Free Spirits Page 3

  Alex smiled. “Good morning, Jason. And to what do I owe this surprise call?” Jason avoided personal phone calls during business hours since he considered them frivolous. Much as he told her he adored her, she knew she was not business.

  “First of all, I hope you enjoyed your evening out with your friends two nights ago. I’m sorry I couldn’t make your party, but I knew you would understand that I couldn’t cancel my trip.” As far as he was concerned, that was apology enough.

  She frowned. Two nights ago? Had she drunk so much champagne she’d lost track of an entire day? Still, this wasn’t the time to figure it out. “Of course, Jason, I understand. Besides, we have this evening for our celebration.” She lowered her voice to a seductive purr.

  “Actually, that’s why I’m calling. Ronald Bishop and his wife are in town for today and tomorrow only,” he explained. Alex winced. She already knew what was coming. “I realize I promised you an intimate dinner for two this evening, but I really do need to get together with him and…”

  “And why couldn’t the four of us go out, so I could keep Mrs. Bishop entertained while you dazzle Mr. Bishop with your financial expertise,” she finished for him, tamping down feelings of disappointment. When was the last time they had had a dinner out, just the two of them?

  “That’s it exactly.” There was no mistaking the smile in his voice. “You did so well when we took the Burns’s to dinner and later on the Edwards’s that I know this will be much easier for you. And I do want to talk to Mr. Bishop about a very important investment.”

  She managed a tight smile it was just as well he couldn’t see. “Of course. What time will you pick me up?”

  “That’s another problem. Since their hotel is on the other side of town, I hope you won’t mind meeting us at the restaurant. I thought we’d dine at that new French place you and I tried two weeks ago. I made our reservations for eight o’clock and why don’t you wear that black dress with the sequined jacket? Your hair would look lovely in an upswept style.”

  Her smile froze. She wasn’t as fond of that dress as he was. She thought it made her look like one of those mannequin wives she met at Jason’s get-togethers. “Of course. I’ll see you then.”

  “Alexis, you’re a dream. There goes my other line. I’ll see you this evening, then.”

  “Do you mean to say he even tells you what to wear and how to do your hair?” Patrick spoke from behind. “I knew it. The man doesn’t have one romantic bone in his body.”

  Alex shrieked, the phone flying from her hand. Only her father’s quick reflexes kept it from falling to the floor. She turned around, gripping the back of her chair. “You were a dream!” she gasped.

  Patrick shrugged and shook his head. “Sorry, sweetheart. We’re about as real as ghosts can get. I thought you finally accepted that yesterday.”

  Alex breathed deeply several times to slow down her rapidly pounding heart. Then, fearing hyperventilation, she forced herself to relax.

  “This can’t be happening,” she told herself, wishing she was in bed.

  “You said that yesterday,” Marian spoke up, understanding warming her features. “Alex, we’re here for the duration.”

  “Oh, no, then I didn’t just dream you?” she groaned. “You really showed up, and my birthday was two days ago instead of yesterday?”

  Patrick nodded his head. “No dream. And judging from the conversation you just had with Potter, we got here in time to save you from a nasty mistake.”

  A moan escaped Alex’s lips. “Palmer. Can’t you just once get his name right!”

  “Can you truthfully say you enjoy helping him entertain his clients, who are probably as boring as he is?” Patrick quizzed.

  She tried to remain as calm as a person could in this kind of situation. Answering questions was the easiest way to begin. “I haven’t done all that much in the way of entertaining, but it’s interesting. Besides, sometimes the wives talk about their trips and I get ideas for my strip from their stories.”

  “I bet that would go over real well, if what’s-his-name knew you were pumping his clients’ wives for your cartoon strip.”

  “Patrick, you promised me you’d behave.” Marian stood in one comer of the kitchen cooing to an excited Suzi Q who let out her earsplitting Siamese yowls as she waited for the dish of food Marian was holding.

  “That cat is completely nuts,” Alex muttered, watching Suzi Q’s antics. Something then occurred to her. “How did you know what Jason said to me on the phone?”

  Marian flashed her an apologetic smile. “Trade secret. Dear, surely you mean to eat more than that toast for breakfast? Would you like me to fix you some nice scrambled eggs or an omelet?”

  “No!” Alex held out her hands as if to ward her off. There were too many memories of scrambled eggs as hard as baseballs. Marian’s idea of an omelet was too horrifying to even contemplate. She still wasn’t sure what was happening, but she couldn’t accept this as a dream any longer. As difficult as it was to accept, she had to admit that her ghostly parents were right there before her! “Honest, Mom, this is all I want.” She turned to her father. “Is there a reason why you two don’t eat? Or is that another trade secret?

  “We don’t need to, and I’m very glad of it,” he replied.

  “Yes, I can understand why.”

  Alex still wasn’t convinced that her ghostly parents intended to stay with her until they were satisfied she had married properly.

  “I can’t get any more proper than marriage to Jason,” she reiterated.

  “Proper.” Patrick formed the word as if it was an obscenity. “He carries a clean, neatly pressed handkerchief in his pocket. He has a fire extinguisher and emergency roadside kit in the trunk of his car, although he hasn’t used either once in the last fifteen years. And don’t say he doesn’t, because that one time I met him he suggested it would be a good idea for me to carry one. I’m sure he’s added an earthquake survival kit to it. Has he even tried to get you into bed?”

  “Dad!” Alex pretended to be shocked. “That is not something I am going to discuss with my parents. Why, I’m your virginal daughter.”

  “Not for a long time, you haven’t been. And your statement means he hasn’t. And you’ve been dating for how long? Two years?” He shook his head. “The man is clearly not as enamored of you as you think he is. Or he’s gay and doesn’t

  want the business world to know it—or he just doesn’t give a damn about sex.”

  “He believes in respecting a woman,” she said stiffly. “And he knows my marriage didn’t go well. I think it’s wonderful of him to be willing to give me time.”

  “Time, yes. Forever, no.”

  Alex looked at her father, the one person she always felt understood her. The one person who understood the wildness that sometimes surfaced in her. How could she explain that she hoped Jason could help her tamp down that wildness? She’d opted for excitement when she married Craig after a whirlwind courtship. She got anger, bitterness and self-disgust by the time it ended in a messy divorce.

  “Jason keeps me calm, Dad,” she explained. “He keeps me on a steady plane and I desperately need that. I already have a somewhat crazy job. And now I’m looking for a home life that will bring me back down to earth. He can give me that. And children.”

  “And if he decides your work isn’t proper for an investment banker’s wife?” he prodded. “Does he talk about your comic strip to his clients? And are you honestly sure he won’t see children as a hindrance to his eternal entertaining of clients?”

  She shifted her weight. “Those dinners are strictly business.” She felt obliged to defend Jason. “And of course he would want children to carry on his name.”

  Patrick looked sad. “Then, my darling, I feel very sorry for you, because marriage to him will cause you to miss out on a great deal.” He walked away to join his wife, who was still conversing with Suzi Q in her own special language.

  Alex jumped up. “This is getting crazy again.” S
he left the kitchen for her bedroom. By the time she dressed, washed her face and brushed her hair, she felt more like herself. She still took the precaution of taking two aspirin.

  When she walked out of her bedroom she found her parents with their heads together, whispering. She dreaded hearing their next brainstorm.

  “This is a definite improvement over yesterday,” Marian smiled.

  “Yes, well, I decided one hangover in my lifetime was more than enough.” She pulled open the drawer of a lamp table and drew out a pack of cigarettes. She couldn’t miss her mother’s look of disapproval. “Please, Mom, not one word. I have very few bad habits. I don’t live on coffee or eat much junk food, I rarely drink alcohol, except on my birthday,” she added dryly, “and I’m not a heavy smoker.” She paused to light her cigarette and set the lighter down.

  Patrick sighed. “I have to admit I miss my cigars.”

  Marian eyed her husband. “I don’t.”

  Alex stiffened when a knock sounded at the door. “Who is it?” she called out, forgetting about the peephole set in the door.

  “It’s me,” a feminine voice replied, muffled by the heavy door. Laughter filtered through. “Hey, do I get to come in?”

  Alex swore under her breath, earning a censuring gaze from her mother. “It’s Beth.” A look of panic crossed her face.

  “She can’t see us, Alex,” Patrick assured her.

  “Yes, but she’ll know I’m not acting my usual self.” She headed for the door. Before opening it she pasted a stiff smile on her lips. “Hi, Beth.”

  “Hi. I’m sorry I didn’t get to come by yesterday to see how you survived your party. I ended up pulling a back-to-back shift at the hospital since we’re so shorthanded.” The tall blond woman breezed by her. With shoulder-length curls, emerald-green eyes and a model’s figure encased in a soft pink jumpsuit, she looked nothing like the competent pediatric nurse she was known to be. She turned around, her hands braced on slim hips, a teasing smile on her rose-glossed lips. “You were feeling no pain when Todd and I brought you home that night—or should I say that morning. I can imagine you’d prefer to forget yesterday altogether,” she teased.

  Alex winced under her teasing. “Something like that,” she said dryly.

  “I bet you looked like hell,” she said frankly. Beth Grant was one of the few people who could get away with saying that to Alex. Probably because they had forged their friendship over finger paints in kindergarten twenty-five years earlier. During those years they had suffered through Girl Scouts, first loves, a marriage and divorce each.

  “Yes, well, the hangover was more than memorable,” she murmured, cast a quick look around the room and gasped when she noticed her parents standing by the window.

  Beth stared at her quizzically. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” she squeaked, then coughed. “Just fine.” She ran a hand through her hair as she tried to look nonchalant, and failed miserably.

  Beth narrowed her eyes and studied Alex carefully. “You look pale. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Remnants of the night before last,” she said smoothly. “I didn’t expect it to go away in twenty-four hours.” Her eyes widened when she saw Suzi Q sitting at Marian’s feet, the tawny face lifted upward as she batted one paw at Marian’s leg. A garbled sound left Alex’s throat.

  Beth looked puzzled as she followed the direction of her friend’s gaze. “What is with that cat?”

  Alex’s smile felt as if it had been pasted on her face. “She’s chasing dust motes. It’s become her latest hobby.”

  Beth continued studying the cat. “She’s always been strange, but this is something new.” Shrugging it off, she turned back to her friend, a look of expectancy on her face. “So what did Jason get you for your birthday?”

  “He hasn’t given it to me yet. He probably will tonight. Unless he feels uncomfortable giving it to me in front of his clients.”

  Beth was stunned.

  “Wait a minute. He’s taking you out for your birthday, two days late, and he’s bringing clients with him?”

  “They’re only going to be here for two days and they’re very important to him,” Alex explained, getting more than a little put out that she’d had to be on the defensive all morning.

  Beth wasn’t convinced. “Alex, don’t try to defend the man. How many times have you looked forward to a nice dinner out, just the two of you, and he’s sprung clients on you? You, who hated any kind of business political games, now have to play them with a vengeance. Alex, this isn’t you.”

  “Amen to that,” Patrick murmured, looking all too innocent when his daughter shot him a warning look. “I told you she couldn’t see or hear us.”

  “That really relieves my mind,” she said under her breath.

  “What?” Beth gazed at her.

  She smiled, the motion more than a little strained. “Nothing.”

  She looked suspicious. “You’re acting strangely, Alex. Not at all like yourself.”

  “It’s been a crazy week.”

  “It didn’t start out crazy until your party,” she chuckled. “You definitely partied hearty that night, my girl. When Lynn, Cheryl and I decided to give you a surprise party, we didn’t know you’d suddenly turn into the all-time party animal. You must have drunk enough champagne to equal your body weight and you danced with every guy there, including two of the waiters. One of them asked for your phone number.”

  Alex winced. “I only regret I don’t remember more of it.”

  “Don’t worry, Todd videotaped the whole thing, including the male stripper.” Beth rolled her eyes. “He was something else!”

  Fragments of the evening came back to Alex in horrifying detail. “Oh, God.”

  Beth patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Jason and we’ll keep the only copy of the videotape locked up to watch when we’re eighty and want to recall our misspent youth.”

  “You just wait until your thirtieth birthday.”

  “At least you have six months to come up with something memorable.” She glanced at Suzi Q still batting at invisible air and shook her head. “There is most definitely something wrong with that cat. What does she see over there that we don’t?”

  “Actually, she can see a lot more than we can,” Alex blurted out, ignoring her parents’ gasp.

  “Don’t do it, Alex,” Patrick warned, sensing her intent.

  “Alex, she won’t believe you,” Marian told her. “You’ll only sound like a fool.”

  Alex picked up her pack of cigarettes and lighter. She had just applied the tip of the cigarette to the flame when it blew out, courtesy of her mother, now standing next to her.

  “I told you I’d find a way to stop you.”

  Beth laughed uneasily. “That’s funny. There’s no breeze, and it was as if someone blew it out.”

  Alex took a deep breath. “Something strange happened the day after my birthday,” she began. “I know you won’t believe this, but, Beth, this isn’t a story I could make up—” Her eyes widened as she felt her body lose its balance. To keep from falling backward she twisted to one side, fell against the coffee table and felt her head connect with a hard object. Just as darkness descended she heard her mother’s admonishment.

  “Patrick, now look what you’ve done! Did you honestly have to trip her?”

  “Alex, Alex, you want to try to wake up now?”

  The words were low and soothing to her fuzzy brain. Except the last thing she wanted to do was open her eyes.

  “Come on, Alex, open up those great big eyes of yours so I can see what color they are.”

  The portion of her brain still functioning tagged the voice as male, slightly husky, with a trace of amusement running through it. And not one bit familiar. If he wanted her to wake up and she was lying prone, who was he? And where was she? She lifted an eyelid that felt as if it weighed a ton and found herself looking into a pair of dark blue eyes. She hazily decided it wouldn’t be all that difficult t
o look into those warm eyes all day long. He smelled good, too, if you liked the sharp tang of disinfectant.

  “Where am I?” she croaked, disconcerted to find herself flat on her back on a surface that was more hard than soft and in surroundings that were too white for her taste. Horror widened her eyes as the memories flooded back. “Oh, my God, I died, after all! Dad didn’t just trip me. He killed me!”

  The man leaning over her smiled. “No, Alex, you’re still very much alive, although I’m sure you’re going to end up with a nasty headache. Let me take a look at those pupils.” He shone a pencil flashlight in her eyes briefly, then whipped it to one side to check the reaction. “Looks good. Can you tell me your full name?”

  “Alexis Marie Cassidy.” She winced at the light searing her eyeballs.

  “Age?”

  “Thirty.”

  “Know where you are?”

  “If I’m not dead, it must be a place that’s too cheap to spring for a bit of color on the walls. What happened?”

  He smiled. “Beth Grant had you brought in. She said you lost your balance and fell, striking your head against a figurine on your coffee table. When you wouldn’t come to right away, she got worried. I’d say you have a concussion.”

  The meaning to her surroundings sunk in. “I’m in a hospital,” she said with distaste.

  ‘“Fraid so.” His fingers carefully moved over her head until he found a raised bump along the back.

  “Ouch!”

  “Sorry.” He turned away to jot something down in her chart. “It might be a good idea to keep you here overnight. Just to make sure there are no complications, I want to get an X ray taken.”

  And risk the chance of running into dear old Craig? No way! “No, thanks. A bit of aspirin and I’ll be just fine,” she assured him.

  He frowned. “I don’t think you realize the gravity of this, Ms. Cassidy. You need someone to check on you through the night.”

  “I have someone at home who can do that.” She squinted to read the badge attached to the pocket of his white lab coat. “Duffy. A good Irish name.”