Beauty and the Brooding Boss / Friends to Forever: Beauty and the Brooding Boss / Friends to Forever

The house was unusually quiet when she came down the next morning which, given its usual silence, said a lot. Perhaps yesterday’s outburst scared Alex out of hibernation, and he was, at that moment, in town looking for men in white coats to carry her off. A fresh night’s sleep made her realize how disproportionate her reaction must have looked to him. Of all her missteps, this might be the one that finally helped him get rid of her.

Puddin’ was in his regular spot when she entered the office. She gave the napping cat a quick glance, sat at her desk, and while she waited for the computer to boot, drank coffee from a substitute mug, telling herself the change in flavor was all in her head. As usual, Alex’s writing sucked her in, chasing away other thoughts. She welcomed the distraction, losing herself in today’s words. It wasn’t long before her absorption made her oblivious to anything but the story.

She didn’t hear the door push open or the footsteps approach the desk. In fact, she didn’t notice a thing until she heard a thump on the wood in front of her. Pulling herself out of her typist’s trance, she looked toward the desk and blinked. There, in the middle of her papers, sat her coffee mug. Chipped and cracked, but whole again nonetheless.

“I doubt it’ll hold liquid,” Alex said. “But you can put it on a shelf or something.”

She ran her finger along the rim, feeling the gaps where the pieces were unevenly glued together. If the thing looked like a battered piece of junk before, it looked like a pre-schooler’s craft project now. A lump stuck in Kelsey’s throat. Unable to trust herself with words, she settled for raising her gaze.

Alex’s face was soft, reminding her of the day before. In the entranceway. “The cup means a lot to you.”

Throat constricted, she nodded.

“I thought so. Consider it payback for the migraine.”

“It was my mother’s,” Kelsey called out. She found her voice as he reached the door. Though he hadn’t asked for an explanation, she wanted to give one. Wanted to explain why she’d reacted so poorly. “She died when I was four. This mug is the only thing I have that belonged to her.”

Kelsey imagined him wondering what kind of family left a child nothing but a battered coffee cup, but he said nothing. He simply nodded in a way that told her he understood. At least the gratitude filling her insides made her feel like he understood. “Then good thing I had glue.”

“Yes,” she said, smiling up at him. “A very good thing.”

CHAPTER FIVE

STOP being a coward.

Kelsey stood outside Alex’s bedroom door for five minutes with her hand poised to knock. Much as she didn’t want to, she couldn’t put off this conversation any longer. Mr. Lefkowitz wanted a status report. After days of dodging his e-mail requests, she got a phone call. A very testy phone call. “I hope the reason I haven’t heard from you is because you’re too busy typing,” he said as soon as she answered. That had been the high point of the conversation.

She knocked.

Alex’s answer came back deep and distracted. “Yeah?”

Pushing open the door, she poked her head into the room and saw him seated at his desk near the window. Dozens of crumpled yellow balls littered the floor around his feet. He was working. A good sign. “Sorry to bother you.”

“But you’re going to anyway. What is it?”

“Mr. Lefkowitz called. He wants to know how the book was coming.”

Alex didn’t look up. “I’m sure you filled him in on all the details.”

“Actually I told him you were making great progress and were almost finished.”

That got his attention. He turned sideways to look at her. “Did you now? And why would you say something like that?”

Kelsey shrugged. Why indeed? She wasn’t quite sure except as soon as she heard Mr. Lefkowitz’s irritated voice, she felt the overwhelming urge to take Alex’s side. True or not.

“Are you making progress?”

“Depends on how you define progress.”

“Moving forward.” Having pages to type. The last notebook was nearly transcribed and still no new ones had appeared. Which wouldn’t be so terrible, if he was busy editing what had already been written, but as far as she could tell that wasn’t happening either.

“Interesting definition.” Tearing the top sheet from the pad, he added it to the collection of yellow wads on the floor.

Kelsey watched it arc and drop. “So I lied to Stuart.”

“If you say so. Why would you tell him something you didn’t know for certain?”

“I thought I was doing you a favor.”

“A favor?”

“By keeping your editor off your back.” His suspicious tone made her bristle. “You sound like I have some ulterior motive.”

He shrugged. “Maybe you do.”

Jeez. And she thought relations between them had thawed over the last couple days. Ever since he’d repaired her coffee mug, albeit poorly, she’d felt closer. So much for that illusion. “What could I possibly be after?”

“You tell me.”

“Oh, brother.” Shooting him a dramatic eye roll, she leaned against the door frame. “You caught me. Getting your medicine, lying to Stuart—they’re part of a grand ploy to soften you up. Really, you should hear yourself sometimes.”

“Do you blame me?”

The truth? Not really. But they needed to get past this issue. “You’re not the first person to get burned by the people around him,” she replied in a gentler voice.

“What’s that mean?”

“Nothing.” She wasn’t about to get into a contest over who had suffered a bigger betrayal. “Look, I thought I was helping. Next time I’ll tell Mr. Lefkowitz the truth. That better?”

“Better would be not telling Stuart anything at all.”

“I have to tell him something.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my job, and he needs to know.” She let out a long, calming breath. “Not everyone is out to get you, Alex, or get something from you.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Wow.” She understood his bitterness; she really did. But why couldn’t he see she wasn’t the enemy? Hadn’t they made any headway over the past few weeks? “I’m beginning to see why he’s paying me extra to work here.”

Not wanting to wait to hear his response, which wasn’t going to be something she wanted to hear anyway, she went to her room. Sometimes she wanted to kick Alex Markoff for his obstinacy. All she wanted was to be his friend.

Really, that’s what you want? His friendship?

Yes, that was all. Sure, she was attracted to Alex. Incredibly attracted. But hit and run affairs weren’t really her style. Affairs weren’t her style, period. And neither was acting on her attraction—assuming Alex was remotely interested. Which, seeing as how he trusted no one, wasn’t likely.

Screw it. She peeled off her cotton tank top and threw it on the bed. If he didn’t care about his manuscript getting done, why should she?