Love Songs (28 page)

“And?” His features finally began to relax. Suddenly Alanna found her hand covered by his in a subtle but meaningful turnaround.

“No, it wasn’t. I’ve seen the top of the ladder, reached the heights I’d hoped, in my wildest dreams, to reach. And no, it wasn’t enough. I’ve learned that I can make it, that I can be
president
if I want. But I don’t.” She sighed, nearing the end of her control. “These past four weeks have been the busiest I’ve ever lived through. But I’ve never been as lonely in my entire life.” His image blurred before her as her eyes suddenly filled with tears. “I need you, Alex. I need to be with you, to know that you’re here when I come home, to be here for you. That world out there has no meaning unless you’re in it with me.”

A solitary tear trickled down her pale cheek as Alex drew her against him, ending their separation for all time. “I’ve missed you, owl-eyes,” he groaned, hugging her tightly, absorbing her memories of pain and loneliness and unfulfilled desire, exorcising his own in the process. “These have been the worst days I ever hope to spend.”

Alanna turned her luminous cocoa gaze to his features. Now she saw them clearly—the exhaustion, the strain, the drawn look that must have mirrored her own.

“You did wait,” she whispered in awe, daring to voice that one most devastating fear for the time spent apart.

“Of course I waited! Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I tried
not
to think of that possibility. You do have the patience of a saint.”

“Patience, love, had nothing to do with it. I damn near lost my mind wondering when you’d come to your senses.”

“You were that sure?” she asked skeptically.

His response held no skepticism at all. “I was.” Then he smiled. “It’s been very hard for a man like me, a person who sees what he wants and goes after it, to sit back and wait for what he wants to come after him.”

“Why did you?”

A month of asking himself the same question provided the ready answer. “I did it because the prize was worth it. You’ve come to me now with that much
more
inside you. And I love you all the more for it.”

His words brought a reappearance of the tears that had temporarily dried. Gently he lifted the oversized glasses from the bridge of her nose, then kissed the teardrop from each eye in turn. Her forehead, her cheeks, her nose … all received the blessing of his kiss. But her lips, warm and open, eager and inviting, waited.…

“Alex!” Exasperated, she took matters into her hands, thrusting her fingers through his hair to the fine-trimmed thatch at the nape of his neck, drawing his face toward hers until, at last, in a moment of mind-shattering triumph, he kissed her.

Alanna had never felt as complete as when those lips slanted hungrily across hers, opening and mastering her mouth with a power that thrilled her. When the tip of his tongue strayed deeper she felt charged with an energy she had lacked since that last, poignant night a month ago.

Suddenly anything,
everything
, in life was possible. The world was hers. Happiness soared through her as a dove before the sun, pure and fresh and sparkling. She felt fully alive and keenly aware, sizzling from head to toe with the force of a love that would be restrained no longer.

How it all burst forth as it did she would never know. But there was suddenly a frenzy of activity, a melange of hands and arms, of fingers fumbling with buttons. With unrestrained abandon they left a trail of clothing strewn behind, a trail of shirts, of skirt and trousers, bra, slip, briefs, panties … all leading toward the bathroom, where they moved, as one, toward the sauna.

The sauna … a breath of heat from the desert, instantly slowing life to a more languorous pace, toasting all within its reach. As Alex sat on the lone wood bench Alanna stood before him, reaching unhurriedly to touch his face, to smooth the dark hair back from his brow. Theirs was a world in isolation, a golden world lit by a warm and glowing sun.

He spread his knees and drew her between them, resting his head against the gentle harbor of her breasts. His hands stroked her from shoulder to hip, drawing lazy circles to call forth tremors from deep within her. Overflowing with an emotional ecstasy, she trembled at the physical bounty offered by this man’s body, the sinewed strength beneath her tapered fingertips.

“Aaaaah,” she moaned, a hoarse sound from deep in her throat as she tipped her head back in delight allowing long, blond tangles to cascade over his fingers. “I’ve missed you, too, Alex. How I’ve missed you!”

Her hands clasped against the corded mass of his shoulders, her head dipped forward once more, this time to meet the lips that waited to return the message of love and elaborate on it. In one fluid stroke Alex’s hands slid behind her, lifting her, drawing her close until she felt the strength of him that was her power as well. Yet he prolonged the moment, adoring her features with his gaze, then his hands. His man-rough fingers slid easily and with fiery touch around her shoulders to her chest and her breasts, pausing only briefly to tantalize buds that were taut with desire before searing a path lower.

Breath came in ragged gasps for them both as they struggled to express all the thoughts bubbling forth from the heady cauldron of passion.

“I love you, Alanna.…”

“I love you, too.…”

A flurry of kisses momentarily put a stop to conversation.

“Have you been able to sleep?” he asked, nibbling at her earlobe, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“No. Have you?”

His fingers delved deeper and she moaned, but he ignored her cry. “Not once … through the night.…”

The tide of passion carried them higher. Alanna strained closer. “I never knew what I was missing … until you came along.…” she whispered. This time it was Alex who moaned.

For Alanna that moment was the true pinnacle of her dream of success and happiness. The body that glistened beneath her, before her, was only the start. She stroked it lovingly, mesmerized by the play of rippling muscles and the beaded moisture over its dark, hair-roughened skin.

As Alex shifted her, lifted her, then possessed her in one rapturous motion she cried out her love, then cried no more. For it was a time of living and loving, of sharing and creating. Alex was her equal, her friend. He was her helpmate, her partner. He was her lover; he would be her husband. Through his vision she had glimpsed a future more rich in meaning than anything she had ever conceived of. With him, and only him, she might have that future.

It would be filled with a fine blend of career and family, with Alex beside her all the way. It would have the same ups and downs, the same highs and lows as all of existence had. But it was special, unique, the challenge of a lifetime. Alanna accepted it eagerly.

sweet serenity

1

Humming softly, Serena Strickland gave a final tug to the ribbon she’d just tied, cocked her head in appraisal of her work, then grinned. It was perfect! Mint chocolate peas and carrots in a clear canning jar ringed and crowned with a lavish orange polka-dot bow—the effect was gay enough to make even the most skeptical Minneapolitan believe that spring was around the corner.

Shifting on the high stool behind the counter, she looked up past rows of goody-filled canisters to the front of the shop and beyond, where the sun splashed teasingly through the Crystal Court. Serena couldn’t restrain a knowing smile as the crisp rays bounced from column to column, storefront to storefront in the plaza, darting in and around in a game of hide and seek all too appropriate, she thought, for this April Fool’s Day.

It had been a long winter, true to Minnesota legend. The snow still lay in mounds at the far ends of parking lots and driveways or beneath trees against which it had drifted and whose shade now shielded it from the melting power of the sun. And, yes, she mused with a note of realism, it would probably snow again before the muck underfoot dried into memory. Five years’ living in this most northern of the central states cautioned her against unqualified optimism. But spring would come; she felt it in her freckles. Scattered from cheek to cheek over the bridge of her nose, they were faded now, ready to pop into vivid life with the first of the springtime sun. In anticipation, she flipped the calendar to April 1.

The gentle jangle of the front doorbell called her from her daydreams to the world at hand. Approaching without hesitation was a man she’d never seen before. He wore a three-piece suit, an open khaki trench coat, and a decidedly desperate expression.

“May I help you?” She stood quickly, but had no time to move from behind the counter before the man reached her. At closer range he seemed less sure of himself, almost embarrassed.

He took a deep breath. “Have you got something called … Pretzel Joys?” he finally blurted out. “My wife is expecting a baby any day now and says she’s got to have some. She’s a regular customer of yours.”

“Joan! You must be Joan Miller’s husband!” Serena’s hazel eyes widened as she broke into an open smile of recognition, then grew suddenly apprehensive. “How
is
she? It’s been awhile since I’ve seen her. I wondered whether she’d had the baby yet.”

Jonathan Miller grimaced. “She’s a week overdue and very uncomfortable. I only wish there was more that
I
could do. So if my picking up Pretzel Joys will make her happy, Pretzel Joys she’ll have.” He paused in a moment of doubt. “You
do
have them, don’t you?”

“Of course!” Serena laughed, rounding the counter and reaching for a glass canister. “And if I didn’t have them here, I’d have had some sent special delivery from the manufacturer in Chicago. How much would you like?”

The father-to-be frowned. “I don’t know—a pound, maybe two. What would you recommend?
You
know Joan.”

Nodding through her laughter, Serena began to weigh scoops of the individually wrapped candies into a brightly patterned bag that matched the walls of the store with its lime-green and fresh pink bamboo design. “I think that two pounds should hold her for a while. If she needs more she can call and I’ll have them delivered.” Out of habit, she handed a sample to her customer. “Would you like to try one?”

“Oh no,” he laughed. “I’ve got enough bad habits without looking for any new ones.” But he picked one up and scrutinized it closely. “What
are
they made of, anyway?”

Serena shoveled in the last of the two pounds, then went to the ribbon rack to tie a cheerful bow on the handle of the pint-sized shopping bag. “They’re crushed pretzels rolled into a ball of creamy white chocolate. Do you mean to say that Joan’s been hoarding them all this time?”

His low-grumbled “’Fraid so” was offered jokingly. “I never knew how much they meant to her until last night—uh, make that one o’clock this morning. I can assure you that she’ll be pleased to see this bag!” After paying for his purchase he swept up the item and headed for the door.

“My best to Joan, and good luck to you both!” Serena called after him before turning to help a customer who had entered at his departure.

For an April Fool’s Day the morning passed without shock. Customers came and went, many of them familiar faces stocking up on one or another of their favorite confections. Nancy Wadsworth, Serena’s good friend and assistant, arrived at eleven to help sort through the deliveries in the back room while Serena held down the fort out front. With a pickup in activity during the noon hour, when workers from the office buildings surrounding the mall wandered in and out, both women worked side by side, dispensing and wrapping selections of imported suckers, novelty chocolates, and various and sundry jelly beans with the flair which had made the shop known throughout the sweet-circles of Minneapolis. By the time Serena grabbed her purse at one-thirty, she had earned her luncheon break.

“I’m off now, Nance,” she stage-whispered to the other woman as the latter put a wide beribboned stopper on an oversized milk bottle filled with malted milk balls. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Say,” Nancy asked her as the customer left, “did you see the new ‘fun jars’ that came in this morning? They’re adorable—some have frogs on them, others have pigs or ladybugs. You’ll have a grand time filling them!”

Serena beamed at the thought. The “interior decorating,” as she liked to call the selection and arrangement of candies or nuts in each fancy container, was always a challenge. “Great! I’ll take a look this afternoon. I’ve got to run now, though. I’m meeting André upstairs.”

“André?” Nancy feigned a shiver. “Is this business or pleasure? There’s something about him that makes me uneasy. Of all your men, I like
him
the least.”

“
All my men?
Nancy, you make me sound positively wicked!”

“You’re
not
, Serena. That’s the trouble. You
should
let loose and have a fling every once in a while.”

“Nancy!” Serena chided good-naturedly. “I’m surprised at you … a mother and all.…”

“My
daughter
happens to be twelve,” her friend countered. “You’re twenty-nine. There’s a difference. You should even be thinking of settling down—”