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

Happily, Nuttingwood was dark when she pulled into the drive. Alex was, no doubt, avoiding her as well. She dashed to the front door, bumping her hip against the marble entranceway table the second she crossed the threshold. Cursing for not leaving a light on, she felt along the wall until she found the switch and flipped it upward.

Nothing happened.

She flipped the switch again. And again.

“You’re wasting your time.”

Lightning flashed, briefly illuminating the room and she caught sight of a dark silhouette at the great room window. “You’re wasting your time,” Alex repeated. “Lights went out thirty minutes ago.”

Kelsey drew closer. Now that her eyes had adjusted, she could see Alex was doing more than simply standing at the window. He was kneading the muscles on the back on his neck. He wore a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants with no shirt. His hair was messed too. He must have been lying down when the storm hit. Seeing him so exposed felt queerly intimate, almost voyeuristic. For the first time since she moved in, Kelsey realized she shared a house in the woods with a flesh-and-blood man. A very handsome, very desirable man. The sudden awareness made part of her grow shaky while other parts became painfully awake.

“This happen often?” she asked. “Power outages, I mean.” Nice to know how frequently they’d find themselves together in the dark. Because of a storm, that is.

“If the wind blows hard enough.”

“And how often is that?” she asked, reaching his shoulder. He didn’t turn around upon her approach, seemingly intent on studying the shadows in the garden. Lightning flashed, and she caught his reflection. His expression was much farther away than this room.

“Often enough. There’s an emergency generator in the basement.”

“You haven’t turned it on yet?”

“I like the darkness.”

Why am I not surprised?

“Did you say something?”

“Nothing important.” She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud. Covering, she changed topics. “Lightning’s putting on quite a show.”

“Suppose.”

“When I was little one of the other fost—other kids told me thunder and lightning were caused by alien attacks. Scared me so much I would hide under the covers.” She could still remember cowering under the blanket, clutching her mother’s cup to her chest like a talisman. “The stupid things kids fall for, huh?”

“Not only kids.”

“What?” His voice was so soft, she missed part of his sentence, making it her turn to ask, “Did you say something?”

“Nothing important.”

Intuition said otherwise, but she didn’t press. He wouldn’t admit the truth if she did. So instead, she stole what had to be the hundredth look at his profile. In the dark, she could only see the outline of his features. His expression was impossible to read. Even so, his magnetism was stronger than ever. Maybe because they were alone, or because the dark made everything that much more intimate, but she felt surrounded by him. There seemed no escaping his scent or the heat emanating from his body. She could even feel the rise and fall of his chest, his breathing strained as it filled his lungs. His desolation was palpable, so much so she hurt for him. She found herself wanting to reach out and soothe his pain.

“I’m sorry about this afternoon,” she said softly. “I had no right to snoop behind your back.”

“No, you didn’t.”

The corner of her mouth twitched upward with guilty amusement. “You don’t believe in cutting people slack, do you?”

“If I cut slack to everyone who betrayed my privacy, I’d need a much larger supply of scissors.”

She thought of the gossip articles and Web sites, and she understood. No one deserved to have their life splashed on the front page. “I’m sorry too, about your marriage.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Still, you—”

“I don’t want to talk about Alyssa, Miss Albertelli. Our marriage failed. End of story.”

The myriad of emotions in his voice—anger, frustration, hurt—said otherwise, but seeing as how she was already treading on thin ice, Kelsey didn’t push. “Did you say the generator was in the basement?”

“At the foot of the stairs.” He sounded grateful for the change of subject.

“Mind if I turn it on? You can keep the lights out in this room, but I’d like to find my way upstairs without incident.” Not to mention, shedding light might diminish the intimacy of their situation. Maybe, if she could see his usual stormy expression, she wouldn’t feel his pull so intensely.

“Knock yourself out.”

Finding her way to the kitchen in the dark was easier said than done. Nuttingwood was one of those houses that had been added onto over the years, leading to an abundance of twists and turns and unexpected corners. During the day, the eclectic layout gave the house character, but at night, in the pitch black, the layout became a pedestrian nightmare. Kelsey was certain she’d fall and break an arm too. Worse, she’d break some piece of furniture or irreplaceable family heirloom.

Eventually she reached the double-swing door leading to the kitchen, just in time to hear footsteps approach from behind.

“You’ll need a flashlight,” Alex said, giving the door a push. Kelsey followed in silence, trying not to think about how his body brushed against hers when he passed.

He moved around the dark kitchen with a grace to be admired. At least she assumed he moved with grace since she didn’t hear any of the bumps or knocks that accompanied her own clumsy movements. The basement door was to the side, behind the farmer’s table. She was walking cautiously in that direction when she heard the scraping of a chair being dragged across the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“The flashlight’s in the back of the cupboard. With my cast, I can’t reach it flatfooted.”

“Then let me.” Making her way back toward his silhouette, she took the chair from his grip. “It’s pitch black in here. Break your other arm and I’ll be here till Christmas.”

“By all means then, be my guest. We wouldn’t want that.”

Even though he couldn’t see her, Kelsey smirked in his direction and stepped up. A warm sturdy hand pressed to her back. “I’m steadying you,” Alex said from behind.

Steadying, huh? Then why did her legs feel shaky? Why did her spine feel like it had an electrical current running up and down it?

“There a problem?”

“No problem.” It was the dark, she decided. It heightened everything. Turning something innocent, like a simple touch or Alex’s low-pitched voice, into something sensual. Once the lights came on, the illusion would disappear.

All of a sudden, a pitiful wail sounded in the kitchen.

“What on earth was that?” Alex asked.

“I’m not—” The wail sounded again and recognition dawned.

“Puddin’!” She’d wondered what kind of shelter the cat had found to ride out the storm. He must have heard her drive up and was crying to come in the house. “Poor thing must be drenched to the skin.”

“Who’s Puddin’?”