Three hours, two of which she’d like to spend getting dressed and having her hair and makeup done, didn’t leave much time. Not to mention her mother and sister hovering around—and she wanted them to—but how was she supposed to ask them to wait while she had a prewedding fling with the groom?
And if the spring was out of the fling, so to speak, then what? Was she prepared to walk away? Vincent would never postpone the wedding, especially for that reason. His pride wouldn’t allow it. He’d cancel it outright and take the deal off the table.
The situation was awkward enough without Dylan hanging around reminding her what sexual compatibility was all about. If he weren’t here, she could convince herself that sex wasn’t all that important and buy into the idea that there were all kinds of ways to make love. Unfortunately, those ways didn’t lead to children.
Alexis headed for the cellar to choose wines, wistfully wishing Vincent were there. She knew he was good at that, at least. She, on the other hand, had to rely on a list suggested by the sommelier.
The door leading to the cellar was at the top of thick stone steps. As Alexis descended, the air grew cooler. During prohibition, there had been a club hidden here and carriage lamps still shone dimly. She crossed an open area with attractive gray stone walls and ceiling, opened another door and was in the cellar proper. Bottles lined the walls and lay in racks in the middle of the room. It was like being in a library with wine bottles instead of books.
Alexis found a table made out of an old wine keg, along with three chairs, a light, wineglasses, corkscrew and an inventory book and guest book.
She was enjoying paging through the guest book and reading the comments from visitors all over the world when she heard other steps descending. That would undoubtedly be the chef, who had offered to change the sauce on the chicken to complement her choice of wines. And here she hadn’t made a choice.
Alexis wanted to serve champagne with the salmon mousse and maybe add a few nibbles. Then there was the traditional white wine for the chicken and a red for the beef. And, since it was a special occasion, perhaps a dessert wine to go with the wedding cake and coffee. She couldn’t help hoping Vincent would approve, then mentally edited her thought. She should hope Vincent would be pleased. She shouldn’t have to constantly seek his approval. Honestly, she was going to have to change the dynamics in their relationship from underling assistant to full life partner. It was doubly hard because of the age difference. And Vincent would have to make an effort, too. Alexis had a suspicion convincing Vincent that he had to change in any way would be difficult.
The footsteps stopped and Alexis plastered a smile on her face for the chef, only to find Dylan standing there.
The smile left her face just as one formed on his. It would have been funny under other circumstances.
“I thought you were coming down here earlier,” he said.
“No, earlier I chose centerpieces.” And after all that, she couldn’t remember which one she’d chosen. With Dylan sitting there playing the piano and staring at her, she’d been reminded of being caught wearing the naked negligee, which had reminded her of the expression on his face, which had contrasted so completely with Vincent’s reaction, or more accurately nonreaction. With all this on her mind, she couldn’t figure out what Tracy was telling her about the centerpieces, and why, if the other bride had already chosen them, Alexis had to choose them again. Something about dark purple and less silver. She didn’t care. She honestly didn’t care.
The more she tried to avoid Dylan, the more she found they were in the same place at the same time. With each chance encounter, it was like reliving the early days of their acquaintance when they’d already noticed each other, but hadn’t yet become a couple.
It was a breathless anticipatory feeling and, darn it, she should not be feeling breathless and anticipatory.
“I thought I’d take a look around and pick a bottle of wine for dinner.” He looked off to the side at the wines.
The sight of his profile brought back memories of when she used to awaken before he did and watch him sleeping next to her.
Would she ever, could she ever, feel that intense connection with someone again?
“Go ahead,” Alexis told him as a door slammed. “That’s probably the chef. He mentioned coming down here if the dining room wasn’t too busy.”
“It was packed when I saw it.”
They fell silent, letting several moments pass before they realized that it was too silent.
Where were the footsteps?
Alexis stepped to the side. “Hello?”
No answer.
With a nervous smile at Dylan, she walked toward the entrance. “I don’t see anyone,” she called back.
“Well, I’ll get on with it and get out of your way.” Dylan looked around. “This is a lot of wine.”
Alexis rejoined him. “Are you looking for a red or a white?”
“Red, I guess.”
“I’ve got a list here.” She showed him the printout of suggestions. “These are special, but not break-the-bank wines.”
“Sounds like what I’m looking for. Where do we start?”
“I have a locator grid on this sheet.” They both bent their heads over the paper. In the chilly air, Alexis could feel the heat from his body. “Let’s head this way.”
She and Dylan walked past dusty bottles.
“That’s expensive-looking dust,” Dylan said.
“Yes, it is. Keep walking.” They laughed.
It was a self-conscious laughter, but the ice had been broken and Alexis relaxed.
“Look.” She held up plastic-coated sheets of paper that hung from the racks. “Comments from people who ordered these wines.”
“‘Like drinking liquid sex,”’ Dylan read. “Interesting choice of words.”
“I’ll say.” Couldn’t they ever get away from that topic?
“Here’s one. ‘Like sipping sunshine and swallowing shadows,”’ Alexis read.
“What the heck does that mean?” Dylan asked.
“It means that someone had too much wine before he wrote that.”
“What makes you think a man wrote it?”
“Because a woman would have used words like fruity and spicy and perfumed and good aftertaste.”
“Not necessarily. Here we go. ‘This is a good wine. It’s not so expensive that I’m too worried about how I’m going to pay for it to enjoy it, but expensive enough that I won’t be forgetting our anniversary again anytime soon.’ Grinning, Dylan took a bottle from the wooden rack. “I’ve got my wine.”
“I’d like to try that one, too.” Alexis reached for a bottle, but Dylan spoke.
“Let’s open mine and then you’ll know what it tastes like. I can’t drink this whole thing by myself. Well, I could, but after the cookies-and-milk incident, I’m taking it easy.”
“You’re a nut. Come on over here.”
They returned to the wine-keg table and opened the wine with one of those fancy, European corkscrews.
Pouring a half glass each, Dylan said, “Now we’ve got to do this right. No chugging. Sniffing and swirling only.”
Alexis chuckled.
Dylan put his nose in the glass.
“That’s not your most attractive look.”
He pulled back slightly. “Better?”
Alexis nodded and he inhaled. “Smells like wine!”
“All right!” They high-fived each other in mock celebration.
From the look on Dylan’s face, Alexis guessed that his hand was tingling as much as hers was. Abruptly, they each took a sip of wine.
Dylan nodded. “That’s good. He’s right. I wouldn’t forget my anniversary after this.”
Alexis was still hyperaware of him and had swallowed hers without tasting it. She tried again. “Oh. It’s like drinking an Indian-summer sunset.”
Dylan gave her an impressed look. “And you said women weren’t poetic.”
“I never drank a wine like this before.�
� She’d shared wine at company dinners with Vincent, but had never enjoyed one more. “It’s full and smooth and rich and…and mature. Wise.” She’d never thought of wine as wise before. “It makes me content.”
It was the wine she wanted for her wedding supper. She started to say as much, but stopped. How could she choose a wine she’d forever associate with Dylan for her wedding to Vincent?
She couldn’t. “I’ll put a star by this one on the list.” And later she’d choose a different red. “Now for the whites.”
“My cue.” Dylan recorked his bottle and stood. “See ya.” He took a couple of steps before turning back. “I do wish you well, Alexis. You know that, don’t you?”
She shivered at the intensity in his eyes. Then she nodded and he disappeared behind the racks of wine. Alexis looked into her glass and breathed in the wine before slowly savoring the last swallows.
Okay. Time to regroup. She’d met an old flame who had stirred up a few burning embers. It was time to let the fire go out. Because, to continue the fire analogy, Dylan had not offered any fuel.
And that was a very important point. She had no new options. During all the heavy looks and the stolen kisses, not once had he said something like, oh, “Break up with Vincent and marry me.” Or even, “There’s something here and we should explore it.” Which, to be truthful, was awfully vague when it meant she’d have to cancel a wedding and most likely change jobs.
Was Dylan waiting for her to make the first move? If so, how unfair. He was the one who’d originally broken off with her. Was he waiting for her to break up with Vincent first? Also unfair.
She was so confused. It was a new feeling for her because Alexis never remembered being confused before. She was always able to examine the choices and information available to her and make a decision. If new relevant information came her way, then she reevaluated her position and either stuck with her original decision, or made a new one. There was never any of this dithering.
Okay. The fact was that Dylan was out of the picture. Whatever they had was in the past. She should focus on the future she’d planned and, while she was at it, choose a white wine.
There. She felt calmer and more sure of herself. And then she heard steps coming toward her. Dylan was back. “Alexis?” He exhaled and thunked the bottle on the table. “We’re locked in.”
“YOU LOCKED THEM IN THE CELLAR?” Rosebud rolled her eyes. “Couldn’t you come up with something more original than that?”
Sunshine smiled knowingly. “Sometimes the oldies but goodies work best.”
“YOU’RE KIDDING.”
Dylan sat down and pulled the cork out of the bottle. “Check it out.”
Alexis was already halfway to the entrance.
“And while you’re pushing and pulling and pounding on the door, remember that we heard it slam,” he called. “Remember the thick stone walls. Remember the outer room. Then come back here and have some more wine.”
Alexis pulled the door handle. The door was so heavy it didn’t even quiver. Nevertheless, she felt compelled to go through the motions of pounding and kicking on the door and calling out. “Is anyone in the other room?” she shouted.
Silence.
She went back to Dylan. He’d poured her another glass of wine. Full this time.
Well, it was a very good wine. She took a sip and then grinned at him triumphantly. “I have my cell phone with me. I’ll call the hotel switchboard.”
She pulled out her phone and started pressing the keypad. At that moment, the level of the battery-charge icon fell and the display light winked out. The phone was dead. “I can’t believe it! I charged it last night.”
“Not to worry.” Dylan set down his glass and got out his own phone. “I’ll just get the number from directory assistance first.” He punched in the numbers and waited. “Yes. I’d like—hello? Hello?” He disconnected. “I hate dropped calls.” He punched in the number again, then stared at his phone. After blinking at it a few moments he slipped it back into his pocket.
“What?”
Dylan sipped his wine then held it up to the light. “The battery is dead.”
“Great.” Alexis sat down. “At least I don’t feel like such a dingbat.”
“My phone had a full charge this morning and this was the first time I tried to use it today. Rotten luck that both phones decided to go wonky on us.”
Alexis rubbed her hands together and sipped her wine. “It’s beginning to feel chilly.”
Dylan gave her a roguish look. “We can huddle together for body warmth.”
“You know, I saw that coming.” Alexis shook her head.
“If I hadn’t said it, you would have been disappointed.”
Alexis laughed and then, to her utter astonishment and subsequent embarrassment, she began to cry.
“Alexis.” Dylan dragged his chair next to hers and drew her against his chest.
It felt so good, she cried harder. Where were these tears coming from?
“We’re not going to be here long. Until dinner at the most,” Dylan said soothingly. “Someone is bound to order wine sooner or later and they’ll find us. Or your family will start asking questions and eventually the chef will remember that he’d offered to meet you here. We might get a little hungry, but my gosh, we’re not going to die of thirst.”
Alexis laughed through her tears. “I’m sorry.” She made a huge effort to pull herself together. “I’m not crying about that. I think I’m crying because you were always able to make me laugh.”
“I understand perfectly.”
He was lying. Smiling, she wiped her eyes as she pulled away. “No you don’t.” She sniffed.
“Have some wine. It’s good for everything.”
“You just don’t like crying women. Don’t worry. I don’t, either.”
“Are you okay?” His gaze searched hers.
“Oh, yeah. It’s only that I haven’t laughed in a while. Come to think of it, I haven’t cried in a while, either. I’ve been sort of…focused? Disconnected from the world. That’s it. You know what it’s like to work and work and never watch television or reada book or see a movie and the only people you see are people who are working just as hard and are just as disconnected as you. Then your world becomes the work.”
Dylan opened his arms. “You need a hug.”
“Dylan.”
“Okay, I need a hug.”
“I thought you just needed wine.”
“That, too. But I prefer a hug.”
“Well, I need a comfortable chair.” The metal ones were hard and cold.
“Here.” Dylan patted his lap.
“Oh, right.”
“Don’t worry. You don’t look like you’ve chunked up too much.”
“You are incorrigible. But warm.” Knowing she shouldn’t and not caring a whole lot, Alexis walked around the little table and sat in Dylan’s lap.
He wrapped his arms tightly around her and nudged her head against his shoulder with his chin. They sat silently for several minutes.
Dylan always gave good hugs. The strong and steady thump of his heart calmed her. If she moved her head a little, she could press her lips against the pulse in his neck as she used to.
Alexis, knowing no good would come of it, forced herself to imagine being comforted by Vincent. She couldn’t. She flat-out couldn’t. Not that Vincent was incapable of offering comfort, but she was wrapped in Dylan’s arms right now.
“I know what it’s like to work hard,” he said quietly. “But I’ve never disconnected in the way you described. I won’t allow it. Because, Alexis, no matter how much you give to the work, it’ll never be enough. The work will always demand more. So I decide how many hours I’m going to work and I stop when I’ve put in those hours. Sure there are deadlines that require an extra push, but then I give myself time off afterward to recharge. If that means I’ll never be the number-one family-law attorney in Texas or in Houston or even in my firm, then so be it.”
“You ma
ke it sound so easy.”
“It’s not. I got yelled at a lot at first. But I was more efficient and at the end of a year, I’d accomplished a lot more than most. Are you burned out, Alexis? Is that it?”
She was burned out on relationships, not work. “Maybe.”
“Have some wine.”
He reached for a glass and her back felt cool where his arm had been. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Good and relaxed. I want to talk about us seven years ago.”
Alexis stiffened.
“See? Drink up. Concentrate on feeling wise and content.”
Alexis let a mouthful of wine slip over her tongue. “It has a unique aftertaste. I wish I could identify it.”
“Seven years ago—”
“Dylan, we don’t have to talk about it.”
“We aren’t. I am.”
She started to protest again, but his jaw was set. She was distracted by his jaw. In law school, it hadn’t been quite so determined. Or so manly. She just stopped herself from tracing a finger along his chin.
Alexis’s new fascination with his jaw escaped Dylan’s notice. “We’re both lucky enough to come from nice, normal families. Your parents put you through college, and my parents contributed what they could. But I come from Midwestern farming folks. There isn’t a lot of spare cash in farming. A few of my relatives had a year or two at the junior college, but I was the first one to go away to school. I was the first one to graduate, let alone go on to law school. They were so proud. Second cousins and great aunts—relatives I hadn’t ever heard of wrote me. I got cookies—”
“I remember! You always got care packages.”
“I got more than that. They sent money. I never asked and, as far as I know, neither did my parents. It was family supporting family. My great-aunt Ida sent me a thousand bucks. That must have been huge to her.” He grinned. “Of course she’s more than gotten it back in legal advice and courier fees. She goes to church on Sunday and spends the afternoon revising her will. I get a letter from her later in the week. I’ve got a template just for her.”
“You’re sweet.” Alexis gave in to the urge to touch him and tapped him on the nose. Not very sexy, which was the point.
Can't Buy Me Love Page 11
