her sunglasses.

  Before he could reach for his wallet, she handed the waitress a credit card and ordered her to use it for both their meals. As soon as the waitress returned, Alex grabbed her credit card, signed the bill, stood up and headed for the door. He had no choice but to tag along behind her to a silver Acura SUV.

  “Great wheels,” he said, folding into the contoured passenger seat. “Must have cost you a commission or two.”

  He was trying to be cute and clever, but she ignored him, drumming long ruby fingernails on the steering wheel while she waited for an opportunity to move into the busy morning traffic.

  She maneuvered through the double lanes of cars, then pulled into a suburban strip center made up of one long line of nondescript offices. They crawled along as she read addresses. She turned abruptly into a parking space and stopped with a lurch and a squeak of tires. On a plate-glass door directly in front of them, painted in an arch of gold letters, was WINFIELD LAND & HOMES, INC.

  She switched off th
e ignition and rested her elbows on the steering wheel, then rolled her shoulders several times, closed her eyes, hooded them with her hands and took deep rhythmic breaths. Was she doing some kind of meditation routine? Doug kept silent.

  When she raised her head, she gave him a heart-stopping smile. “Showtime,” she said and reached for a portfolio lying on the back seat. Holding it close to her breast, she angled her head toward him. “Go in with me?”

  “I’ll just wait here and take a nap.” He slid down into the comfortable bucket seat and closed his eyes.

  “Please? I’d really appreciate it.”

  Sincerity rang in her voice and curiosity leaped into his head. Without opening his eyes, he arched his brow. “Why?”

  “Because if you're with me, he won't have his hands all over me and I’ll get out of there faster.”

  After watching her throw herself at Hayes Winfield all of the previous evening at the cocktail party, Doug’s bullshit quotient was low. He held back a gasp of amazement. “Are you kidding?”

  “Forget it. I don’t need your help. I’m sorry I asked.” She yanked on her door latch, threw open the door and scooted out.

  He, too, opened his door and stepped out. “I don’t know why, but I’m gonna do this,” he said, rounding the SUV’s frontend. “Consider it payment for the ride home.”

  “Never mind. You’ve ruined my concentration.” She slammed the door, pivoted on her left foot and stepped onto the sidewalk in front of Winfield’s office.

  He took a long stride behind her and gripped her upper arm. “Just hold it. I said I’m going with you.”

  Momentum propelled them through the front door and brought them to an abrupt stop in front of a receptionist. Alex jerked her arm from his grip and threw him a glower.

  The young blond receptionist greeted them with a shiny crimson smile and ushered them into Winfield's office.

  The old fart rose and rounded the desk as they entered. Alex introduced Doug as her associate. Winfield shook his hand and spoke to him after which Doug felt dismissed. Curiosity at what he had let himself in for overrode his frustration and he took a seat on a sofa that was hunkered out of the way against the wall.

  Winfield gushed attention on Alex. “Darlin', I’m so glad you had the time to stop by. It’s hard to do business at a party when everyone’s having a good time.”

  Or when everybody’s drunk, Doug thought.

  Winfield looped a thick arm around Alex’s shoulders. “I didn’t know until last night you were Ed Anderson’s agent. Why, if I’d known, I would’ve contacted you before I talked to him.”

  Alex unbuttoned her suit jacket. A lacy, body-hugging top peeked from underneath. It was beige, almost the color of her skin. “His focus is on caring for his wife, Hayes. He didn’t feel he could spare the time and energy to negotiate. Mrs. Anderson is dying of cancer, you know.”

  “Isn’t it a sad thing?” Hayes placed his hand under Alex’s elbow and guided her to a chair in front of his desk. She sat. “Folks who’ve spent their lives at hard work sacrificing their home to pay doctors and hospitals.”

  Doug rolled his eyes and leaned back, cocked an ankle across his knee. Winfield returned to his desk chair. The old fart’s leer darted between Alex’s chest and her crossed knees. Doug wished he had waited in the car.

  “I know how busy you are, Hayes.” Alex unzipped her portfolio and lifted out a single page. “I took the liberty of preparing a letter of intent on your behalf. To save time, of course.” She slid the page across the desk.

  Winfield fixed his half-glasses on his nose and read. His florid complexion changed from faint to vivid. “Why, darlin’”—he looked up, over the top of his glasses—“You must have misunderstood. This isn’t the price Anderson and I discussed. Why, this is quite a lot more.”

  “Oohh, it is? He didn’t tell me you and he had discussed a price.” Her reply came across as saccharine as Winfield’s. Doug could swear what had been a subtle hint of the South in her voice became a full-fledged Southern drawl. “My market analysis determined the property can sell for even more than this letter of intent states.”

  Winfield sniffed and stared at the page. He looked more than a little pissed.

  “Ed Anderson isn’t a greedy guy, Hayes,” Alex said. “As astute as you are, I’m sure you sensed that about him. He only wants a reasonable and...fair price.”

  “Well, darlin’, I don’t know if I’m a buyer at this price.” The old bastard shook his head and sighed. “There are so many expenses to development. You know that. And risk. We never know what we’re going to run into when we take equipment in and start work. And then there’s all the regulation these days. By the time we satisfy the government agencies, I'll be paying interest for months before I can turn a spade. I feel sorry for the Andersons, but—”

  “I know you do, Hayes, and I certainly don't blame you if you feel you can’t swing this one right now. Believe me, I understand.” She propped her elbow on the back of her chair. Her suit jacket slipped up and back at the same time, exposing one lace-covered breast. She reached for the letter and pulled it back to her side of the desk, continuing in a honeyed voice. “I hope you don’t think I’m trying to pressure you to do something you don’t want to. If you think this project isn’t for you, that’s okay. I’m in contact with someone in Portland—”

  “Portland?” Winfield’s large hand smoothed down his jaw.

  “Yes. Perry Morris. Morris Homes? Do you know him?”

  “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “Oh, you’ll have to meet him. You two have so much in common. He’s very strong. And he’s such an imaginative developer. I’ve done a lot of business with him, so I’ve seen what he can do with a beautiful piece of land like Anderson’s. He’ll have great ideas for creating green areas and preserving the natural landscape. Maybe even a private park dedicated to the city later. Believe me, the city council will be impressed.”

  Winfield’s gaze lingered on Alex’s breasts. His face grew even redder and Doug’s fuse grew shorter.

  “He’s accustomed to the high cost of dirt in Portland,” Alex added, “so he won’t have any trouble with Anderson’s price. I’ve already found a lender, so that speeds things along.”

  Winfield pulled the letter back and re-read it, growling and clearing his throat repeatedly. Alex shifted her knees, her jacket hanging open. Doug expected to see sweat break out on Winfield's brow any minute.

  She stood up in front of his desk, a pose that placed her lap wrinkles in Winfield's direct line of sight. The only thing that kept Doug seated was the fact that Winfield’s stare finally left her wrinkles and traveled up to her face.

  The old bastard glanced Doug’s way and Doug did his best to keep his expression impassive. Then, Winfield opened his center drawer and removed a pen, giving Alex a reptilian smile. “Well now, we don’t want Portland land men coming in here, do we?” He signed the document with a grand gesture, called the receptionist and instructed her to make copies.

  Doug wanted to expel a breath of relief. For a minute, he had feared Winfield wouldn’t sign. The old lecher came around the end of the desk and put his hand under Alex’s arm, his knuckles nudging her breast. “You know, darlin’, when I saw you last night at Bob’s party, I wondered why you were there. Now I know, don’t I? I wonder if I’ve been given a fast shuffle.”

  “Don’t be silly, Hayes. Bob and Angela have been friends of mine for a long time. They always invite me when they have a party. It was just such a huge coincidence running into you there.”

  The receptionist met them with copies as they walked out of Winfield’s office. Alex turned and shook hands with him. “I’ll follow up with a contract, Hayes. I can’t wait to see your development. I know we’ll all be proud of it.”

  Back in the car, she heaved a deep sigh. “Thank God that’s done.” Doug could see she was talking more to herself than to him. She backed out of the parking space and wheeled out into the traffic. “If I hadn’
t gotten involved in this, that old crook would have screwed Ed Anderson to the wall.”

  She stopped the car on the side of the road beyond sight of Winfield’s office and let it idle on the shoulder while she dug a cell phone and planner from her satchel. She flipped through pages, keyed in a number and made an appointment to stop by somewhere in an hour.

  Doug had been simmering since the exhibition—and exhibition was the only word for it—in Winfield’s office. “Is that the way you handle all your business deals?” He knew he sounded like a self-righteous fool, but he knew no other way to express how he felt.

  “Not always.” She pulled back onto the pavement. “Never, actually.”

  “That old bastard had you naked thirty seconds after you set foot in his office and you planned it that way. You teased him. Today was a continuation of last night.”

  Alex slammed her foot on the brake and brought the SUV to a screeching halt on the side of the road, causing them both to lunge forward. “What is wrong with you? When did any of this become your business?”

  “When you dragged me into it. I watched you, Alex. You were doing a number on that guy last night at the party. Why didn’t you just screw him last night when I wasn’t there to watch?”

  Her lower lip trembled. “Don’t accuse me of that. I’ve never done that. I wouldn’t.”

  He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her breasts showing from beneath her suit jacket. “And you gave me that celibacy act when I made an honest pass at you. Shit. I had a hard-on all night.”

  She shifted gears and killed the engine. “I don’t know why I should explain anything to you, but I'm going to.”

  Expecting the arm twist, he gave her a wary look.

  “I have an obligation to do the best job I can for my clients,” she said. “I go out of my way to earn my pay. Just as you probably did when you were policing, I sometimes do things I hate because I judge them to be necessary.”