Chapter Five
Alex drove back to his house feeling restless and a little annoyed with himself for taking Andrea to the gym. But it was too late now. He'd given her a peephole into his past, and he was quite sure she would take advantage of it at the first opportunity.
He pulled into his driveway but didn't bother to shut off the engine. He needed to get back to the gym and talk to Mick.
"You're not going inside?" Andrea asked.
"No, I have to run an errand. I'll pick you up at your place at six, all right?"
"Sounds good. Cocktail attire?"
He nodded, thinking that he'd like to see her in a sexy, short dress.
"This party isn't on a boat or a plane or any other moving vehicle, is it?" she asked.
Smiling, he said, "No, it's in a building, but there is a high-speed elevator to the fiftieth floor. Can you handle that? Because otherwise it's going to be a long walk up the stairs."
She smiled back at him. "Would you walk with me?"
"No way. But I would have a drink waiting when you got to the top."
"I can handle the elevator."
"Good."
She opened her door, then paused, glancing back at him. "Thanks for taking me to the gym. I think I finally caught a brief glimpse of the real you."
"The real me isn't hiding, Andrea. What you see is what you get."
"I don't think that's true at all. Everyone has layers, and I suspect you have quite a few. I'm looking forward to unraveling them."
She got out of the car and shut the door. As he watched her walk to her car, all he could think about was how he'd like to unravel some of her clothes—forget about layers.
Shaking his head, he told himself to get a grip. He'd been flirting with her on the boat because it had been fun and also because he'd wanted to see how he could manipulate her. In that situation, the power had all been on his side, and that's where he needed to keep it.
After leaving his house, he drove back to the gym, wanting to have a private word with Mick before Andrea could get to him. He half expected to see her pulling into the alley in front of him, but thankfully that didn't happen.
Mick was in his office now, going over some paperwork.
"Did you forget something?" Mick asked in surprise.
Alex walked in and shut the door behind him. "We need to talk."
"In a second." Mick punched out numbers on a calculator, adding up a string of invoices, and then swore.
"Problem?" Alex quizzed, dumping a pile of fitness magazines on the floor so he could take a seat in front of the desk.
"They raised the entry fee in the San Jose Boxing Competition in January."
"How much?"
"Three hundred and eighty-five dollars."
Alex rolled his eyes and dug into his pocket for his wallet. "You want it in twenties or tens?"
"You shouldn't be walking around with that much cash." Mick motioned toward the wad in Alex's hand. "People like you get robbed down here."
"People like me know how to protect themselves. I have you to thank for that."
"Just don't get too comfortable, Alex. When you stop looking over your shoulder is when trouble comes. And I don't need any more money, so put that away. The check you gave me earlier will keep us going for quite a while.
"Good. But speaking of trouble, I need a favor."
"What's that?"
"I may have a problem."
Mick laughed, a knowing gleam in his eyes. "You definitely have a problem, and she's a beautiful blonde named Andrea."
"Yes, but she's not trouble in the way you mean. She's doing a story on me."
"That's not all she's doing on you."
He frowned at Mick's cheerful smile. "Look, Andrea wants to interview you. I probably shouldn't have brought her down here, but I can't take that back now."
"And you want me to cover for you." Mick leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the desk. "I don't know if I should."
"Why not?"
"Secrets eat away at the soul."
"They also protect," he countered. "And you know I'm not just talking about myself."
"If you're so worried about your privacy, why did you agree to the interview?"
"Because I've never had a problem handling a reporter before."
Mick's grin broadened. "She got under your skin."
"Yeah," he admitted. "And she's determined to find out all my secrets."
"Did you really feel it was necessary to warn me to be quiet? I'm insulted, Alex. We've known each other a long time."
"Don't take it that way. Consider it a heads up."
"All right. Since this woman has you rattled, I'll do that. But I don't think it's just her story you're worried about. She's not like those flaky models you date. She's got brains and a mind of her own. And you've always liked a challenge."
Mick was right. He did like a challenge, and he definitely liked Andrea. Her sharp wit, her candor, and even her vulnerability had impressed him. And he had the strangest urge to try to impress her in return, which was really why he'd brought her to the gym in the first place. He'd wanted her to catch a glimpse of a man who did more than party with rich people. But that had been an impulsive mistake.
"I like a challenge," he said, realizing Mick was still waiting for him to comment. "But I'm not stupid. I won't jeopardize everything."
"What happens if she does find something out? What then?"
Alex's mouth tightened into a grim line at the thought. "I'd have to make sure she didn't use it."
"By doing what?"
"Whatever I have to."
"Maybe when Andrea gets here, I should offer her some boxing gloves. She might need them before you're through."
"All I need you to do is smile and tell her nothing. Hopefully, she'll get frustrated and give up."
Mick smiled. "And here I thought you'd forgotten how to be optimistic."
He reluctantly smiled back. "I thought I'd forgotten, too."
"When do you see her again?"
"Tonight. I'm taking her to a party. There will be lots of people around and no chance for private conversation." He paused, wondering why that didn't sound quite so appealing anymore. "At any rate, tonight should not be a problem."
* * *
Andrea was wrestling with a stubborn zipper on the back of her emerald green cocktail dress when the doorbell rang. Swearing under her breath, she gave the zipper another impatient tug, glaring at her expression in the mirror. The dress clung to her body like a second skin, and her blond hair tumbled around her shoulders in a mass of waves. She was actually a little amazed by her image. She looked downright sexy—like a party girl, a woman on a date, not a reporter on assignment. But she could hardly go to a cocktail party in her work clothes, and it was too late to change anyway.
The doorbell rang again, reminding her that there was no time for second thoughts. With one arm holding the back of her dress together, she stalked to the front door and threw it open, glaring at the man in the hallway.
"You're early," she said.
Alex raised one eyebrow and then consulted his Rolex watch. "Two minutes late, actually."
She let out a heavy sigh and stood back. "You might as well come in."
"Thank you. What's wrong?"
"My zipper is stuck."
"Let me help."
She reluctantly turned around, knowing he was going to catch a good view of her lacy bra and bare back.
"Nice," he murmured.
Her nerves tingled at the husky word.
"Just focus on the zipper."
"Not as easy as you might think," he said dryly. "You have a beautiful body, what I can see of it—"
"I'd rather you see less of it—so zipper, please."
She stared straight ahead, trying to concentrate on the long crack of plaster on the wall and not on Alex's warm fingers as they grazed her back. But the wall didn't do it for her, so she looked around the living room of her small apartment, suddenly aware of the overflowing laundry basket she'd set on the chair when she'd come up from the laundry room earlier, and the bridal magazines her sister had left on the coffee table, and the half-filled mug of coffee she'd drunk the night before while doing her research on Alex. She wasn't a complete slob, but her apartment was nowhere near as pristine clean as Alex's house. Then again, she didn't have a cleaning staff.
"This is really stuck," Alex said.
"Maybe I'll just wear something else."
"Give me a second. Don't give up so easily."
She normally didn't give up easily at all, but with Alex so close, her nerves were jumping, and she felt a reckless yearning take over her mind and body. She wanted to lean back against him, to feel his arms slide all the way around her waist. He would lower his head and his lips would touch the side of her neck, but he wouldn't stop there. He'd keep on kissing her. He'd pull the dress off her shoulders, and his mouth would drop to her breasts. He would call her beautiful and sexy in that deep, baritone voice. Then she would—
Stop! She would stop, she told herself, searching desperately for another distraction.
She turned her head to look at the opposite wall where her father's award-winning press clippings were framed and displayed. They reminded her of what was important. Her father's work had always been her inspiration. She had to stop acting like a woman around Alex and start acting like a reporter.
"I've got it." With a sigh of satisfaction, Alex pulled the zipper up the length of her back. "You're all set."
Andrea immediately stepped away from him, eager to get some breathing space. She fled into her bedroom, mumbling that she would be with him in a few minutes. When she got into the privacy of her room, she took several deep, calming breaths.
She was not going to be able to do her job if she let herself get turned on by the simple touch of his hand on her back. Walking to her dressing table, she picked up her brush and ran it briskly through her hair. Then she looked for some pins. She'd pull her hair into a knot, a business-like knot.
Her hand paused when a knock came at her door.
"Andrea? Don't put up your hair, okay?"
She didn't answer, caught between wanting to please him and wanting to feel more like a reporter than a date. She didn't usually let men dictate how she dressed or wore her hair, but there was something about his plea that got to her. So she gave in. They were going to a cocktail party, after all. Since she already had the dress on, she might as well go the rest of the way.
When she returned to the living room, Alex was standing in front of her bookshelves, examining the titles with open curiosity. He pulled out a thick volume that dissected World War II in fifty-six chapters. "Do you have insomnia? Because if so I can think of better ways to relax."
"It's a very interesting book."
"You've read all one-thousand pages?" he asked doubtfully.
"Actually I've never gotten past chapter four. The book belonged to my father. He was a history fanatic."
Alex waved his hand toward the bookshelf. "And the other military books?"
"All his. He loved spy stories. If he hadn't been such a good journalist, I think he might have joined the CIA. As it was, he was quite a legend in the news business. I'm not sure I can ever reach his level." Her voice cracked with emotion. "Sorry. I get a little carried away when I think about him. He died a long time ago. You'd think I'd be over it by now."
"Some things you never get over,'' Alex said, as a strong current of understanding flowed between them. "It looks like you're following in his footsteps. I'm sure he'd be proud."
"I hope so."
"Tell me about the rest of your family. Are you close to your mother?"
"We talk quite often, but we're very, very different. She does not get me, and I do not get her."
"What about your sister?"
"We're quite close. We're fraternal twins, and we're nothing alike, either, but there's a strong bond between us. I would do anything for her, and she would do anything for me." Andrea paused. "Laurel is getting married in a few weeks. I love her husband, and I'm super happy for her, but I do wonder sometimes how it will change our relationship."
"I guess that depends on how hard you work to keep your bond strong."
"I should probably work harder even now I tend to get obsessed with work and let everything else go. I'm Laurel's maid of honor, and I've been a huge slacker when it comes to the wedding plans. Thankfully, Laurel has a big wedding party so our other friends have been picking up the slack."
"I've never understood the big wedding party. Why does anyone need a dozen bridesmaids and groomsmen to get them down the aisle?"
"It's a celebratory send-off. And Laurel had to have seven bridesmaids because of a pact we made in college. I told you that we were part of a really tight group of friends. The day before we graduated we all went out together and swore that even if we drifted apart or ended up on opposite sides of the country, we would commit to coming back for each of our weddings, and we wouldn't let any excuses get in the way."
"That sounds—optimistic," Alex said with a dry smile.
She nodded. "Our promise didn't even make it two months. Jessica got married in a courthouse wedding with no bridesmaids because she found out she was pregnant. We were all really pissed off at her. But she also got divorced two years later, so after that we decided it was even more important that we keep our promise.
Laurel is the first to marry with all of us in the wedding, and I can't wait. Some of us live in the Bay Area, but it's been a long time since we were all together."
"You're lucky to have a close family and good friends."
"I am," she agreed. "And once again I am doing all the talking. We're going to have to switch that up sometime."
"Well, not right this second. We should get on the road."
"There's always a time issue when it's your turn to speak."
He shrugged. "We'll have to manage the clock a bit better."
"Oh, I think you're managing it quite well," she said dryly.
He gave her a smile. "There will be time for us to talk later."
"I hope you're right."