Eye of the Beholder

  “You’re afraid that what really happened after that last quarrel was that he got into his car and drove off without being in full control of himself. You think you were a contributing factor in his death, don’t you?”

  “That is pure, undiluted bullshit.”

  “Yes, it is,” Alexa said. “But deep down inside, you’re worried that it’s the truth. You’ve come back to Avalon because you have to know if you’ve been right to blame yourself all these years for what happened that night.”

  He said nothing.

  Alexa gripped his shoulder. “Listen to me, you were not responsible for your father’s death. But that does not automatically imply that someone else is.”

  “I’m going to find out what happened that night,” he said very steadily.

  “Trask, listen to me. I know what it’s like to get that kind of call in the middle of the night. I know what it’s like not to have had a chance to say goodbye.”

  “Alexa—”

  She tightened her hand. “I know how it feels to wonder if, just maybe, I’d been prettier or more clever, or, better yet, if I’d been a son, if maybe my father would have spent more time at home. Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten bored and traveled halfway around the world to risk his neck taking pictures of other people’s wars. Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten himself shot by some anonymous sniper who probably never even knew his name—”

  She broke off abruptly, shocked by the rush of words. She had never said those things aloud, not even to Dr. Ormiston.

  Trask watched her with an unblinking gaze. “I’m sorry.”

  Alexa fought a short, ferocious battle to pull herself together.

  “Sometimes there are no answers,” she said.

  “Sometimes there are answers. I’m going to get them.”

  “I never thought I’d say this,” she whispered. “But I wish you luck. I think you’re going to need it.”

  On impulse she stood on tiptoe and brushed her mouth lightly across his. He did not respond.

  She took her hand off his shoulder and turned away toward the exit.

  “Alexa.”

  She paused and looked back. “What is it?”

  “I don’t want or need your sympathy. Do you understand?”

  She could feel the tension in him, a live wire dancing with dangerous electricity. “Got it. No sympathy.”

  “And the next time you kiss me, by God, make sure it’s for real. I don’t need little butterfly pecks to make me feel better. I’m not some kid with a skinned knee.”

  She braced herself. “What do you need, Trask?”

  Without warning, he took two steps toward her and pulled her into his arms. “This is what I need.”

  His mouth came down on hers, fierce, hot, demanding. The kiss exploded through her senses, pulling her deep into the vortex of sensation that had opened at her feet.

  She discovered in a sudden rush of heat and lightning that she did not want to give him another little butterfly caress. She did not want to brush her mouth across his in a misguided attempt to communicate her understanding of what he had gone through all those years ago.

  She wanted to crush herself against him so that she could feel the kiss all the way to her bones.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and sank deeper into the whirlpool of sensual energy.

  14

  Her response swept away everything else that should have mattered to him tonight, everything that should have commanded his full attention at that moment. Everything that he had been thinking just a few seconds earlier.

  It was not that he forgot about Guthrie and Kenyon or what had happened twelve years ago. It was just that, right now, while he was holding Alexa in his arms, those things could be put aside for a while.

  The past could wait until tomorrow.

  He tightened his hold on Alexa. She was soft and vibrant. Her scent captivated him on an elemental level. He’d known women who smelled good, but none of them had smelled this good.

  The contours of her body were exquisitely satisfying. They seemed to fit him perfectly. It was as though she had been made just for him. When she sighed and opened her mouth he wanted to go out and conquer a large chunk of the civilized world and maybe finish exploring the Amazon.

  But first he wanted to make love to her. He had to make love to her. And he had to do it now, tonight.

  He eased her closer. Her thigh brushed against the inside of the leg he had braced on the fountain rim.

  There is nothing so seductive as water in the desert.

  Without breaking the kiss, he closed his hands around Alexa’s waist, scooped her up, and stepped into the low fountain pool with her in his arms. The soft, warm rain cascaded over them.

  Alexa gasped and pulled back a little, but her hands still clung firmly around his shoulders. She stared at him through the gentle mist. Her eyes gleamed with astonished wonder as the water plastered her hair to her elegantly shaped head.

  He could not tell her that he was even more amazed than she was by his exuberant passion. For some reason it felt perfectly natural to make love to this woman in a fountain tonight.

  “Trask.” She caught his face between her palms, closed her eyes, and nibbled hungrily along the line of his jaw until her teeth closed around his earlobe.

  He slid his hands down the length of her body, savoring the feel of her. The water had turned the tissue-thin dress into a second skin. He was aware of every inch of her through the wet fabric. When he curved his fingers around her breasts he discovered that her nipples were tight and full beneath a near-transparent bra.

  The vapors that filled the spa chamber created a dream world, a place where reality could be checked at the door. For the first time in his life, he did the unthinkable. He knowingly allowed himself to enter the fantasy.

  He could always step back out of it when this was finished, he thought. He could deal with the facts. He always understood the bottom line in any given situation. But just for tonight he would revel in the fantasy. He needed it.

  Just for tonight.

  Alexa made no protest when he eased the zipper of her dress down to the small of her back. He peeled the wet silk away from her body and let it sink into the churning pool. Then he unfastened her bra. It, too, fell into the water and floated away.

  He shuddered when he felt her hands on his bare chest. He realized with a shock of excitement that she had unbuttoned his shirt.

  “You feel so good,” she whispered against his shoulder.

  He heard the unveiled appreciation in her voice. The knowledge that she wanted him was the ultimate aphrodisiac.

  As if he needed any other drug tonight.

  He went down on one knee, hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her pantyhose, and stripped them down to her ankles.

  Slowly he drew his palms upward from ankle to thigh. He urged her legs apart and slid his finger into her. She gave a choked moan and clutched at his shoulders to steady herself. He felt her nails sink into his skin.

  He wrapped his hands around her buttocks and found her clitoris with his tongue. The taste of her was utterly unique in all the universe. It made him ravenous, insatiable.

  She trembled violently.

  He could feel himself, hard and full, inside his trousers.

  He rose in the sparkling water until he was once more standing in front of her. He looked into her eyes and saw the sultry yearning there.

  He reached down and unbuckled his belt.

  It took him only a moment to get out of his trousers and retrieve the foil packet from his wallet.

  When he lifted Alexa high into his arms and carried her to the nearest lounger, she whispered his name. He considered it a near-miracle that he did not climax then and there.

  He put her down on the cushions and lowered himself on top of her. She folded one leg around his thigh. He discovered that she was damp and slick all over.

  And hot. So very, very hot.

  With a groan, he thrust deep into her snug bo
dy. She lifted herself, straining against him. He found the swollen nub between her legs again, this time with his thumb.

  The waters of the spa bubbled, lapped, and surged around them.

  He sank deeper into Alexa.

  She cried out, shivered, and climaxed beneath him. He tried to hold himself back long enough to savor her response, but the delicious demands of her body proved irresistible.

  Somewhere in the shimmering void a bell rang, warning him about the risk of getting caught up in the fantasy.

  He ignored it. He would worry later about climbing back out of the illusion.

  * * *

  Alexa sat up on the edge of the lounger and pulled the oversized bath sheet more closely around her breasts. She glanced around surreptitiously, part of her still half-convinced that she might have hallucinated the entire experience. But the steamy atmosphere, the frothy fountains, and the gleaming tiles were definitely real.

  This wasn’t her. It couldn’t be her. She didn’t do things like this.

  Wild woman had struck, big time. But now the real Alexa had to deal with the aftermath.

  She watched Trask walk back toward her through the mist. He wore a toweling robe that he had found in one of the changing rooms. He carried a second robe in his hand.

  She studied the veiled expression in his eyes as he drew closer. Had he planned to seduce her tonight? Or had he been as caught up in the heat of the moment as herself? Was he already regretting the interlude? Or did he think he could control her with passion?

  Dr. Ormiston, if you could only see me now. Risk city.

  Trask halted near the fountain to scoop up their sodden clothing and her small evening bag. Then he walked over to the lounger and handed her the extra robe.

  “You can wear this home,” he said.

  She got to her feet, still clutching the bath sheet around herself with one hand. She took the robe from him.

  “Okay.” She wondered why she suddenly felt uncomfortably warm. To her chagrin, she realized that she was blushing.

  This was ridiculous. She had to pull herself together or she would collapse from humiliation.

  She gave him what she hoped was a bright, sophisticated sort of smile. Be cool, Alexa. Risk-takers are nothing if not really, really cool.

  “It’s going to be a little awkward explaining to your staff why we’re not wearing the clothes we had on earlier, isn’t it?” she said.

  “No big deal. We’ll say we took an unanticipated swim in one of the spa pools. Don’t worry, a good hotel staff knows better than to ask questions.” His mouth curved at one corner. “Especially of the boss.”

  “That won’t stop people from speculating about us. As you have so frequently pointed out, this is a small town.”

  “If it will make you feel more comfortable, I’ll take you out the back way.”

  She pursed her lips while she considered that. Then she shook her head. “That might make things even worse.”

  “You’re really sweating this out, aren’t you?”

  “It just occurred to me that the repercussions could be a bit awkward, that’s all.” The bath sheet slipped precariously as she fumbled to hold it in place while she put on the robe. “For both of us.”

  “I’m not going to worry about it,” he said. “Are you?”

  “Heavens no.” Sheesh. Her voice was much too high. She fought to bring it down to a more normal level as she struggled with the robe. “What’s to worry about? We’re consenting adults. I mean, it’s not as if this sort of thing is any big deal these days.”

  Damn. She’d missed the sleeve. It flapped uselessly. She readjusted her grip on the bath sheet and tried again.

  “Here. Let me help you.” Trask took the robe from her and held it ready.

  Alexa turned her back to him and froze, both hands clutching the bath sheet to her breasts.

  “You’re going to have to let go of that bath sheet if you want to put on the robe,” he said.

  “I know that.”

  She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, released her death grip on the bath sheet, and plunged both arms into the sleeves of the robe.

  To her everlasting relief, she made it on the first attempt. She seized the dangling ends of the sash and tied them swiftly.

  Be cool, wild woman. You can do this.

  She opened her eyes and saw that Trask was watching her with grave amusement.

  “I may be able to find a comb for your hair,” he said.

  Her hair. She raised a hand to the damp tangle. She could feel bits and pieces sticking out at crazy angles.

  “I’ve got one in my purse.” She yanked the bag from his hand, jerked it open, and snatched out the comb. She tried to drag it through her snarled hair. “Ouch.”

  Trask studied the results. “Want me to do that?”

  “No, no, I’m fine. Thank you.” She gave up the attempt to put her hair into some semblance of order and glanced at her watch instead. It appeared to have survived the soaking in the fountain. “It’s getting late. I have a busy day tomorrow.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  The odd edge in his voice brought her head up sharply. His gaze, dark and brooding, trapped hers.

  “Trask, I—” She broke off, floundering.

  “Wondering if you’ve just made a serious mistake?” he asked much too evenly.

  Anger shot through her, mercifully vaporizing some of the awkwardness and the uncertainty.

  “I thought maybe you were asking yourself the same question,” she said.

  “I’ll guess we’ll both have to wait and find out, won’t we?”

  Alexa came awake so suddenly and with such a surge of adrenaline that for an instant she was certain there was an intruder in her bedroom.

  Panic froze her. She lay motionless, listening with preternatural intensity for the slightest scrape of a foot or the sound of an indrawn breath. Pretend you’re still asleep.

  The phone rang again.

  A shudder of relief went through her. Not an intruder, after all.

  “Okay, I can deal with this.”

  She glanced at the glowing numbers on the clock as she reached for the bedside phone. Two-fifteen in the morning. No one called with glad tidings at this hour.

  She thought of Vivien and Lloyd in Maui. If something had happened to one or both of them…

  Obscene phone calls also came in the middle of the night, she thought, trying for a note of optimism. At that moment there was nothing she wanted to hear more than a heavy breather on the other end of the line. Anything would be better than bad news from Maui.

  She tightened her grip on the phone, raised it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Trask has aroused the vortices of dark energy. Stay away from him.”

  The voice was low and muffled, as though the caller was holding a wad of fabric over the mouthpiece.

  “Who is this?” Alexa sat up against the pillows. “If this is some kind of weird joke, I can tell you right now, it’s not appreciated.”

  “The vortices will not grow calm again until he is gone. There is great danger.”

  “Who are you?” She listened closely, straining to detect a familiar note in the oddly flat voice. She thought she heard a car’s engine start up. Other voices in the background. Laughter. Teenagers?

  “You have been warned. Stay away from Trask or you will be caught up in the dark storm.”

  “Listen, you little creep, there are laws against—”

  There was a click. The line went dead.

  Alexa slowly replaced the receiver. She switched on the light and sat up on the edge of the bed.

  Opening the drawer of the bedside table, she pulled out the phone book. She flipped swiftly through the pages of helpful information on voice messaging services, long distance calling instructions, area codes, and time zones.

  She found the instructions she wanted and followed directions for returning the last call.

  The phone rang on the other end. She waited tensely for s
omeone to respond. She had read somewhere that most victims of obscene phone calls knew the caller.

  On the other hand, threats about dark vortices didn’t sound exactly obscene.

  “Yeah?”

  The voice was young. The accent was pure teenager.

  “Who is this?” Alexa asked.

  “Duh. Me Tarzan. You Jane?”

  Muffled giggles sounded. A car’s engine revved.

  Another voice spoke in the background. “Damnit, you kids stop fooling around with that phone or, so help me, I’ll have the phone company take it out.”

  A seriously annoyed adult, Alexa realized.

  “If you’re callin’ someone to come down and buy booze for you, you can forget it.”

  There was more teenage laughter.

  “Let me have that phone.” A new voice came on the line, gruff and aggressive. “Who the hell is this?”

  “I’m sorry to disturb you,” Alexa said in her plummiest antique gallery tones. “Someone called me from this number a moment ago and hung up. I was trying to find out who it was.”

  “Probably one of the punks hangin’ around out front here.” The irritation leaked out of the voice. “There was a dance after the game tonight. Some of the kids are still out cruising. You know how it is. They all oughta be home in bed, but parents these days just don’t seem to care where their kids are.”

  “Excuse me, out in front of where?”

  “You got the pay phone outside Avalon Quick Stop. I’m the night manager.”

  “I see. Thanks for explaining things. You know how it is with that kind of call.”

  “Sure.” The manager was not unsympathetic. “But I wouldn’t worry too much about this one. I know most of these kids. If you get any more calls, let me know. I’ll put a stop to ’em.”

  “Thank you.”

  Alexa hung up the phone. She turned out the light and slipped back under the covers.

  She did not sleep for a long time. Instead she stared up at the ceiling and thought about the voice of the person who had called earlier.

  It had not sounded like a youthful voice. Furthermore, it was highly unlikely that any kid who was into cruising and hanging out with his friends at the Avalon Quick Stop would have any interest in Trask, dark vortices, or what, for a teenager, was truly ancient history.