hospital.”
Alanna ignored the reference to her Alex, sighing wistfully. “How nice to be part of a large family. Is Alex the oldest? He said that he heads the foundation.”
Sylvia completed her wire-work, placing the last two electrodes on her patient’s temples. “I believe he has an older sister or two. He is the oldest son; that’s why he has taken over the company.”
“Is his father ill?” It seemed the logical conclusion, for a father to turn over the running of the family business to such a relatively young son.
“No. Ironically, the money they donate to this place rarely benefits them. They are, as families go, very healthy.” She stood back, pensive. “No. But the Knight family works in unique ways. The father hands control down to the son early on, the theory being that in order to benefit from the extensive education they give their children, that up-and-coming blood has to have power. Hence, your Alex is now in charge.”
“He’s not my Alex!” Once, she could ignore; a second time, she could not. But curiosity came fast on the heels of reproach. “Are his parents still … active?”
“Hah! You wouldn’t be asking that if you had seen them at the dedication of this wing a few months ago. Alex may be the official head of the foundation, but his parents are very visible indeed! Now,” she changed the subject without a blink, “are you comfortable?”
Alanna glanced at the machines beside her. “I suppose so.”
“Then good night. Or rather, good morning. I’ll be going off duty at six. The daytime nurse will wake you at seven. Think you’ll be able to fall asleep?”
“I certainly hope so,” she answered quietly. “Much longer and it will be dawn. Then there will be no point in even trying.” Her lips thinned in frustration. “And I have to work tomorrow.…”
Sylvia sensed her frustration. “There, there. Don’t get yourself worked up about it or you’ll never be able to sleep. Concentrate on relaxing. Try to clear your mind of worry and annoyance.” She grinned slyly. “Think of Alex.”
Against her will, that was exactly what Alanna did. She found herself conjuring up images of a face that was bronzed and rugged, a body that was warm and firm, a voice that was deep and resonant. She felt her pulse begin to speed up and determinedly focussed on more steadying topics, only to find her mind drifting back once more to lips that were masterful in the thoroughness of their kiss.
She felt those lips against hers as though they were real—then realized, in a moment of shock, that they were. Her eyes flew open to make out the bare outline of his form in the darkness. It was the world of sensation which was fully illumined for her—the warmth of him, the scent of him, the solidity of him beneath the hand she raised.
“Alex?” She whispered hoarsely. “What are you doing?”
“Just kissing you goodnight, love.” His breath fanned her cheek, then tickled her ear. “I brought your specs back—you left them in the lounge. They’re on the dresser now. Sleep well.” He kissed her once more, a firm declaration of possession, then was gone.
He was crazy! That’s all there was to it! Crazy! Creeping back into her room after Sylvia had so deliberately ousted him! Crazy! And his weird persistence on the subject of marriage…! Absolutely crazy! Then she caught her breath at the realization that, for all she knew, she was crazy, too! Why else would her body be tingling and a strange sense of comfort be floating about her? Why else would she be touched, as she was now, at the thought that he had been looking after her, even in this very small way? Why else would she be wondering when she would see him again? In the morning? That night? When? Oh, yes, there was certainly a touch of craziness in her, all inspired by one Alex Knight. On that oddly giddy note she fell asleep.
As Sylvia had promised she was awakened at seven by the new nurse on duty, a young, extremely
Alanna ignored the reference to her Alex, sighing wistfully. “How nice to be part of a large family. Is Alex the oldest? He said that he heads the foundation.”
Sylvia completed her wire-work, placing the last two electrodes on her patient’s temples. “I believe he has an older sister or two. He is the oldest son; that’s why he has taken over the company.”
“Is his father ill?” It seemed the logical conclusion, for a father to turn over the running of the family business to such a relatively young son.
“No. Ironically, the money they donate to this place rarely benefits them. They are, as families go, very healthy.” She stood back, pensive. “No. But the Knight family works in unique ways. The father hands control down to the son early on, the theory being that in order to benefit from the extensive education they give their children, that up-and-coming blood has to have power. Hence, your Alex is now in charge.”
“He’s not my Alex!” Once, she could ignore; a second time, she could not. But curiosity came fast on the heels of reproach. “Are his parents still … active?”
“Hah! You wouldn’t be asking that if you had seen them at the dedication of this wing a few months ago. Alex may be the official head of the foundation, but his parents are very visible indeed! Now,” she changed the subject without a blink, “are you comfortable?”
Alanna glanced at the machines beside her. “I suppose so.”
“Then good night. Or rather, good morning. I’ll be going off duty at six. The daytime nurse will wake you at seven. Think you’ll be able to fall asleep?”
“I certainly hope so,” she answered quietly. “Much longer and it will be dawn. Then there will be no point in even trying.” Her lips thinned in frustration. “And I have to work tomorrow.…”
Sylvia sensed her frustration. “There, there. Don’t get yourself worked up about it or you’ll never be able to sleep. Concentrate on relaxing. Try to clear your mind of worry and annoyance.” She grinned slyly. “Think of Alex.”
Against her will, that was exactly what Alanna did. She found herself conjuring up images of a face that was bronzed and rugged, a body that was warm and firm, a voice that was deep and resonant. She felt her pulse begin to speed up and determinedly focussed on more steadying topics, only to find her mind drifting back once more to lips that were masterful in the thoroughness of their kiss.
She felt those lips against hers as though they were real—then realized, in a moment of shock, that they were. Her eyes flew open to make out the bare outline of his form in the darkness. It was the world of sensation which was fully illumined for her—the warmth of him, the scent of him, the solidity of him beneath the hand she raised.
“Alex?” She whispered hoarsely. “What are you doing?”
“Just kissing you goodnight, love.” His breath fanned her cheek, then tickled her ear. “I brought your specs back—you left them in the lounge. They’re on the dresser now. Sleep well.” He kissed her once more, a firm declaration of possession, then was gone.
He was crazy! That’s all there was to it! Crazy! Creeping back into her room after Sylvia had so deliberately ousted him! Crazy! And his weird persistence on the subject of marriage…! Absolutely crazy! Then she caught her breath at the realization that, for all she knew, she was crazy, too! Why else would her body be tingling and a strange sense of comfort be floating about her? Why else would she be touched, as she was now, at the thought that he had been looking after her, even in this very small way? Why else would she be wondering when she would see him again? In the morning? That night? When? Oh, yes, there was certainly a touch of craziness in her, all inspired by one Alex Knight. On that oddly giddy note she fell asleep.
As Sylvia had promised she was awakened at seven by the new nurse on duty, a young, extremely
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