Rex arched a brow. “Why didn’t you…use it?” he asked her slowly, once again as if he were speaking with a child who had proved to have little adult comprehension. “Or do you prefer breaking in the window over walking through the front door?”
“You broke a window?” Gene was shouting. For such an incredibly old man, he could shout incredibly loudly, Alexi thought.
“The key doesn’t work!” Alexi shouted back.
There was a long sigh on the other end. “The key works, Alexi. You have to twist it in the lock. It’s old. Old things have to be worked as carefully as old people. They’re temperamental.”
Rex Morrow stretched out a hand to her, palm up. “Give me the key.”
“You go find it!” she hissed. “It’s in my purse that you were tearing up!”
“Now what’s going on?” Gene asked.
“Your wonder boy is going to go check it,” Alexi said sweetly.
“Well, it works—you’ll see,” Gene said, mollified. “Now, you get someone in there right away to fix that window. You hear me?”
“First thing tomorrow, Gene,” Alexi promised. “Hey!” she protested. Rex had dumped the contents of her purse onto the sofa to find the single key.
“Found it,” he assured her.
“Oh, Lord,” she groaned.
“What’s wrong now?” Gene demanded.
“Nothing. Everything is wonderful. Just super,” she muttered.
Rex Morrow was on his way back to the hallway and the front door. “Really, Gene. I’m here and I’m fine, and you just take care of yourself, okay?”
“Maybe you should get a dog, Alexi. A great big German shepherd or a Doberman. I’d feel better—”
“Gene, why ever would I need a dog when you left me a prowling cat?” she asked innocently.
Her great-grandfather started to say something, but he paused instead. She could see him in her mind’s eye, scratching his white head in consternation.
“I’ll keep in touch,” Alexi promised hastily. “I’m excited to be here; it’s a wonderful old place. I promise I’ll fix it up with lots of love and tenderness. Love you. Bye!”
She hung up before he could say anything else. Then she stared at the phone for a moment, a nostalgic smile on her lips. She adored him. She was very lucky to have him, she knew. In the midst of pain, chaos and loneliness, he had always been there for her.
“The key works fine,” Rex announced.
He was back in the room, extending the key to her. She took it in silence, compressing her lips as he stared at her.
“You have to pull the door while you turn it,” he said. “Want to try it while I’m still here?”
“No. Oh, all right—yes. Thank you.”
Stiffly she preceded him down the hallway to the door. She thought that maybe she’d rather lock herself out and use the window again than falter in front of him, but really, why should she care?
She opened the door and threw the bolt from the inside. She slid the key in and twisted it, and it worked like a dream. Disgusted, Alexi thought it was a sad day when one couldn’t even trust a piece of metal.
“I guess I’ve got it,” she murmured.
Arms crossed over his chest, he shook his head. “Step outside and lock the door and try it. That’s when you have the problem.”
She stepped outside, but before she closed the door she asked him, “How did you get in?”
“I have my own key.” He closed the door for her.
Alexi slipped her key into the lock. With the door closed, it was frightfully dark again. She could barely find the hole, and then she couldn’t begin to get the damn thing to twist.
“Pull! Pull on the knob!”
She did. After a few more fumbles she got the key to twist, and the door opened.
She walked in, a smile of satisfaction brightening her eyes.
“Got it.” She gritted her teeth. “Thank you.”
“I wouldn’t be quite so pleased. It took you long enough.” Arms still casually crossed, he stared down at her, shaking his head. “And you’re going to take on the task of reconstruction?”
“I’m a whiz at electricity.”
“Are you?”
“Will you please go home?”
He smiled at her. “Your face is smudged.”
“Is it?” She smiled serenely. She was sure it was. Her stockings were torn, her skirt was probably beyond repair, and she undoubtedly resembled a used mop.
He came a step nearer to her, raising a hand to her cheek. She remembered the tenderness with which he had held her when she was trembling and shaking in fear. When she had been vulnerable and weak.
She felt that same tenderness come from him now and the sensual draw of the rueful curl of his mouth. She should have stepped back. She didn’t. She felt the brush of his thumb against her flesh and caught her breath. He didn’t want her there; he had said so. And she wanted to be alone.
She didn’t move, however. Except for the trembling that started up, inside of her this time. She just felt that touch.
“Good night, Ms. Jordan,” he said softly.
He was out the door, warning her to bolt it, before she thought to reply.
CHAPTER 2
Alexi rinsed her face at the sink and dried it with paper towels. She had showered in the powder room beneath the stairs, but that was as far as she had ventured in her new realm—which wasn’t really new at all. Twenty years before, she had spent a summer here with Gene. But twenty years was a long time, and the house was truly a disaster since Gene had left it so many months ago.
She sat at the butcher-block table to do her makeup, thinking that she didn’t look much better than she had the night before. She had slept poorly. Sleeping on the kitchen floor hadn’t helped, but strangely, once Rex Morrow had left, she had been really uneasy—too frightened to explore any further. But when she had slept, nightmares had awakened her again and again. Nightmares of John combining with the horrid fear that had assailed her with Rex’s first touch last night. Naturally, perhaps. She’d been attacked. But then her dreams had become even more disconcerting. She’d dreamed of Rex Morrow in a far gentler way, of his eyes on her, of his touch, of his smile. Dreamed of the assurance in his voice. All night the visions had filtered through her mind. Violence, tenderness—both had stolen from her any hope of a good night’s sleep.