Part 17 (1/2)
Things are going to be all right!”
”I need to talk to Alex.”
Sarah paused before replying. ”You're a.s.suming he's here.”
”Isn't he?”
”No, Rivka. Alex is probably at The Foxfire. His business, remember? You're
not the only one whose plans were messed up by the snow.”
”Correct as usual, my dear, stable sister Sarah.” Rivka laughed. ”Was I hysterical?”
”Slightly. Have Mickey slap you.”
”Mickey?” Rivka snorted. ”Sarah, I tossed him out the door first thing this
morning. Three days locked up together was just too much!”
Sarah stretched against the flannel sheets. ”Your opening is going to be wonderful. I thought I was supposed to be the worrier, Rivka.”
Her sister snorted again. ”I must have caught it from you.”
There was no hope now of going back to sleep. Sarah's stomach had begun
rumbling, so there was no chance of curling up in bed with her new book either. She yawned, stretched, and swung her feet over the edge of the bed.
”Gotta go.” She prepared to disconnect.
”Wait!”
Here came the interrogation. ”Yes, we're dating. Yes, he spent the night. Yes, I'm going to see him today. That cover all the bases?”
”You know me too well.” Rivka switched tactics. ”Alex Caine is one of the nicest guys I know. I can't think why I didn't set you two up before.”
”You didn't set us up!” Sarah took the cordless phone with her, padded into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. ”We met all on our own, thank you very much.”
”Whatever. I'm just glad you're finally seeing someone worthwhile.”
Sarah refrained from replying to her sister's comment on her love life. ”He's very nice, Rivka.”
”Nice! Is that all you can say about him, is nice? The man's a G.o.d!”
Sarah clucked her tongue in admonition. ”I'm ashamed of you. Placing so much emphasis on a man's looks. There's a lot more to him than his face.”
”I bet.” Rivka chuckled. ”Like about a good eight inches--”
Sarah hung up the phone and cut off the rest of her sister's nosy imaginings. The shower was hot, steam pouring out. But Rivka's naughty words had got her to thinking. She'd probably be better off taking a cold shower instead.
She might have done just that, but for the fact that the house was cold enough already. She had turned the heat up, but the power outages had wreaked havoc on more than just her answering machine; the temperamental furnace in her bas.e.m.e.nt was working in spurts. If she really needed to cool down, all she had to do was stand around in her nightgown for a few minutes.
As the bathroom filled with welcome warmth, Sarah's s.h.i.+ver had little to do with the cranky furnace. The chill running down her spine had everything to do with Alex. She stepped into the shower, and the nearly too-hot water cascaded over her body. It was touching her in all the places Alex had recently touched, and Sarah couldn't hold back the tiny groan as she remembered.
The blizzard that had shut down central Pennsylvania for the past three days had been a perfect mini-vacation. As Darren had predicted, n.o.body could get into work. The state police, in fact, had issued an order that only emergency personnel would be allowed on the streets at all for forty-eight hours.
For Alex and Sarah, it was the perfect excuse to spend every spare minute together. Though he had stopped back at his place for some fresh clothes and to tell his niece where he'd be, Alex had been staying at Sarah's since the day they'd made love in the restaurant. They had stayed up late watching old movies on television and eating popcorn popped in Sarah's fireplace. They had engaged in a fierce Monopoly tournament that left Alex bankrupt and Sarah the proud owner of both Boardwalk and Park Place. They had talked for hours and shared stories from every part of their lives. And they had made love.
Sarah had never felt so close to a man. It was more than the way Alex knew how to touch her body; it was the way he had learned to touch her heart. He only had to look at her it seemed, to know what she was thinking. He had begun to finish her sentences.
It didn't matter any more what he looked like. He wasn't a pair of broad shoulders or startling hazel eyes anymore. He was just Alex.
That didn't mean the sight of him bare-chested still didn't make her catch her breath. She worked the lather through her thick curls. He could still weaken her knees with just a look.
What had started out as l.u.s.t had quickly become so much more. She had meant it to be a not-quite casual affair, a chance to satisfy her body's insistent urges. She'd never meant to risk her heart.
Too late now, she thought. She was in deep, maybe way over her head, but there was nothing to be done. She loved him, head over heels. What she felt for Alex was light years beyond what she'd had with William.
No supermodel would ever stare at her from out of the mirror, and she would probably never fit into her high-school prom dress again, but none of that mattered. Alex had shown her what he thought was precious and lovely had nothing to do with what shade of lipstick she wore or whether she looked good in stiletto pumps. She only had to be herself. If it was enough for him, then it was d.a.m.n sure good enough for her.
He had left early this morning, determined to get The Foxfire back into operating condition by this afternoon. After so many days cooped up at home, most people would be dying to get out and do something, and Alex wanted to be prepared. He had called all the staff last night to let them know what time to be in and left in plenty of time to head back to his house and change before going to the restaurant.
Sarah rinsed off and stepped out of the shower. Though the past three days had been wonderful, she, too, was looking forward to getting out. Alex had promised her lunch today, but she probably wouldn't see much of him. He devoted a lot of himself to his business, and she respected that. Still, the promise of seeing him even briefly had her heart skipping a beat. She wanted to sing. And, as she toweled off and began dressing to meet the man who had changed her mind about pretty faces, that's exactly what she did.
Silence met Alex when he entered his house. He'd left Sarah sleeping, waking her just long enough to promise her lunch at The Foxfire today. The roads had mostly been cleared, so he was able to jog back to his house in record time. He wanted to shower, change, and grab some breakfast before heading over to the restaurant. It was going to be a crazy day.
Not wanting to wake Emma, he climbed the stairs two at a time as quietly as he could. He'd phoned her last night along with the rest of the staff to let them all know he expected them to show up for work on Sat.u.r.day morning. Still, it was pretty early. Emma really didn't have to be in for another couple of hours.
Darkness shrouded the hallway, but Alex didn't bother turning on a light. He knew exactly where he was going, and ... WHAM!
Alex hit someone coming out of Emma's room. It wasn't Emma, not unless she'd shot up about five inches and put on forty pounds. The intruder grunted and went down after the impact.
Heart hammering, Alex tried to remember the self-defense techniques he'd learned at the YMCA a few years back. Letting out a thundering yell, he thrust his fists out in front of him and stamped down on the interloper with all his weight. The man on the ground let out a loud yelp of pain.
”If you've hurt Emma, I'll kill you!” Alex roared, keeping his stance. Though he wanted to see who was lurking in his upstairs hallway, the shadows still obscured the man's face. He didn't want to get too close to the downed invader in case the man was planning to spring up and hit him. ”I may just kill you anyway!”
The hall suddenly lit up like a county fair. Alex blinked in the brightness, opening one fist to s.h.i.+eld his eyes from the glare. Emma's door, directly to his right, had opened, and his niece came flying out.
”Mike!” she shrieked, bending over the p.r.o.ne man on the floor. ”Boss! You moron, you've killed him!”
To protect the area Alex had stomped, Michel duLay curled into a tight ball in the hallway. His face was pasty white with a greenish tinge. Emma bent over him and fluttered her hands over his face. When she saw just where Michel had been injured, she glared up at her uncle with undisguised dismay.
”Boss, you stomped him in the nuts,” she scolded. ”What kind of fair fighting is that?”