Topaz leaned her head back against the sofa. “I don’t know how sane I am, but I’d love to go,” she sighed.
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Alex and Topaz were dozing on the sofa when the final CD on the changer started to play. Smokey Robinson’s soulfully angelic voice resonated throughout the house and set the stage for relaxation.
Alex’s eyes drifted open and he smiled, thinking of how relaxed he felt in that moment. Then he realized Topaz was lying snuggled against him and he attributed that to his tremendous feeling of contentment. He watched her, tracing every lovely inch of her face while treating his fingers to the silky thickness of her long locks splayed across her back and his chest.
He pressed a whisper-soft kiss to her forehead, then slowly brushed his lips across the area. The sweetness of the moment darkened with the memory of his earlier conversation with Beck Gillam. Alex squeezed his eyes shut, but the man’s advice would not be silenced. The warnings swirled through his mind like hummingbird wings—fast and furious. He assured himself that they were unfounded. Still, there was that night in the park.... Had Topaz not called out for him to stop, he might have killed those boys. The memory triggered his reflexes and his hand tightened around Topaz’s upper arm. She blinked and lifted her head to take stock of their position. Alex watched as she tried to get her bearings and silently vowed that he was fine. He would never allow the ghosts in his past to put anyone in danger—ever again.
Topaz had dozed off again and he used the opportunity to ease out from under her. This time, her hold on him tightened and she sighed. Her features were relaxed and she appeared completely content and trusting in his arms.
Unable to resist taking advantage of the moment, Alex buried his face in her hair and inhaled the soft scent clinging to the tresses.
Topaz’s head snapped up again, and this time she was fully awake.
“Sorry,” she whispered, feeling her cheeks burn when she saw how close they were.
Alex gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “No problem, but I better get goin’,” he decided, pushing himself into a sitting position when she began to move away.
Her stunning amber stare remained fixed on his face—tracing the sensual curve of his mouth
“Am I picking you up here tomorrow night?” he asked, standing from the sofa.
“Mmm-hmm,” she confirmed, taking note of his displeasure. “I’ll be just fine. Don’t worry.”
Alex chewed his bottom lip for just a moment as he studied the classic coziness of the lovely house. “Thank you for tonight,” he eventually remarked, looking down at her. “I enjoyed this.”
“Thank you, Alex. Good night,” she whispered, wishing with all her heart that he would kiss her good-bye.
In spite of her wishes, the front door closed with little more than a click. She leaned against it momentarily, before ordering herself to take her head out of the clouds. Thankfully, the ringing phone assisted her efforts.
“Yesss?” she playfully drawled.
“Well, hello, I was hoping to get the voice mail.”
Topaz’s smile widened as she shook her head. “Why, Mommy? Because then you could hope that I was spending the night at the condo?”
“Hmph,” Patra Emerson grunted. “Don’t shoot down an old woman’s dreams, little girl,” she urged.
Topaz laughed. “How are you doing?”
“I’m wonderful as always, but I called to ask how you are.”
“I’m just fine ... why?” Topaz challenged, knowing her mother had an eerie sixth sense where she was concerned.
Patra sighed. “I don’t know ... just thought I should check in, that’s all,” she said, the regal quality of her voice softening with love for her only child. “Your father and I miss you very much. Any hope for a visit in the near future?”
Topaz perched on the arm of the sofa. “You to me or me to you?”
“Makes no difference as long as I get to see my baby soon.”
“I love you, Mommy,” Topaz sighed, feeling a familiar warmth surround her. “And a trip to New York would be nice. Simon’s already been on me about working too hard.”
Patra’s doe-shaped brown eyes widened. “Simon?” she parroted, her ears perking at the mention of her hoped-for son-in-law. “Love? Is there something going on that we should know about?”
“Nothing at all,” Topaz sang, happy to dash her mother’s hopes.
“I don’t know ...” Patra breathed. “There is something, I’m sure of it. Something in your voice ... and you didn’t even get upset when the condo was mentioned.”
“Mmm, you just caught me in a good mood, I guess.”
“I must have ...” Patra conceded. “I guess I’ll be more certain once we see each other. Any idea when that might be?”
“Not too much longer. I’ll try to make sure of it. There’s just a lot going on with the business,” she added, without going into more detail. “Anyway, Aunt Sophia’s having a party soon and I already promised I’d be there, so you don’t have to worry about me not getting out.”
Patra reclined in her black suede desk chair in her home office and tapped her nail against a high cheekbone. “Sounds like you have things well in hand,” she noted.
Topaz laughed softly. “I’m trying.”
Patra, however, was definitely suspicious of her daughter’s sunny demeanor. Especially when she was well aware of how detestable Topaz found Sophia Emerson’s parties. Patra decided not to probe further, leaving Topaz to think she accepted the fact that there was nothing more “interesting” fueling her wonderful mood.
NINE
“Nine o’clock on the dot,” Stan Webster announced when Topaz opened her door that morning.
“Thanks for coming, guys,” she replied, her smile as dazzling as her eyes.
