Losing Balance
by Lionel

chapter 48

Bubbles and water.

Soft, foaming bubbles that clung stubbornly to her wet skin. Water hot enough to sustain a good, long soak, but not so hot as to dull the senses or dry the skin. There was an art to drawing a good bath. And this one was definitely good.

Bubbles and water made a lovely ending to a day. Particular a day as disquieting, draining and denying as today. Wrapped in a womb of water, her frayed nerve endings quieted, and her muscles finally and fully relaxed. Even her mind slowed, as if thoughts couldn't race through air this humid.

Alexis sank down low in the tub, letting the bubbles tickle her nose. The water lapped at her chin and the nape of her neck, dampening her hair in all the places where it had fallen from its careless perch atop her head. She didn't mind her hair getting wet tonight.

There hadn't been much time for baths in the last two years, but before that, before the thing with Sonny, she used to indulge. Whenever there was too much - too much Sonny, too much Ned, too much Kristina, too much Jax, too much of whomever pulling on her, poking at her, tugging at her sleeve - she went upstairs, closed the door to her room, and turned on the water in the tub.

Conspicuous consumption be damned, she ran the tub to the top each time and poured in twice as much of her expensive bath oil as necessary. There were other rituals she followed. She always undressed by the bed and slipped on a silk robe, only to shed it moments later before she stepped into the tub. The bathroom was right there, attached to her room, and there were no prying eyes about, but she liked the way the silk felt against her naked body. It was part of the ritual.

Laying in the tub, floating in the water, buffered all about by wet warmth and muted sound and a solitude that wasn't lonely, she wondered why anyone would ever leave the womb. She always stayed in the tub too long, and then she pulled the drain and ran the shower hot to rinse herself and chase away the chill. Then she toweled herself off and laid down on her bed - sometimes naked, sometimes wrapped in silk or terrycloth - until some obligation, some demand, or just the need to take a dryer to her curling hair forced her to move. She hated that moment - getting up from the bed, getting out of the tub - and inside she yelled like a newborn.

That bathtub was one of the things she missed about the penthouse. All those times that Ned or Jax urged her to move out, some part of what she was refusing to leave behind was in that bathroom. Finally her pregnancy had forced her out, just when she needed that tub the most, when she was tired and achy and the stimulation of the air surrounding her made her queasy. That tub would have been a lovely place to spend the first trimester.

The new place had a tub, too, perfectly adequate, really. But she had never used it. Once or twice she had bathed with Kristina there, but soothing bath rituals were one of the things left behind in the penthouse, along with her prospects for a pampered pregnancy shared with her baby's father.

At first, avoiding the tub in her new apartment had been a private outlet for the bitterness she kept to herself, a small protest of her soul. Then things went to hell, and she lost her taste for baths. She didn't want to be soothed, or be alone with her thoughts, or sink into the water only to struggle to pull herself out again. She considered the tub Kristina's now, and it had been littered with rubber ducks and foam letters and plastic boats before the whole armada moved to the lakehouse.

The hotel tub was first-rate. Right up there with the one at the penthouse. And this bath was particularly well drawn. Through the water and bubbles, Alexis heard a muffled ring. She glanced at the phone on the bathroom wall. She thought about climbing out of the tub to answer it, but the water was still plenty warm, and there was no reason to hurry. It was only 6:30.

A stylist from the salon downstairs was coming at seven to do her hair and makeup. Her dress was on a hanger in the closet. The rest was in a bag on the bed. She had expected to be rushed, frantic even, but somehow everything had fallen into place.

On her way to the hotel she had stopped at a boutique for a quick shopping spree. There was no time to search for the perfect dress, or shoes, or anything else, so she threw money at the problem. She shooed away the tall, skinny models moonlighting as salesgirls and turned herself and her credit card over to a matronly woman with a tape measure in her hand.

Marcus had come with her into the boutique, and he stood discreetly in the entry between the main shop and the back room as she tried on dresses. His eyes scanned the store methodically, and each time she stepped out of the changing room his eyes fell on her for a moment. The third time his eyes lingered on her an extra beat, an eyebrow raised a millimeter or two registering his approval, and he gave her a small nod. That was the one.

She thought so, too. It was a leftover Chloe Morgan, which alone was enough reason to buy it. But it seemed made for her, too. Or rather, made for the variation of her who was going on a date with an international arms dealer. On the imagined continuum between elegant and sexy, this one fell somewhere in the middle, two or three steps closer to the unfamiliar end than Alexis would normally choose. Much like her date.

Shoes, purse, underthings all fell easily into place once she had chosen the dress, and she found herself back in her hotel room just after six. With almost two hours to fret and second-guess herself, she had turned on the water, poured in the oil and climbed in.

For just a moment she considered canceling. She could dry off, throw on some pajamas and climb into bed. Watch TV, read a book, sleep. For a longer moment she considered running away. She could pack up and be on a plane home before Lorenzo arrived to get her. As was her way, she closed her eyes and imagined each course of action. The first was comfortable and dull; the second left her feeling unbearably empty.

And then she thought about getting out of the tub, toweling off, and putting on the dress. She was a little bit in love with that dress already. She wanted to put it on. She thought about the shoes and everything else in the bag on the bed. She wanted to put all of it on. She thought about walking down to the lobby, feeling beautiful, and finding Lorenzo in a tux waiting for her. She thought about how he would look, the way he would look at her, the way she would feel. A pulse of nervous excitement rippled through her body, tightening her belly and curling her toes beneath the water. God help her, she wanted all of that. She wanted the magic.

She climbed out of the tub without regret and pulled a towel from the rack. She was eager to get dressed. True, bubbles and water made a lovely ending to a day, but this day wasn't ending here.

*****

Lorenzo waited for Alexis in the lobby of her hotel, leaning against a pillar in his tuxedo, as nervous as a schoolboy, his arms folded across his chest for want of pockets to stuff his hands in. He didn't dare believe that this was a real date, that she was finally ready to come to him with open arms, but he kept remembering the look she gave him when she asked him to join her at the dinner, and he couldn't help but hope.

The elevator doors opened and two of Lorenzo's men stepped out, followed by a vision from Lorenzo's dreams. Utterly gorgeous, breathtaking in the truest sense, sexier than he could have hoped, she almost knocked him off his feet. With no new oxygen coming into his body, and his blood diverted elsewhere, Lorenzo was grateful for the pillar supporting him.

In his impaired state, Lorenzo couldn't begin to sort out the specifics of what she wore. His initial impressions were primitive and vivid: red; curves and curls; legs. It was the almost indecent slit at the side of her dress that would do him in, he thought. Well, not so much the slit; it was her legs, really.

As she stepped out of the elevator, her eyes found Lorenzo, and the way she stared at him, licking her lips lightly, told him that her stomach was doing the same flip flops his was. For a moment Lorenzo was glad he hadn't met her at the door to her room. He would have thrown her down on the bed by now and that beautiful dress would have been ruined. Instead, he took a moment to gather himself and then stepped forward, greeting her politely.

"Alexis. You look spectacular." He took her hand and brought it to his lips, and a little throaty murmur escaped from Alexis.

She cleared her throat. "Thank you. You look . . .very handsome."

"Shall we?" He offered her his arm.

She nodded and placed her hand lightly at his elbow, and they walked out into the spring evening. The sky was still quite light, and the air was much warmer than nights in upstate New York. Neither of them spoke during the short walk across the street to the Hay-Adams.

Once they were inside the old hotel's elevator, making their way slowly to the ballroom on the top floor, Lorenzo turned to Alexis and let his eyes travel leisurely up and down, from her dark hair, pulled back with unfamiliar curls dangling down, to her slender feet, wrapped in the strappiest heels he had ever seen. Her dress was burgundy silk, he saw now, and it flowed delicately over every curve, accentuating those it covered as well as those it didn't. The tapering straps and deep V of the neckline left her quite bare, and she wore a translucent throw over her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled, reflecting diamond earrings that defied explanation. She sparkled, but more than that she looked happy. Certainly nervous, but excited and happy, too.

"That's really something," he said with naked admiration. "All on three hours' notice?"

"I called my fairy godmother."

"What do I owe her?"

"Six white mice."

"Done." He smiled warmly at her, and she smiled back.

"I thought about just wearing a business suit, but she thought I should look nice for our first real date." Her dimples showed.

"I'll throw in an extra mouse. Is that what this is? A date?"

"I think so. What do you think?"

Lorenzo glanced briefly at the engagement ring on her left hand and shrugged his shoulders. It was an unconventional sort of date, certainly.

Before he could respond further, the elevator settled on the top floor, and Alexis tightened her hold on his arm. When the doors opened, they stepped out and started down the long corridor that led to the ballroom.

chapter 49