Stranger in my Arms by Rochelle Alers

transcripts listed her surname as Morris.
    She was forced back to reality and what lay ahead of her when a call from Diego reminded Alex that he would accompany her on the flight to Mexico City before he continued on to Belize to meet with a consortium of banana growers.
    The return drive to Arlington was accomplished in complete silence as she agonized over how was she going to leave Merrick now that she knew she was in love with him. And her love wasn’t based on sex, because they hadn’t slept together, and for that she was grateful. There was no way she wanted to confuse a physical connection with one that was emotional.
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    Merrick stood in the foyer with Alex, cradling her face in his hands. The eyes staring back at him were steady, trusting. He found himself at a loss when he longed to tell her how much he’d enjoyed their time together, how she’d managed to slip under the invisible wall he’d erected to keep all women at a distance, how much she’d changed him and how much he’d come to love her.
    He loved everything about her, inside and out. He’d asked for friendship, got it, but wanted more. And the more was love. He wanted Alex to love him because he’d fallen in love with her.
    â€œMay I call you?” he asked.
    Alex’s lashes fluttered as she tried bringing her fragile emotions under control. “Of course you may. Call me at night because it’s your voice I want to hear before I go to sleep.”
    â€œAre you living on campus?”
    â€œNo. I’m staying in a converted convent near the universidad .” Her mood brightened. “Are you thinking of coming to visit me?”
    Merrick’s impassive expression did not change. “Do you want me to?”
    A smile fired the gold in her large eyes. “Yes.”
    â€œIt won’t interfere with your studies?”
    â€œAs soon as I get my schedule I’ll let you know when I have a break.”
    Lowering his chin, he lifted his dark, sweeping eyebrows. “I’ll come to see you on one condition.”
    â€œI know,” she said, laughing. “No museums.”
    He winked at her. “You learn fast.”
    â€œNot as fast as you,” she countered. Moving closer, she wound her arms under his shoulders. “I’m going to miss you, friend.”
    Merrick dropped a kiss on her hair. Her curls reminded him of a field of wildflowers. “Hush, baby,” he crooned. “I’ll see you so much that you’ll get sick of me.”
    â€œNever.”
    â€œNever say never, Ali.”
    Pulling back, she met his serious gaze. Like a chameleon he’d changed. Gone was the teasing man she’d come to look for, and in his place was the one who frightened her. Once again, he’d become a stranger.
    She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “I’ll call you.” Standing on tiptoe, she brushed her mouth over his compressed lips. “Hasta luego.”
    â€œHasta luego,” Merrick repeated. Turning on his heel, he opened the door, then closed it softly behind him.
    Alex stood there for a full minute before she sat down on the chair next to the foyer table and closed her eyes. Everything she’d shared with Merrick Grayslake flooded her mind like frames of film: the night they lay in front of the fireplace and he told her how he’d been abandoned at birth, their trips to countless D.C. museums and art galleries that always ended with them drinking lattes at Starbucks. The nights she’d dressed up to share dinner with him at his hotel’s restaurant, and the days and nights at the house in Bolivar where she’d learned to appreciate nature in all its wintry splendor.
    What she didn’t want to recall was the image of Merrick in a tank top and jeans chopping wood in the noonday sun. Each time he swung the ax, the muscles in his back and upper arms tightened and relaxed under the strenuous exertion. The first time she saw the