Read Online Stranger in my Arms by Rochelle Alers - Free Book Online

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    Alex knew she had to wipe away the dust from the floors and tables that had gathered during her absence and shop for groceries to replace those she’d thrown away before she left for Florida. Turning away from the window, she returned to the bathroom to complete her toilette.
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    Merrick stomped on the thick straw mat outside the door to the three-story Federal-style building, shaking the snow off his boots as he rang the bell for Alex’s apartment.
    â€œYes?” came her sultry voice through the building’s intercom.
    He leaned closer. “Merrick.”
    â€œCome on up.” A buzzing sound disengaged the lock to the outer door.
    He pushed it open with his shoulder, and heat enveloped him like a warm, comforting blanket. The mailbox in the vestibule bearing Alex’s name indicated she lived on the second floor. Cradling a bag to his sheepskin-lined leather bomber jacket, he climbed the staircase to her floor.
    Walking the four blocks had become a challenge. The falling snow had increased in intensity, and meteorologists were predicting more than a foot before tapering off later that night. A district-wide snow emergency was in full effect wherein government office buildings had closed at two and all nonessential vehicles were ordered to stay off major thoroughfares.
    Merrick smiled as he stepped off the last stair. The unique voice of Tina Turner greeted him as the door to Alex’s apartment opened and she stood there, an inviting smile tilting the corners of her mouth. Her curly hair fell around her face in sensual disarray, raven strands grazing her delicate jaw and the nape of her neck.
    She looked younger and more fragile than she had a week ago. Today she hadn’t bothered to put on any makeup, and in a long-sleeved cotton tee, body-hugging jeans and sock-covered feet she appeared barely out of her teens.
    He handed her the bag filled with a bouquet of colorful calla lilies. “I decided to bring a little something to brighten up the table.”
    Alex met his gaze. The moisture from melting snow coated the strands of his close-cropped hair, and she wondered why he hadn’t worn a hat. “They’re beautiful, Merrick. Thank you so much. Please come in,” she urged as he took off his gloves, shoving them into his jacket pocket, then bent over to untie his Timberland boots.
    â€œI don’t want to track snow over your floors.”
    An exquisite oriental runner in the foyer covered a highly-polished wood floor. Leaning against the door frame, he removed his boots, leaving them on the mat outside the door. Then he took off the waist-length jacket and hung it on a mahogany coat tree. Despite the frigid, snowy weather, the inviting space was imbued with a tropical mood, with a stunning French-Regency console table with Martinique-style carvings and a gilded Louis XV–inspired mirror. The table cradled a vase of fresh white roses and peonies and two hardcover books about the Mayans and ancient African art.
    Alex pretended interest in the exquisite flowers wrapped in cellophane rather than stare at the man who’d unknowingly occupied her waking thoughts the past week. Why, she mused, hadn’t she remembered Merrick’s towering height or broad shoulders? A charcoal-gray crewneck sweater and black corduroy slacks made him appear larger, more formidable.
    â€œYou must be freezing. Come and sit by the fire.”
    She turned and retraced her steps to the living room, Merrick following, where a fire blazed behind a decorative screen. The fire and the pair of candles on the mantel were the only sources of illumination. Pressing a wall switch, she turned on two table lamps.
    Moving closer to the fireplace, Merrick held his hands near the heat. The light from candles under chimneys on either end of the marble mantel flickered over the photographs of Alex’s many relatives. And judging from the various group and individual family photos the Coles were