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.
