Alex stared at her. "Don't go, Andrea. Stay with me."
It was really tempting, but while Alex was in a daze, she knew exactly what was going on. She also knew that sleeping with Alex with so much unresolved between them was not the right thing to do, no matter how much she wanted it.
"I can't," she whispered.
There was a light in his eyes, almost a fever. It burned right through her, tempting her again, making her want to forget everything but the desire that was pulling them together.
"I need you," he murmured.
"You don't know what you're saying." She sat back on her knees, looking down at him. He dropped his hand from her hair to his side, a look of pain turning his light green eyes to jade.
"Don't leave me. I can't take it. I just can't." His eyes drifted closed, and his breathing changed to one of slumber.
Andrea stared at him, touched by the depth of pain in his voice. This man had been hurt badly in his life. She only knew bits and pieces of his story, but that was one inescapable truth.
She'd been worried about him hurting her, but she could hurt him, too, she realized. She rolled over onto her side, propping her head on her elbow as she stared at his strong, handsome face. She didn't want to think about the article right now or all the lies between them. She just wanted to be with him.
Kicking off her shoes, she pulled up a quilt from the bottom of the bed and covered them both. She would just stay with him for a little while. In case his hand hurt. In case he needed her. Just a few minutes...
Chapter Twelve
The sunlight streaming through the window drew Alex out of a deep sleep. When he tried to move, his body felt bruised and heavy, as if there was a large weight on his chest. He blinked one eye open, then the other. Then he blinked again, unable to believe what he was seeing.
His other senses immediately clicked in. Blond hair tickled the bare skin on his chest. A slender leg intertwined with his, causing an immediate reaction in another part of his body.
Andrea was in bed with him!
It didn't seem possible. It had to be a dream—a bright, vivid dream. But he could smell the scent of her shampoo, see the dark lashes curving down against her cheek, and her expression was that of a sweet, sexy angel.
He shook his head and closed his eyes again, but when he took another look she was still there. A heavy fog filled his mind as he tried to make sense of the obvious. They had gone to bed together, and he didn't remember a damn thing. Why?
He groaned as he moved his arm, and the memories of the past evening came flooding back. He remembered getting into the car after leaving the hospital and that was it.
Somehow Andrea and Tyler must have gotten him into the house and up the stairs. But that didn't explain why Andrea had climbed into bed with him, why she had slept with him instead of going home or just using one of the guest rooms.
He shifted slightly, hoping she wouldn't wake up. Now that he was alert, he wanted to take a better look.
Asleep, Andrea looked a lot softer, less energized, ambitious and determined. She was such a fighter when she was awake, but now she appeared relaxed, content. Her skin was clear and smooth with just a few laugh lines around the corners of her eyes. He smiled, thinking of her open, charming grin, the laughter that would reach her eyes, even when she tried to be serious.
She would hate the fact that he was watching her, seeing her off guard without all her defenses in place. He smiled to himself, enjoying the way her arm curved around his waist. It felt good, too damn good. He didn't want her to wake up. He wanted her to hold him forever. But even as the thought came to mind, she gently began to stir, waking up in slow, uneasy stages that brought indistinguishable murmurs to her lips.
He liked the way she fought off the morning. It was in keeping with the way she resisted him, an inevitable, futile struggle against what was meant to be, although, what was meant to be probably shouldn't be. Andrea had already discovered some of his lies. She wouldn't stop until she'd stripped him bare.
He wanted her to strip him bare, just not that way.
Finally, Andrea's eyes opened, and she stared at him, at first blankly, and then with a dawning sense of awareness and embarrassment. She raised her head and then pushed herself into a sitting position, her hair falling out of her ponytail in wild abandon.
He pushed a strand back behind one ear. "I'm glad you finally decided to sleep with me."
"We didn't sleep together. Well, we did sleep, but nothing else," she muttered. "So, you're awake."
He grinned. "And so are you."
"You're probably wondering what I'm doing in bed with you."
He propped himself up on the pillows. "Actually, I'm just hoping you'll stay."
"I was worried about you. I didn't think you should be left alone. I was just going to rest for a minute, but I fell asleep."
"I'm not angry, Andrea."
"Well, I don't want you to read anything into this."
"Into the fact that we're in bed together? That you were wrapped up around me while you slept? Why would I read into that?"
Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. "I'm always a little restless when I sleep."
"I'll keep that in mind the next time."
"There's not going to be a next time, Alex." She blew out a breath. "How's your hand?"
"It hurts," he said, admitting the truth.
"You probably need another painkiller."
"Maybe a kiss would do the trick."
She frowned. "You never quit flirting, do you?"
Her question drove the smile off of his face. "That's not what I'm doing."
"It's not?"
He stared back at her, wanting to say so many things, but in the end he said nothing.
"I should get up," she said finally.
"Where's Tyler?"
"Probably asleep."
He glanced at the clock by the bed. It was seven. He had promised Tyler's foster parents that he would get him to school. "We have to get up. I have to drive him to school."
"I don't think you're going to be driving anywhere today."
"I can manage with one hand," he muttered.
A door slammed down the hall, and she jumped off the bed. "Tyler is awake."
"Don't worry. He won't come in here without knocking."
"I can't imagine what he would think if he saw me in here. Actually, I can imagine. He already asked me if I was your girlfriend."
"What did you tell him?"
"No, of course."
"Did he believe you?"
She made a face. "Not really."
He smiled. "Smart kid. He knows there's something going on between us—so do you."
"I can't have this conversation before coffee," she said with a shake of her head.
"Why don't you make us both some?" he suggested as she headed toward the door.
"All right. Do you need anything else?"
He sat up and swung his legs off the side of the bed, unable to repress a murmur of pain as he did so.
She immediately came back to him. "Are you okay?"
"I'll be fine. Just make some coffee and see if Tyler needs anything."
"All right. I'd tell you to call out if you need my help, but I doubt you would, so I'll save myself the trouble. You're stubbornly independent, Alex."
"I have a feeling people say that about you."
"Well, we're not talking about me." She paused. "I don't think you can take a shower with that cast."
"I've got a big tub."
"Well, try not to fall in the bath. I really don't want to spend another day in the Emergency Room."
"You could join me, make sure that doesn't happen," he teased.
She made a face at him. "I'll see you downstairs."
* * *
Andrea took the stairs two at a time, jogging down to the first floor so she wouldn't do something stupid like get into that bath with Alex. He had a way of bringing out her wild side and to hell with her conscience.
Wh
en she entered the kitchen, she found Tyler eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen counter and watching some cop show re-run on the flat screen TV hanging on the wall.
She smiled. "Morning. I see you got something to eat."
"Alex always says to help myself."
"Then I guess it's a good thing that you did." She walked around the island in the kitchen and stared at the clean, granite-topped counters. Somewhere in the mass of cabinets was a coffeemaker and probably some food, but where?
Tyler pointed to a cupboard by the refrigerator. "Cereal is in there if you want some."
"Thanks, but I was looking for a coffeemaker."
"Over there." Tyler motioned to the other side of the room, and Andrea followed his instructions to find the most complicated-looking coffeemaker she had ever seen in her life.
"It figures," she mumbled to herself, eyeing the thing with a grouchy frown. Alex Donovan would have to have the most deluxe equipment possible. She plugged it in and read the directions. Then she ground the beans, poured in water, punched a few buttons and hoped for the best. The opening drops looked promising, a dark, rich brown in color. As the pot began to fill, a pleasant aroma filled the room.
With a triumphant smile, she walked over to the refrigerator and examined the contents. Eggs, milk, butter. She could definitely handle scrambled eggs, maybe some toast. And there was always cereal.
By the time Alex came down the stairs, she had breakfast almost ready and was pleasantly awaiting his surprised expression. Not that she was trying to impress him. She had never bought into her mother's theory that any man worth having was worth cooking for. Still, it would be nice to know she could do it if she wanted to. And for some reason she did want to. Which made her a little worried that she was losing her focus. Her career had always meant everything to her. Now she was starting to want more.
"Smells good," Alex commented, sniffing the air.
She poured him a cup of coffee. "Cream? Sugar? Sweetener?"
"Black is fine."
She handed Alex his coffee. He took a sip and then walked over to the sink and spit it out.
She stared at him in astonishment. "Is it that bad?"
"Did you try it?"
"No, but it smells right."
He handed her the cup. Go ahead, take a sip."
After seeing Alex's display, she allowed only a small portion into her mouth, immediately gagging at the thick, chunky quality of the liquid. He was right. It was ghastly. She followed his lead and spit it out into the sink, then turned on the faucet and dumped out the rest of the cup. "Sorry. These million-dollar gadgets are a little beyond my experience."
"Andrea, the eggs..." Tyler's voice sent her attention to the stove cut where her scrambled eggs were now burning.
She quickly moved the pan and turned off the flame, but it was too late. "Sorry, I'm a lousy cook," she said with a sigh.
"Well, I'm not," Alex replied. "I'm pretty good. Let me show you."
"You're going to cook for me with one hand in a cast?" she asked doubtfully.
"Why don't we do it together?" he suggested.
"Okay, what do you want me to do?"
Making breakfast with Alex was more fun than she'd expected. She did most of the work while he gave instructions, but in the end they had beautiful golden pancakes, freshly squeezed orange juice and delicious chunks of cut-up fruit. The conversation over breakfast was light and easy, all of them choosing to stay away from uncomfortable topics.
"There are more pancakes in the oven," Alex reminded her, as she finished her last bite.
"Are you telling me that as a warning not to try to get anything off your plate?" she teased.
"Just pointing out that we have more food," he said evenly.
"Alex hates to share," Tyler interjected. "He won't even give me any of his popcorn when we go to the movies. He always makes me get my own."
"So you get enough," Alex replied, his lips turning down into a frown. "I don't think my eating habits need to be discussed."
Andrea rested her elbows on the table. "What's the big deal about guarding your food, Alex? Is that some primitive territorial urge? Or does it date back to your past, when maybe you didn't have enough to eat?"
"There was a time when I didn't know where my next meal was coming from," he admitted.
"And that feeling has never gone away?"
"I haven't really thought about it." Alex turned to Tyler. "I told the Monroes I'd take you to school. Do you need to stop by your house first to get anything?"
Tyler shook his head. "I have what I need."
"Then we should leave soon. Why don't you run a comb through your hair, maybe brush your teeth."
Tyler groaned but got up from the table, put his cereal bowl in the sink and then headed upstairs.
"You'd make a good parent, Alex," she commented.
"It's not hard to parent for a few minutes a day. But I'm not Tyler's father, just his friend."
"You're more than his friend. He adores you. He looks up to you, and he wants to be just like you."
"I hope I provide a good example."
"Of course you do." She drew in a breath, knowing it was time to cut to the chase. "Alex, we have to talk."
"I have to take Tyler to school in a few minutes."
"You can't keep putting me off."
"I'm just stating a fact."
"Well, we have a few minutes," she said with determination. "Why did you lie to me about your parents dying in a car accident?"
He let out a heavy sigh. "I first gave that answer about eight years ago. Someone threw the question out at me, and that seemed the simplest explanation. Once it was in print, I let it go."
"How did they die?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
She stared at him in frustration. "You told me you would answer my questions."
"Why does it matter?" he countered. "My parents are not responsible for the man I am today. They were gone a long time ago. I am a self-made man, and that's the story I want you to write, because that's the truth. I built my business from nothing. I achieved my goals, and I give back wherever I can. Why isn't that enough for you?"
She ignored his question. "Who sleeps in the pink and white bedroom upstairs that looks like a little girl's dream room?"
The color drained from his face. "You snooped around my house when I was asleep?"
"Yes," she admitted. "And once again you haven't answered my question."
"It was furnished for some girls I thought might be coming to visit, but they didn't. End of story."
She didn't think they were anywhere close to the end of his story. In fact, they were finally beginning. "What girls? Are they relatives? Are they like Tyler—kids who need a parental role model?" She paused. "Are they your daughters?"
"No!" he said vehemently. "Why would you ask me that?"
"It's not an illogical question."
"I don't have any children, Andrea. Are we done?"
"You know we're not."
He looked back at her, all warmth gone from his eyes. "Well, we're finished for now. I'm going to drive Tyler to school. I'll call you a cab."
"We could talk after you drop him off."
"No, we can't," he said firmly. "I have meetings at the office."
She had no idea if that was true or just another stall, but Alex was up and out of the room before she could say another word.
She cleared the table, rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. She was just wiping down the counter when Alex's phone began to buzz. She glanced over at it, seeing a text message that made her heart skip a beat.
I'll be at Pier 39 at four o'clock in front of the carousel. Please come. Mom.
Mom?
She was stunned at the three-letter word.
Alex's mother was dead. Wasn't she?
She jumped as the kitchen door opened, but it wasn't Alex, it was Tyler.
"Alex wanted me to grab his phone and tell you that a car service will m
eet you out front in five minutes. He said just to shut the door behind you. It automatically locks."
"Okay," she mumbled as Tyler picked up Alex's phone and left the kitchen.
She wondered what Alex would do when he saw the message. Although, he obviously knew his mother was alive, and they had some contact with each other, if she had his cell phone number. So what was going on?
She'd given Alex every opportunity to tell her the truth. Maybe it was time to find out for herself.
Chapter Thirteen
It felt wrong, Andrea thought several hours later as she walked toward Pier 39 just before four o'clock. But she couldn't stop herself from moving forward. The carousel beckoned. The chance to meet Alex's mother or at least see her was impossible to resist. But she still had no idea what she would do when she got there. If Alex saw her, he'd be furious. He'd know she'd read his private message. But it wasn’t like she'd gone through his phone. The text had flashed right in front of her. How could she not have read it?
Well, maybe she could have, but what was done was done. And she was too good of a reporter not to follow a lead. Unfortunately, Alex was more than a story. He was a friend. He was someone she cared about.
This was exactly why she shouldn't have gotten personally involved with him. Her feelings were clouding her professional judgment. She'd always known exactly what to do—until now.
She walked down the pier toward the carousel, still debating her options.
An older woman with dark hair stood in front of the carousel, her gaze darting every which way as if she were looking for someone. Tall and slender, she was the feminine version of Alex. She appeared to be in her early fifties and was obviously well-off, judging by the large diamond ring on her third finger, the one she was tapping nervously against her designer bag.
The details didn't make sense. Alex had supposedly grown up in foster care. If his mother wasn't dead, where had she been? And if she had money, why would Alex have ended up in the system?
The questions continued to race through her mind with every step. Finally, Andrea took a deep breath and walked over to the woman. "Mrs. Donovan?"
Kiss Me Forever (Bachelors & Bridesmaids #1) Page 13
