Love Songs (16 page)

Alex’s arms released their pressure. “Where there’s a will, Alanna, there’s a way. Come the day you want a family, you’ll find a happy compromise. Anything is possible—if you want it badly enough.”

“Touché,” she whispered, leaving his arms and leaning back against the sofa, closing her eyes to erase Alex’s devastating presence.

“You’re tired.”

“I’m weary, if there’s a difference. I’ve been thinking, thinking, thinking all day and I still can’t see the light.”

Gazing through the golden shade of her lashes she saw Alex lean forward and rest his elbows on his knees, one fist fitted snugly within the other palm. “Would you like me to take you home?” he asked, his jaw clenched.

Alanna looked at him, instantly knowing her answer. There was no need for in-depth soul-searching; every fiber of her being wanted to stay with him tonight. Her voice was soft and vulnerable. “No.”

If Alex inhaled sharply, he camouflaged the gasp as quickly. “Why not, Alanna?”

She studied her fingers, surprised at their state of relaxation. “I’m not sure.” She frowned in puzzlement before adding a soft, “I’d just rather stay here.”

“Why?”
When she offered nothing more than a mute sidelong glance he persisted. “You’re pretty sure about the decision. Why not the reason behind it?”

“Perhaps I’m not as verbal about things as you are.”

“Do you know that I’ve never talked as much to any person as I have to you? Do you know that I’ve always held things bottled up inside? One of the causes of insomnia is tension. One of the causes of tension is the internalization of thoughts and worries and problems. I’ve always done that. Yet I open up to you.
You
may know more about me, the
real
me, than any other person alive. Why is that?”

Alanna reflected on his words. “Perhaps I’ve asked you things that others haven’t dared to ask.” She stifled a smile.

“You’re damned right!” He paused, contemplating the carpet for a moment before shaking his head and laughing. “The other night in the hospital cafeteria—do you remember what you said?” His gray eyes courted hers. “You said that you imagined me as the type who gave orders without having them questioned. I asked you if you’d question them and you assured me that you would. Do you remember?”

How could she forget any part of that conversation? She looked over at his shirt collar. “I seem to recall it, yes.…” Her eye wandered to the firm column of his neck until he leaned sharply forward and captured her gaze with his own insistent one.

“Well, I’m the one doing the questioning now. Why
don’t
you want me to take you home?”

“I told you that I wanted to stay here. Isn’t that enough?”

“No!”

“I’d rather not be alone.”

“Why not? From what you’ve told me you’ve been alone for a long time and have done just fine.”

Her pale brows met. “I have.”

“Then what’s changed now?” he persisted doggedly.

Alanna’s voice rose in growing frustration. “I don’t know!” She clearly sensed he sought some form of emotional commitment, but that was still beyond her reach.

It seemed that Alex’s patience was waning. He was suddenly on the floor before her, clasping her hands. “Try to tell me, love. It’s important. I
need
to know.”

“How can I tell you something that I don’t know myself?” she asked soulfully. “I do know that I enjoy your company, that for the first time in my life the thought of a quiet apartment sounds lonely and that I’d much rather be here with you. But beyond that,
what can I say?
”

As though temporarily sated by the mild sign of encouragement, he sat back. If she had expected a smile of victory from him, however, she had underestimated his character. “You’ll stay the night with me?” he asked warily.

Her answer was a whisper. “Yes.”

“In my bed?”

“Yes.”

He straightened and stood, looking down at her from what seemed an unreachable height. “You know what to expect if you stay.” The dark charcoal of his eyes demanded an answer.

“I think so.” Wasn’t it what she wanted, too?

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Should it?” she asked with a newer trepidation. “I’ve already admitted that we have something good together.” Even now, staring up at the raw vision of masculinity before her, she felt a telltale tingle. “Is it wrong for me to give in to that pleasure?”

“You’ve avoided it all these years.”

“Not wholly on principle. It’s never seemed worth following through.”

“Until now.”

“That’s right.”

“And you feel comfortable about it … now?”

Alanna nodded, then repeated her query. “Am I wrong?”

“Not,” he emphasized each word, “if you recognize the underlying emotion.” His gaze was speculative. But regardless of its force she was unable to give a name to her feelings. She knew it. He knew it. “You won’t marry me, yet you would
live
with me?”

She grew more cautious. “I thought the invitation was for one night. As far as
living
with you…”

“Would you?”

“I don’t know.” In truth, she didn’t. There was some strong drive within that urged her to stay the night; a further commitment was something she would need time to consider.

Alex strode to the far side of the room. Alanna would have followed him had she known what to say. She had no explanation to give herself; how could she satisfy him? He turned to face her boldly, embodying every bit of the force she was sure had earned him many a corporate triumph.

“What if I said it was marriage or nothing?”

His words hung in the air like a storm before falling with devastation around her. Alanna was stunned. Had he trapped her? Was that what the intimacy of last night had been all about? Had he built up her awareness of him to a point of screaming need, a point where she would be unable to refuse his proposal of marriage? Was this a kind of emotional blackmail?

Trying a smile, she spoke softly. “I thought that was supposed to be
my
line.”

He was fast with a comeback. “It
should
have been. But as you pointed out to me very clearly the first time we met, tradition is meaningless in this day and age. Well, I’m going to tell you something. Tradition may be out; I would never expect, or ask, you to be a
traditional
wife. But
commitment
is still in, in my book at least! That’s what frightens you most, Alanna. Commitment. In your very defensive view, one night at a time is fine. Anything more implies a commitment. And that’s what you’re trying to avoid, isn’t it?”

“No. Not the way you put it.”

“Then correct me.”

Alanna stood to walk aimlessly around the room. Where could she begin? Anything she might say to him would be a spur-of-the-moment voicing of her own thoughts. There was so much she had yet to work out. Coming to a halt at the back of an armchair, she leaned on it for support, then moved around it to sit down.

“I never really knew my father.” She sought the words that might explain. “He was a salesman, always on the road. It was just my mother and me for as long as I can remember.” Alex’s gaze leveled, then softened as he listened. “My mother was an intelligent woman. She read voraciously—anything she could get her hands on.” A smile curved her lips at the memory. “I used to stop at the library twice a week on my way home from school to pick up books and magazines for her. She understood every nuance of politics and the economy—she was brilliant.” She paused, anguish now clouding her features.

“When I was eighteen she took sick. I always wondered whether it was the fact that I had finally gone off to college. She had wanted that so badly for me—to get into a good school and leave Pittsburgh behind. Her single objective was to convince me to make something of my life, to be someone, to use my innate resources to the fullest, to move ahead in the world.” Alanna cringed. “She thought of her own life as wasted.”

Alex sought to disagree. “But how could it be—”

“It was!” she interrupted, displacing her anger from the time long past to him. “It was! She had so much going for her. Her only mistake was in loving my father.”

“Alanna, that’s an awful thing to say. How can you—”

Again she cut him off forcefully. “I
know
what I’m saying, Alex! I’ve had years to think about it—”

“—in the middle of the night?”

Understanding his implication, she smiled ruefully. “Yes, often in the middle of the night. There’s so much anger and frustration, with no possible outlet.” Her gaze fell to her hands, slender and clenched in her lap. She spoke more softly now, more thoughtfully. “I’m not talking ill of my father, merely claiming that he and my mother were grossly mismatched. He insisted that her place was in the home, raising me, waiting for his periodic appearances. She would never have gone against his wishes. So she did sit and wait … and wait … and wait. It was a waste of her intelligence.”

“Was she unhappy?”

Alex stood close by her side now. When she raised her eyes they were clear and honest. “No. At least, I don’t think she was
conscious
of being unhappy. She accepted her life because she loved my father. But the dreams she had for me—those had to express some inner feelings of hers. She never did complain, though. Never.”

With a deep breath she looked away to continue the tale. “She was sick for three years.
He
stopped by when he happened to be in town, but it was mainly the two of us, as it had always been. I had transferred back to college in Pittsburgh so that I could be with her. She wasn’t pleased about it, but she did need me there. But she never once let up on the theme that I should leave as soon as she died. It was as though,” her voice wavered, “she purposely let go of life to free me.” Dry-eyed, she looked toward the window. Alex’s tall frame intercepted her gaze.

“Did you have any kind of relationship with your father after she died?”

Her blond head snapped back, eyes flashing in remembered vehemence. “No! I did what my mother wanted. I left Pittsburgh as soon after the funeral as I could.”

“Do you think he suffered?”

“My father? At
my
leaving?”

“At your mother’s death,” he softly clarified his question.

“Oh, yes,” she grimaced. “There was no one to meet him when he returned, to unpack his bags and wash everything, to make his meals and wait on him hand and foot, then pack his bags once more and send him off. I’m
sure
he missed her.”

“You’re very bitter.”

It was precisely Alex’s gentleness that emphasized the harshness of Alanna’s indictment. Embarrassed, she averted her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound that way. It’s just … just…”

“What?”

She took a deep breath, voicing something she had never admitted, even to herself. “It’s just that
I
needed someone then, too. My mother and I had been very close. Suddenly she was gone. For the first time I actually needed my father. But I was so frightened that I’d find myself in the role of caretaker, as my mother had been, that I never gave it a chance. Perhaps he would have risen to the occasion and been a comfort. I’ll never know.” Head low, she silently mourned that lost opportunity.

Alex’s voice was smooth and low and as close by as she might have wished her father to have been so long ago. “You could give him the benefit of the doubt.”

She smiled, sadly. “I suppose I could.”

The long silence that followed allowed her to gather her composure and she felt stronger when Alex took her chin and tilted it up for his study. “I’m glad you’ve shared this with me, Alanna. It helps me to understand why certain things mean so much to you, that powerful professional drive of yours, for one. But I still think you’re wrong.” He spoke gently, soothing her even as he expressed a differing opinion from hers. “I respect what your mother told you—and her need for telling you—but it’s possible that, if she could see you now, today, having achieved what you have, she would tell you that there’s more to life than a career. She told you to realize your potential and you have, in the professional sense. But what about your potential for loving? What about your potential for caring, which you showed when you sat by her bedside night after night after spending long days at school? What about the maternal instinct that she must have passed down to you?”

Helpless to twist her head away, Alanna could only hold his gaze. He painted a picture of a different kind of existence and she could no more summarily dismiss it than she could turn her back and walk away from him. Did he have a point?
Was
she missing something? Her eyes, brown and luminous, reflected the inner turmoil which he sought to understand.

“I also see that you’re right,” he conceded quietly. When her brows furrowed in confusion he explained. “You do need time. This has happened much too quickly.” But he would yield only so much ground before he reasserted his own sentiment. “I’m convinced that you do love me. In time you’ll come to see that, too.”