Alanna promptly vetoed it. "No!" The force of her refusal brought her to her feet. Suddenly distraught, she looked from Alex to Ellen and back, then walked to the far side of the office to stand with her back to them, her arms wrapped protectively about herself. She felt their eyes on her, sensed when they looked at each other in silent communication. It was Ellen who came to her rescue, rising from her desk to approach and put a gentle arm about her shoulders.

"Look, I have a suggestion," the psychologist began. "We'll chalk this night up to an unavoidable complication. Why don't you both take the time to talk, to decide things between yourselves? I've listed the possibilities relating to the study. You have to list the possibilities relating to your relationship. Take tonight off and tomorrow you can let me know what you've decided-whether you want to stay in the program under my conditions."

In the silence that followed Alanna knew that Ellen Henderson's suggestion was fair. The problem of insomnia had taken a definite backseat to this more immediate matter between Alex and herself. At her nod of agreement, Alex spoke up.

"Thanks, Ellen. You've been more than understanding."

"It's my job," the woman quipped with a smile, turning. "But promise me that you'll follow the guidelines I've given you-no liquor or coffee, try to leave the tension behind when you go to bed-" She caught herself up short and an impish smile lit her face. "As a matter of fact, I understand you two did very well last night. No waking up at all?" Alex grinned broadly as he shook his head. "You know," she went on, "I really should be furious." But she wasn't. "You've proven something that I don't even have the guts to commit to paper for fear they'll close down the sleep lab! It would be an interesting proposition...." Her gaze narrowed in feigned concentration.

"It is an interesting proposition," Alex spoke for Alanna's ears alone when, several moments later, they headed for the elevator. She couldn't muster any response, but simply remained silent, caught up in the whirl of emotions that stirred within. Alex snagged her gaze for a long enough moment to read her turmoil, then he turned her gently toward him. "We do have to talk. Let's go to my place. I can drive you back to pick up your car later."

She found encouragement in his seeming patience and nodded. The Porsche was in the lot. With a light hand at her back he guided her toward it, then held the door while she made herself comfortable. It wasn't difficult in a car as elegant as this. Conversation was a far more trying matter, however. Alanna didn't say a word. Her thoughts raced wildly in a desperate bid to escape the crux of the issue: What did she feel for Alex Knight?

In his arrogant way he had found a niche under her skin. His presence permeated her life with its aura of specialness. How had she let it happen? Why had she let it happen? Could it be that she needed him?

Defensively, she concentrated on the Alanna Evans who had existed so successfully, all alone, for the past ten years. Her mind dwelt on the image of that self-sufficiency, of professionalism, and by the time Alex pulled up before a tall, modern apartment building in a newly converted area of downtown Baltimore she felt more composed than she had all evening.

"This is home?" She leaned forward to eye the imposing structure.

"Uh-huh." He switched off the ignition and scanned the entrance for a sign of the doorman. "It's comfortable and convenient. When I want to stretch my legs and breathe deeply of country air I drive down to my parents' house."

"Do they live far?"

"It's not quite a fifty-minute drive."

"Do you see them often?"

"I try to get down there once a week. Occasionally they drive up to join me for dinner."

"And your brothers and sisters-" Her voice broke when the doorman unexpectedly appeared to open her door, startling her. Conversation resumed in the elevator.

"I have three sisters and a brother. Joey manages the West Coast office. We talk on the phone often, but don't see each other as much as we would like. The girls are scattered; two are married and one is still in graduate school. She's the baby. She's training to be a pediatrician." His pride was unmistakable.

Alanna was instantly appreciative. "Whew! That's quite a goal!" The elevator opened and Alex led her to a door at the far end of a long, ecru-papered and carpeted corridor. "The penthouse?" She cocked a blond brow.

"Not exactly," he humored her. "My apartment may be on the top floor, but it's only one of four." He put the key in the lock and turned it.

"I'm surprised you've been able to avoid condominium conversion. It seems to be the thing lately."

"I don't believe in it." He looked easily down at her. "To have to make that kind of financial investment and buy into responsibilities that many people don't want seems unfair. Many of these tenants are retired. They've had their day in the country. They've owned their own homes and now they want a simpler life."

"You have an understanding owner." Too late, she understood the twinkle in his eye.

"I am the owner. It helps." Grinning, he pushed the door open for her to enter.

Alanna was not quite prepared for the world of understated elegance in which she found herself. But then, why not? Wasn't the man himself a prime example of subtle class? Her eye skimmed the open foyer before being quickly drawn toward the large living room. The overall impression was one of cool serenity; the room had been decorated in a quiet blend of brown, navy and cream. There was a central sunken pit bounded by the plush cushions of a sectional sofa. There were side tables and etageres, each bearing exquisite groupings of small sculptures of stone or crystal. There was a long wall unit containing a bar, a stereo and scattered rows of books, and one entire wall was taken up by windows that looked out on the harbor.

"Well ... what do you think?" His concern for her approval was endearing and impossible to resist.

"It's magnificent, Alex!" She beamed, turning to face him, first with enthusiasm, then mischief. "Now tell me that a lovely raven-haired beauty with whom you happened to be living at the time decorated it for you."

"No." He approached her. "I decorated it. I have specific tastes-in furnishings and in women."

"My compliments, then, on the furnishings," she quipped. "As for the women, since I haven't kept track of your entourage over the years I must withhold judgment."

"None of them come anywhere near you, Alanna," he vowed, his eyes dark and enticing.

Quickly, she mocked their sensuality. "Your brain must be addled by too much sleep-"

"-and I've never had a live-in lady," he interrupted, far more serious than she and determined to make his point.

She tipped her head in skepticism. "Never?"

"Never." He walked to stand before the wall unit and thrust his hands into his trouser pockets. His streamlined stance exaggerated his height. "I've always lived alone and preferred it that way. Until now." His eyes bore steadily into hers.

Ignoring his final words, she probed his feelings. "It must be difficult ... living alone, taking care of all those things that a woman would normally do."

"Such as?" He was mildly amused.

Alanna shrugged. "You know, the cooking, cleaning, laundry..."

To her chagrin Alex's gaze narrowed and he stalked toward her, very definitely on the attack. "That was a sexist statement if I've ever heard one. It's amazing. You're the only old-fashioned thing in this room!"

Of the many ways she had viewed herself over the years, old-fashioned had never been one. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you obviously consider those chores as 'woman's work.' Did it ever occur to you that a man can do those things, too?"

"Do you?" she asked with a grin, instantly humored at the image of Alexander Knight folding laundry.

"I cook."

It came too freely. "And ... the others?"

He waffled. "Well ... I try not to ... I have someone..."

"A woman?" she drove the point home.

Alex waved a hand as if to indicate the irrelevance of the matter. "As it happens, yes. She was all I could find at the time. But-"

"So who's old-fashioned?"

"You are!" He refused to back down. "If you decided to marry me it wouldn't mean that you'd be suddenly chained to the house. I'd still hire people to do those chores and that would free us both up for work ... and play. You assume that every traditional responsibility would be yours. I'm saying that it just wouldn't be so."

"I know, Alex. I know." There was a momentary hint of resignation in her tone. Turning quietly, she wandered aimlessly about the room. "Even living by myself, I've had to make compromises to get things done in between work hours. I have help, too. But I somehow thought that men liked their women to do that kind of thing."

"There's where you're silly, love," he gently chided her. "When a man loves a woman he respects her, as well. I would no more force you to be a live-in maid than I would ask you to give up your career. Don't you see," he moved to stand before her, lifting his hands to curve around her neck, his thumbs steadying her chin, "I love you for what you are. I could never try to destroy or change that. The first time I saw you-in that elevator-I sensed the spirit in you that appeals so strongly to me. It's your strength, your independence, your intelligence and self-sufficiency-among other things-that I love."

Alanna's brown gaze climbed to meet his. "Perhaps it's the challenge you love, rather than me. I do know how you love a dare," she reminded him lightly.

"So do you."

"Uh-huh. But I don't confuse that with true love. The newness, the challenge, are bound to wear off. What happens then? Where does that leave you?"

If Alanna thought to stump Alex she was taken aback by his total preparedness. "It leaves us to seek out challenges together, to find new and exciting things together. We share the love of adventure; that's one of the things that binds us together. For the first time in my life I've found a woman who thrives on challenge as much as I do." His arms fell slowly to his sides; his words held their own weight.

Alanna had no proper retort. It stunned her to admit the merit of his argument. She, too, had never enjoyed a man as much as she did Alex-and for many of the same reasons. There was a good explanation for why she never dated a man more than once or twice; boredom encompassed much of it. Instinctively she knew that Alex Knight would never, never bore her.

It was hard enough to admit this to herself; she simply couldn't admit it to Alex. In search of diversion, her eye caught on the bookshelf. "Are you a thriller fan?" she asked, excited.

Alex spent a fast moment looking suspiciously from Alanna's brightened face to the books, then back. "Aren't we both? Suspense. Intrigue. Action. Romance. Mystery. Isn't that what life is all about?"

She avoided his question to study the collection before her. "I think you've got all my favorites." A tapered finger traced the spine of one of the volumes. "One thing's for sure." She smiled sheepishly. "Books like this never put me to sleep! Which brings up the immediate problem." Her gaze met his once more. "What are we going to do about the IAT study?"

"That's not really the immediate problem, love. The immediate problem is us. What are we going to do about us?"

A flicker of pain crossed her face. "That's very simple," she lied. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" he repeated her statement, his furrowed brow hinting at disagreement "What do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said. We're adults. I see no reason to get all bothered about things. Is there a rush?"

"What about last night?" he asked, his tone cool.

"What about it?"

"Didn't it mean anything to you?"

Disquieted and unable to lie on this point, she fled to the window. "Of course it did."

He was close on her heels. "What did it mean?" His reflection in the window, framed by the black of night, towered over hers.

Alanna gathered her thoughts, sorting out those she could share from those that, for the present, had to remain her own. "It meant that we are phenomenally attracted to one another. It meant that we shared something very special."

"I'll say it was special!" Alex exploded, grasping her shoulders and forcefully turning her to face him. "I've said I love you time and again. If you were honest you would return the vow. You do love me, Alanna. Last night proved it!"

To her chagrin he had hit on the core of her confusion. When she lashed out it was as much in argument with herself as with him. "That's being naive, Alex! Just because I let you make love to me doesn't mean I love you!"

"That's just it," his voice lowered to a calmer pitch, "you didn't just let me make love to you; you made beautiful love right back to me! No," he caught her tighter when she tried to pull away, "don't run this time. Face it. You felt something last night with me. You feel it right now. I can tell. That cool, suave woman I met in the cafeteria just the other night is not quite so cool and suave anymore. She's discovered that the core of passion she's squelched for years is not quite dead."

"Passion," she broke in, trying desperately to exhibit the coolness he accused her of having lost, "is very different from love. Passion is physical-"

"Not at the level we shared last night!" His face was taut. "Say it, Alanna. There was more to last night than just the physical. Say it. You do love me."

"I think I ought to leave."

"Why? Are you that frightened of yourself?"

"No!" She spoke honestly. "I'm frightened that you'll make me say things I simply don't feel."

"Or think you feel?"

She sighed in resignation. "Or think I feel."

When he released her she wandered to the sofa and let its deep cushions envelop her. Resting her elbow on the sofa's arm, she propped her forehead against her palm. It was nearly ten-thirty; her fatigue was emotional, rather than physical.

"I wish I could offer you coffee or a nightcap...." Alex's voice was quiet, more controlled.

"I'm fine without."

"Can I get you anything?"

She shook her head quickly, then continued to shake it more slowly. "I don't know what I'm doing here." The words poured forth unbidden. "I had my life perfectly organized. I was so proud of myself because I'd finally gone to the clinic. Insomnia ... hah! Little did I suspect that I'd meet a crazy man who had an obsession with marriage!"

His large, tanned hands entered her vision as he propped them on the back of the sofa on either side of her. "He's intelligent..."

She shrugged faintly. "Perhaps..."

"And successful..." His voice was lower.

"Perhaps..."

"And good-looking..."

She grinned, much against her better judgment. "... and immodest..."

"Perhaps," he drawled in mockery, then dipped his head until his breath fanned her ear. "He also loves you very much."

The words tore at the defenses he'd already battered almost to shreds. She wasn't quite sure whether her moan was one of anger, frustration or pleasure. But when he rounded the sofa and sat down beside her she slid her arms about his waist and crumbled against him. "Why do you say things like that, Alex?"

"Because I mean them."

"But don't you know that I'm not ready for that yet?"

"Is that what's bothering you? The rush?"

She hesitated. "In part, yes."

"And the other part?"

"The other part has to do with my life, with everything I've worked for and everything I've built."

Alex's hand stroked her hair. "A relationship with me doesn't mean that you have to give that up."

"When the 'relationship' is marriage," she argued, "things change."

In the silence that followed the only thing she heard was the rapid thump of his heartbeat. It had a pacifying effect that she couldn't deny. Nor could she deny the vehemence in his tone when he did finally speak.

"You know, for a bright woman you're really being dumb! Where have you been, Alanna? It's not simply a matter of choosing between career and marriage. Women today can have both! I would never ask you to give up what you've worked so hard for and what means so much to you."