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

      The blunt answer stung more than Kelsey expected. She tightened her smile, hiding the reaction. “It might help if we set some ground rules right now. For example, as far as meals go…”

      “The kitchen’s in the back. You’re on your own for food.”

      Now why didn’t that surprise her? “And the bathrooms?”

      “The main one’s upstairs, across from the guest rooms. You’ll find towels and a tub. There’s limited hot water.”

      “Guess that means I should catch the first shower.”

      He wasn’t amused. Again, the reaction hurt. She chalked it up to a new location and old ghosts. It’s only for a summer, she told herself. Any situation could be endured as long as it was short-term and she kept her personal distance.

      “Don’t worry,” she amended. “I’m not one for lingering under the spray.” Or anywhere she wasn’t wanted, for that matter. Since he nodded in response, she assumed he approved the answer.

      Meanwhile, she could tell Markoff was eager to end their meeting. So he could stomp off and rue her presence, no doubt. “My laptop is in the car. Why don’t I go get it and start working. I’ll print out the finished pages and leave them for your review.”

      As she spoke, she moved toward the door. Unfortunately, Markoff moved toward the desk at the same time and they inadvertently ended up in each other’s personal space. The scent of wood and cloves drifted toward Kelsey. A warm earthy aroma that made her want to close her eyes and inhale deeply. Instead, she looked up to meet eyes that were stormier than ever.

      Awareness, strong and instinctive, spread through her. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were …” For some reason her brain wiring had suddenly gone haywire, and she was having trouble putting words together. “I mean, I was heading …”

      She slipped past him, into the vacant doorway. “Why don’t I go get my laptop?”

      Alex didn’t respond. Good thing, since it took till she reached her car and some deep breaths of fresh air before the weird flustered sensation left her brain.

      “Get a grip on yourself,” she muttered to herself, unlocking the door. “You’re going to be here all summer.” Surely she wasn’t going to spend the next three months rattled by her boss, was she?

      When she returned a few minutes later she heard a voice coming from the office.

      “For crying out loud, we’re talking a couple extra months. Three tops. You can’t wait an extra ninety days?”

      Who couldn’t wait? Markoff’s voice was razorsharp, cutting through not just the air, but her as well. “And I suppose I broke my arm on purpose too,” she heard him say. “That why you sent the babysitter? To make sure I didn’t hurl myself down another hill?”

      Babysitter. He meant her. That meant he was talking to Stuart Lefkowitz. Trying to get rid of her perhaps?

      Crossing the main space toward the doorway, she stopped shy of the entrance and peered through the crack. Markoff had his back to her. She could see his shoulder muscles rippling with tension beneath his shirt. When he turned, she saw a similar tautness playing across his profile.

      “Did it ever occur to you,” he said, “that I can’t write with someone breathing down my neck twenty-four seven?”

      Alex’s jaw twitched while he listened to the voice on the other end. Suddenly, his eyes grew disbelieving. “What did you say? Yes, I know what ‘breach of contract’ means. You wouldn’t …”

      There was silence, followed by a slow controlled intake of breath. Incredulity had changed to outright fury. “Fine. You’ll get your damn book.”

      Kelsey jumped as he slammed the cell phone on his desk. Breach of contract? They were threatening legal action? No wonder Mr. Lefkowitz had been so adamant about her staying. And no wonder Markoff resented her. He was right. She was a babysitter.

      On the other side of the door, Alex let out a frustrated groan, and she heard footsteps. Fearing discovery, she instinctively drew back, scrambling mentally for an explanation should she be confronted for eavesdropping. A second later, the banging of a door told her she was safe; that he’d left through the garden. Sure enough, looking outside, she could see him stomping off toward the woods.

      With the angry conversation she heard fresh in her mind, she finally let out the sigh she’d been holding since her arrival.

      This was going to be a long summer.

      That night Kelsey unpacked, settling into the room that would be her home for the next three months. Since Alex never mentioned which bedroom would be hers, she selected one that looked like a guest room. Like the front of the house, the room she picked was dark and woodsy, draped in hunter green and brown. The only thing missing was a deer head hanging on the wall.

      The aroma of cedar wafted from the closet, adding to the rustic appeal. As she unpacked her clothes, she tried to count the number of times she’d gone through this routine. And it was a routine. First came the bureau, taking up as little drawer space as possible—a throwback to sharing a room with multiple people—then the closet. The entire process seldom took more than fifteen minutes. She’d learned early to travel light and not get too settled, so all her worldly possessions fit into two large suitcases. This summer it was the most she’d ever packed, she noted. Then again, the two years she just spent subletting was the longest she’d ever spent in one place. Guess in sticking around, she’d acquired a few more things.

      Closet done, she reached for her satchel, the final part of her ritual. Immediately, her fingers found her most prized possession. The ceramic mug was cool to the touch despite sitting in her bag all day long. Hard to believe that once upon a time, brightly painted flowers had circled its surface. They were nothing more than faded speckles of paint now. There was a crack along the top of the handle from too many washings. Smiling, Kelsey cradled the mug in her palm. She could picture the same mug, colors still bright, resting on a countertop, a female hand pouring coffee into it. If she tried really hard, she could picture her mother bringing the cup to her lips, though as time passed, that memory got harder and harder to conjure up.

      All of a sudden she felt overwhelmingly small and alone, as if the simple act of remembering transported her back in time. For a moment, she wasn’t a grown woman controlling her own destiny, but a little girl back in the system, gripping the last talisman she had from her old life. Living with her mother hadn’t been great, but at least she’d been wanted. At least that’s how she chose to remember those years.

      She leaned against the headboard, knees drawn close, the mug pressed to her breast. This was part of the routine too, this momentary lapse into loneliness. She’d get over it soon enough. She always did. Soon as she familiarized herself with the surroundings. Although this time the feelings were stronger than usual. Hardly surprising given Alex’s animosity.

      She gave herself five more minutes of self-pity, then put the emotion back on the shelf and walked to the window. Her bedroom overlooked a less landscaped part of the garden, closer to the trees, increasing the feeling of isolation. Outside, through the tree line, she noticed the sky still bore traces of daylight even though it felt far later. “Country living,” she mused, raising the sash. The greeting quiet was unsettling. Nothing but the rustle of leaves and a few intermittent high-pitched trills. How on earth would she sleep without the undercurrent of traffic? Or streetlights? Didn’t Markoff believe in outdoor lighting?

      Of course not, she answered with a roll of her eyes. Lights would ruin the whole “darkness” theme he had going.

      To her right, a branch snapped. She leaned over the sill, half expecting—or maybe fully expecting—to see a wild animal dashing out from the trees. What she saw instead surprised her more. It was the silhouette of a man.

      Markoff.

      He was walking the perimeter of the property, just inside the tree line. Head down, he picked his way