Free Spirits Page 12

  Now it was out. That was what really bothered her. Jason Palmer was obviously condescending when it came to Alex’s work, and she didn’t appreciate it one bit. Neither did Michael.

  “I work damn hard on my strips,” she ranted, continuing to pace back and forth. “People seem to think they just flow out of my fingertips—well, they don’t. There are days I practically work myself into a migraine to get my ideas on paper. Days when I throw away more paper than what I keep.”

  Michael’s hand snaked out, grabbing the coffee mug Alex was waving around wildly. He set it out of harm’s way on the counter behind him.

  “Do you think it’s easy to just come up with new tours?” Alex demanded, stopping long enough to poke a finger in his chest. “Well, it’s not. My Christmas strip dealing with the North Pole took me months to get right! Then there was the hike down a volcano! Wh—!”

  Michael could think of only one way to shut up Alex. He grasped her arms, pulled her close to him and covered her mouth with his in one fell swoop. And with her mouth already open on a surprised gasp, he took immediate advantage of the situation. The first sensation was a mouth that softened and felt like silk. The taste of coffee mingled with the mint from his toothpaste. His tongue circled the tiny O her lips made, dipping leisurely for a more thorough taste. He next realized she wasn’t pushing him away but had slipped her arms around his waist and she was moving closer to him until her body was neatly nestled in the cradle of his spread-legged stance.

  “Alex,” he murmured, giving in to his earlier temptation and combing his fingers through the thick waves. The faint citrus scent of her shampoo teased his nostrils.

  She had no response to give him other than a physical one. Not when she was swimming in a sensory maelstrom caused by Michael’s mouth doing incredible things that brought to mind silk sheets and candlelight. Even his hands stroked her nape in a way that she wouldn’t associate with a doctor. Doctor. Craig. Her fingers tensed.

  “I’m not Sommers,” Michael muttered, easily reading her thoughts. Another surprise for her. No man ever mentally connected with her so easily.

  He shifted his weight, easing one leg between hers and settling her more comfortably against him. More comfortably? He was so aroused he wondered if just kissing her could kill him!

  “I—” she sighed, moving her face to one side. That didn’t deter him. He concentrated on her ear, then, bypassing the large gold hoop earring brushing the side of her neck to nibble on the lobe. “I—oh God, what are you doing to me?” she wailed, running her open mouth over his collarbone barely visible above the T-shirt neckline.

  “Making you as crazy as I am.” His fingers at her bare waist tightened a fraction before relaxing and smoothing their way down over her buttocks, pulling her even tighter against him.

  It would have been so easy to give in. To just drift along with Michael making her feel like the most sensual woman alive. Wouldn’t her parents have a laugh if they saw her now!

  “No,” she moaned, planting her hands against his chest, lingering for a moment against the heat, and then quickly pushing away before she lost her sanity again. “This is not a good idea.”

  He took a deep breath that rasped through his chest. “You seemed to think so before.”

  Alex’s respiration wasn’t any calmer. She wasn’t surprised to find her hands trembling as she raised them to push her hair away from her face. She flushed and quickly hid her hands behind her back. Too late, because Michael couldn’t miss her loss of composure.

  “Why did you kiss me?” Her voice was low and husky, a hint of tension underlying her usual calm self.

  “You were ranting and raving. It seemed like a good way to shut you up before you worked yourself into a hysterical mess.”

  “Thank you for your practical solution,” she said wryly, looking away.

  Michael winced. If only she knew how much he hated that word! “Practicality had nothing to do with it.”

  Most people would have missed the rueful tone, but Alex was nothing if not observant.

  “You don’t like to be accused of being practical, do you?”

  “Just as you don’t like people to call what you do little or silly drawings, I hate to think of myself as a dull, practical man. Even if that is what I am.”

  Dull would have been the last word Alex would use to describe Michael Duffy. Not after the soul-shattering kiss he just delivered. Even thinking about it was enough to weaken her knees. And here she thought there wasn’t a man alive to send her thoughts skittering the way marbles rolled across a bare floor. In her eyes, there could only be one reason behind his statement.

  “I can’t believe a woman would have the nerve to call you dull and practical. Not with the way you kiss.” Along with being observant, she was also thoroughly blunt.

  He smiled wanly. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.”

  She touched his arm. “Michael, I may not know you very well, but I wouldn’t think of you as dull. And being practical isn’t a sin. There’s times when I wish I was more practical. Then perhaps my parents—” She clapped her hands over her mouth.

  “Your parents?” he prompted, puzzled by the shock in her eyes.

  “Nothing,” she said too quickly. “Just old thoughts that really don’t have anything to do with this.”

  “Beth said they were killed about a year ago and that you were all very close. I’m sure it’s rough for you.”

  Alex turned away so he wouldn’t see the expression on her face. “More than you know.” She spun back around. “Do you have anything planned for today? Do you have a shift today at the hospital?”

  He shook his head. “I was lucky enough to get the entire weekend off. It probably won’t happen again for the next five years, and to be honest, I was afraid if I made specific plans something would happen to cancel them.”

  She smiled. “Then let’s make the most of it. How about we get these boxes unpacked? I wouldn’t be surprised if we found more of your plates and coffee mugs somewhere.”

  “And flatware.”

  Alex rummaged through the drawers, finding most of them empty except for the basic utensils, obviously new, and a box of plastic knives, forks and spoons. “This is really sad, Duffy.” She looked up in time to catch the smile in his eyes. “What?”

  “Michael sounds dull and practical. Duffy sounds more human.”

  “Well then, Duffy, let’s get cracking!” She walked out of the kitchen and picked up her leather tote bag. She muttered under her breath as she rummaged through the contents. “I know it’s in here somewhere.”

  “What?” He peered over her shoulder. “Good Lord, woman, you could run away from home with all you have in there.”

  Alex pulled out two candy bars and a pack of gum which she set aside. Her wallet, checkbook, business-card case, mirror, makeup case and a pack of Kleenex quickly followed. “I knew it was in here somewhere.” She held up a small pocketknife. “I didn’t see any scissors to cut open the tape,” she explained. “And I didn’t think you’d appreciate my borrowing one of your scalpels.”

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled so much in such a short period of time. “What makes you think I have one?”

  “You’re a doctor. Naturally, you’d have one. And just as naturally you’d protect your scalpels from me.”

  “You could be right.”

  “That’s why I’m glad I found my knife.” She flipped it open. “Where do you want to start?”

  He held his hands up. “I’m just the manual labor here. You choose.”

  Alex looked around. “Definitely the living room. At least all the boxes are marked. The last time I moved, I packed everything without marking the boxes. The stuff for my bathroom was in the kitchen and my drawing materials were in the bedroom. It felt like forever before I could sort everything out.” She fingered several boxes before selecting one. A flick of the wrist and the top was gaping open. Within seconds, she pulled out a couple of vases and
a modem sculpture with no recognizable shape.

  “That gets pitched.” Michael took the sculpture out of her hands and dropped it in a wastebasket.

  “What are you doing? It looks really expensive. Even if it is ugly as sin.”

  He stared downward. “Expensive in more ways than you know.”

  Alex looked at him for several long moments before returning to the open box. “When Craig and I split up, I broke an entire set of dinnerware,” she said casually. “I started out with the cups, and then moved on to the saucers and dessert plates. I felt fine by the time I reached the bowls, but it was the dinner plates that left me feeling great. Breaking plates is better than any tranquilizer in my book”

  Now she had his attention. “Why?”

  “Why not? They were ostentatious. Craig’s style, expensive, and he wanted custody of them and I, feeling bitchy at the time, refused to give them up.” A glimmer of amusement lit up her pale eyes. “It was horribly childish of me, but it helped me come to terms with myself.” Laughter spilled out, along with a beige tablecloth pulled from the box. “Craig screamed when he heard about it. All he could think about was the cost. Seeing his red face and the veins sticking out from his neck was more than worth it. I can just imagine how much I raised his blood pressure that day.”

  Michael couldn’t help but join in her laughter. “You are something else, Alex Cassidy. I sure wouldn’t want to get on your wrong side.”

  “I don’t get mad, I get even.” Alex held up the tablecloth and matching napkins. “Very boring, Duffy. Don’t you believe in anything but beige?”

  He shrugged. “Beige goes with everything.”

  She shook her head as she tackled another box. “It appears Dr. Duffy that I was brought into your life to liven things up.”

  “I’d say you’ve already done an excellent job of that,” he said quietly.

  Her fingers stilled. “I usually don’t react that way with men I barely know.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  He pushed aside her hair and curled his fingers around her nape. “I didn’t think you did. I’m just glad you did with me.”

  She spun around, but his hand didn’t leave its wrapped position around her nape. It was a comforting pressure she didn’t want to lose. She wryly wondered what her parents would think of this turn of events. Knowing her mother, she’d be planning a ghostly wedding reception!

  “You don’t understand.” She felt helpless under his touch and she wasn’t sure if that was a safe thing to be. “You’re a doctor.”

  He bit his lower lip to keep his smile from appearing, since she was so serious with her statement. “Yes, that’s what my diplomas say.”

  “Doctors are unstable!” she cried out. “They look upon medicine as a way to meet women and party all the time. Look at your colleagues last night! You know very well they closed down that restaurant. Jeff was coming on to the new waitress with his stock line, ‘Trust me, I’m a doctor’.” She ran out of steam.

  Michael folded his arms around her more in a comforting embrace than a passionate one. “Remember what I told you in the kitchen?” he rumbled softly in her ear. “I’m not Craig Sommers. I’m me, Michael Duffy, a hardworking trauma surgeon who meets all members of the human race who come into the emergency room for treatment. I can’t remember the last time I attended a party. Last night was the first time I’ve been out socially in the past year. My idea of dining out is the hospital cafeteria. My world is made up of automobile accidents, gunshot wounds and stabbings and an occasional pregnant woman who can’t wait to get to Maternity. It’s not always a pretty sight in there, Alex. More reality than most people even want to think of.”

  Alex remained quiet in his arms, digesting his speech. She wondered if the other woman in his life knew just how special a man she’d given up. “Then we definitely need to do some shopping,” she said finally.

  He pulled back his head and looked down quizzically. “Shopping?” He couldn’t imagine where that idea had come from.

  She nodded. “If that’s the only world you know, you need to come home to some color.” With that decision in her mind, she stepped back and reached for her knife. She quickly opened several more boxes and found something she should have expected. “How many of these boxes hold books?”

  “Just about all of them,” he had to admit.

  She shook her finger at him. “You’re as bad as I am.” She grabbed her purse. “Let’s go.”

  He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Can I change first?”

  “I’ll give you ten minutes.”

  As Michael walked down the hallway, he could hear Alex muttering to herself about primary colors versus desert pastels as she rummaged in her bag for a piece of paper.

  “Sommers, the best thing you ever did was screw around on this lady,” he murmured, as he pulled a pair of jeans off a hanger. “Because now I’ve got a chance with her and I don’t intend to blow it.”

  Michael soon learned that Alex didn’t believe in doing anything halfway. Once they were in his car, she directed him not to the nearby mall but to a larger one a distance away.

  “They’ve got the kind of shops we’ll need,” she explained, once they reached the freeway. “Judging from what I found in those boxes, you’re going to need everything.”

  He winced at the gleam in her eyes. Like most women, she appeared to take her shopping duties very seriously. “Just remember, I’m a poor, humble doctor.”

  “I don’t intend to blow your credit limit, just add color,” she said softly, thinking of the bland walls in his living room. She’d hazard a guess his bedroom wasn’t any different. “Everyone needs color in their lives.”

  “Is that why your cartoon strip seems to explode off the paper in all those bright colors?” he asked.

  “Color makes the world seem more palatable,” she explained. “I can handle anything as long as there’s color in my world.”

  Michael flipped the turn signal when they came to the off ramp Alex directed him to. “Then why are you wearing a blue so pale that it’s almost white?”

  She grinned. “Because it matches my eyes. One reporter described them as exotic blue ice. I have to admit I liked the exotic part because I never thought of myself in those terms. All I see is a mouth that’s a bit too large.”

  Lush

  “Eyes too pale.”

  Compelling.

  “A nose that’s also a bit too large.”

  Elegant.

  “And a face that shows off too many heritages.”

  Ah, there’s the exotic part, Alex. A face that I wanted to keep on kissing if you hadn’t pulled away when you had.

  Oblivious to Michael’s wandering thoughts, Alex directed him to an empty parking space and hopped out of the car before he barely stopped it.

  “Be prepared to shop till you drop,” she announced, walking around to the driver’s side.

  “Something tells me you’re a dedicated shopper,” he groaned theatrically.

  “Only when I have a purpose, and you’re about the best excuse I’ve come across in a long time.” Alex grabbed his hand and dragged him across the parking lot to the mall entrance. “Don’t worry, the store I have in mind will have pretty much everything you need.” She turned to the left, heading for the escalator. “It’s on the third level.”

  Michael caught quick glimpses of storefronts as Alex led the way to a store advertising everything needed to make a home complete.

  “Many of the items here are from Europe,” she explained as they entered.

  He stared at a deep purple rectangular cushion with a horrendously expensive price tag attached. “Not that.”

  She followed his gaze and the laughter bubbled out again. “No, not that. Let’s work with the kitchen first.”

  Michael looked at the metal racks holding tablecloths, then shifted to kitchen appliances fit only for gourmet cooks. “I don’t know what size my table is.”

  “I measured it while you changed your clothe
s.” She picked up a stark white cloth splashed with brilliant red, yellow and blue tulips. “Pretty, but not you. No flowers.”

  “I’d need sunglasses to eat on that.” He examined a cream-colored cloth with a pale green-and-lilac design. “Wouldn’t this work better?”

  She took it out of his hand. “Nothing even close to beige.”

  Alex dug through the stacks of patterned tablecloths. She knew what she wanted. Something bright and cheerful to greet Michael when he came home from one of those nights of fighting death. Splashes of color to make getting up in the morning worth it. When he spoke of his world she wanted to cry, but she knew it wasn’t tears of sympathy he needed. No, this man needed laughter.

  Without even thinking of what the words truly meant she whispered under her breath, “He needs me.”

  Chapter Nine

  “I have to admit, Ms. Cassidy, you’ve got a magic touch with dull, practical apartments.” Michael looked around a room he wouldn’t have recognized if he didn’t recognize the furniture as his. “You’ve created a miracle.”

  Color blazed everywhere he looked, from several squares of artwork hanging on the walls to the bright print pillows arranged on the couch and a shallow bowl filled with colorful balls brightening the coffee table. The kitchen boasted new towels and a saucy print of jungle animals gorging on a huge banana split hanging on the wall. The bathroom had bright teal towels on the racks and a coordinating rug on the floor. Alex might not have seen Michael’s bedroom, but she knew enough to find a new bedspread and sheets in the rich colors of a desert sunset. And she hadn’t stopped there. When they returned from the mall, she set him to unpacking boxes while she hung pictures, covered the table with the bright cloth and found a place for the plant she’d brought over that morning.