Beauty and the Brooding Boss. Barbara Wallace

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      “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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