Beauty and the Brooding Boss / Friends to Forever. Nikki Logan

she’d been dying to know since her arrival. “May I ask you a personal question?”

      Of course, the moment she said personal, wariness crept into his expression. “What do you want to know?”

      “How did you break your arm?”

      “Oh, that.” Relief returned to his face. “Stuart didn’t tell you?”

      She shook her head. “He only said you broke it.”

      “Well, score one for discretion.” He sounded surprised. “I tripped over a root and fell while walking in the woods.”

      “You were by yourself?” Obviously. “How did you get help?”

      “I broke my arm, not my leg. I made my way back to the house and called an ambulance.”

      Somehow Kelsey doubted the scenario went quite as smoothly as he described it. Navigating a wooded path with a broken arm … Poor man must have been in tremendous pain. “And you had no one to help you.”

      “You’re assuming I wanted help.”

      She thought of the other day. “No, I’m assuming you could have used help.”

      “Didn’t we cover the problems with assumption the other afternoon?”

      “Was this before or after you were lying incapacitated on the sofa?”

      “I would debate your use of the word incapacitated, but in this case I got myself to the hospital just fine.”

      And came home by himself to an empty house. She knew Alex chose to live that way, but the idea of Alex alone and in pain made her sad. “What about painkillers and medication and all that?”

      “I managed.”

      “I’m sure you did.” Managed. It sounded so … lacking. Like he was getting by with the bare minimum.

      You should know, Kelsey. Manage had been the story of her life. Manage and adapt.

      Why then, did manage suddenly feel inadequate?

      “So is that when you started writing longhand?” she asked, pulling herself back to the conversation.

      “No, I’ve always written by pencil. Started when I was teaching and would scribble notes between—”

      “You were a teacher?” She nearly hit the brakes.

      “High school English.”

      “Unbelievable.” She shook her head.

      “What, you can’t picture me as a teacher?”

      “In a word, no.” She couldn’t picture him interacting with people, let alone teaching teenagers.

      “It didn’t last long. I was far more interested in my own work than A Tale of Two Cities. But writing longhand stuck. You never know when some detail or passage will spring to mind.” His mouth came dangerously close to curving into a smile. At least Kelsey thought she caught a glimmer before it disappeared. “I once wrote an entire short story during a dinner party.”

      “Really?” Now that was an Alex she could picture, hiding out from the crowd, lost in his work. “I finished your last notebook yesterday,” she told him.

      “Is that a not so subtle way of reminding me Stuart wants his book?”

      “Yup.” She smiled.

      “Spoken like a true babysitter.”

      “Speaking of not-so-subtle reminders,” she murmured.

      “Hey.” A hand touched her forearm. A rush ran up her arm and she had to squeeze the steering wheel to keep it from traveling further. “As babysitters go, you aren’t that bad. Stuart could have foisted far worse on me.”

      “Wow.” A sideways glance showed Alex’s expression was sincere. “A girl could get a big head from that kind of sweet talk.”

      “I’ll keep that in mind.”

      Meanwhile the memory of his touch remained on her skin, a warm, firm pressure far more reassuring than it should be.

      She cleared her throat, hoping to clear away the sensation too. “Since we’ve established that I’m the official whip cracker, will I be seeing more pages soon?”

      Alex turned his face to the scenery. “Eventually.”

      There was little enthusiasm to his answer. In fact, if she didn’t know better she’d say he actually sounded sad. Now she wanted to give him the reassuring touch.

      Something inside made her refrain, settling instead for a smile and a change of subject. “Just planning my schedule. If I don’t have anything to type, the more time Puddin’ and I have to work on our tans.”

      “Puddin’, huh?” There was a satisfying note of relief in his voice. “That mangy cat of yours still around?”

      “Whoa, he’s not my cat. Puddin’ is strictly a free agent.”

      “Says the woman who named him.”

      “I told you, everyone deserves an identity. The world has enough faceless orphans.”

      “Orphan?”

      “Stray, orphan. Same thing, right?” Kelsey brushed her hair behind her ear. She could feel Alex studying her, wondering about the slip. He wouldn’t ask though. He’d leave it up to her to explain or not, respecting her right to privacy. It was one of the traits she loved—

      Check that. Admired. It was one of the traits she admired about him.

      Love was nowhere in the picture.

      Kelsey thought forty-five minutes flipping through gossip and consumer magazines would clear the queer thoughts from her head, but no such luck. The second Alex appeared in the doctor’s reception area doorway, her pulse quickened. He was gorgeous no matter the setting, but the contrast between the institutional décor and his dark virility was awe-inspiring. She wasn’t the only one to notice either. The nurses and receptionist all perked up upon his appearance too. Kelsey wasn’t sure, but she swore one woman actually licked her lower lip.

      Oblivious, Alex’s eyes sought her out. “Dr. Cohen got tied up with another patient so I had to wait,” he said in the flat, semi-annoyed voice she’d come to expect.

      “No harm, no foul,” she replied. “Gave me time to catch upon the latest gossip. Oh, and how to evaluate flat-screen TVs,” she added quickly when she saw the disdain crop into his expression. “Are you ready to go?”

      “Don’t forget your appointment card,” the receptionist called out.

      Kelsey bit back her smile at Alex’s rolled eyes. The receptionist was painstakingly scheduling his appointment, leaning forward a little more than necessary in her opinion. The woman shot her a jealous glare when she joined Alex at the check-in desk. Again, she controlled her urge to grin. Did her hermit have any idea how many heads he was turning?

      Whoa. Her hermit? Where did that come from?

      “Did Dr. Cohen say when the cast would come off?” she asked, shaking off the thought.

      “End of summer. Same answer he gave me last time. I’m beginning to think he’s incapable of giving an exact date.”

      “Probably because you’d hold him to it.”

      “That’s a bad thing?”

      “It is if your arm hasn’t healed by then. Or maybe Dr. Cohen simply wants to string you along because he enjoys your company.”

      Alex made a noise deep in his throat and took the appointment card. This time Kelsey not only smiled, she giggled. Lately she’d been finding Alex’s grumpy demeanor more amusing. Guess because he’d slipped enough times for her to know he actually had a heart underneath.

      “While