Free Stranger in my Arms by Rochelle Alers Page A

it’s because my dad opted for a career in music rather than devote his life to the family business that we were raised without the restrictions imposed on my other relatives. I remember Abuela lecturing Daddy that he was raising ‘los animalitos pequeños.’ My mother took offense to her mother-in-law’s reference to her children as little animals, and it took months before they declared a truce.”
    â€œWhat did your parents do that ticked off your grandmother?”
    â€œWe played music all day and half the night—loud. The house was always open to our friends for sleepovers and pool parties. And because Daddy had set up his own record company, there was an unending stream of popular and wannabe musicians coming to the in-home recording studio. It was cool to see them come to record a demo, and a year later see them on television in their own music video.”
    â€œIt sounds as if you had a lot of fun.”
    â€œIt was. Where did you grow up?” she asked Merrick.
    â€œTexas.”
    â€œI knew it.”
    â€œWhat did you know?”
    â€œI knew you were from the South.”
    â€œSouthwest,” he corrected softly.
    â€œTexas is still the South. Where in Texas were you raised?”
    â€œDallas, Waco, San Antonio, McAllen, Lubbock, Corpus Christi. You name it, I’ve lived there.”
    Easing out of his loose embrace, Alex sat up. “Why did your family move around so much?”
    The last CD had finished minutes before, and there was only the sound from popping wood and showers of falling embers. Merrick lay on the rug, lifeless as a statue as he stared up at the shadows on the ceiling. He couldn’t chide Alex for asking him about his past because he’d opened the door when he’d asked about her childhood.
    â€œMy family didn’t move. I was the one who moved whenever social workers shuttled me from one foster home to the next. I stopped counting at six.”
    Alex rested a hand on his shoulder. “Where were your parents?”
    He closed his eyes. “I don’t know, Ali. I never knew my mother or father because I was abandoned at birth.”
    Feeling as if her breath had solidified in her throat, Alex was unable to form a response or comeback. Here she was running off at the mouth about the Coles while Merrick had been passed around like an inanimate object to whoever was willing to accept him.
    Merrick sat up. For a long moment he studied Alex intently. “Aren’t you going to say what all of the others have said?”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œThat you’re sorry.”
    Her eyelids fluttered as she registered the coldness that’d crept into his voice, and she wondered whether he’d grown up listening to people pitying him for a turbulent childhood. What about those who’d been presented with an opportunity to change his life, yet stood by and did nothing? However, there was something about the prideful man sitting inches from her that silently conveyed that he wouldn’t accept her pity.
    â€œYou’re wrong, Merrick. Who am I to pity you when something tells me you’d throw it back at me?”
    The hard, gray eyes that shimmered like glacial ice softened as a smile touched his mobile mouth. “You’re right, Ali. I don’t want your pity. My past is exactly that—the past.” He traced the outline of her cheek with a forefinger. “It’s getting late, so I’d better be going before I’ll be forced to accept your offer to spend the night.” He rose to his feet, extending his hand and pulling her up with him.
    Alex looked up at him. “I doubt if the fund-raiser will go off as planned tomorrow night.”
    Merrick nodded. “It’s going to be a couple days before things are back to normal.” Lowering his head, he pressed a kiss to Alex’s cheek. “Thanks for dinner and for your company. I’ll call you