With each passing hour she kicked herself a little harder for her lack of due diligence before taking this job. Instead of asking questions, she had let herself get distracted by the size of her impending paycheck. Sure the money was a priority, but why didn’t she think to get a little more information about her boss? She’d really like to know what his story was. Why he seemed so angry at the world.
“I know, I know,” she said to Puddin’, “keep your head low and mind your business.” That was the rule. “But if I knew why, then maybe I’d know if this disappearing act was going to play all summer.”
It still wasn’t too late to find out. Wasn’t that what the Internet was for? Without giving it another thought, she rose from her seat, moving so fast Puddin’ jumped too. Farley said he’d been delivering groceries between three and five years. Chase the Moon came out about six years ago. Surely in six years there would have been some kind of news article written about Alex Markoff, right?
A dozen keystrokes later, she had her answer. The Actress and the Author: It’s Love! screamed the tabloid headline.
Alex Markoff, in love with a movie star? Seemed incongruous if you asked her. But there was proof. A photo of Alex and a familiar blonde cozying up to each other over a cup of coffee. An odd kind of irritation settled over her as she read about their courtship. Apparently the starlet, Alyssa Davenport, met Alex at a book signing. A whirlwind romance followed and much to everyone’s surprise the couple married and settled in Los Angeles where one of Alex’s short stories was being made into a film. Alex’s fame and her looks made them a favorite for the camera. A click of the mouse found dozens of photos. At fund-raisers. At movie premieres. On a producer’s yacht. Of Alyssa’s platinum-blond hair and perfectly formed features. In every photo Mrs. Markoff appeared lovingly perched on her husband’s arm, her smile a glowing complement to Alex’s somber, almost reluctant expression. Even living a fairy tale, he didn’t smile.
Another click and the story changed. “What Went Wrong?” asked the headline superimposed over Alyssa’s face. Other stories promised to reveal “Markoff’s Dark Secrets.”
Everyone talks eventually. And talk they did. Friends, acquaintances, even employees offered lurid “insider” details of the marriage, the breakup and the couple’s intimate life.
“Did everyone who knew him give an interview?” she asked aloud.
“Short answer, yes.”
Kelsey’s stomach dropped. Slowly, she raised her eyes from the screen, coming face to face with Alex. Fury darkened his features. “What the hell are you doing?”
She tried to answer but the words stuck in her throat. Instead she ended up opening and closing her mouth like a fish gasping for air.
Meanwhile, Alex turned the laptop around and glared at the screen. Kelsey could feel the rage boiling up inside him. Which made his tightly controlled voice doubly scary.
“I’ll ask again. What do you think you’re doing?”
“I—I—” Tucking the hair behind her ear, she took a deep breath and steadied herself. A difficult task, what with the death stare Alex was throwing her way. “I’m sorry. I thought maybe if I knew more about you I could—”
“Could what, Miss Albertelli?”
The glare got worse, forcing her to look away. All of a sudden, her answer didn’t sound so adequate. “Understand you better,” she replied softly.
Apparently Alex didn’t find the answer adequate either. His jaw muscle twitched as he looked from her to the screen and back. “You want to understand me better?” he asked finally, his voice even more maddeningly controlled than before. “Then understand this. My private life is that—private. You do not have the right to root around in my past, no matter what your reasons are.”
I wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t such a mystery, Kelsey muttered inside her head. Still, she knew Alex was right. She dropped her gaze to her hands, feeling like a kid caught breaking house rules. It was a feeling she detested, although never so much as this particular moment, since she had no one to blame for her predicament but herself. “It won’t happen again.”
“Damn right it won’t. Because you’re leaving. Today.”
Leaving? As in fired?
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why didn’t she listen to her own rules and mind her own business? No, she had to go poking around in Markoff’s past and get herself fired. Fired as in out on the street with no reference. Who knows how long it would take her to find a new position? Images of collection notices flashed before her eyes. She was so screwed.
“Mr. Markoff, wait!”
Having issued his order, Alex had turned and marched out. Kelsey scrambled after him, catching him by the shoulder. “You need to reconsider.”
He whirled around, lightning flashing in his stormy eyes. “I don’t need to reconsider anything. I’m not the one who invaded my privacy.”
“Please. I need this job.” Lord, but she hated the pleading note in her voice. Another insult courtesy of Grandma Rosie.
“You should have thought of that before you went on Google.”
“But—”
“Today, Miss Albertelli. Go pack your things.”
Idiot. What was she going to do now? Maybe she could get Stuart Lefkowitz to intervene….
She didn’t relish playing this gambit, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and if she had any hope of paying off Grandma Rosie’s debt in a reasonable amount of time, she didn’t have a choice. Alex was almost to the garden door. If he left, who knew how long he’d be gone.
“What about Mr. Lefkowitz? He’s not going to be happy with another delay.”
That stopped him. “Stuart’s happiness isn’t my concern.” He still sounded haughty, but a hint of wariness had crept in.
“I’m sure that’s true,” she replied, “but…”
His lips became a tight line. “But what?”
Now or never. Slowly, deliberately, she crossed the room, making sure her eyes stayed locked with his. It wasn’t easy, what with the fluttering in her stomach that accompanied each step. “But you and I both know he doesn’t want more delays.”
He tried to disguise the hitch in his breath, but she heard it nonetheless. The cards were on the table. He knew that she knew about the breach of contract. For several seconds, the only sound in the entire house was the ticking of the hallway clock. Kelsey waited, holding both her ground and her breath.
Finally, he let out what sounded like a strangled groan. She recognized the noise as defeat. “Why won’t the world just leave me alone,” he muttered, jamming his fingers through his hair. “Is that so much to ask?”
The pain in his growl did little to ease her conscience as Kelsey watched him stomp away. Although he didn’t say so, she knew she’d won the challenge. He wouldn’t throw her out. This time anyway. She waited until she heard the front door slam before sinking to the sofa in relief. Relief accompanied by a hefty dose of guilt. Cursing, she smacked a nearby cushion.
So much for her getting on Alex Markoff’s good side.
CHAPTER THREE
THAT night, Kelsey went out to eat. After the day’s debacle, she wanted to put as much distance between her and Alex as possible. She ended up in town at the local inn. The two-hundred-year-old building featured a pub in the basement, so she tried drowning her guilt with a cheeseburger and Irish music. No such luck though. Her conscience still felt lousy. She could kick herself for being so nosy. Alex was right; his past was none of her business. After all, how would she feel if someone poked around in her life?
And yet, thanks to those shocking Web sites, here she was obsessing more than ever. There was something about the man she simply couldn’t let go of. Something in the way he expressed his anger. In the way he begged the world to leave him alone. There was despair in those gray eyes of his that told her there was far more to Alex Markoff than some angry, mournful hermit.
What was he like before his divorce, she wondered. Carefree? Happy? She tried to picture him laughi
ng and came up short.
How sad. Even she found occasion to laugh once in a while.
It was well past midnight when she returned to Nuttingwood. She might have arrived back earlier, but no sooner did she leave the restaurant than the sky erupted in a monstrous thunderstorm. Thanks to the torrential rain, the wind and the lack of streetlights, she couldn’t see more than five feet in front of her on the drive home. As a result, she missed the fork with the pine tree and had to retrace her path.
Happily, Nuttingwood was dark when she pulled into the drive. Alex was, no doubt, avoiding her as well. She dashed to the front door, bumping her hip against the marble entranceway table the second she crossed the threshold. Cursing for not leaving a light on, she felt along the wall until she found the switch and flipped it upward.
Nothing happened.
She flipped the switch again. And again.
“You’re wasting your time.”
Lightning flashed, briefly illuminating the room and she caught sight of a dark silhouette at the great room window. “You’re wasting your time,” Alex repeated. “Lights went out thirty minutes ago.”
Kelsey drew closer. Now that her eyes had adjusted, she could see Alex was doing more than simply standing at the window. He was kneading the muscles on the back on his neck. He wore a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants with no shirt. His hair was messed too. He must have been lying down when the storm hit. Seeing him so exposed felt queerly intimate, almost voyeuristic. For the first time since she moved in, Kelsey realized she shared a house in the woods with a flesh-and-blood man. A very handsome, very desirable man. The sudden awareness made part of her grow shaky while other parts became painfully awake.
“This happen often?” she asked. “Power outages, I mean.” Nice to know how frequently they’d find themselves together in the dark. Because of a storm, that is.
“If the wind blows hard enough.”
“And how often is that?” she asked, reaching his shoulder. He didn’t turn around upon her approach, seemingly intent on studying the shadows in the garden. Lightning flashed, and she caught his reflection. His expression was much farther away than this room.
“Often enough. There’s an emergency generator in the basement.”
“You haven’t turned it on yet?”
“I like the darkness.”
Why am I not surprised?
“Did you say something?”
“Nothing important.” She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud. Covering, she changed topics. “Lightning’s putting on quite a show.”
“Suppose.”
“When I was little one of the other fost—other kids told me thunder and lightning were caused by alien attacks. Scared me so much I would hide under the covers.” She could still remember cowering under the blanket, clutching her mother’s cup to her chest like a talisman. “The stupid things kids fall for, huh?”
“Not only kids.”
“What?” His voice was so soft, she missed part of his sentence, making it her turn to ask, “Did you say something?”
“Nothing important.”
Intuition said otherwise, but she didn’t press. He wouldn’t admit the truth if she did. So instead, she stole what had to be the hundredth look at his profile. In the dark, she could only see the outline of his features. His expression was impossible to read. Even so, his magnetism was stronger than ever. Maybe because they were alone, or because the dark made everything that much more intimate, but she felt surrounded by him. There seemed no escaping his scent or the heat emanating from his body. She could even feel the rise and fall of his chest, his breathing strained as it filled his lungs. His desolation was palpable, so much so she hurt for him. She found herself wanting to reach out and soothe his pain.
“I’m sorry about this afternoon,” she said softly. “I had no right to snoop behind your back.”
“No, you didn’t.”
The corner of her mouth twitched upward with guilty amusement. “You don’t believe in cutting people slack, do you?”
“If I cut slack to everyone who betrayed my privacy, I’d need a much larger supply of scissors.”
She thought of the gossip articles and Web sites, and she understood. No one deserved to have their life splashed on the front page. “I’m sorry too, about your marriage.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Still, you—”
“I don’t want to talk about Alyssa, Miss Albertelli. Our marriage failed. End of story.”
The myriad of emotions in his voice—anger, frustration, hurt—said otherwise, but seeing as how she was already treading on thin ice, Kelsey didn’t push. “Did you say the generator was in the basement?”
“At the foot of the stairs.” He sounded grateful for the change of subject.
“Mind if I turn it on? You can keep the lights out in this room, but I’d like to find my way upstairs without incident.” Not to mention, shedding light might diminish the intimacy of their situation. Maybe, if she could see his usual stormy expression, she wouldn’t feel his pull so intensely.
“Knock yourself out.”
Finding her way to the kitchen in the dark was easier said than done. Nuttingwood was one of those houses that had been added onto over the years, leading to an abundance of twists and turns and unexpected corners. During the day, the eclectic layout gave the house character, but at night, in the pitch black, the layout became a pedestrian nightmare. Kelsey was certain she’d fall and break an arm too. Worse, she’d break some piece of furniture or irreplaceable family heirloom.
Eventually she reached the double-swing door leading to the kitchen, just in time to hear footsteps approach from behind.
“You’ll need a flashlight,” Alex said, giving the door a push. Kelsey followed in silence, trying not to think about how his body brushed against hers when he passed.
He moved around the dark kitchen with a grace to be admired. At least she assumed he moved with grace since she didn’t hear any of the bumps or knocks that accompanied her own clumsy movements. The basement door was to the side, behind the farmer’s table. She was walking cautiously in that direction when she heard the scraping of a chair being dragged across the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“The flashlight’s in the back of the cupboard. With my cast, I can’t reach it flatfooted.”
“Then let me.” Making her way back toward his silhouette, she took the chair from his grip. “It’s pitch black in here. Break your other arm and I’ll be here till Christmas.”
“By all means then, be my guest. We wouldn’t want that.”
Even though he couldn’t see her, Kelsey smirked in his direction and stepped up. A warm sturdy hand pressed to her back. “I’m steadying you,” Alex said from behind.
Steadying, huh? Then why did her legs feel shaky? Why did her spine feel like it had an electrical current running up and down it?
“There a problem?”
“No problem.” It was the dark, she decided. It heightened everything. Turning something innocent, like a simple touch or Alex’s low-pitched voice, into something sensual. Once the lights came on, the illusion would disappear.
All of a sudden, a pitiful wail sounded in the kitchen.
“What on earth was that?” Alex asked.
“I’m not—” The wail sounded again and recognition dawned.
“Puddin’!” She’d wondered what kind of shelter the cat had found to ride out the storm. He must have heard her drive up and was crying to come in the house. “Poor thing must be drenched to the skin.”
“Who’s Puddin’?”
Jumping down from the chair, she hurried to the back door only to have a jet-propelled streak of water rush past her legs when she opened it. Loud meows filled the kitchen. There was a click, and Alex, who’d apparently retrieved the flashlight, focused the beam on the sopping orange mass shivering under the kitchen table.
“That,” Kelsey said, “is Puddin’.”
“It’s a cat
.”
An extremely sarcastic retort jumped to the tip of her tongue, but Kelsey managed to bite it off. “A very wet one at that. Would you hand me the dish towel?”
“For what?”
“To dry him off, of course. Or would you rather he drip water all over the floor?” Alex sighed, but she heard him move toward the kitchen sink. All the while keeping the light shining on Puddin’s waterlogged form.
“Poor baby, he’s trembling.” She reached out her hand, letting the scared animal sniff her fingers. “You’re okay now. I think he’s been living in your garden. He showed up on the terrace the other morning and has been keeping me company since.”
“You mean you’ve been encouraging him?”
Don’t tell her, she broke another rule. Taking the towel Alex draped over her shoulder, she gently wrapped the stray up. The cat barely protested, an indication of how wet and miserable his state was. A low rumble sounded deep in his chest. “See, he’s happier already,” she said.
“Bully for him,” Alex grumbled. “Now that he’s happy, what are you going to do?”
“I—” Good question. She hadn’t thought much further than rescuing the little guy. “Well, we can’t very well put him back outdoors,” she said.
“We can’t?”
“Look outside. It’s raining cats and dogs.”
“Then he’ll be right at home.”
“Very funny. Why can’t he stay the night in the house? He’s not causing any trouble.” She lifted Puddin’ a little closer. The cat immediately curled into her, seeking warmth and attention. “See?”
Alex flashed the light at her. “He doesn’t belong here.”
His words pushed a button inside her. How many times had she heard that same disinterested tone? “Says who?”
“Says me, the owner of the house.”
Didn’t matter. She looked at Puddin’ who was flexing his front paws, oblivious to the debate around him, and felt frustrated anger swelling in her chest. Suddenly this wasn’t about keeping a cat dry; it was about being wanted. About having someone want you. “I’m not putting him outside in this weather. He’ll catch cold.”
Beauty and the Brooding Boss Page 3
