Obsession

by Lisa Jackson

  This couldn’t happen! Kaylie planted her palms on the top of her desk and tried her best to remain calm. “What I did or didn’t do isn’t really any of your business.”

  “You left us in the lurch, Kaylie!”

  “You seemed to handle everything well enough without me. And if I remember correctly, I covered for you a couple of years ago—when you bruised your backside and your ego while snowboarding.”

  Alan’s face went white. “But I couldn’t tell Jim or the rest of the crew that I’d…” His voice dropped off, and he swallowed hard.

  “That you ended up with a broken tailbone trying some silly teenaged stunt with a ski bunny who’d been busted for drugs?”

  “Oh, God.” The wind disappeared from his sails. “You know about all that?” He ran a shaking hand across his hair, and his toupee slid a little. Kaylie almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

  “So what happened?” he asked, his face puddling into a pout as he slid into a chair near her desk. “I thought it was over between you and Flannery.”

  “It was.”

  “But…?”

  She was through lying. In fact, as soon as she was finished talking to Alan, she’d go and explain everything to Jim. If the powers-that-be in the station decided to fire her, so be it. At least she wouldn’t have to walk this tightrope of lies any longer. “Zane stopped by the other night and we went to dinner. He persuaded me to go to the mountains with him for a few days.”

  “Just like that?” Alan snapped his fingers.

  “Oh, no, it took a lot of convincing,” she said, swallowing a smile as she remembered how Zane had fireman-carried her into the lodge. “A lot of convincing.”

  “For God’s sake, why did you agree to have dinner with him in the first place?”

  “It was part of the deal.”

  “The deal?” he repeated, shaking his head. He rolled his eyes and tossed his hands up. “So now she’s making deals with her ex-husband! Kaylie, do you know that the press has us practically married?”

  “We discussed this. It’s a dead issue.”

  “I know, I know. But…well, I thought we could let it ride awhile. What could it hurt? But you running off with Flannery, well, that about kills it.”

  “Good!”

  Alan left a few minutes later, and Kaylie marched into Jim Crowley’s office to tell him the abbreviated truth. Jim took the news in stride. He wasn’t happy, of course, and he warned her to “call next time—about ten days before you plan to leave.” But she left his office with her pride and her job intact.

  * * *

  Hours later, she returned to her apartment. Zane was long gone, but the scent of him still lingered in the air. The bed was made, but she couldn’t resist taking a pillow and breathing deeply. The feathers still smelled of his aftershave. “Oh, Melville, you’ve got it bad,” she chided, still clutching the pillow as she fell back on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. “Real bad!”

  Realizing that she sounded like an adolescent in the throes of puppy love, she tossed the pillow aside and walked into the kitchen.

  The red light on the answering machine was blinking, and she played back the messages only to hear Zane’s voice, as if he were there.

  “I guess I’m hung up here at the office awhile,” he said with a sigh. “So I won’t be over.”

  “Too bad,” she murmured, though she did feel a jab of disappointment.

  “But I’ll call you later and I’ll see you soon.”

  He hung up, and she listened to a couple more messages—one from Margot begging her to call and another from an insurance salesman.

  After popping a dinner into the microwave, she dialed Margot’s number.

  “Hello?”

  “I should tar and feather you,” Kaylie announced.

  “I guess you talked to Alan.”

  “Screamed would be the appropriate word.”

  “I know I shouldn’t have said a word to him, but he had the nerve to call here asking about you, and I just had to set him in his place. If you ask me, that guy’s got a screw loose.”

  “Alan?” Kaylie laughed.

  “I’m not kidding. I bet he’s the one that gave all those papers the idea you two were engaged. Anyway, I couldn’t resist hinting around about Zane. He deserved it.”

  Kaylie couldn’t stay angry with Margot for long. “It’s okay, I guess. I was tired of talking about this fictitious Aunt Brenda and I told Jim the whole story—well, most of it. Fortunately I still have my job.”

  The microwave beeped, and as they talked, Kaylie pulled out her dinner—a pathetic-looking concoction of chicken, peas and potatoes—while Margot asked about Zane.

  “He’s not here,” Kaylie said, nearly burning her fingers as she opened the plastic cover.

  “No?” Margot sounded worried.

  “He does have his own life.”

  “I know but—”

  “Look, Margot, I know you think that Zane and I should reconcile and live this storybook existence, but it’s not going to happen.”

  “Why not?”

  Exasperated, Kaylie replied, “For one reason, he’s not Prince Charming and I’m not Snow White or Cinderella or whoever it was Prince Charming was linked up with.”

  “Oh, Kaylie,” Margot said cryptically, “if you only knew.”

  * * *

  At eleven-thirty, Zane was finally caught up. His work, while he’d been off in the mountains with Kaylie, had piled up. He’d had to deal with a complaint about one of his men in the Beverly Hills office, double-check two new security systems in offices downtown, hire three more men as well as go over the books quickly to keep his accountant appeased.

  And through it all, he’d thought of Kaylie, worried about her, wished to God that she was with him.

  He reached for the phone, but decided not to call her. It was too late. She’d be exhausted. And he’d promised himself to let her live her own life.

  Lifting his arms over his head, he felt his spine pop from hours of restless sitting. He stood, walked to the window, and stretching the muscles of his back and shoulders, caught a glimpse of the city at night. Cars rushed by, their headlights cutting into the semidarkness, their taillights small red beacons. A few pedestrians scurried along the sidewalks, black forms visible in the lamplight.

  He’d called Whispering Hills earlier in the day and been assured by Dr. Henshaw that Johnston was going to stay locked up for a while. But, though the good doctor had been forthcoming, Zane had a feeling Henshaw wasn’t telling him everything.

  It wasn’t anything Henshaw had said; it was the hesitation in his voice that had caused the hairs on the back of Zane’s neck to rise—it was as if the doctor were trying to hide information.

  “But why?” Zane wondered aloud, rubbing the day’s growth of beard on his chin. Maybe Kaylie was right. Maybe, where her safety was concerned, he was paranoid.

  Even the tape from Ted could be a hoax. But why? Why?

  He’d had gut feelings before and he never second-guessed his instincts. Right or wrong, he had to be careful. This was Kaylie’s life—her life, damn it. He wasn’t about to fool around.

  He rotated his neck, closing his eyes. She would be furious if she even guessed that he’d sent someone to watch her apartment, to follow her, to protect her when he wasn’t with her.

  “You’re getting in deep, Flannery,” he told himself as he grabbed his keys and snapped off the lights. No, that was wrong. Where Kaylie was concerned, he’d always been in deep, so deep that he felt that sometimes he was drowning.

  He wanted nothing more than to drive to her apartment and stay the night, make love to her and awake with her wrapped around him. But he couldn’t.

  “Breathing room,” he muttered as he locked the door of the building behind him. “She wants breathing room.”

  * * *

  Alan Bently swirled his onion in his glass and stared broodingly at his drink. Seated at a private table in an expensive restaurant, he was alone with hi
s own bleak thoughts. He was past forty—pushing forty-five—and his hair was little more than a memory. Though he worked out every day, his physique was suffering and his career looked as if it was on hold. Or worse.

  For a while, with all the hype and speculation about Kaylie and him being romantically involved, things had started to look up. His agent had talked about a possible part in a movie, and there was even a rumor that a big-name producer was interested in putting Kaylie and Alan back on the silver screen together—to do a sequel to Obsession. True it had been over seven years since the original movie had been released, but that didn’t matter. Sequels were the thing now.

  But Zane Flannery seemed hell-bent on ruining everything. It didn’t matter that he and Kaylie had disappeared for a while, though Alan would have liked to milk that disappearance for a little publicity, and he’d enjoyed being the star of the show. Now she was back and definitely not interested in anything but Flannery. Again.

  So all his dreams seemed to be slipping away. Like a ghost from his past, fame eluded him. Alan Bently wanted the big time and he’d tasted a little of it once. Not that his job with the station was anything to sneeze at. West Coast Morning was big—at least on the West Coast. But it wasn’t as glamorous as a successful movie. He wanted his name in the credits. He was still young enough to be a leading man, but he couldn’t wait much longer.

  Alan tossed back his drink. He knew that his career was teetering on the brink. One wrong move and the fickle public would forget him. But, with the right amount of publicity and interest, he could reach the big time again.

  Smiling as the liquor slid through his system, sending a cozy warmth through his bloodstream, he motioned to the mâitre d’ for a telephone and made the call that would ensure his fame again.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning Kaylie felt a pang of loneliness. Zane wasn’t lying in the sheets, nor was he winking at her, nor making jokes with her, nor, as she headed for the door, tossing off the blankets and, without a stitch on, chasing her down the hall.

  “This is what you wanted,” she told herself as she grabbed a piece of toast, slapped some butter on it and munched as she locked the door behind her.

  She felt restless and anxious. For seven years she’d lived without Zane, and now, she told herself as she drove toward the station, she couldn’t stand one night away from him.

  Her thoughts still clouded by Zane, she flipped on the radio, hoping to hear the news, and tried to concentrate on what was happening in the world—to no avail.

  At the station’s lot, she parked her rental, snatched her briefcase and climbed out of the car. In her peripheral vision, as she locked the car door, she noticed a silver Ford Taurus parked on the other side of the short hedge that separated the station’s lot from the street. The driver didn’t get out of his car, but pulled a newspaper from the seat beside him and began scanning it as if he were waiting for someone.

  A car pool?

  Had she seen the car before—yesterday morning? She couldn’t remember, and deciding the man had every right to read his paper in the car, walked briskly to the station doors.

  Inside, she poured herself a cup of coffee, and after talking with a few co-workers, none of whom asked about Aunt Brenda, fortunately, she made her way to her office where she sequestered herself with the intention to go over her notes on today’s guests: a heart surgeon from Moscow, a woman who wrote a diet book for people who love chocolate, and a new young actor promoting his latest movie.

  She’d no more than sat down when there was a tap on the door, and Alan, already in makeup, poked his head inside. “I’d like to talk to you after the show,” he said, as Audra rushed by him with her huge case and a quick “’Scuse me.”

  “Sure. What about?”

  He glanced at Audra then shook his head. “It’ll wait.”

  “Good, because I can’t!” Audra said, unzipping her case and eyeing Kaylie. “Now, you don’t look as good as you did yesterday.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Kaylie teased, but she knew the hairdresser was right. Two nights ago she’d slept soundly in Zane’s arms, only to be awakened to make love to him. Last night she’d tossed and turned, angry with him one minute, missing him the next. She hadn’t gotten much sleep.

  “A few eyedrops—a little blush, and you’ll be good as new,” Audra announced, but Kaylie wasn’t convinced.

  However, Audra worked her magic and Kaylie felt better. The show went well, and aside from Alan sending her silent messages she didn’t understand, the segments passed without a hitch.

  Afterward she had lunch in the deli across the street, then spent the rest of the afternoon in her office, reviewing the tape of the day’s show and making preparations for the next program.

  There was a quick knock on the door, and Alan once again poked his head inside. “Got a minute?”

  “Sure. What’s up?” She tossed her pencil onto the desk as Alan closed the door behind him.

  “There’s talk about a sequel to Obsession.”

  “I’ve heard.”

  “The producer’s talking with the writer of the original script as well as to Cameron.” Cameron James had been the director of Obsession.

  Alan’s face was split with a huge grin. “This could revive both our careers,” Alan went on, pacing on the other side of Kaylie’s desk.

  “No one’s approached me yet,” she said.

  “And if they do?”

  “I—I don’t know.” A shiver of fear slid down her spine as she remembered the premiere.

  “‘Don’t know’?” he repeated, aghast. “Kaylie, just think of it. You never had a chance to prove yourself as anything but a child star, but now you could show how you’ve grown up, how your character has matured!” He was excited. His eyes practically glowed, and his hands became expressive. “This is an opportunity we can’t pass up.”

  “No one’s shown me a script yet.”

  “It’ll happen,” Alan predicted, buoyed. “I spoke with my agent last night and again this morning. Sequels are all the rage. Look at Back to the Future, the Rocky films. Not every one is a blockbuster, but some are. And they don’t have to be action films. There’s Texasville.”

  Kaylie considered the idea. She’d been approached to do small parts in several movies over the years, but had always declined. “I’m happy here—doing what we do, Alan.”

  “Well,” he said, rubbing his hands nervously, “it hasn’t happened yet, but when it does, just promise me you’ll keep an open mind. I know that the Obsession premiere was a real bummer, but it was a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and look at it this way, the publicity didn’t hurt the ticket sales.”

  “Alan!”

  He grinned as he reached for the door handle. “Just a little joke. You know, you’re too serious, Kaylie. Much too serious. You need to lighten up.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He left, and Kaylie, a headache beginning to pound behind her eyes, decided to call it a day. She was tired of Alan and his schemes. How could he talk about the premiere of Obsession as if the entire horrifying experience were nothing more than a publicity stunt?

  If only it had been….

  But the memory was too vivid, the images too terrifying and real. Frowning darkly, trying not to dwell on the brutal image of that night, she shivered and told herself to shake off the lingering fears.

  She didn’t see him, so much as feel his presence.

  “Kaylie?” Zane’s voice drifted to her as if in a dream. Standing in the doorway, filling it with his broad shoulders and narrow hips, Zane was watching her. His hair was mussed, and Kaylie guessed he’d sprinted across the parking lot.

  “Is something wrong?” His features were taut with concern.

  “Oh—no, nothing.” She decided there was no reason to worry him just because Alan had mentioned the premiere of Obsession.

  “Nothing?” He closed the door behind him and crossed the room. “Something’s bothering you,” he challenged, hook
ing one leg over the corner of her desk. “What happened?” Concern etched the lines of his face, and she thought guiltily that she should be thankful that he cared.

  She couldn’t lie. “Well, for starters, Alan seems to think I should jump-start my movie career by agreeing to costar in Obsession II or whatever it may be called.”

  Zane didn’t move.

  “Never mind that there’s no script or director, yet.”

  “You couldn’t—”

  “And that was on top of a pretty bad week to begin with.”

  “Bad?” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

  “Well, you see, I have this ex-husband, who has been ramrodding his way back into my life.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You probably know the type—pushy, arrogant, opinionated.”

  “But handsome, sexy and intelligent.”

  “That’s the one,” she said, her bad mood beginning to evaporate.

  “And you don’t like him pushing you around, right?”

  She avoided his eyes for a second and fingered the strand of pearls at her throat. “Well, the problem is, I do like him—a lot. More than I think I should. But I don’t appreciate him trying to dominate me. But he knows that—”

  Zane reached across the desk and took her hand in his. “Kaylie, I love you.” The words hung in the air suspended by unseen emotional threads.

  Her mouth went dry, and she had trouble finding her voice. As she stared into his eyes, she whispered, “Love isn’t based on possession, Zane, and you’ve tried to possess me for as long as I can remember.”

  “Hey, Kaylie, about tomorrow’s show—” Alan said, opening the door without knocking. With one glance at Zane, he froze.

  To Kaylie’s surprise, Zane actually smiled, releasing Kaylie’s hand and facing Alan. “Bently,” he drawled, as if seeing a long-lost friend. “I was just asking Kaylie if she’s seen the front page of The Insider.

  “You what…?” Kaylie asked, feeling a cold lump form in her stomach. Alan licked his lips.

  Zane reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and withdrew a folded piece of newsprint. He smoothed it on her desk, and she read the bold, two-inch-high headline: Lover’s Spat Forces Kaylie Off Morning Show.