Page 16 of Convincing Alex (Stanislaskis #4)

“Nice.” Smiling into his eyes, she linked her arms around his neck. “I see why you like to make your own moves, Detective.”

“I believe I promised you romance.” He skimmed his lips over her jaw to her ear.

“Yes.” Her breath came out slow and warm as she closed her eyes. “You did.”

“I’m not sure what a woman like you considers romantic.”

Her skin shivered under his lips. “This is a good start.”

“It’s tough.” He drew away so that their lips were an inch apart. “It’s tough for a cop to compete with tycoons and playwrights.”

Her eyes were half-closed and dreamy through her lashes. “What are you talking about?”

“A couple of your former fiancés.”

The lashes lifted fractionally. “What about them?”

“I wondered when you were going to mention them. Or the fact that your father runs one of the biggest conglomerates known

to man. Or the little detail about your chum the mayor calling my captain.”

They continued to dance as he spoke, but Bess could see the anger building in his eyes. “Do you want to take them as separate

issues, or all in one piece?”

She was a cool one, he thought. He was feeling anything but cool. “Why don’t we start with the mayor? You had no right.”

“I didn’t ask him to call, Alexi.” She spoke carefully, feeling the taut strength of his fingers at her waist. “We were having

dinner, and—”

“You often have dinner with the mayor?”

“He’s an old family friend,” she said patiently. “I was telling him how helpful you’d been, and one thing led to another.

I didn’t know he’d called your captain until after it was done. I admit I liked the idea, and if it’s caused you any trouble,

I’m sorry.”

“Great.”

“My work’s as important to me as yours is to you,” she shot back, struggling with her own temper. “If you’d prefer, I can

arrange to spend Monday observing another cop.”

“You’ll spend Monday where I can keep my eye on you.”

“Fine. Excuse me.” She broke away and worked her way through the crowd to the rest room. The music pulsed against the walls

as she paced the small room, ignoring the chatter from the two women freshening their lipstick at the mirror. Losing her temper

would be unproductive, she reminded herself. Better, much better, to handle this situation calmly, coolly.

When she was almost sure she could, she walked back out.

He was waiting for her. Taking her arm, he led her to a table in the rear, where they could talk without shouting.

“I think we should go. There’s no use staying when you’re so angry with me,” she began, but he merely scraped back her chair.

“Sit.”

She sat.

“When were you going to tell me about your family?”

“I don’t see it as an issue.” And that was true enough. “Why should it be? This is only the second time we’ve gone out.”

The look he sent her had her jiggling a foot under the table. “You know damn well there’s more going on between us than a

couple of dates.”

“All right, yes, I do.” She picked up her drink, then set it down again, untouched. “But that’s not the point. You’re acting

as though I deliberately hid something from you, or lied. That’s just not true.”

He picked up the fresh drink he’d ordered. “So tell me now.”

“What? Didn’t you run a make on me?” His narrowed eyes gave her some small sense of satisfaction. “Okay, Detective, I’ll fill

you in since you’re so interested. My family owns McNee-Holden, which, since its inception in 1873, has expanded from still

cameras and film to movies, television, satellites, and all manner of things. Shall I have them send you a prospectus?”

“Don’t get smart.”

“I’m just warming up.” She hooked an arm over the back of her chair. “My father heads the company, and my mother entertains

and does good works. I’m an only child, who was born rather late in life to them. My father’s name is Roger, and he enjoys

a racketing good game of polo. My mother’s name is Susan—never Sue or Susie—and she prefers a challenging rubber of bridge.

What else would you like to know?”

Despite his temper, he wanted to take her hand and soothe her. “Damn it, Bess, it isn’t an interrogation.”

“Isn’t it? Let me make it easy for you, Alexi. I was born in New York, spent the early part of my childhood on our estate

on Long Island, in the care of a very British nanny I was extremely fond of, before going off to boarding school. Which I

detested. This, however, left my mother free to pursue her many charitable causes, and my father free to pursue his business.

We are not close. From time to time we did travel together, but I was not a pretty child, nor a tractable one, and my parents

usually left my care up to the servants.”

“Bess—”

“I’m not finished.” Her eyes were hard and bright. “This isn’t a poor-little-rich-girl story, Alexi. I wasn’t neglected or

unhappy. Since I had no more in common with my parents than they had with me, I was content to go my own way. They don’t interfere,

and we get along very well. Because I prefer making my own way, I don’t trumpet the fact that I’m Roger K. McNee’s little

girl. I don’t hide it, either—otherwise, I would have changed my name. It’s simply a fact. Satisfied?”

He took her hand before she could rise. His voice was calm again, and too gentle to resist. “I wanted to know who you are.

I have feelings for you, so it matters.”

Slowly her hand relaxed under his. The hard gleam faded from her eyes. “I understand that someone with your background would

feel that their family, who and what they came from, are part of what they are. I don’t feel that way about myself.”

“Where you come from means something, Bess.”

“Where you are means more. What does your father do?”

“He’s a carpenter.”

“Why aren’t you a carpenter?”

“Because it wasn’t what I wanted.” He drummed his fingers on the table as he studied her. “Your point,” he acknowledged. “Look,

I’m sorry I pushed. It was just weird hearing all this from Judd.”

“From Judd?”

“He got it from Holly, who got it from some other teacher who reads the tabloids.” Even as he said it, it struck him as ridiculous.

He grinned.

“See?” Relaxed again, she leaned forward. “Life really is a soap opera.”

“Yours is. Three ex-fiancés?”

“That depends on how you count.” She took Alex’s hand, because she liked the feel of it in hers. “I wasn’t engaged to L.D.

He did give me a ring, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was ostentatious. But marriage wasn’t discussed.”

“One of the ten richest men in the country gave you an ostentatious ring, but marriage wasn’t discussed?”

“That’s right. He’s a very nice man—a little pompous, sometimes, but who wouldn’t be, with so many people ready to grovel?

Can we get some chips or something?”

“Sure.” He signaled to a waitress. “So you didn’t want to marry him.”

“I never thought about it.” Since he asked, she did so now. “No, I don’t think I would have liked it very much. He wouldn’t

have either. L.D. finds me amusing and a little unconventional. Being a tycoon isn’t all fun and games, you know.”

“If you say so.”

She chuckled. “But he’d prefer a different type for his next wife.” She dived in immediately when the waitress set baskets

of chips and pretzels on the table. “I enjoyed being in love with him for a few weeks, but it wasn’t the romance of the century.”

“What about the other one, the writer?”

“Charlie.” There was a trace of wistfulness now. “I was really stuck on Charlie. He has this kind of glow about him. He’s

so interested in people, in emotions, in motivations.” She gestured with half a pretzel. “The thing about Charlie is, he’s

good. Deep-down good. Entirely too good for me.” She finished off the pretzel. “See, I do things like join Greenpeace. Charlie

flies to Alaska to help clean up oil spills. He’s committed. That’s why Gabrielle is perfect for him.”

“Gabrielle?”

“His wife. They met at a whale rally. They’ve been married almost two years now.”

Alex was determined to get it right. “You were engaged to a married man?”

“No.” Insulted, she poked out her lip. “Of course not. He got married after we were engaged—that is, after we weren’t engaged

anymore. Charlie would never cheat on Gabrielle. He’s too decent.”

“Sorry. My mistake.” He considered changing the subject, but this one was just too fascinating. “How about George? Was he

between Charlie and Strater?”

“No, George was before Charlie and after Troy. Practically in another life.”

“Troy? There was another one?”

“Oh, you didn’t know about him.” She propped her chin on her hand. “I guess your source didn’t dig back far enough. Troy was

while I was in college, and we weren’t engaged for very long. Only a couple of weeks. Hardly counts.”

Alex picked up his drink again. “Hardly.”

“Anyway, George was a mistake—though I’d never admit it to Lori. She gloats.”

“George was a mistake? The others weren’t?”

She shook her head. “Learning experiences. But George, well... I was a little rash with him. I felt sorry for him, because

he was always sure he was coming down with some terminal illness, and he’d been in therapy since kindergarten. We should never

have gotten involved romantically. I was really relieved when he decided to marry Nancy instead.”

“Is this like a hobby?” Alex asked after a moment.

“No, people plan hobbies. I never plan to fall in love. It just happens.” Her smile was amused and tolerant. “It feels good,

and when it’s over, no one’s hurt. It isn’t a sexual thing, like with Vicki. She goes from man to man because of the sense

of sexual power it gives her. I know most people think if you have a relationship with a man—particularly if you’re engaged

to him—you must be sleeping with him. But it’s not always true.”

“And if you’re not engaged to him?”

Because the question demanded it, she met his eyes levelly. “Every situation has its own rules. I don’t know what they are

for this one yet.”

“Things may get serious.”

There was a slight pressure around her heart. “That’s always a possibility.”

“They’re serious enough right now for me to ask if you’re seeing anyone else.”

She knew it was happening. Bess had never been able to prevent that slow, painless slide into love. “Are you asking me if

I am, or are you asking me not to?”

It wasn’t painless for him. It was terrifying. With what strength of will he had left, Alex held himself on that thin, shaky

edge. “I’m asking you not to. And I’m telling you that I don’t want anyone else. I can’t even think of anyone else.”

Her eyes were warm as she leaned over to touch her lips to his. “There is no one else.”

He laid a hand on her cheek to keep her mouth on his for another moment. Even as he kissed her, he wondered how many other

men had heard her say those same words.

He told himself he was a jealous idiot. With an effort, he managed to smother the feeling. Rising, he took her hands and pulled

her to her feet.

“We’re supposed to be dancing.”

“So I was told. Alexi.” Snuggling into love as she would have into a cozy robe, she cupped his face in her hands.

“What?”

“I’m just looking. I want to make sure you’re not mad at me anymore.”

“I’m not mad at you.” To prove it, he kissed the tip of her crooked nose.

No, not angry, she thought, searching his eyes. But there was something else shadowed there. She couldn’t quite identify it.

“My middle name’s Louisa.”

With a half smile on his lips, he tilted his head. “Okay.”

“I’m trying to think if there’s something else you might want to know that I haven’t told you.” Needing to be close, she rested

her cheek against his. “I really don’t have any secrets.”

He turned his face into her hair. God, what was she doing to him to tie him up in knots like this? He pulled her against him,

wrapping his arms tight around her. “I know all I need to know,” he said quietly. “We’re going to have to figure out those

rules, Bess. We’re going to have to figure them out fast.”

“Okay.” She wasn’t sure what was holding her back. It would have been so easy to hurry out of the club with him, to go home

and be with him. Her body was straining for him. And yet...

The first tremor of panic shocked her enough to have her pull back and smile, too brightly. She wasn’t afraid, she assured

herself. And she didn’t need to overanalyze. When the time was right to move forward, she’d know it. That was all.

“Come on, Detective.” Still smiling, she pulled him away from the table. “Let’s see if you can keep up with me on the dance

floor.”