Eye of the Beholder

screw up a perfectly good relationship. Talk about getting ripped off."
    There was a short, stark silence behind him.
    Alexa made an odd sound at the back of her throat.
    A sudden, dark suspicion swept through him. He turned quickly.
    Alexa gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes glinted above the edge of her palm.
    He stared at her, incredulous. "Are you laughing at me?"
    "Sorry." She got control of herself and gave him a placating smile. "I don't know what came over me."
    He set his jaw. "I'm glad you find something amusing in this fiasco."
    "Trask, we're both exhausted, tense, and, generally speaking, not at our best. Let's get some rest. We can resume this conversation at another time."
    A wave of dejection welled up inside him. "I don't think it will go much better the next time." It never does.
    The last of the laughter died in her eyes. "I see. Well, in that case, there's no point pursuing this. Will you take me home or shall I call a cab?"
    "You know damn well I'll take you home." He watched her collect her big purse. "And I'll stay the night, just like I did last night. I'll sleep on the couch if that's the way you want it. But I'm not leaving you alone. No until this thing is finished."
    "All right." She started toward the front door. She did not look back at him.
    Something inside Trask snapped. He took three long strides, caught her by the shoulders, and pulled her around to face him.
    "I don't believe in auras and psychics, but I do believe in mutual attraction." He tightened his grip on her shoulders. "I think we've got plenty of that going here."
    She searched his face. "It's not enough."
    "You said it was intense."
    "Intensity is nice." Her smile was wistful. "Better than I imagined it would be. But I don't think it's enough, either."
    "Personally, I would like to go on the record as stating that this is the most intensity I've felt for a long, long time. Maybe it's not enough for you, but it beats whatever is in second place for me. And, frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn if it is the stress that's doing it for us."
    "Trask..."
    "It feels good." He shook his head to clear it of the frustration he felt at not being able to find the right words. "It feels very good."
    "I thought you were the one who didn't want to get sucked into a good fantasy."
    "I've never been involved in a fantasy that was this ..." Once more he groped for the right word. "This real."
    Damn. That had come out all wrong. He'd blown it.
    For a few seconds she seemed frozen in place. He could not read the emotions that swirled in her eyes. It occurred to him that he had just staked a fortune on a desperate gamble and lost everything.
    Then, very slowly her hands glided up his arms and twined around his neck.
    "Maybe you're right," she whispered. She brushed her mouth across his. "After all, how often does a really terrific fantasy come along?"
    A euphoric sense of relief sluiced through him. He captured her face between his hands and crushed her lips beneath his own.
    Fantasy or not, this was enough for now, he told himself.
    He scooped her up into his arms and carried her across the lush, elegant chamber into the ebony and silver bedroom.
    He put her down on the gleaming black lacquer bed and came down on top of her, starved for the tight, hot warmth of her, thirsting for the salty perfume of her body. The phone warbled.
    His first instinct was to ignore it. He put his fingers on the burtons of Alexa's silk shirt. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Strood," she said.
    He groaned. Reluctantly he rolled to the side of the bed and plucked the phone off the nightstand. "You got Trask. This had better be good."
    "Sorry if I'm interrupting anything important on your end." Strood's sarcasm was laced with weary exhaustion. "I realize you big-time CEOs have lots more critical things to do than talk to a hick cop. But I just got your message, so I figured maybe you actually had something important you wanted to tell me."
    Trask groaned and sat up against the lipstick-red velvet-covered pillows. "I was in bed." "Lucky you."
    Trask heard the sound of voices and a heavy truck engine in the background. "Where are you?"
    "Scene of an accident. To tell you the truth, I was a little surprised that you weren't hovering in the vicinity. Lately you seem to be nearby whenever anything dramatic happens around here."
    "I've had all the drama I want tonight."
    "Me, too. Unfortunately, I've got a mountain of paperwork ahead of me so if