But she now realized that having finally admitted his feelings for her, even if she didn’t give him the answer he wanted to hear, had given him impetus to get past his feelings and deal with the truth. It also explained his rather subdued response to her mentioning that Brad would accompany her to Lauren’s party. She finished pouring the rum over the two glasses of Diet Coke, then returned to the living room and found Alex stretched out across her beige leather sofa.
“Where’s the Bacardi?”
She handed him a glass. “It’s inside.”
“No, I meant that Diet Coke would be great for you. I’d take the rum straight from the bottle.” He regarded the glass, pretending to look displeased. “I guess this’ll have to do…for now.” He gulped some of it down. “So tell me more about this whole interim-director thing.”
Over the next hour, Marisa described every detail of her day while going over the account books and every other significant aspect of her boss’s more esoteric responsibilities. When she finished, she was shocked to find that they had replenished their glasses three times, and a pleasant but potent buzz had come over her.
She looked at the bottles of Bacardi and Diet Coke that sat on the coffee table in front of them. She didn’t even remember bringing them from the kitchen. But that’s how it always went whenever she talked with Alex. They were so connected that time lost meaning. She’d never shared that experience with anyone else, and she treasured the sensation.
Marisa yawned and rose from the couch. “I better hit the hay. Big day tomorrow. Need to ask Lance all the big questions before he leaves.” She grabbed their glasses and carried them into the kitchenette, noticing Alex pick up the Bacardi and Diet Coke before following her.
“Thanks for coming by,” Marisa said after placing both glasses in the dishwasher. “It really means a lot to me. I’ve missed you…stopping over.”
Alex returned the Diet Coke and Bacardi to their rightful places then headed towards the front door. When he reached it, he grabbed the knob but turned back. “You know…”
“Yes?” she asked, coming up behind him.
“I’m only a phone call away.”
She smiled and stretched her arms out to hug him, closing the distance between them. When he embraced her, she felt it for the thousandth time: that unmistakable feeling that their bodies fit so well together that they had to have been cast from the same mold. She rested her head against his shoulder, wanting nothing more than to stay locked inside those strong arms and fall asleep, content and secure.
How come snuggling with her body pillow didn’t feel half as good as this? She closed her eyes, imagining how amazing it would be to cuddle like this each night before drifting off to sleep.
And then her body lifted off the ground. She opened drowsy eyes to find Alex carrying her in his arms as though he carried a small child. With an arm around his neck, staring at his profile, she’d always found him handsome and fit, but with his powerful chest against her own and the ease with which he picked her up, she felt a flutter of excitement pass through her. She nestled her head inside his neck until he entered her bedroom.
In the darkened room, he had no trouble navigating his way to the bed, which could prove troublesome considering that she recalled trying on at least three blouses and four skirts this morning, some of which currently lay on the bed, while the others lay on the wooden chest at the front of her bedframe.
“God, you’re so messy,” Alex whispered into her ear. “Your clothes snagged my legs like a pair of snakes,”
Refusing to open her eyes, lest this sweet episode end, she simply smiled, unexpectedly releasing a sigh of pleasure from deep in her throat. No man had ever carried her in his arms before, which explained why none of them had ever lain her down onto her bed. She’d never before felt so fragile, so protected, so…cherished.
He slid his knee across the surface of her bed, lying her down with such great care that it felt like feathers lay beneath her. But, of course, in lowering her, he went down beside her as well, not even breathing heavily from the effort.
Rather than trying to slip the covers out from under her, Alex took the blanket on his end and wrapped it around her before sliding over to the other side and curling the other end of the blanket so that she lay in a cocoon with Alex keeping the covers tight against her. Marisa turned to face him but just lay there, eyes closed, all but asleep.
Her foot reflexively kicked out, as sometimes happened in the moments before sleep claimed her. She peeked through an eye to find Alex lovingly stroking the hair from her eyes. “Sorry.”
“Trying to kick me out of bed?” he whispered, smiling.
“No.” She hadn’t expected that word to pass through her lips. But saying otherwise would have been a lie. That realization made her heartbeat quicken, made her drowsy eyes perk up, made her mouth dry.
When had that changed? Just as important, why had it changed? He sifted a hand through her hair. It should have made her relax. But she felt warmth spreading through her cheeks, passing quickly through her chest until it settled in her core.
How could this be happening? His fingertips barely grazed her forehead. He hardly even touched her. Didn’t even caress an erogenous zone. And yet, no man had ever made her yearn with such sudden anticipation.
Perhaps being wrapped up and unable to move had something to do with it. She wanted him closer, but without the ability to move her hands or arms, she couldn’t lead him toward her. Her breath came quick as she tilted her neck upwards, to get closer to him.
Alex lowered his head towards her, now only six inches away. Looking deep into her eyes, he stroked her hair again. “Marisa?” His voice was soft.
“Yes?” she whispered, feeling his cola-scented breath tap against her lips, eager to taste them. “Yes, Alex?”
He held her gaze for a long moment. “Sleep tight.” He backed away from her, lifted himself from the bed, and walked out. A few seconds later, after engaging the lock, he closed the front door.
And just like that, he disappeared.
Marisa lay there, stunned. She didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t even breathe. She waited. Waited for Alex to return. But the door didn’t open.
He’d locked it, after all, revealing that he had no intention of returning. So what had happened? Without knowing it, had she frowned or reacted in a way to discourage him from continuing the quickest and most unexpected seduction she’d ever experienced?
She replayed every moment since he scooped her in his arms. She analyzed every angle, every touch, and every sensation, only to discover that…she’d given him no reason to stop. Then again, had she given him any reason to continue? On second thought, she’d raised herself for his kiss, hadn’t she?
If he cared, if he truly loved her, wouldn’t he have stayed with her? Wouldn’t he have tossed aside the blankets, crawled in beside her, and continued his temptation? Wouldn’t he have placed a hand on her leg, traveling upwards until he slid under her sweater, tantalizing her nipples with his fingertips?
In her mind, she caught a glimpse of that last second before he stepped through her bedroom doorway. She scrutinized his every motion and discovered that…he hadn’t reconsidered and slowed down, hadn’t even the notion to glance back. He’d just left. As if sharing that intimate connection meant nothing to him, as if it happened to him on an everyday basis.
Humiliated, she felt her confusion shifting into anger. Now wide awake since her brain had done some heavy-duty processing, she tried wiggling out of the blankets, but Alex had done a superb job of fastening them around her. She kicked her legs, beat her arms, and finally wriggled free of the covers.
Her pleasant buzz had turned into a pounding headache. She went into the bathroom, extracted a couple aspirin from a near empty bottle, and downed them with some water from the faucet.
Marisa looked at her hostile expression in the mirror. Two separate men within three weeks had disappointed her: Alex, who failed to follow up the most enticing for
eplay ever; and Brad, because…well, she vomited, ending any possibility of intimacy.
But what was she doing? How could she have responded so strongly to Alex when she didn’t know where things stood with Brad? Thinking of Brad made her reflect on his poem. The more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t imagine him sitting down to spend the time on such a romantic gesture.
In conversation, Brad tended to stumble around until finally coming around to his point, and she suspected he had the same inclination when it came to the written word. How long had it taken him to compose his thoughts? Three hours? Four hours?
More than that, the knowledge that Brad’s narrative seemed to confirm what she’d hoped – that he really knew what she needed to hear from a partner – disoriented her. But she’d never really sat down and had a deep conversation with him.
She’d never even cuddled with him while watching a movie. So why had she assumed that he knew her so well? Had she simply imagined that he understood her because she wanted to believe it was true?
She went over to her computer and turned it on, prepared to do some investigative work. She retrieved the poem, returned to the computer, and Googled a line of Brad’s poetry. It didn’t supply a line of his words in bold font. She tried a different line. Same result.
It proved that Brad hadn’t plagiarized. That should have satisfied her, but she couldn’t get over the idea that he hadn’t written the poem. She shut down her computer, determined to get to the bottom of it later this week when she saw Brad at Lauren’s Halloween party.
As she got back into bed, Marisa tried to redirect her thoughts away from Alex but succeeding at that task became impossible. Now that much of her buzz had worn off, she presumed that her reaction to the way he’d hefted her in his arms and lay her down on her bed would have lost its charm.
Far from it, she couldn’t resist replaying the scene in her mind just to experience that unforeseen rush of sensuous arousal; his powerful chest was broader than she’d ever realized, and the arms that held her were warm but when she touched them, they felt like iron. And after he’d leaned in close to her, when his lips hovered only inches from hers, did he realize that she desperately wanted his kiss?
A couple weeks ago, after reading Brad’s poem, she’d reacted like a giddy teenager consumed by excitement, because she thought she’d finally made a love connection. But when he expected sex, she hadn’t even felt a flicker of excitement. Yet, tonight, when Alex looked like he might kiss her, she felt otherwise.
In truth, since Marisa met Brad three years ago, no amount of kissing him had ever left her the least bit aroused. After Brad had left her room that night, he didn’t return. In fact, he’d only left her a text message. In contrast, Alex had left her earlier tonight, only to return a few hours later because he cared about her and wanted to make sure she was okay.
And after sharing that moment a short while ago in her bedroom with him, she realized that he’d managed to touch her soul. That hadn’t happened in years. It made her skin vibrate and tingle with excitement. And she didn’t know what to do about it.
After all, if he truly loved her, wouldn’t he have acted on his impulses? Wouldn’t he have shown her how much he cared? She concluded It made her feel that he only thought he loved her. When it came right down to it, Alex didn’t really feel a deep connection between them.
And as outlandish as that sounded, for reasons Marisa couldn’t quite explain, she felt let down by that realization. Perhaps he didn’t really love her. Maybe he only liked the idea of loving her. And that possibility disappointed her more than she ever thought possible.
CHAPTER TWENTY
A couple days later, Alex called Marisa and set up a meeting at Bedford Falls, so they could coordinate their efforts to ensure that both of their libraries presented a consistent message to their patrons. When he arrived, Esther stopped him before he entered the conference room.
“How are things going with Marisa?” she asked.
Hearing her name brought to mind his unbearable desire several nights ago to kiss the woman he’d treasured for so long. But since she’d had a few drinks, he couldn’t give in to his impulses. If he ever kissed those luscious lips, Alex wanted her to remember every second of it.
Besides, if he went against his instincts, and Marisa later regretted kissing him, she might accuse him of taking advantage of her. It would destroy not only the possibility of a romantic relationship, but also their friendship as well.
Bottom line: he couldn’t risk it. Once committed to that decision, he didn’t hesitate on his way out. Doing so would have resulted in turning back.
Alex smiled at the potential for greater things, but since he didn’t know how Marisa felt about the other day, he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. And because she preferred to keep her personal and professional lives separate, he decided to remain silent, a wise decision when talking to the biggest gossip-monger in the building.
Esther took his grin as a sign of better things to come. She waved a finger at him. “Be good to her. I get the feeling that men haven’t treated her well.”
His grin soured. But hoping that he might get a chance to correct that poor history lifted his confidence. In response, he just nodded and entered the conference room.
Marisa sat at the table alone, flipping back and forth in her schedule-planner. She looked up, face impenetrable. “Please close the door.” She returned to her planner.
Feeling like he made a misstep before even uttering a word, Alex shut the door behind him, unsure of how to proceed. Her detached manner set his nerves on edge. Then remembering that today was only her second day as interim-director, he tried to set aside his doubts. She was surely facing incredible pressure and indecision.
He decided to start out with the ordinary: “Hi!”
She looked up, put down her pen, and released a bright smile. “Hey.” But a moment later, as though suspecting that she looked too enthusiastic, her mood plunged. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.”
He sat opposite her and placed his notebook in front of him. “I hope you didn’t have a hangover Tuesday morning.”
“Not at all. After you left, I felt fine, but I took a couple aspirin just in case.”
He searched her gaze and found sincerity there. But nothing else. No indication that she’d felt a connection as he’d carried her into her bedroom. Or while he’d tucked her in. Or the moment he’d almost kissed her.
His stomach plummeted. Cursing himself for overestimating how the alcohol had affected her, Alex wished he could go back in time to Monday night, so he could give in to his aching heart.
Then again, did her newfound frigidity spring from wanting him to follow through with his desires? Did she consider him a tease? Or a coward?
She said, “The first thing I did as interim-director was readjust the timetable on our new lending policy. It will now begin on January first. Giving you only a few weeks was pretty ruthless and…cold.” She paused as an apologetic look took hold of her. “It wasn’t fair to your library. And I’m really sorry you had to deal with that during your first week.
“Oh, by the way,” she added, “I spoke with that annoying reporter. She sounded disappointed that we’re holding off on the lending policy. It seems she was hoping to start a controversy. Still, she went live with her article. I’ve fielded a few calls, but to prevent further misunderstanding, I had Claudia send out a press release. Needless to say, I don’t think we’ll be hearing from Gayle Hart anytime soon.
“Anyway, two months isn’t a lot of time before the policy takes effect, but my staff will help yours in any way we can.” Marisa slid a document toward him. “Take a look. Let me know what you think.” She looked up at him with a hopeful expression. But a second later, as though admonishing herself for appearing excited and hopeful to be in his company, she returned her attention to the schedule-planner.
Alex took the document, and his eyes flashed across it. He couldn’t get over the idea that Marisa
was trying to avoid him. “Is everything okay?”
“Sure. I’m just really busy.”
“About the other night—”
She looked up with a painted-on smile. She reached out her left hand, but it only extended a few inches, unwilling to give him the wrong impression. “I was exhausted. What you did—that was so sweet.” Her smile dulled and vanished. She glanced down at her planner and flipped a page.
Sweet. The word no man wanted to hear from a potential romantic partner. It meant disinterest. It meant banishment. If she was attracted to him, Marisa would have said, “what you did – that was really special or so hot.”
Alex’s heart clenched. He’d gotten close. So close…and yet, she’d tossed him into the friend zone again. Or rather, he’d placed himself there. He felt anger rising in the pit of his stomach.
Within seconds, it turned to a boil. He didn’t blame Marisa. He blamed himself. Damon would have gone for it – alcohol or not. He would’ve taken Marisa without apprehension, without a second thought.
Alex considered the last few weeks: learning to ride in such a short time, following Cassandra back to her apartment, only to turn her down because she wasn’t the woman he loved. And when he finally got a chance with Marisa, what did he do? Shun the possibility for happiness. What was he waiting for? A signed invitation? Pleading and begging?
His frustration gave way to nausea. He sat there, stewing with regret, unable to control his anger and disappointment. True, if he hadn’t picked up those skills, he never would have felt Marisa in his arms in the first place.
But now, recalling the night she’d looked up at him with…yes, actual longing, how had he overlooked that? It seemed he gave himself too much credit for having confidence that he failed to act upon.
Put another way, he deceived himself. While he felt more assured, it didn’t matter – if he never put his thoughts into action. Even now, he sat across from Marisa, thinking of what he should have done and how he should have acted.
One Step Away (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 1) Page 19
