“I got it,” he grumbled, hefting the straps of their heavy garment bags across one shoulder, then grabbing two duffel bags from the flatbed.
Topaz settled her white tobagan more snugly across her head, then followed Alex as he led the way up the stone porch steps. He deposited their belongings in the foyer, then secured all the locks along the cherry-wood front door.
“I’ll show you to your room,” he announced, once again collecting the bags.
Topaz followed silently, observing the beauty of the polished hardwood floors, vibrant green plants, brick fireplaces, and glass doors. The room Alex took her to was cozy yet spacious. From the deep, fluffy peach carpeting to the king-sized bed cluttered with matching pillows, the place took her breath away.
“Where will you sleep?” she asked, watching him place her bags on the polished oak platform that supported the bed.
“My room’s just down the hall,” he explained, before turning to leave.
“I thought we’d share a room,” she said, not bothering to hide her disappointment.
“Not a good idea,” he said on his way past her.
“Alex?” she called. The rest of the question, however, was interrupted by a shrill ring.
Alex left the bedroom and headed toward the office at the opposite end of the long corridor. The ring had come from his fax machine. There, Alex found a message from Horace White and Stan Webster. Of course, they knew he’d been seeing Topaz, and the message to him was a part of their attempts to locate her.
Alex sighed, grimacing murderously as he stared at the paper.
“Everything all right?” Topaz asked from the office doorway.
“Message from Horace and Stan,” he said, waving the page in the air. “They’re tryin’ to find you, but that’s not what has me concerned.”
Topaz didn’t need him to explain. “You think your friends may track us here too,” she guessed.
“They’re not my friends, Topaz,” he quickly snapped, his expression hate-filled.
“Damn it, Alex, I’m sorry, all right!” she hissed, her temper and tolerance stretched as thinly as they would go. She watched him draw the paper into a wad and slam it into a nearby wastebasket. “Why’re are you acting this way? Shutting me out again, when you know your past doesn’t faze me?”
“It does. You just won’t admit it.”
Topaz balled her hands into fists and rolled them in the hem of her oversized lime-green sweater. “Why are you so afraid to let me in, all the way in, Alex?” she whispered, her captivating stare glowing with emotion. “Are you more content living in the past?” Does it really help with all that guilt you’re carryin’ around!” she spat, then stormed down the hall.
Alex waited an hour or so before approaching Topaz. When he looked into her bedroom, he found her relaxing along one of the L-shaped cream-cushioned window seats. She appeared content, not pensive while observing the blinding downpour.
After a moment, Alex strolled across the room. Pulling one hand from the deep pocket of his loose-fitting navy blue sweatpants, he reached out to stroke the top of her head. He could feel her stiffen beneath his touch and let his hand fall to her shoulder.
He leaned down to whisper against her ear, “I made us some soup. Are you hungry?”
Topaz shrugged. “I’ll eat later.”
“I’d like it if you’d eat with me.”
“Why, Alex?” she blurted, brushing his hand from her shoulder. “So you can ignore me or snap when I ask you to talk to me?”
Alex closed his eyes. “Topaz, please ...” he murmured, pressing his handsome face into her hair.
Topaz let her lashes flutter against the need tingling through her body. She wanted to melt against him, but told herself to pull away.
“Fine,” she whispered, inching off the window seat and leaving the room.
The house was silent with the exception of the rain pelting the rooftop. Topaz didn’t realize how hungry she was until she pulled the lid off the deep soup pot and inhaled the aroma of the rich, beefy creation. Armed with a bowl of the fresh vegetable and beef soup and a saucer of hot corn bread, she moved to the small round dining table set near the French doors that led to the back patio.
Alex held her chair, then prepared his plate and took a seat across from her. Not once did his entrancing stare leave her face. Topaz could almost feel the unsettling intensity from his gaze. She prayed for an escape and jumped when her cell phone rang sometime later. She smiled at the forethought she’d used in turning it on and bringing it down with her.
“Topaz Emerson.”
“Girl, where the hell you been? We been lookin’ all over for you. You had us scared to death!”
“Stan? Stan! Calm down, calm down. I’m fine. I’m all right.”
“Where are you?”
Topaz looked over at Alex, who was leaning back in his chair and listening intently. “I’m just taking some time off. Some much-needed time off. So what’s happening back there?” she asked, eager to move the discussion from her whereabouts.
“Everything’s a go, my sista,” Stan proudly announced. “Well ... almost. The company is interested and they’ve already started on all the research, testing, and whatever the hell else they do. All’s needed now is your signature on the documents to make it a done deal.”
Topaz twirled a lock of her loose hair. “Can they be faxed?”
“Well, they’re gonna need your mark on the originals. Sorry.”
Topaz closed her eyes. “No, no, I understand.”
