Private Affair

by Rebecca York

  They got out of the car, and she waited a moment before climbing the two steps to the sagging porch, aware of Max behind her. They’d been here only a couple of days, and already she was uncomfortable with the living arrangements. If she could have fixed him up a place in the barn, she would have done it, but of course that was impossible—for a lot of reasons. She had hired him for this job, and she could hardly be so ungracious as to kick him out of the house. And then there was the demanding newly engaged couple act that they had to pull off.

  When she started to unlock the door, Max put his hand on her arm. “Remember the alarm?”

  Her jangled nerves made her mutter an unladylike curse under her breath. “No. Sorry.”

  Early in the morning, the three Rockfort men had done a hurry-up job of installing an alarm system in the house. If anyone opened a door or a downstairs window without punching in the code, a siren would go off right away. If they opened a door, there was a two-minute delay to give you time to enter the code. In any case, if the alarm went off, the system would also send a signal to the Rockfort offices. Max had punched in the arming code when they’d left, and she’d been so focused on the upcoming meeting that she hadn’t thought about it now.

  “But you remember the numbers?”

  “Yes.”

  She turned the key and opened the door, then heard it chime before a series of beeps started, reminding her she had two minutes to press in the code.

  In the kitchen, she switched on an overhead light, then walked to the control box and punched the keys in the right order. Not so hard for her to remember since they were her parents’ wedding date—0483.

  The beeping stopped, and she walked farther into the kitchen. Pretending she was thirsty, she opened the refrigerator and got out one of the bottles of water that they’d bought the day before.

  She could hear Max in the living room pulling down shades and turning on more lights.

  After twisting off the cap on the water bottle and taking a sip, she stayed facing away from the door. Opening a kitchen cabinet, she pretended to check some of the supplies they’d bought, desperately trying to avoid thinking of what a newly engaged couple would be doing when they got home. When she heard his footsteps in back of her, the image grew even stronger. Like wouldn’t she and Max screwing each other’s brains out be a good way to defuse some of the tension blooming between them? They could get the sex part out of their systems and focus on the murder investigation.

  And what would Max think about her then? That she’d picked up some bad habits in New York? He probably wouldn’t realize that her busy schedule had kept her from having much of a personal life.

  Glad that her back was to him, she dismissed the sexual thoughts as completely inappropriate. She wasn’t going to do anything of the sort with Max.

  He cleared his throat. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  “Right.”

  “Maybe you should start by telling me what you’re not saying about your school days.”

  The words and the tone of his voice made her go rigid, then whirl toward him. “What do you mean?”

  “Why are you worried that what happened to Gary, Patrick, and Angela could happen to you?”

  Chapter 5

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” Olivia said, although she was pretty certain she knew where Max was going with this.

  “What do the four of you have in common?”

  “We were all popular.”

  “What else?”

  Olivia was saved by her cell phone ringing. Relieved, she said, “I have to get this.”

  But after she’d dug the instrument out of her purse and looked at the number, she went rigid all over again.

  “What?” Max demanded.

  “It’s not about the murders¸” she snapped, then ordered herself to calm down as she clicked the icon to answer. She’d been on edge all day, and this was one more reason to set her nerves jangling.

  “Olivia. I left a message for you to call,” Jerry Ellison, her agent, said. Of course, she’d told him she was going to be out of town for a few days, and while he hadn’t flat out told her she couldn’t come down to Maryland, she’d known he was opposed to the idea. Jerry was the kind of guy who liked to wield power—especially over people who worked for him. And she silently admitted that one of the reasons she’d been so anxious to get away was to give herself space to evaluate her career. She’d walked into the Ellison Agency as a wet-behind-the-ears wannabe. She’d felt like fortune had smiled on her when he’d taken her on. Now she knew he’d seen the potential in her. She’d had raw talent, but he’d taught her how to walk and turn, how to hold her head and body. And he’d gotten her jobs that built her career, starting her off with runway gigs, where she had received good reviews as a promising newcomer from the fashion press—which had led to magazine and television work. Those jobs had allowed her to stop starving herself and gain a few pounds. But she’d still kept up her killer schedule. Partly that was because Jerry had pushed her to take on any good job that was offered and partly because she was afraid that if she said no, they wouldn’t ask again.

  At first all the attention had been exciting, and she had learned from Jerry and stretched her own talent to see what she could do. Plus she’d basked in his praise. But as she got into the higher ranges of her profession, he had become more demanding—and more critical. Now she was thinking about leaving him, but that would mean walking away from several lucrative contracts that he had negotiated. If she did that, everybody would know. Would that mean no other top agent would take her on? And if they did, could she make sure the terms were more in her favor? She’d blindly signed the contract Jerry had offered her. Now she knew she’d take any new contract to a lawyer. And she’d negotiate terms.

  “I’ve been busy,” Olivia told him.

  “When are you planning to come back?”

  “I told you I needed some time off,” she said, hedging. She hadn’t shared anything with him about Angela’s murder or her determination to find out who did it. And for that matter, she hadn’t said anything about the fake engagement. He’d go ballistic if he heard about that. But how would he, unless someone at the meeting tonight blabbed?

  “I need you back here.”

  “I can’t come right now.”

  “Yeah, well, Million Dollar Babe moved up the schedule. They want to start shooting the week after next.” He was referring to a chain of boutiques that was spreading across the country, establishing itself in suburban malls. They came out with a catalog of new fashions every quarter, and Olivia was one of the women who had been invited to model for the winter season. They weren’t using her in the full set of shots. This would be a test to see how she worked out. When she’d gotten the offer, she’d been sure she was going to be added to their go-to list. Now she was jeopardizing that status.

  “Jerry…”

  “Now you’re saying you won’t come back for an important job?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you crazy?” Jerry’s voice rose. “This is a crucial career move.”

  “I’ve been running on fumes for a long time.”

  He went on as though she hadn’t spoken. “They want to have you try on some of the outfits before the actual shooting. If you can’t do it, they’ll get somebody else.”

  “If that’s what they feel they have to do,” she heard herself say, marveling that the words had come out of her mouth.

  There was a short pause while Jerry grappled with the unheard-of thought that his top client wasn’t doing exactly what she was told to do. “You’re kidding,” he said.

  “I’ve come to the conclusion I have to take care of myself,” she answered. And she wasn’t saying that just for effect. Angela’s death had made her realize that life was short. If you spent all your time chasing the brass ring, you could very well wake up one day and find that things hadn’t turned out the way you’d expected. And in Angela’s case, that was devastatingly true. She knew her friend ha
d been looking forward to a long and successful career as a prominent Ellicott City businesswoman. Angela had been thriving, but her life had been cut short.

  “Maybe you’re focused on the wrong priorities,” Jerry snapped. “A lot of people depend on you.”

  The last part hurt, because she knew it was true. Before she could come up with an answer, he clicked off, leaving her listening to dead air.

  When she looked up, Max was watching her with chilling intensity. In the midst of the tense conversation, she’d forgotten about him. Now she realized she’d given him an unwitting insight into her private life. When she’d hired Rockfort Security, she’d been thinking in terms of the murder investigation. She hadn’t realized that she’d be laying herself bare.

  “Trouble?” he asked.

  She sighed, wishing she didn’t have to explain the call. Actually, she didn’t, but it was awkward to ignore the conversation now. “My agent is angry that I’m not rushing back to New York because an important client wants to start earlier than they initially said.” As she explained the problem, she watched Max, anxious to see his reaction.

  “Does that guy run your life?” he asked.

  She pushed back the thick wave of hair that had fallen across one eye. “I sort of let him do that for a while.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I have to think about what comes next. And I’m not ready to discuss it with anyone,” Olivia added, wondering why she had put it in those terms. Had she already made a decision she couldn’t admit? Had being back home shifted her priorities? Or had her attraction to Max reminded her she should think about her personal life? That was an interesting thought. They’d only been together for a few days, and they’d be saying good-bye when this job was finished for him. At least that had been her original thinking.

  “Understood,” he clipped out, reminding her that as far as he was concerned, they were sticking to the original deal.

  They stood facing each other for a charged moment, and she tried to take the level of tension in the room down a notch

  “Did you get enough to eat at the meeting?” she asked. “Or should I fix something?”

  “I had the equivalent of dinner—if you consider dinner to be buffalo wings and chips and dip. Not exactly a balanced meal, but filling enough.” She saw him making an effort to relax as he said, “I’m going to change into something more comfortable.”

  “Probably a good idea,” she agreed, glad that they were off the subject of the phone call and steering away from anything personal.

  They both climbed the stairs to the second floor, then separated in the hallway. Max was sleeping in what had been the spare bedroom. She was back in the room she’d occupied when she’d lived with her parents. She could have taken the master bedroom, but that would have felt too strange, since her mother and father had slept there for so many years.

  She quickly took off the pearl gray slacks and dressy knit top she’d worn to the reunion committee meeting and pulled out jeans, a T-shirt, and running shoes.

  After dressing, she started down the hall to the bathroom and almost bumped into Max coming from the other direction, also dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and running shoes. The bathroom situation was one of the least convenient aspects of the house. It had only one full bath on the top floor, although there was a powder room in back of the kitchen.

  Max stopped short. “Go ahead. I can wait.”

  She wanted to say she could also wait. But there was no point in making a trip to the potty into some kind of…pissing contest.

  “Thanks,” she said, then ducked into the room and closed the door. When she heard his footsteps recede down the hall, she used the facilities and washed her hands, then walked back to the steps. In the living room, she picked up her iPad from the end table and got into her email, most of which was either ads or messages from newsgroups she subscribed to.

  There was also a message from Jerry reminding her about the Million Dollar Babe shooting schedule, as though they hadn’t spoken about it a few minutes ago. It wasn’t like it was next week. She could still do it if they resolved the problem down here in time. But Jerry wanted a definite answer.

  “Sorry,” she emailed back. “If you have to get someone else, go ahead and do it.”

  His jaw was probably going to drop to his knees when he read her response. But she wasn’t going to cave. Not just because the murder investigation was important. Wasn’t it possible for a top model to pull back and work on an easier schedule? What if she was married or something?

  She made a snorting sound. She wasn’t married to Max—or even engaged. She was just pretending to be his fiancée. When this was over, he’d go back to his work with Rockfort Security, and she would… Go back to New York? Probably. Where else did she have to go, really?

  Attending the reunion meeting had made her realize more than anything else that she had severed her ties with Howard County, Maryland. Leaving had been a deliberate move on her part. You could even say calculating. She had turned away from her old life, determined to build something of her own. And she’d worked hard to do that. She’d had a goal, and mostly she had achieved it. The climb had been difficult—and exciting. Each new milestone had made her feel more like she belonged in that glittering world of success. But now that she had reached a level of success she’d hardly dared to imagine, it didn’t feel as awesome as she’d expected.

  Was she passing up the chance to get married and have a family?

  There it was again. Thoughts of marriage, which she’d firmly put out of her mind while she focused on her career. Was a normal life now impossible for her?

  Hearing footsteps, she looked up and saw Max coming down the stairs.

  He was carrying his laptop, and he sat down in the easy chair opposite the sofa and raised the screen.

  She lived alone in an apartment in New York. Probably he had his own apartment in Rockville. And now here they were together—yet still separate.

  Was this a typical evening for a modern family? Long ago, the people who lived in this house might have been gathered around the piano after dinner, with one person playing and the others singing. Then had come the era of listening to the radio—followed by the new invention, television. And now everybody had his own computer, which separated them again.

  Max didn’t speak, and she didn’t ask him if he was checking his email or doing research on some of the people they’d met at the meeting, probably because she didn’t want him to ask her any questions. They’d been in the middle of a discussion about what she, Patrick, Gary, and Angela had in common, and she was still trying to come up with an answer that would satisfy him—and not make her cringe when she talked about her past.

  Damn, she’d jumped into this arrangement with Rockfort Security without knowing that Max Lyon was a bulldog when it came to digging answers out of suspects. Well, she wasn’t exactly a suspect. Maybe witness was a better way to put it. But she was a witness who didn’t know if the secrets buried in her past were relevant or not.

  You’re lying to yourself, she silently admitted. Maybe you’re here because you’re tired of hiding from yourself. But was she really ready for that?

  Keeping her head down, she focused on the computer screen, opening messages that she might have skipped if she’d been pressed for time.

  ***

  Max fought the urge to shift in his seat because he knew Olivia would catch the movement. It was unsettling to be sitting across from her like a married couple relaxing in the evening.

  And in this house, of all places. Back in high school, he’d imagined the lives of his classmates. He’d pictured their houses and the conversations they might be having around the dinner table with their parents.

  And he certainly hadn’t pictured the most stunning girl in school living in this house. He’d just assumed that Olivia Winters went home every night to one of the McMansions that had sprung up around the county or at the very least to one of the upscale developments in Columbia or Ellicott
City. He hadn’t known she lived in a farmhouse with rusty plumbing and wood floors that needed refinishing. All those years ago he hadn’t realized that in some ways she was as much an outsider as he was himself.

  Max stole a glance at her. She was looking at her iPad screen like it held the secrets of the universe, her fingers on the inefficient built-in keyboard. He knew she was hiding from him. Hiding in plain sight because getting up and leaving the room would be like admitting she couldn’t handle the two of them here together.

  Of course, he was doing the same thing, if the truth be told. It was clear there were things she didn’t want to talk about. And the same was true for him.

  Was he going to come out and ask her if she remembered the time they’d actually bumped up against each other when they were both in high school? It had been at a fast-food restaurant in Columbia, a pizza place on Route 108. She’d been there with one of her girlfriends. Maybe even Angela, although he couldn’t be sure, because his focus had been on Olivia. The girls had been at a table, sharing a large pizza, and two guys had come up and tried to start a conversation. Not local guys, because he didn’t recognize any of them. Olivia and her friend had done their best to ignore the unwanted attention. But Max had been across the room, and he’d heard the increasingly personal comments and invitations to go someplace where they could get to know each other better. It was obvious that the nice, polite high school girls hadn’t known how to handle the situation.

  Finally Max had gotten up and crossed the room, moving in on the boys with cool deliberation. At first they’d looked ready to fight with the guy who dared to interfere with their plans for the two babes. Then they’d taken a second look at Max and caught the recklessness below his calm exterior. Maybe they’d decided that tangling with him might get their teeth knocked down their throats. Pretending it was what they’d intended all along, they’d backed away, and the girls had gratefully thanked Max. He’d been torn, but he hadn’t taken the opportunity to sit down with them. Instead, he’d gone back to his own table, without a glance over his shoulder. As if he wasn’t burning to get to know Olivia Winters better.