Beauty and the Brooding Boss
Beauty and the Brooding Boss
Barbara Wallace
Working for reclusive author Alex Markoff sounded like Kelsey Albertelli's dream job until she met her new boss.Alex might be movie-star handsome, but his gruff grouchiness makes it clear that Kelsey is not exactly welcome. Kelsey's a fighter and she refuses to tiptoe around a man who clearly needs looking after, even if he's too stubborn to admit it!As cracks gradually appear in Alex's forbidding exterior, for the first time Kelsey feels dangerously close to belonging. Can she hope for her own happy-ever-after?
When ordinary girls get their fairy-tale endings!
Who says fairy stories can’t come true? Once Upon a Kiss… is our brand-new miniseries featuring up-to-the-minute retellings of classic, well-loved stories. Immerse yourself in a little bit of fantasy for the modern-day girl, and be whisked away, along with our down-to-earth heroines, to the romances of your wildest daydreams!
Once Upon a Kiss… launches this month with Barbara Wallace’s Beauty and the Brooding Boss. Fall in love with Beauty and the Beast all over again as grouchy-but-gorgeous Alex Markoff meets innocent secretary Kelsey Albertelli—the beauty who holds the key to healing his guarded heart….
In May, look out for the next book in this series, Her Desert Prince, by Rebecca Winters—exotic escapism at its very best! Enjoy Arabian Nights— Harlequin Romance
style….
Dear Reader,
There’s this fantastic old movie called The Enchanted Cottage. In it, two wounded people hide from the world in a country cottage. While there, they discover their scars mysteriously disappear. At first they credit the cottage with weaving a magic spell, but in the end come to realize the real magic was the love they’d found with each other.
I couldn’t help thinking of this movie when writing Beauty and the Brooding Boss. Like the characters in the movie, Alex Markoff has withdrawn to a country cottage to hide from a world that let him down. In her own way, Kelsey Albertelli is hiding, too—she’s protecting herself from life’s bumps and bruises. When these two loners suddenly find themselves spending the summer together in the romantic countryside, they find their self-protective walls chipped away. But the question is, will their relationship survive the outside world? Will their love be strong enough to weave a magic spell for them?
This book has a special spot in my heart because it’s based in the Berkshire Mountains where I grew up. I took a few liberties in creating the locations. Many of the settings, like Alex’s woods, the Leafy Bean and the Music Center, are loosely based on real locations. It was a lot of fun finding romance in my hometown.
I hope you enjoy Alex and Kelsey’s journey to happily-ever-after as much as I enjoyed writing it. Your comments are always welcome at my website, www.barbarawallace.com.
Best wishes and happy reading,
Barbara
Beauty and the Brooding Boss
Barbara Wallace
Barbara Wallace has been a lifelong romantic and daydreamer, so it’s not surprising she decided to become a writer at age eight. However, it wasn’t until a coworker handed her a romance novel that she knew where her stories belonged. For years she limited her dreams to nights, weekends and commuter train trips while working as a communications specialist, PR freelancer and full-time mom. At the urging of her family, she finally chucked the day job to pursue writing full-time, and she couldn’t be happier.
Barbara lives in Massachusetts with her husband, their teenage son and two very spoiled selfcentered cats (as if there could be any other kind). Readers can visit her at www.barbarawallace.com and find her on Facebook. She’d love to hear from you.
For Peter—
I couldn’t do this without you.
And for the Moody Muses—
the best support group a gal could ask for.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER ONE
ALEX Markoff WASN’T really ugly.
Nor was he scarred, horribly disfigured, or any of the other things Kelsey imagined a recluse to be. In fact, the man standing before her couldn’t be described as anything less than stunning. He was tall, at least a half a foot taller than her, with a lanky athletic build that took up most of the door frame. Faded jeans hung low on narrow hips while a black golf shirt molded to expansive shoulders. With his right arm engulfed from biceps to fingers in a plaster cast, she wondered how he managed to put on such a well-fitting garment.
Storm-cloud-colored eyes bore down on her from above finely-honed cheekbones.
Nope, not ugly. But definitely unhappy to see her on his doorstep.
Other doorsteps and other unwelcome expressions threatened on the edge of her memory and she shook them away. This wasn’t the same. Not at all. Still, she couldn’t stop that all-too-familiar uncertainty from creeping into her voice as she offered up a polite smile. “Hi. I’m Kelsey Albertelli.”
When he didn’t respond, she added, “Your new assistant.”
Silence.
“From New York. Mr. Lefkowitz hired me to—”
“I know who you are.”
His voice matched his physical stature. Kelsey nearly stepped back from its impact. Or was it the barely veiled hostility?
Driving up the Taconic Parkway with the windows rolled down had blown her topknot loose, and strands of brown hair were falling into her line of sight. She tucked a few of them behind her ear. “Good. For a moment, I thought maybe Mr. Lefkowitz’s office forgot to close the loop.”
“No, he closed it. Several times.”
Kelsey nodded as an awkward silence settled between them. More strands of hair fell in her face. She tucked them back and waited to see what Markoff would say next.
The answer was nothing. He simply turned around and retreated into the house leaving her standing alone on the threshold.
Can’t say you weren’t warned. “Doubt you’ll get much of a warm welcome,” his editor had said. Clearly an understatement. “Just remember, he doesn’t have a choice. You work for me, not him.”
“Don’t worry,” she’d assured him. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. Nothing I can’t handle.” For the right price. Thanks to Grandma Rosie, she was all about the paycheck these days. She’d have to work three or four jobs to earn what Mr. Lefkowitz offered. Besides, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t shown up unwanted on a doorstep before.
Coincidentally, that was thanks to Grandma Rosie too.
Since Markoff left the door open, she assumed he intended her to follow. By the time she realized and crossed the threshold, he was several paces ahead, and she had to rush to catch up.
“You’re certainly tucked away up here,” she said, reaching his shoulder. “You don’t get too many sets of directions saying ‘turn right at the big pine tree’ in New York City. I think I turned right three times at three different trees.”
“It’s the one at the fork,” he replied.
“I know that now.” She emphasized the word. “Still, in most places when they give you a landmark, it’s a building or a sign or something. Not a pine tree. I missed your driveway the first time driving by too. You can barely see your mailbox behind the bushes. But then, I imagine that’s the point….”
Her sentence faded off. She was rambling. She hated rambling. Nervous chatter to fill up silence. Drove her insane. She’d had enough of it as a kid to last a lifetime. Got to the point, in fact, where she wanted to scream at the social workers to shut up. Yet here she was doing the same exact thing. Anxiously trying to break the ice with a man whose resentment at her presence poured off him in waves.
Still, she refused to feel intimidated. “Mr. Lefkowitz said you write all your drafts longhand. I assume that’s what I’ll be typing—your longhand draft, that is.” Her gaze flickered to his plaster-encased arm. “I hope breaking your arm hasn’t affected your progress.”
No sooner did the words leave her mouth than he stopped short, turning his gray eyes on her. Kelsey found herself rooted to the spot by their intensity. “Did Stuart tell you to ask that?”
“I—I—” Kelsey honestly didn’t know how to reply.
“You tell Stuart Lefkowitz he’ll get his manuscript when he gets it. Bad enough he’s foisted a damn typist on me—I don’t need a babysitter too.”
“I wasn’t—that is, I’m not—” Scrambling to catch up once again, Kelsey found herself wishing she’d asked a few more questions during her job interview. That’s what you get for being motivated by money.
When she first learned she’d be typing manuscript pages for Alex Markoff—the Alex Markoff—she thought the assignment sounded exotic. She’d been in high school when Chase the Moon debuted, but she remembered the book sitting on teachers’ desks, and she remembered reading excerpts from it in literature class. Alex Markoff was The Author of the Decade. The one writer everyone clamored to read.
She stole another look at her new boss. Maybe she should have looked at a book jacket before arriving. His looks might not have caught her so off guard. It wasn’t that he was stereotypically handsome—in profile some might consider the nose a tad long or his jaw too angular—but the strong features suited him. Hard to believe she imagined him disfigured. Then again, how else was she supposed to picture a man who went from bestselling author to hermit?
She really should have asked more questions during the interview.
Looking to her surroundings for answers, she could only see that Nuttingwood was as dark and masculine as its owner. It reminded her of an English cottage from some old black-and-white movie, all stone and ivy. The front room was similar in appearance, small with antique furniture and hunter green furnishings.
Turning the corner, however, Kelsey suddenly found herself thrust into a large space dominated by windows and French doors. Outside lay a sprawling garden awash with color so vivid it made both the dark wood interior and the green Berkshire mountains pale in comparison. Through the glass she could see birds darting back and forth amid the flowers, many of which she didn’t recognize.
“Wow,” she said under her breath. It was like standing in the New York Botanical Garden.
Footsteps pulled her from her reverie. Markoff had headed across the open space to a door on the opposite side. Following, Kelsey found herself in a room similar to the one she left, though smaller and with fewer windows. It was no less spectacular, however, thanks to a pair of French doors that opened onto a terraced rose garden. Adirondack chairs encouraged visitors outside, while inside a pair of plaid overstuffed rockers battled back with a comfortable invitation of their own. Clutter—mostly magazines, books and papers—littered the end tables and bookcases. A few crumpled balls of paper lay on the floor. For some strange reason, they seemed more like decorations than mess, complements to the room’s lived-in atmosphere.
“Great office.” In her mind, she could imagine him scribbling away by the window.
Markoff simply pointed to a large wooden desk tucked in the corner. “You can work here.”
“No computer?” The desk was barren of electronics.
“You can use your own and save to a flash drive.”
“Okay.” Good thing she had brought a laptop. Wonder what else she’d need. “Do you get Internet up here on the mountain?”
“Why?” That laserlike intensity had returned to his eyes, and they now bore into her suspiciously, as if she’d asked him for the National Defense codes. “Why would you need Internet access?”
“So I can keep in contact with New York. Mr. Lefkowitz will want updates.”
He made a noise in the back of his throat, a sort of quiet, guttural growl. Kelsey immediately recalled his babysitter comment. Just her luck to step into some sort of bad blood between editor and writer. “If you don’t, I can find a place in town—”
“There’s Internet.”
“Great.” She’d worry about access another time when he was in a better mood. If he had a better mood.
A stack of yellow notepads lay on the desk so she turned her attention to them. “This is what I’m typing, I presume.”
“Type exactly what’s written,” he replied. “Don’t change a thing. Not a single word. If you can’t read something, leave it blank. I’ll fill in the word later.”
Kelsey picked up the top notebook. Lines of gray masculine scrawl filled the page. Great. He wrote in pencil. And changed his mind a lot too. With all the arrows and slashes, the paper looked more like a sports play than a story. Looked like there would be a lot of blanks.
“Anything else?” she asked. One thing she learned as a temp was to learn an employer’s quirks and rules upfront. Knowledge made adjusting to that much easier, and she figured Markoff’s typing guidelines were merely the tip of the iceberg.
She was right. “I don’t like loud noise,” he continued. “No music, no loud voices. If you need to call your boyfriend or whoever—”
“I won’t be calling anyone.” Her quick answer must have caught him by surprise, because his stormy eyes blinked. “No boyfriend, no family.” Why she felt the need to supply the information, she didn’t know.
A shadow flickered across his face, momentarily quieting the turbulence in his eyes. The change threw her off balance. Without the glare, his face went from intense to downright arresting. It was most unsettling. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she looked away to the ground.
“Well, if you do need to make a call,” she heard him say, “please go outside. Or better yet, wait until after work hours.”
“Speaking of which, what hours did you have in mind? I mean, do you have a preference? So I don’t disturb you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Because he didn’t care or because she would disturb him no matter what? “Then if it’s all right with you, I’m a morning person. I like to get an early start on the day.”
“Fine.”
Silence engulfed them once more, awkward and uneasy. Kelsey adjusted her appearance: her satchel, the hem of her T-shirt, anything rather than let Markoff’s obvious displeasure get under her skin.
“Well then,” she said, forcing a cheery note, “since we’ve covered where I’m working, what I’m working on and when, all that’s left to settle is where you’d like me to sleep.” Again, she found herself prodding his non-response. “Mr. Lefkowitz said you agreed to let me stay here.” Amazingly.
“Upstairs,” he replied. “The bedrooms are upstairs.”
“Is there a particular room…?”
“I don’t care.”
“As long as I don’t steal yours, right?”
Her attempt at levity fell flat. More than flat, based on how his expression darkened.
“I appreciate you being so accommodating. The Berkshires are a popular spot apparently, because summer rooms are at a premium.” She was babbling again. “Mr. Lefkowitz had his office call every hotel first.”
“I’m sure he did.”
Was that skepticism in his voice? What on earth? Did he think she chose to stay up here in the middle of nowhere? She took a deep breath and smoothed back her hair. “Look, Mr. Markoff, I know this arrangement wasn’t your idea.” She kept her voice as level and calm as possible. “And I’ll be the first to admit the arrangements are less than ideal….”
“Or necessary.”
“Be that as it may, I’m here for the summer. I promise I’ll do my best to stay out of your way as much as possible.”
“Good.”
The blunt answer stung more than Kelsey expected. She tightened her smile, hiding the reaction. “It might help if we set some ground rules right now. For example, as far as meals go…”
“The kitchen’s in the back. You’re on your own for food.”
Now why didn’t that surprise her? “And the bathrooms?”
“The main one’s upstairs, across from the guest rooms. You’ll find towels and a tub. There’s limited hot water.”
“Guess that means I should catch the first shower.”
He wasn’t amused. Again, the reaction hurt. She chalked it up to a new location and old ghosts. It’s only for a summer, she told herself. Any situation could be endured as long as it was short-term and she kept her personal distance.
“Don’t worry,” she amended. “I’m not one for lingering under the spray.” Or anywhere she wasn’t wanted, for that matter. Since he nodded in response, she assumed he approved the answer.
Meanwhile, she could tell Markoff was eager to end their meeting. So he could stomp off and rue her presence, no doubt. “My laptop is in the car. Why don’t I go get it and start working. I’ll print out the finished pages and leave them for your review.”
As she spoke, she moved toward the door. Unfortunately, Markoff moved toward the desk at the same time and they inadvertently ended up in each other’s personal space. The scent of wood and cloves drifted toward Kelsey. A warm earthy aroma that made her want to close her eyes and inhale deeply. Instead, she looked up to meet eyes that were stormier than ever.
Awareness, strong and instinctive, spread through her. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were…” For some reason her brain wiring had suddenly gone haywire, and she was having trouble putting words together. “I mean, I was heading…”
She slipped past him, into the vacant doorway. “Why don’t I go get my laptop?”
Alex didn’t respond. Good thing, since it took till she reached her car and some deep breaths of fresh air before the weird flustered sensation left her brain.
“Get a grip on yourself,” she muttered to herself, unlocking the door. “You’re going to be here all summer.” Surely she wasn’t going to spend the next three months rattled by her boss, was she?
When she returned a few minutes later she heard a voice coming from the office.
“For crying out loud, we’re talking a couple extra months. Three tops. You can’t wait an extra ninety days?”
Who couldn’t wait? Markoff’s voice was razorsharp, cutting through not just the air, but her as well. “And I suppose I broke my arm on purpose too,” she heard him say. “That why you sent the babysitter? To make sure I didn’t hurl myself down another hill?”
Babysitter. He meant her. That meant he was talking to Stuart Lefkowitz. Trying to get rid of her perhaps?
Crossing the main space toward the doorway, she stopped shy of the entrance and peered through the crack. Markoff had his back to her. She could see his shoulder muscles rippling with tension beneath his shirt. When he turned, she saw a similar tautness playing across his profile.
“Did it ever occur to you,” he said, “that I can’t write with someone breathing down my neck twentyfour seven?”
Alex’s jaw twitched while he listened to the voice on the other end. Suddenly, his eyes grew disbelieving. “What did you say? Yes, I know what ‘breach of contract’ means. You wouldn’t…”
There was silence, followed by a slow controlled intake of breath. Incredulity had changed to outright fury. “Fine. You’ll get your damn book.”
Kelsey jumped as he slammed the cell phone on his desk. Breach of contract? They were threatening legal action? No wonder Mr. Lefkowitz had been so adamant about her staying. And no wonder Markoff resented her. He was right. She was a babysitter.
On the other side of the door, Alex let out a frustrated groan, and she heard footsteps. Fearing discovery, she instinctively drew back, scrambling mentally for an explanation should she be confronted for eavesdropping. A second later, the banging of a door told her she was safe; that he’d left through the garden. Sure enough, looking outside, she could see him stomping off toward the woods.
With the angry conversation she heard fresh in her mind, she finally let out the sigh she’d been holding since her arrival.
This was going to be a long summer.
That night Kelsey unpacked, settling into the room that would be her home for the next three months. Since Alex never mentioned which bedroom would be hers, she selected one that looked like a guest room. Like the front of the house, the room she picked was dark and woodsy, draped in hunter green and brown. The only thing missing was a deer head hanging on the wall.
The aroma of cedar wafted from the closet, adding to the rustic appeal. As she unpacked her clothes, she tried to count the number of times she’d gone through this routine. And it was a routine. First came the bureau, taking up as little drawer space as possible—a throwback to sharing a room with multiple people—then the closet. The entire process seldom took more than fifteen minutes. She’d learned early to travel light and not get too settled, so all her worldly possessions fit into two large suitcases. This summer it was the most she’d ever packed, she noted. Then again, the two years she just spent subletting was the longest she’d ever spent in one place. Guess in sticking around, she’d acquired a few more things.
Closet done, she reached for her satchel, the final part of her ritual. Immediately, her fingers found her most prized possession. The ceramic mug was cool to the touch despite sitting in her bag all day long. Hard to believe that once upon a time, brightly painted flowers had circled its surface. They were nothing more than faded speckles of paint now. There was a crack along the top of the handle from too many washings. Smiling, Kelsey cradled the mug in her palm. She could picture the same mug, colors still bright, resting on a countertop, a female hand pouring coffee into it. If she tried really hard, she could picture her mother bringing the cup to her lips, though as time passed, that memory got harder and harder to conjure up.
All of a sudden she felt overwhelmingly small and alone, as if the simple act of remembering transported her back in time. For a moment, she wasn’t a grown woman controlling her own destiny, but a little girl back in the system, gripping the last talisman she had from her old life. Living with her mother hadn’t been great, but at least she’d been wanted. At least that’s how she chose to remember those years.
She leaned against the headboard, knees drawn close, the mug pressed to her breast. This was part of the routine too, this momentary lapse into loneliness. She’d get over it soon enough. She always did. Soon as she familiarized herself with the surroundings. Although this time the feelings were stronger than usual. Hardly surprising given Alex’s animosity.
She gave herself five more minutes of self-pity, then put the emotion back on the shelf and walked to the window. Her bedroom overlooked a less landscaped part of the garden, closer to the trees, increasing the feeling of isolation. Outside, through the tree line, she noticed the sky still bore traces of daylight even though it felt far later. “Country living,” she mused, raising the sash. The greeting quiet was unsettling. Nothing but the rustle of leaves and a few intermittent high-pitched trills. How on earth would she sleep without the under-current of traffic? Or streetlights? Didn’t Markoff believe in outdoor lighting?
Of course not, she answered with a roll of her eyes. Lights would ruin the whole “darkness” theme he had going.
To her right, a branch snapped. She leaned over the sill, half expecting—or maybe fully expecting—to see a wild animal dashing out from the trees. What she saw instead surprised her more. It was the silhouette of a man.
Markoff.
He was walking the perimeter of the property, just inside the tree line. Head down, he picked his way carefully, as if counting his steps. Kelsey watched him approach with a catch in her throat. He looked so alone. Not at all like the hostile man who had greeted her this afternoon. This man reminded her of a specter. That was the only word she could think to describe him. There but not there.
He came closer, and Kelsey drew back, not wanting to get caught watching. No sooner did she pull into the shadows than she noticed he’d stopped. His face slanted upward to her window. Kelsey stifled a gasp. What light remained hit his eyes just right, turning them to shining silver. Even from two stories up, she could see the emotion churning behind them, bright and unguarded. She couldn’t name what emotion she saw, but whatever it was, it struck a familiar chord, pulling her in and making her insides twist. It felt like he was looking straight at her. Or rather, inside her. Which was silly, since he couldn’t see her from where she stood.
Eventually he moved on, leaving the night air charged with his presence. Quietly, Kelsey lowered the shade. A few moments later, she heard footsteps on the stairs, followed by a bedroom door clicking shut.
His room was next to hers. She hadn’t realized. Through the wall, she heard the scraping of a chair and she swore what sounded like a long, desolate sigh followed by another and another, each sounding more frustrated than the next. Suddenly there was the rattling rush of glass and paper punctuated by a groan. The door opened and footsteps, heavy, angry footsteps, sounded in the hall. Kelsey knew the front door would slam before she heard it.
Okay, so maybe she was wrong about the nighttime quiet. But she was right about it being a long summer. Maybe she should have stayed in New York and worked those three jobs after all.
And be tied to Grandma Rosie’s debt for even longer.
Letting out a long breath, she collapsed backwards on the bed. “Thanks a lot, Grandma,” she muttered. Looked like Markoff wasn’t the only one who didn’t have a choice.
CHAPTER TWO
“ALL I can say is thank God for coffee. Especially—” Kelsey took a long sip “—fresh-ground Italian roast. I swear this stuff might be the only thing keeping me upright today.”
Her companion, a large orange tabby, said nothing. Kelsey had found the furry critter dozing on the terrace when she arrived at dawn, and he’d been keeping her company ever since. She suspected the animal was a stray. Unless Alex had a hidden soft spot, she didn’t see him as the pet-owning type.
Then again, those eyes she saw last night definitely hid something….
Forget it. He didn’t deserve sympathetic thoughts. Not after the way he kept her up last night with his continual pacing and sighing.
“I thought writing was a sitting profession, not one that required moving across the floor all night long.” She took another drink and waited for the caffeine to kick in. She was going to need to be alert if she was going to spend the day deciphering his handwriting. “I’ll tell you one thing, Puddin’-cat, I don’t care how brilliant a writer he is, the man definitely needs to improve his social skills. He acts like my being here is some kind of plague. How much you want to bet he’s annoyed that I helped myself to the coffee this morning?”
The cat pulled a paw over its eyes in response.
“Exactly,” Kelsey replied. “Though seems to me, if you’re going to leave a fresh pot brewing at the crack of dawn, you shouldn’t be surprised when people help themselves.” The smell alone had been nirvana after a sleepless night. “Fair’s fair, right?”
“Who are you talking to?”
Kelsey nearly jumped out of her skin. Standing at the edge of the terrace was a very dark and bothered Alex Markoff.
Immediately, her insides somersaulted. How was it he could look so intimidatingly perfect at this hour? He wore a navy blue T-shirt the same shade as his sling, the hem of which skimmed the waistband of his jeans. Jeans, she noted, that looked made to hug his hips. He’d been up and about from the looks of it. His skin glistened with perspiration, the moisture darkening the collar of his shirt. Dark curls peeked out from the back of his neck with the unruliness that only came from damp hair. Though it shouldn’t, seeing them made her wonder what he might look like stepping from the shower.
“Good morning,” she said once she caught her breath.
He stared at her with unreadable eyes. “You didn’t answer my question. Who are you talking to?”
“Just the—” She pointed to the sunny spot on a terrace that was now deserted. “Myself.”
“Do you always do that?”
“When there’s no one else to talk with. What’s that they say, ‘You’re your own best company’?”
“So I’ve always believed.”
As she tucked her hair behind her ear, Kelsey swore he checked for an earpiece. Really, did he think she was lying? “Looks like I’m not the only morning person after all. I helped myself to the coffee, by the way.”
“I heard.”
Along with how much else? Quickly, she raised her mug, hoping he wouldn’t notice her skin flushing. “Have you been up long?” she asked over the rim. “I would think after such a long night, you’d be sleeping in.”
“Why do you think I had a long night?”
Why did he seem to scrutinize everything she said as though she had a hidden meaning? Along with staring at her with those probing gray eyes?
“I heard you,” she explained, resisting the urge to duck her head like a nervous teenager. “Kind of hard not to, actually. Old house, thin rooms. You sigh loudly.”
“Oh.”
Oh, indeed.
“I take it writing didn’t go well last night?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I don’t know, to make conversation?” She shrugged. “Do I have to have a reason?”
“There’s always a reason.”
“Well, in this case, my reason was to be friendly. After all, we’re going to spend the summer working together, we might as well be civil to one another, right?”
He gave her a long look. Gauging her sincerity? While she waited, the part of her not insulted used the standoff to study his face, catching the details she’d been too overwhelmed to notice before. Things like the tanned complexion, the faint scar on the bridge of his nose, the curve of his Cupid’s bow.
And, of course, the emotion behind his eyes. Yet again it struck her that there was something sad and painful behind their turbulence. A kind of longing, perhaps.
Or loneliness.
What was his story? She really should have done some research before taking this job.
Her curiosity would have to go unexamined as the sound of crunching gravel on the other side of the house interrupted the standoff. Soon as he heard the noise, Alex’s expression changed. Again. His shoulders straightened and a soft curse escaped his lips.
“What?” Kelsey was having trouble keeping up with his collection of abrupt moods. Naturally he didn’t answer. Like yesterday, he simply turned and walked off leaving her to follow. She turned the corner in time to see a burly tree-trunk of a man step out of a green pickup with the words Leafy Bean, Farley Grangerfield Prop. painted on the side. The man looked from Alex to her with interest, but said nothing. Not surprising given the dark warning plastered all over Alex’s face.
Continuing in silence, both men reached over the side of the truck bed and each grabbed two canvas bags laden with groceries. Alex, she noted, carried both with his good arm. As the stranger passed, he shot her another look. “Last two bags won’t unload themselves.”
Taking the hint, Kelsey hustled to the truck to see they’d, fortunately, left her what looked like the two lightest bags. She brought them into the kitchen where she found the two men wordlessly unpacking groceries and arranging them on the kitchen table. The door swung shut behind her, causing them to both look up.
“Where should I put these?” she asked.
“Counter,” Alex replied. “That’s not necessary,” he added when she started unpacking.
“I don’t mind.” What else was she going to do, stand there and watch them? “You’ll have to tell me where the stuff goes though. At least the first time. I’m pretty good at remembering where things go. Plus this way I’ll see where there’s space for my groceries.”
Dammit, she was babbling again. It was quickly becoming a bad habit. But the quiet… It filled the room so completely. And those looks she kept feeling the grocer give her. Curious and full of implied innuendo. She had to say something just to hear something besides her own thoughts. Although the subsequent look Alex shot her made her wish she’d reconsidered.
“Bigger order’ll cost you extra,” commented the grocer shortly.
“Kelsey will be buying her groceries separately.”
“Right,” she said. After all, she was on her own for meals. Why would they do something as simple as combine grocery orders? “I’m Kelsey Albertelli, by the way. Mr. Markoff’s new assistant. I’m here to help while his arm’s broken. Are you Farley?”
The lack of denial suggested he was. “Need three days’ notice for delivery. You want your food sooner, you have to pick up your order yourself. Special orders take longer. And if I don’t have the brand, I’ll substitute. No complaining.”
Was everyone in Berkshire County this brusque? At least Farley’s silence felt different. Gruff though he was, he lacked the anger and wary defensiveness that surrounded her new boss. “Got order forms in the truck,” he said when the last grocery item had been put away. They were the first words anyone had said in a few minutes. “You want some, follow me.”
She did, feeling Alex’s stare on her all the way to the drive. “Normal delivery’s every ten days,” the old man was telling her. “First four bags are free, after that you pay.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.” Kelsey took the stack of tri-colored forms he handed her. “You been delivering to Nuttingwood long?” she asked.
“Long enough”
“And that’s been…?”
“Three, four, five years. I don’t keep a calendar.”
She would have liked to have been surprised by the vague answer, but deep down she suspected that’s all she’d get. Still, it was worth a shot. “Thanks again for the forms,” she said, waving them in the air. “I’ll see you soon.”
Farley muttered something about having nothing better to do than drive around all day and shut the door. Kelsey stifled a smile. The answer was so grumpy and so over the top, she actually found it funny.
She waited until the truck disappeared round the tree-covered bend, then returned to the house. Where, she discovered, Alex hadn’t moved. He stood flush against the kitchen sink, his eyes glued to the space beyond the window.
“Interesting character,” she said, shutting the door. “Is that grumpy old man act for real?” As opposed to yours, which I can’t for the life of me understand?
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Ever been to his store? The, uh,” she looked at the forms in her hand, “Leafy Bean?”
“Once or twice.”
“It as colorful as him?”
“The pastries are decent.”
Coming from him, that was nothing short of a glowing recommendation. She made her way to the kitchen table where a few grocery items, mostly fresh produce, remained. Maybe she was imagining things, but Alex seemed pretty annoyed she’d crossed paths with Farley. Then again, surely he didn’t expect, because he was apparently an antisocial hermit, that she avoid human contact too? Did he think she’d spend all summer alone with no one but him and a stray cat for company?
A strange, warm shiver ran down her spine at the notion.
Alex had switched his attention from outside the window to her. Eyes dark and murky, the scrutiny ignited another set of shivers. Aw, hell. Why not come right out and ask the question? “You don’t like him knowing I’m here, do you?”
“I don’t like people knowing my business.”
“I hardly think you having a temporary assistant will be big news in town. If they even find out. Farley doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who talks about anything let alone gossip.”
“Everybody talks eventually, Miss Albertelli. I don’t have to help them out.” He pushed himself away from the counter. “And neither do you.”
Everyone talks eventually.
She didn’t know it at the time, but Alex’s parting remark was the last she heard from him for two days. He disappeared Lord knows where shortly after, leaving her to wander Nuttingwood alone.
“I see you more often,” she said to Puddin’ the cat when he made his daily appearance on the terrace. “He’s like a ghost, only showing up at night.” She knew he showed up then because she could hear him pacing the floor. Pacing and pacing.
“Maybe if he wrote something upbeat he’d be able to sleep.” What pages she’d deciphered so far were darker than the man himself. Bitter too. Brilliant but bitter. About as far removed from Chase the Moon as you could get. “Like they were written by two different people,” she told Puddin’. Maybe in a way they were.
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 laughing 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?”
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Barbara Wallace
Working for reclusive author Alex Markoff sounded like Kelsey Albertelli's dream job until she met her new boss.Alex might be movie-star handsome, but his gruff grouchiness makes it clear that Kelsey is not exactly welcome. Kelsey's a fighter and she refuses to tiptoe around a man who clearly needs looking after, even if he's too stubborn to admit it!As cracks gradually appear in Alex's forbidding exterior, for the first time Kelsey feels dangerously close to belonging. Can she hope for her own happy-ever-after?
When ordinary girls get their fairy-tale endings!
Who says fairy stories can’t come true? Once Upon a Kiss… is our brand-new miniseries featuring up-to-the-minute retellings of classic, well-loved stories. Immerse yourself in a little bit of fantasy for the modern-day girl, and be whisked away, along with our down-to-earth heroines, to the romances of your wildest daydreams!
Once Upon a Kiss… launches this month with Barbara Wallace’s Beauty and the Brooding Boss. Fall in love with Beauty and the Beast all over again as grouchy-but-gorgeous Alex Markoff meets innocent secretary Kelsey Albertelli—the beauty who holds the key to healing his guarded heart….
In May, look out for the next book in this series, Her Desert Prince, by Rebecca Winters—exotic escapism at its very best! Enjoy Arabian Nights— Harlequin Romance
style….
Dear Reader,
There’s this fantastic old movie called The Enchanted Cottage. In it, two wounded people hide from the world in a country cottage. While there, they discover their scars mysteriously disappear. At first they credit the cottage with weaving a magic spell, but in the end come to realize the real magic was the love they’d found with each other.
I couldn’t help thinking of this movie when writing Beauty and the Brooding Boss. Like the characters in the movie, Alex Markoff has withdrawn to a country cottage to hide from a world that let him down. In her own way, Kelsey Albertelli is hiding, too—she’s protecting herself from life’s bumps and bruises. When these two loners suddenly find themselves spending the summer together in the romantic countryside, they find their self-protective walls chipped away. But the question is, will their relationship survive the outside world? Will their love be strong enough to weave a magic spell for them?
This book has a special spot in my heart because it’s based in the Berkshire Mountains where I grew up. I took a few liberties in creating the locations. Many of the settings, like Alex’s woods, the Leafy Bean and the Music Center, are loosely based on real locations. It was a lot of fun finding romance in my hometown.
I hope you enjoy Alex and Kelsey’s journey to happily-ever-after as much as I enjoyed writing it. Your comments are always welcome at my website, www.barbarawallace.com.
Best wishes and happy reading,
Barbara
Beauty and the Brooding Boss
Barbara Wallace
Barbara Wallace has been a lifelong romantic and daydreamer, so it’s not surprising she decided to become a writer at age eight. However, it wasn’t until a coworker handed her a romance novel that she knew where her stories belonged. For years she limited her dreams to nights, weekends and commuter train trips while working as a communications specialist, PR freelancer and full-time mom. At the urging of her family, she finally chucked the day job to pursue writing full-time, and she couldn’t be happier.
Barbara lives in Massachusetts with her husband, their teenage son and two very spoiled selfcentered cats (as if there could be any other kind). Readers can visit her at www.barbarawallace.com and find her on Facebook. She’d love to hear from you.
For Peter—
I couldn’t do this without you.
And for the Moody Muses—
the best support group a gal could ask for.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER ONE
ALEX Markoff WASN’T really ugly.
Nor was he scarred, horribly disfigured, or any of the other things Kelsey imagined a recluse to be. In fact, the man standing before her couldn’t be described as anything less than stunning. He was tall, at least a half a foot taller than her, with a lanky athletic build that took up most of the door frame. Faded jeans hung low on narrow hips while a black golf shirt molded to expansive shoulders. With his right arm engulfed from biceps to fingers in a plaster cast, she wondered how he managed to put on such a well-fitting garment.
Storm-cloud-colored eyes bore down on her from above finely-honed cheekbones.
Nope, not ugly. But definitely unhappy to see her on his doorstep.
Other doorsteps and other unwelcome expressions threatened on the edge of her memory and she shook them away. This wasn’t the same. Not at all. Still, she couldn’t stop that all-too-familiar uncertainty from creeping into her voice as she offered up a polite smile. “Hi. I’m Kelsey Albertelli.”
When he didn’t respond, she added, “Your new assistant.”
Silence.
“From New York. Mr. Lefkowitz hired me to—”
“I know who you are.”
His voice matched his physical stature. Kelsey nearly stepped back from its impact. Or was it the barely veiled hostility?
Driving up the Taconic Parkway with the windows rolled down had blown her topknot loose, and strands of brown hair were falling into her line of sight. She tucked a few of them behind her ear. “Good. For a moment, I thought maybe Mr. Lefkowitz’s office forgot to close the loop.”
“No, he closed it. Several times.”
Kelsey nodded as an awkward silence settled between them. More strands of hair fell in her face. She tucked them back and waited to see what Markoff would say next.
The answer was nothing. He simply turned around and retreated into the house leaving her standing alone on the threshold.
Can’t say you weren’t warned. “Doubt you’ll get much of a warm welcome,” his editor had said. Clearly an understatement. “Just remember, he doesn’t have a choice. You work for me, not him.”
“Don’t worry,” she’d assured him. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. Nothing I can’t handle.” For the right price. Thanks to Grandma Rosie, she was all about the paycheck these days. She’d have to work three or four jobs to earn what Mr. Lefkowitz offered. Besides, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t shown up unwanted on a doorstep before.
Coincidentally, that was thanks to Grandma Rosie too.
Since Markoff left the door open, she assumed he intended her to follow. By the time she realized and crossed the threshold, he was several paces ahead, and she had to rush to catch up.
“You’re certainly tucked away up here,” she said, reaching his shoulder. “You don’t get too many sets of directions saying ‘turn right at the big pine tree’ in New York City. I think I turned right three times at three different trees.”
“It’s the one at the fork,” he replied.
“I know that now.” She emphasized the word. “Still, in most places when they give you a landmark, it’s a building or a sign or something. Not a pine tree. I missed your driveway the first time driving by too. You can barely see your mailbox behind the bushes. But then, I imagine that’s the point….”
Her sentence faded off. She was rambling. She hated rambling. Nervous chatter to fill up silence. Drove her insane. She’d had enough of it as a kid to last a lifetime. Got to the point, in fact, where she wanted to scream at the social workers to shut up. Yet here she was doing the same exact thing. Anxiously trying to break the ice with a man whose resentment at her presence poured off him in waves.
Still, she refused to feel intimidated. “Mr. Lefkowitz said you write all your drafts longhand. I assume that’s what I’ll be typing—your longhand draft, that is.” Her gaze flickered to his plaster-encased arm. “I hope breaking your arm hasn’t affected your progress.”
No sooner did the words leave her mouth than he stopped short, turning his gray eyes on her. Kelsey found herself rooted to the spot by their intensity. “Did Stuart tell you to ask that?”
“I—I—” Kelsey honestly didn’t know how to reply.
“You tell Stuart Lefkowitz he’ll get his manuscript when he gets it. Bad enough he’s foisted a damn typist on me—I don’t need a babysitter too.”
“I wasn’t—that is, I’m not—” Scrambling to catch up once again, Kelsey found herself wishing she’d asked a few more questions during her job interview. That’s what you get for being motivated by money.
When she first learned she’d be typing manuscript pages for Alex Markoff—the Alex Markoff—she thought the assignment sounded exotic. She’d been in high school when Chase the Moon debuted, but she remembered the book sitting on teachers’ desks, and she remembered reading excerpts from it in literature class. Alex Markoff was The Author of the Decade. The one writer everyone clamored to read.
She stole another look at her new boss. Maybe she should have looked at a book jacket before arriving. His looks might not have caught her so off guard. It wasn’t that he was stereotypically handsome—in profile some might consider the nose a tad long or his jaw too angular—but the strong features suited him. Hard to believe she imagined him disfigured. Then again, how else was she supposed to picture a man who went from bestselling author to hermit?
She really should have asked more questions during the interview.
Looking to her surroundings for answers, she could only see that Nuttingwood was as dark and masculine as its owner. It reminded her of an English cottage from some old black-and-white movie, all stone and ivy. The front room was similar in appearance, small with antique furniture and hunter green furnishings.
Turning the corner, however, Kelsey suddenly found herself thrust into a large space dominated by windows and French doors. Outside lay a sprawling garden awash with color so vivid it made both the dark wood interior and the green Berkshire mountains pale in comparison. Through the glass she could see birds darting back and forth amid the flowers, many of which she didn’t recognize.
“Wow,” she said under her breath. It was like standing in the New York Botanical Garden.
Footsteps pulled her from her reverie. Markoff had headed across the open space to a door on the opposite side. Following, Kelsey found herself in a room similar to the one she left, though smaller and with fewer windows. It was no less spectacular, however, thanks to a pair of French doors that opened onto a terraced rose garden. Adirondack chairs encouraged visitors outside, while inside a pair of plaid overstuffed rockers battled back with a comfortable invitation of their own. Clutter—mostly magazines, books and papers—littered the end tables and bookcases. A few crumpled balls of paper lay on the floor. For some strange reason, they seemed more like decorations than mess, complements to the room’s lived-in atmosphere.
“Great office.” In her mind, she could imagine him scribbling away by the window.
Markoff simply pointed to a large wooden desk tucked in the corner. “You can work here.”
“No computer?” The desk was barren of electronics.
“You can use your own and save to a flash drive.”
“Okay.” Good thing she had brought a laptop. Wonder what else she’d need. “Do you get Internet up here on the mountain?”
“Why?” That laserlike intensity had returned to his eyes, and they now bore into her suspiciously, as if she’d asked him for the National Defense codes. “Why would you need Internet access?”
“So I can keep in contact with New York. Mr. Lefkowitz will want updates.”
He made a noise in the back of his throat, a sort of quiet, guttural growl. Kelsey immediately recalled his babysitter comment. Just her luck to step into some sort of bad blood between editor and writer. “If you don’t, I can find a place in town—”
“There’s Internet.”
“Great.” She’d worry about access another time when he was in a better mood. If he had a better mood.
A stack of yellow notepads lay on the desk so she turned her attention to them. “This is what I’m typing, I presume.”
“Type exactly what’s written,” he replied. “Don’t change a thing. Not a single word. If you can’t read something, leave it blank. I’ll fill in the word later.”
Kelsey picked up the top notebook. Lines of gray masculine scrawl filled the page. Great. He wrote in pencil. And changed his mind a lot too. With all the arrows and slashes, the paper looked more like a sports play than a story. Looked like there would be a lot of blanks.
“Anything else?” she asked. One thing she learned as a temp was to learn an employer’s quirks and rules upfront. Knowledge made adjusting to that much easier, and she figured Markoff’s typing guidelines were merely the tip of the iceberg.
She was right. “I don’t like loud noise,” he continued. “No music, no loud voices. If you need to call your boyfriend or whoever—”
“I won’t be calling anyone.” Her quick answer must have caught him by surprise, because his stormy eyes blinked. “No boyfriend, no family.” Why she felt the need to supply the information, she didn’t know.
A shadow flickered across his face, momentarily quieting the turbulence in his eyes. The change threw her off balance. Without the glare, his face went from intense to downright arresting. It was most unsettling. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she looked away to the ground.
“Well, if you do need to make a call,” she heard him say, “please go outside. Or better yet, wait until after work hours.”
“Speaking of which, what hours did you have in mind? I mean, do you have a preference? So I don’t disturb you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Because he didn’t care or because she would disturb him no matter what? “Then if it’s all right with you, I’m a morning person. I like to get an early start on the day.”
“Fine.”
Silence engulfed them once more, awkward and uneasy. Kelsey adjusted her appearance: her satchel, the hem of her T-shirt, anything rather than let Markoff’s obvious displeasure get under her skin.
“Well then,” she said, forcing a cheery note, “since we’ve covered where I’m working, what I’m working on and when, all that’s left to settle is where you’d like me to sleep.” Again, she found herself prodding his non-response. “Mr. Lefkowitz said you agreed to let me stay here.” Amazingly.
“Upstairs,” he replied. “The bedrooms are upstairs.”
“Is there a particular room…?”
“I don’t care.”
“As long as I don’t steal yours, right?”
Her attempt at levity fell flat. More than flat, based on how his expression darkened.
“I appreciate you being so accommodating. The Berkshires are a popular spot apparently, because summer rooms are at a premium.” She was babbling again. “Mr. Lefkowitz had his office call every hotel first.”
“I’m sure he did.”
Was that skepticism in his voice? What on earth? Did he think she chose to stay up here in the middle of nowhere? She took a deep breath and smoothed back her hair. “Look, Mr. Markoff, I know this arrangement wasn’t your idea.” She kept her voice as level and calm as possible. “And I’ll be the first to admit the arrangements are less than ideal….”
“Or necessary.”
“Be that as it may, I’m here for the summer. I promise I’ll do my best to stay out of your way as much as possible.”
“Good.”
The blunt answer stung more than Kelsey expected. She tightened her smile, hiding the reaction. “It might help if we set some ground rules right now. For example, as far as meals go…”
“The kitchen’s in the back. You’re on your own for food.”
Now why didn’t that surprise her? “And the bathrooms?”
“The main one’s upstairs, across from the guest rooms. You’ll find towels and a tub. There’s limited hot water.”
“Guess that means I should catch the first shower.”
He wasn’t amused. Again, the reaction hurt. She chalked it up to a new location and old ghosts. It’s only for a summer, she told herself. Any situation could be endured as long as it was short-term and she kept her personal distance.
“Don’t worry,” she amended. “I’m not one for lingering under the spray.” Or anywhere she wasn’t wanted, for that matter. Since he nodded in response, she assumed he approved the answer.
Meanwhile, she could tell Markoff was eager to end their meeting. So he could stomp off and rue her presence, no doubt. “My laptop is in the car. Why don’t I go get it and start working. I’ll print out the finished pages and leave them for your review.”
As she spoke, she moved toward the door. Unfortunately, Markoff moved toward the desk at the same time and they inadvertently ended up in each other’s personal space. The scent of wood and cloves drifted toward Kelsey. A warm earthy aroma that made her want to close her eyes and inhale deeply. Instead, she looked up to meet eyes that were stormier than ever.
Awareness, strong and instinctive, spread through her. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were…” For some reason her brain wiring had suddenly gone haywire, and she was having trouble putting words together. “I mean, I was heading…”
She slipped past him, into the vacant doorway. “Why don’t I go get my laptop?”
Alex didn’t respond. Good thing, since it took till she reached her car and some deep breaths of fresh air before the weird flustered sensation left her brain.
“Get a grip on yourself,” she muttered to herself, unlocking the door. “You’re going to be here all summer.” Surely she wasn’t going to spend the next three months rattled by her boss, was she?
When she returned a few minutes later she heard a voice coming from the office.
“For crying out loud, we’re talking a couple extra months. Three tops. You can’t wait an extra ninety days?”
Who couldn’t wait? Markoff’s voice was razorsharp, cutting through not just the air, but her as well. “And I suppose I broke my arm on purpose too,” she heard him say. “That why you sent the babysitter? To make sure I didn’t hurl myself down another hill?”
Babysitter. He meant her. That meant he was talking to Stuart Lefkowitz. Trying to get rid of her perhaps?
Crossing the main space toward the doorway, she stopped shy of the entrance and peered through the crack. Markoff had his back to her. She could see his shoulder muscles rippling with tension beneath his shirt. When he turned, she saw a similar tautness playing across his profile.
“Did it ever occur to you,” he said, “that I can’t write with someone breathing down my neck twentyfour seven?”
Alex’s jaw twitched while he listened to the voice on the other end. Suddenly, his eyes grew disbelieving. “What did you say? Yes, I know what ‘breach of contract’ means. You wouldn’t…”
There was silence, followed by a slow controlled intake of breath. Incredulity had changed to outright fury. “Fine. You’ll get your damn book.”
Kelsey jumped as he slammed the cell phone on his desk. Breach of contract? They were threatening legal action? No wonder Mr. Lefkowitz had been so adamant about her staying. And no wonder Markoff resented her. He was right. She was a babysitter.
On the other side of the door, Alex let out a frustrated groan, and she heard footsteps. Fearing discovery, she instinctively drew back, scrambling mentally for an explanation should she be confronted for eavesdropping. A second later, the banging of a door told her she was safe; that he’d left through the garden. Sure enough, looking outside, she could see him stomping off toward the woods.
With the angry conversation she heard fresh in her mind, she finally let out the sigh she’d been holding since her arrival.
This was going to be a long summer.
That night Kelsey unpacked, settling into the room that would be her home for the next three months. Since Alex never mentioned which bedroom would be hers, she selected one that looked like a guest room. Like the front of the house, the room she picked was dark and woodsy, draped in hunter green and brown. The only thing missing was a deer head hanging on the wall.
The aroma of cedar wafted from the closet, adding to the rustic appeal. As she unpacked her clothes, she tried to count the number of times she’d gone through this routine. And it was a routine. First came the bureau, taking up as little drawer space as possible—a throwback to sharing a room with multiple people—then the closet. The entire process seldom took more than fifteen minutes. She’d learned early to travel light and not get too settled, so all her worldly possessions fit into two large suitcases. This summer it was the most she’d ever packed, she noted. Then again, the two years she just spent subletting was the longest she’d ever spent in one place. Guess in sticking around, she’d acquired a few more things.
Closet done, she reached for her satchel, the final part of her ritual. Immediately, her fingers found her most prized possession. The ceramic mug was cool to the touch despite sitting in her bag all day long. Hard to believe that once upon a time, brightly painted flowers had circled its surface. They were nothing more than faded speckles of paint now. There was a crack along the top of the handle from too many washings. Smiling, Kelsey cradled the mug in her palm. She could picture the same mug, colors still bright, resting on a countertop, a female hand pouring coffee into it. If she tried really hard, she could picture her mother bringing the cup to her lips, though as time passed, that memory got harder and harder to conjure up.
All of a sudden she felt overwhelmingly small and alone, as if the simple act of remembering transported her back in time. For a moment, she wasn’t a grown woman controlling her own destiny, but a little girl back in the system, gripping the last talisman she had from her old life. Living with her mother hadn’t been great, but at least she’d been wanted. At least that’s how she chose to remember those years.
She leaned against the headboard, knees drawn close, the mug pressed to her breast. This was part of the routine too, this momentary lapse into loneliness. She’d get over it soon enough. She always did. Soon as she familiarized herself with the surroundings. Although this time the feelings were stronger than usual. Hardly surprising given Alex’s animosity.
She gave herself five more minutes of self-pity, then put the emotion back on the shelf and walked to the window. Her bedroom overlooked a less landscaped part of the garden, closer to the trees, increasing the feeling of isolation. Outside, through the tree line, she noticed the sky still bore traces of daylight even though it felt far later. “Country living,” she mused, raising the sash. The greeting quiet was unsettling. Nothing but the rustle of leaves and a few intermittent high-pitched trills. How on earth would she sleep without the under-current of traffic? Or streetlights? Didn’t Markoff believe in outdoor lighting?
Of course not, she answered with a roll of her eyes. Lights would ruin the whole “darkness” theme he had going.
To her right, a branch snapped. She leaned over the sill, half expecting—or maybe fully expecting—to see a wild animal dashing out from the trees. What she saw instead surprised her more. It was the silhouette of a man.
Markoff.
He was walking the perimeter of the property, just inside the tree line. Head down, he picked his way carefully, as if counting his steps. Kelsey watched him approach with a catch in her throat. He looked so alone. Not at all like the hostile man who had greeted her this afternoon. This man reminded her of a specter. That was the only word she could think to describe him. There but not there.
He came closer, and Kelsey drew back, not wanting to get caught watching. No sooner did she pull into the shadows than she noticed he’d stopped. His face slanted upward to her window. Kelsey stifled a gasp. What light remained hit his eyes just right, turning them to shining silver. Even from two stories up, she could see the emotion churning behind them, bright and unguarded. She couldn’t name what emotion she saw, but whatever it was, it struck a familiar chord, pulling her in and making her insides twist. It felt like he was looking straight at her. Or rather, inside her. Which was silly, since he couldn’t see her from where she stood.
Eventually he moved on, leaving the night air charged with his presence. Quietly, Kelsey lowered the shade. A few moments later, she heard footsteps on the stairs, followed by a bedroom door clicking shut.
His room was next to hers. She hadn’t realized. Through the wall, she heard the scraping of a chair and she swore what sounded like a long, desolate sigh followed by another and another, each sounding more frustrated than the next. Suddenly there was the rattling rush of glass and paper punctuated by a groan. The door opened and footsteps, heavy, angry footsteps, sounded in the hall. Kelsey knew the front door would slam before she heard it.
Okay, so maybe she was wrong about the nighttime quiet. But she was right about it being a long summer. Maybe she should have stayed in New York and worked those three jobs after all.
And be tied to Grandma Rosie’s debt for even longer.
Letting out a long breath, she collapsed backwards on the bed. “Thanks a lot, Grandma,” she muttered. Looked like Markoff wasn’t the only one who didn’t have a choice.
CHAPTER TWO
“ALL I can say is thank God for coffee. Especially—” Kelsey took a long sip “—fresh-ground Italian roast. I swear this stuff might be the only thing keeping me upright today.”
Her companion, a large orange tabby, said nothing. Kelsey had found the furry critter dozing on the terrace when she arrived at dawn, and he’d been keeping her company ever since. She suspected the animal was a stray. Unless Alex had a hidden soft spot, she didn’t see him as the pet-owning type.
Then again, those eyes she saw last night definitely hid something….
Forget it. He didn’t deserve sympathetic thoughts. Not after the way he kept her up last night with his continual pacing and sighing.
“I thought writing was a sitting profession, not one that required moving across the floor all night long.” She took another drink and waited for the caffeine to kick in. She was going to need to be alert if she was going to spend the day deciphering his handwriting. “I’ll tell you one thing, Puddin’-cat, I don’t care how brilliant a writer he is, the man definitely needs to improve his social skills. He acts like my being here is some kind of plague. How much you want to bet he’s annoyed that I helped myself to the coffee this morning?”
The cat pulled a paw over its eyes in response.
“Exactly,” Kelsey replied. “Though seems to me, if you’re going to leave a fresh pot brewing at the crack of dawn, you shouldn’t be surprised when people help themselves.” The smell alone had been nirvana after a sleepless night. “Fair’s fair, right?”
“Who are you talking to?”
Kelsey nearly jumped out of her skin. Standing at the edge of the terrace was a very dark and bothered Alex Markoff.
Immediately, her insides somersaulted. How was it he could look so intimidatingly perfect at this hour? He wore a navy blue T-shirt the same shade as his sling, the hem of which skimmed the waistband of his jeans. Jeans, she noted, that looked made to hug his hips. He’d been up and about from the looks of it. His skin glistened with perspiration, the moisture darkening the collar of his shirt. Dark curls peeked out from the back of his neck with the unruliness that only came from damp hair. Though it shouldn’t, seeing them made her wonder what he might look like stepping from the shower.
“Good morning,” she said once she caught her breath.
He stared at her with unreadable eyes. “You didn’t answer my question. Who are you talking to?”
“Just the—” She pointed to the sunny spot on a terrace that was now deserted. “Myself.”
“Do you always do that?”
“When there’s no one else to talk with. What’s that they say, ‘You’re your own best company’?”
“So I’ve always believed.”
As she tucked her hair behind her ear, Kelsey swore he checked for an earpiece. Really, did he think she was lying? “Looks like I’m not the only morning person after all. I helped myself to the coffee, by the way.”
“I heard.”
Along with how much else? Quickly, she raised her mug, hoping he wouldn’t notice her skin flushing. “Have you been up long?” she asked over the rim. “I would think after such a long night, you’d be sleeping in.”
“Why do you think I had a long night?”
Why did he seem to scrutinize everything she said as though she had a hidden meaning? Along with staring at her with those probing gray eyes?
“I heard you,” she explained, resisting the urge to duck her head like a nervous teenager. “Kind of hard not to, actually. Old house, thin rooms. You sigh loudly.”
“Oh.”
Oh, indeed.
“I take it writing didn’t go well last night?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I don’t know, to make conversation?” She shrugged. “Do I have to have a reason?”
“There’s always a reason.”
“Well, in this case, my reason was to be friendly. After all, we’re going to spend the summer working together, we might as well be civil to one another, right?”
He gave her a long look. Gauging her sincerity? While she waited, the part of her not insulted used the standoff to study his face, catching the details she’d been too overwhelmed to notice before. Things like the tanned complexion, the faint scar on the bridge of his nose, the curve of his Cupid’s bow.
And, of course, the emotion behind his eyes. Yet again it struck her that there was something sad and painful behind their turbulence. A kind of longing, perhaps.
Or loneliness.
What was his story? She really should have done some research before taking this job.
Her curiosity would have to go unexamined as the sound of crunching gravel on the other side of the house interrupted the standoff. Soon as he heard the noise, Alex’s expression changed. Again. His shoulders straightened and a soft curse escaped his lips.
“What?” Kelsey was having trouble keeping up with his collection of abrupt moods. Naturally he didn’t answer. Like yesterday, he simply turned and walked off leaving her to follow. She turned the corner in time to see a burly tree-trunk of a man step out of a green pickup with the words Leafy Bean, Farley Grangerfield Prop. painted on the side. The man looked from Alex to her with interest, but said nothing. Not surprising given the dark warning plastered all over Alex’s face.
Continuing in silence, both men reached over the side of the truck bed and each grabbed two canvas bags laden with groceries. Alex, she noted, carried both with his good arm. As the stranger passed, he shot her another look. “Last two bags won’t unload themselves.”
Taking the hint, Kelsey hustled to the truck to see they’d, fortunately, left her what looked like the two lightest bags. She brought them into the kitchen where she found the two men wordlessly unpacking groceries and arranging them on the kitchen table. The door swung shut behind her, causing them to both look up.
“Where should I put these?” she asked.
“Counter,” Alex replied. “That’s not necessary,” he added when she started unpacking.
“I don’t mind.” What else was she going to do, stand there and watch them? “You’ll have to tell me where the stuff goes though. At least the first time. I’m pretty good at remembering where things go. Plus this way I’ll see where there’s space for my groceries.”
Dammit, she was babbling again. It was quickly becoming a bad habit. But the quiet… It filled the room so completely. And those looks she kept feeling the grocer give her. Curious and full of implied innuendo. She had to say something just to hear something besides her own thoughts. Although the subsequent look Alex shot her made her wish she’d reconsidered.
“Bigger order’ll cost you extra,” commented the grocer shortly.
“Kelsey will be buying her groceries separately.”
“Right,” she said. After all, she was on her own for meals. Why would they do something as simple as combine grocery orders? “I’m Kelsey Albertelli, by the way. Mr. Markoff’s new assistant. I’m here to help while his arm’s broken. Are you Farley?”
The lack of denial suggested he was. “Need three days’ notice for delivery. You want your food sooner, you have to pick up your order yourself. Special orders take longer. And if I don’t have the brand, I’ll substitute. No complaining.”
Was everyone in Berkshire County this brusque? At least Farley’s silence felt different. Gruff though he was, he lacked the anger and wary defensiveness that surrounded her new boss. “Got order forms in the truck,” he said when the last grocery item had been put away. They were the first words anyone had said in a few minutes. “You want some, follow me.”
She did, feeling Alex’s stare on her all the way to the drive. “Normal delivery’s every ten days,” the old man was telling her. “First four bags are free, after that you pay.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.” Kelsey took the stack of tri-colored forms he handed her. “You been delivering to Nuttingwood long?” she asked.
“Long enough”
“And that’s been…?”
“Three, four, five years. I don’t keep a calendar.”
She would have liked to have been surprised by the vague answer, but deep down she suspected that’s all she’d get. Still, it was worth a shot. “Thanks again for the forms,” she said, waving them in the air. “I’ll see you soon.”
Farley muttered something about having nothing better to do than drive around all day and shut the door. Kelsey stifled a smile. The answer was so grumpy and so over the top, she actually found it funny.
She waited until the truck disappeared round the tree-covered bend, then returned to the house. Where, she discovered, Alex hadn’t moved. He stood flush against the kitchen sink, his eyes glued to the space beyond the window.
“Interesting character,” she said, shutting the door. “Is that grumpy old man act for real?” As opposed to yours, which I can’t for the life of me understand?
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Ever been to his store? The, uh,” she looked at the forms in her hand, “Leafy Bean?”
“Once or twice.”
“It as colorful as him?”
“The pastries are decent.”
Coming from him, that was nothing short of a glowing recommendation. She made her way to the kitchen table where a few grocery items, mostly fresh produce, remained. Maybe she was imagining things, but Alex seemed pretty annoyed she’d crossed paths with Farley. Then again, surely he didn’t expect, because he was apparently an antisocial hermit, that she avoid human contact too? Did he think she’d spend all summer alone with no one but him and a stray cat for company?
A strange, warm shiver ran down her spine at the notion.
Alex had switched his attention from outside the window to her. Eyes dark and murky, the scrutiny ignited another set of shivers. Aw, hell. Why not come right out and ask the question? “You don’t like him knowing I’m here, do you?”
“I don’t like people knowing my business.”
“I hardly think you having a temporary assistant will be big news in town. If they even find out. Farley doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who talks about anything let alone gossip.”
“Everybody talks eventually, Miss Albertelli. I don’t have to help them out.” He pushed himself away from the counter. “And neither do you.”
Everyone talks eventually.
She didn’t know it at the time, but Alex’s parting remark was the last she heard from him for two days. He disappeared Lord knows where shortly after, leaving her to wander Nuttingwood alone.
“I see you more often,” she said to Puddin’ the cat when he made his daily appearance on the terrace. “He’s like a ghost, only showing up at night.” She knew he showed up then because she could hear him pacing the floor. Pacing and pacing.
“Maybe if he wrote something upbeat he’d be able to sleep.” What pages she’d deciphered so far were darker than the man himself. Bitter too. Brilliant but bitter. About as far removed from Chase the Moon as you could get. “Like they were written by two different people,” she told Puddin’. Maybe in a way they were.
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 laughing 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?”
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Barbara Wallace
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Working for reclusive author Alex Markoff sounded like Kelsey Albertelli′s dream job until she met her new boss.Alex might be movie-star handsome, but his gruff grouchiness makes it clear that Kelsey is not exactly welcome. Kelsey′s a fighter and she refuses to tiptoe around a man who clearly needs looking after, even if he′s too stubborn to admit it!As cracks gradually appear in Alex′s forbidding exterior, for the first time Kelsey feels dangerously close to belonging. Can she hope for her own happy-ever-after?