to help herself, she tucked the blanket around him a little tighter. He smelled of clove and woods and sleep, and she had the overwhelming urge to lean closer and bury herself in the scent. Her fingers longed to stroke his cheek. Dear Lord, he was beautiful. She couldn’t deny her attraction if she tried. But beneath the attraction, she sensed something else. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. The sensation stirred inside her, faintly, tentatively, afraid to make itself fully known. She was afraid too. Because she wasn’t sure if she wanted the sensation to go away.
Alex slept through the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. At some point, Kelsey considered waking him so he could go to his room, but she didn’t. He looked too exhausted to disturb. Plus downstairs she could keep an eye on him.
At least that’s what she told herself.
She’d been joking about the rescue complex. Truth was, she didn’t know where this maternal streak of hers was coming from. As a kid, she sometimes helped the younger children with homework and stuff, but that was expected in a large household. But since moving out on her own, she’d focused solely on taking care of herself. Clearly something about Nuttingwood brought out her nesting instinct.
Something or someone?
After dinner, which she was pretty sure didn’t come close to Frutti de Mar standards, she returned to the great room to find Alex beginning to stir. “Hey,” she said softly, as his eyelids fluttered open, “you’re awake.” And feeling better, judging by the clarity in his gaze.
“You’re still here,” he greeted back, his voice still a little thick. “I thought you had dinner plans.”
That’s right, he walked away before the end of her and Tom’s conversation. “I took a rain check.”
“Oh.”
His response had a queer-sounding note she couldn’t pinpoint. “Good thing too,” she told him.
“Why’s that?”
Slowly, he shifted himself into a sitting position. With his hair matted on one side and a crease on his cheek, he looked perfectly and adorably tussled. Kelsey’s stomach twittered. “Well, for one thing, you’d have woken to a dark and empty house.”
“News flash—I’ve done that for years. Goes hand in hand with the hermit thing.”
The medicine still had a hold; his words were slurred and punchier than normal. Try as she might, Kelsey couldn’t help a smile. “Funny, that’s what Farley called you.”
Sleepy cuteness turned sullen. “I’m sure they call me lots of things.”
“What makes you think they talk about you much at all?”
“Try four hundred thousand, ninety-four search engine hits,” he replied. “Or have you forgotten already?”
“No, I haven’t forgotten,” she snapped. When Alex sat up, the blanket she’d tucked over him slid toward the floor. Instinctively she picked it up. “But not everyone is as—”
“Nosy?”
“Curious,” she shot back, “as I am.” Her cheeks warmed remembering the whole exchange. Was he right? That once a victim of gossip, always a victim of gossip? She draped the blanket back over his legs. “Though if you ask me, moving up to a castle in the middle of nowhere, you’re kind of inviting speculation.”
“I’m here because I like my privacy,” he replied in a clipped tone that said the conversation was over.
Kelsey noticed him rubbing his eyes. “Head still hurt?” She remembered Rochelle’s migraines sometimes lasted for days, once getting so bad she ended up in the hospital on a morphine drip.
Alex grabbed the change of topic. “Some, but it’s definitely better. The medicine helped. Along with the sleep. A few more hours and I should be fine.”
Meaning she should take her cue and leave? “Are you heading upstairs?”
He shook his head, while at the same time closing his eyes and burrowing into the throw pillow. “Not yet. I’m comfortable right where I am.”
“Very well then, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Kelsey?”
He reached out and caught her wrist, an unnecessary gesture since she stopped as soon as he called out. “Yes?” she asked.
“Thank you.”
That was it. Two words and nothing more, but Alex’s expression was soft and sincere, and his eyes turned from metal to dove-gray, making the sentence sound like volumes. His grip stayed on her arm, simultaneously gentle yet firm. Kelsey could feel the pulse of each individual finger beating against her skin. Their cadence echoed the heart in her chest. A slow honey-coated sensation began twisting deep inside her, and she smiled.
“You’re welcome.” Reluctantly, she slipped her wrist free and headed upstairs.
“Did I really expect anything to change?” she asked Puddin’ the next morning. “I mean, so I helped him with a headache. Big deal.” One second of gratitude hardly changed anything.
“It was just for that one moment—” her skin tingled, remembering how his fingers encircled her wrist “—I felt like we understood each other, you know? That we connected.
“I should have realized it was my imagination.” For starters, she didn’t make connections. Not that kind anyway. And second, this morning Alex was still the dark, aloof man he’d been since her arrival. Worse, if that was possible.
“The guy’s been through the wringer, that’s for sure,” she said, hitting the save button. “I’d probably do the same thing if I’d been ripped apart like that. Makes you wonder what he’ll do when this book comes out.”
If the book comes out. Her gaze traveled back to the dwindling stack of yellow pads. This morning Mr. Lefkowitz sent an e-mail requesting a progress report which she was avoiding answering. With all the cross-outs and redirection, she’d transcribed maybe a third of the book. Certainly not a complete novel by any means. The editor wouldn’t be happy.
“If Alex doesn’t start producing soon, I’ll be stuck here till Christmas,” she said to Puddin’.
Did Alex even celebrate Christmas anymore? The image of a somber, undecorated Nuttingwood popped into her head, breaking her heart. Didn’t seem right he should spend the holidays isolated and lonely.
“Will you listen to yourself?” she said aloud. “What do you care how Alex Markoff spends his holidays?” This was a perfect example of why she didn’t do connections. Connections started you down the road toward foolish, elusive concepts like home and family and holidays …
And kindred spirits with stormy gray eyes.
“That’s it. Time for a break.” Her thoughts were getting way too out of control.
On the terrace, Puddin’ stretched and started to get up. Grabbing her empty mug, Kelsey sent a mock glare at the feline through the open French doors. “Don’t even think about coming inside
