Bedeviled Page 6

  “But you have an expensive gym membership?”

  “That’s for lifting. For swimming, I like this better.” With that matter of fact statement, Alex changed the subject. “What would you like to eat?”

  “What have you got?”

  Alex opened the double doors of a wide stainless refrigerator and stood in front of them. “Let’s see what we have. Joanne stocked it for us today.”

  He stood there so long, letting out all that cold air, that Charlotte finally limped over to see inside the fridge herself. There were all the fixings to feed a family of ten or more. She saw rotisserie chickens, containers of premade meat loaf and turkey breast. There was a large bowl filled with every fruit imaginable, an entire selection of fruit juices, another bowl with a salad already made and covered with a French-linen towel.

  “Are you expecting company?” Charlotte laughed gently, before grabbing her ribs again. “There is enough food here for twenty people. Joanne must come from a large family if this is her idea of getting us food.”

  “I did tell her to get plenty,” Alex admitted with a sheepish grin. “So, what can I get you?” he questioned, turning to see what she liked. When he made eye contact, she saw the deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes.

  “Alex, can you cook?”

  Alex dropped his chin to his chest to break eye contact and shook his head. “Could you tell?”

  “Only from that fear on your face. You have this fabulous gourmet kitchen and you can’t cook?” Charlotte was incredulous.

  “I entertain a lot of clients,” he defended. “We eat in restaurants.”

  “Not tonight. Tonight we eat here,” she commanded pointing to the salad bowl, which he lifted from the shelf. She had him carry two cheeses, the turkey breast, a lemon and the jar of already minced garlic to the countertop. She carried a small bottle of Dijon mustard and a bottle of Rombauer Chardonnay.

  “A bowl, a whisk, a plate, a cutting board, a decent knife,” she looked at the contents before her, “olive oil, crackers and whatever herbs you can find.” Charlotte took command of the space like a ship’s captain, barking orders. She looked completely at home, wrapping a towel around her waist as a makeshift apron, grabbing the plate, placing the cheese and crackers out for them to nibble while she halved the lemon, squeezing the juice from it and pouring it, the oil and the herbs over the lovely salad. She never measured, confident in her amounts and choices and Alex watched from the sidelines in fascination until she pointed to the microwave and held up five fingers to tell Alex to heat the turkey while she went back to the fridge in search of more items.

  “Dinner plates,” she demanded. He handed her two expensive china plates that she piled high with salad, slicing a small bit of the cheese to lay across the top of each. She sprinkled both with pepper, without asking, added slices of apple and pear then indicated to Alex to add the turkey slices to the plates and carry them to the other side of the counter where there were stools to perch on.

  Alex carried them from the kitchen to the dining area instead. There was a large glossy black table in the center with a matching buffet under a large square painting, an abstract of the skyline in a riot of color. The room had windows on two sides that appeared to slide open to the wide deck outside and beyond that were views galore.

  After putting out woven placemats and matching napkins, Alex poured wine into their glasses. Placing the plates carefully, he went back to help Charlotte maneuver to a chair. She had sliced a fresh loaf of bread with some pain, and was carrying it until Alex took it from her, and gave her his arm to help steady her as they moved across the room. He went back for a crock of creamy butter before joining her at the table. After Charlotte completed the painful task of adjusting in her seat, they dug into the food with gusto.

  “This is really good,” Alex said in surprise.

  “I just threw this together with what you already had. With a bit of planning, home cooked meals can be way better than this,” Charlotte responded, a hint of a scold behind her words. “You really should eat at home. It’s a beautiful space to sit in, a fabulous kitchen to work in and the food will be so much healthier.”

  “Yes, dear,” he responded obediently.

  “Okay, I am done nagging. So,” she said, changing the subject, “I knew you were comfortable, but I had no clue you were this comfortable.” Her arm swept up to indicate all the space and the view before she remembered how much the gesture hurt. She lowered it again quickly.

  “I live well. I work hard and I live well. I am not ashamed of it, if that is what you are implying.” There was steel in his voice and Charlotte quickly backtracked.

  “I am not implying that at all, Alex. After all, I know how generous you can be too. I was in the Alexander Gaines wing of the hospital today, for starters. I am just saying this is way more than I had envisioned. It is a new, unexpected side to you.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get defensive.” He reached to remove her wine glass, pushing the water toward her instead. “No more wine with those pain meds,” he explained when she pouted. She nodded her agreement and sipped the cool water. “I try to give away a good chunk of what I earn but there is always someone who thinks I should donate more. I worked hard for my success, but sometimes even I have to admit it is excessive. Why should I have so much when others have so little? Then I try to do more.”

  “No problem. You don’t owe anyone an apology. So what is your story anyway?”

  “My story? You know my story.” He seemed surprised by the question and Charlotte watched as his walls dropped firmly into place. He dug into his food, avoiding eye contact.

  “Tell me anyway. Now that I see you in these surroundings, I have a new image of you and a lot more questions.”

  “You shouldn’t. I am still just me.” He kept his eyes on his plate.

  “Well then, tell me about ‘just me’. Start at the beginning. I know you grew up in the suburbs with Regan.”

  “Yep, Lake Forest.” Alex began, finally looking up at Charlotte. “We all lived near each other, went to the same private schools – Wyatt, Randall, Tyler and I. We hung out together, played sports, chased girls. We just clicked, you know? Regan was always tagging behind us, the annoying little sister. Look at her now, CEO of Lyons Howe. Who would have thought it?”

  “I would,” Charlotte responded. “She is killer in the job. She is going to take that corporation far. She is intelligent, imaginative and fearless. I am so lucky she hired me.”

  “I am confident that you deserved it. Anyway, a less-fearless Regan always tagged along when she could. So did Ethan and my sister, Aubrey, who is even younger. I know we have talked about her upcoming wedding. She’s too young to marry in my opinion, not that anyone asked me.”

  “We have discussed it, but from what you’ve shared, she seems very mature. She’s what, 25?”

  “Twenty-six, actually. She still seems like such a little girl to me, but she isn’t anymore. I really should admit it.”

  “Probably. No kids between you two? That’s ten years difference.”

  “Nope, I think my folks tried, but…So anyway, we all hung out together until college when we split up. I went to Stanford on a track scholarship and studied business. Wyatt and Tyler went to Cornell. They are inseparable. Eventually, we all believe they will be family, but Tyler will have to get off his ass first. Randall headed south. I loved California but my life was here and my work was too, so I came back, got my MBA and joined the bank.”

  “And now, at 36, you run it. That is mighty impressive.”

  “Just wait, Charlotte, I predict that in five years you will be running some big company too. I would put money on it. And that, my dear, is my story.”

  “Excuse me, but I think you left out quite a few details.”

  “Old girlfriends? I have dated a lot, nothing serious. I travel a lot,” he offered in explanation.

  “No, not old girlfriends, silly. What about your family? Your interests? Your life? I don’t
want a resume, I want to know you better. What is your favorite color? What is your favorite food?”

  “Seriously, there is not a lot to know. My mom is from California, born and raised near L.A. Charles is from Lake Forest. They met at a dinner party when she was here visiting in the area and staying with relatives, fell madly in love and got married. My grandparents are no longer alive. I have a smattering of cousins here that I am moderately close to and some in L.A. that I am not close with at all.

  “My sister, Aubrey, is the light of my life. I would rather they waited a bit longer to marry, but Adam is undeniably a catch. He is the son of a US Senator and a genuinely nice guy. He loves her. It’s obvious to anyone who sees him. I am avoiding talking politics with him until I marry her off in a couple of months. Like I said, in my head she is still my annoying kid sister, but somehow she has grown into a confident woman.”

  Charlotte had to agree that it was not every day that a girl became engaged to a US Senator’s son, and she was suitably impressed. They were planning a huge society wedding, Alex explained, for right after election day.

  “They are killing me with all these showers and events,” he complained. “I have attended about six in the last two months alone. Too much small talk for me and they all seem the same. I don’t understand why she needs so many different parties. I go to some restaurant or some hotel and eat too much food and stand around listening to the same toasts over and over. I am happy for Aubrey, really I am, but enough already.”

  “I think they sound heavenly. You know you do well at these things. You can talk to anyone about anything.”

  “Now that you are here recovering, I have canceled my next trip west. That means I will be here to go to the next insipid dinner being given in their honor. If you feel up to it, you can come along and meet everyone,” he said.

  “I’d like that. I am sure it will be lovely.”

  “It will be better than most. This one is at a house at least, so it will be slightly less formal. But it will still be a bore.” Of course, he described the dinners as a waste of his time. That was what made Alex, Alex.

  “Sounds great to me. I better be well enough by then. Otherwise, I think I will tear my hair out. Tell me more. Your parents? Do you get along with them?”

  “Oh sure. We are not as close as your family, I think, but we get along.”

  “No one is as close as my family,” Charlotte agreed. Alex knew that she was constantly calling home, reassuring her mother, father and older brother that she was safe living in Chicago, that her job was secure. If she missed a call to them, they all called her in a panic, uncomfortable with her out of their sight. He didn’t know how she tolerated it. Alex had rightly observed that they wished she lived much closer to home.

  Not a chance.

  “This is not about my family,” Charlotte insisted, “we are talking about you tonight.”

  “Ok, let’s see. You know I swim. I love the water, always have. There is a pool in the backyard at my folks’ house and I spent every summer swimming in it like a fish. The hockey came because the guys all played, and frankly, I am a pretty good goalie.”

  “And track?”

  “Oh, interestingly, I just started running to burn off steam one day, and kept on going. I got pissed off at something – can’t even remember what,” he said too quickly. Charlotte suspected there was something Alex wasn’t sharing. “Turned out I was a good long-distance runner, and I liked it. I liked the routine, the time to think, even competing against the clock. So I joined the track team and here I am, still running. But I have a prettier running partner now.”

  Charlotte blushed bright red at the simple compliment.

  “Enough about me. What happened to you out there today? The truth.”

  “I fell. Really, that was it. Besides, we have not finished with you. Tell me about this place.”

  “You really want to know or are you avoiding my question? I’m not boring you? You aren’t too tired?” When she nodded no, he continued. “The guys all live nearby, so when a place with a pool came available, Wyatt thought of me. It’s big, no doubt about it. There are four bedrooms, a media room, a library and an office. There is that huge kitchen you saw plus a butler’s pantry and a laundry room and quarters for live in help, which I just use for storage. There are four and half baths. One has a steam shower that might be great for you in a few days, or the soaking tub might be even better. You’ll enjoy all the patios too. I am told the kitchen is a big deal, but, while you are obviously completely at home there, I grew up with housekeepers and a chef and never learned a thing.”

  “It’s all really beautiful. I can’t wait to explore.”

  “Feel free. I worked with a good decorator so it could be photographed for “Architectural Digest” right before I moved in, but it still feels homey to me. A lot of the art comes from my travels, giving it something of a personal touch for me. The rest I bought with Wyatt or his sister Missy. They are on the board of the Howe Art Museum and Wyatt is on the board at the Art Institute. When he says buy something, I usually do. Then he has me loan it back to his museums, the bastard,” he concluded with a laugh.

  “Now, that’s enough,” Alex said, clearly sick of talking about himself. “It’s late and you need to rest. Time to put you back to bed.”

  Charlotte didn’t argue. Realizing she was exhausted, she allowed Alex to help her from the seat and back to bed. Despite her offer to assist, Alex insisted he would handle cleanup. He escorted her down the hall and to the bedroom but she refused to remove the work shirt and get under the covers until he left the room. He used the time going into the adjoining bathroom and fussing for a minute or two, before hollering “are you decent?” and returning without waiting for her answer. He helped her take her pain medication, refilled the water glass beside the bed ‘just in case’ and asked twice if there was anything else she might want Was he stalling?

  I think he is reluctant to leave. Am I imagining it?

  “Well, goodnight,” Charlotte finally said shyly.

  “Good night, Charlotte,” Alex replied. He bent to turn out the bedside lamp, but instead he leaned over her prone body, carefully bracing his hands on either side of her head, and hesitated with his face only inches from hers. She could feel his breath on her skin, warm with the lingering scent of chardonnay.

  She locked onto his eyes, marine blue and questioning. He must have gotten the answer he was seeking because his head lowered and she felt the faintest whisper of his lips against hers. It was the softest, swiftest kiss and yet she felt her body respond. He pulled back, again seeking answers, or acquiescence. Her eyes were wide as saucers. He had surprised her with the kiss and her body had surprised her with its swift response. Mesmerized, craving more, she lowered her sooty lashes slowly then opened them again in an age-old sign of invitation. Alex’s eyes blazed.

  Lowering his mouth to Charlotte’s, Alex kissed her again but this claiming of her mouth and body was nothing like the previous soft foray. She felt the strong pressure of his lips on hers, the rasp of his tongue demanding her response, probing her to open to him. Heat oozed into her sore muscles turning her body to warm liquid as her heart pounded in her chest. His tongue explored her mouth, capturing hers in a dance suggestive of so much more. She tasted Alex, all dark and mysterious, moist and inviting and gave him what he sought.

  “You taste like heaven,” he whispered, moist and intimate in her ear. “I should have done that ages ago. Now, I want to do so much more, Charlotte. So much more.”

  “Mm,” she responded, “me too, Alex.”

  He dipped his mouth to hers once more and she felt the velvety touch of his lips before he took hers hungrily. Shockwaves of lust rocketed straight to her core. She kissed him back, passionately and completely as his strong lips moved against her softer ones. She felt her body rising up to meet his, felt her mouth insistent for more. She reveled in the taste of him, the feel of his tongue tangling with hers. The more he gave, the more she took and
gave in return. Their bodies touched only at their lips but the heat from him was as powerful as if they were naked and glued to each other from head to toe. The man could definitely kiss.

  The kiss lasted only a minute, but it changed everything. She could never be the same. Now she knew how he felt, how he tasted. She needed more and he seemed to as well. They had taken the next step and couldn’t take it back. He finally saw her as a woman and Charlotte was heady with power and weak with desire.

  A hint of a soft breath moved through her hair. “Sleep now, Charlotte. Get well soon.” He reached and turned off the light, pushed a stray hair away from her face in the dim light from the covered windows and left the room. She watched the shadow of his lean frame backlit from the hall and she wanted him with an overpowering hunger. Then he was gone.

  She willed him to come back, lay with her and hold her through the night. She longed for the feel of him beside her, his strength keeping her ghosts at bay. She wanted to wrap herself around him and pull him into her body.