Picture Perfect Read online

  She felt his hand on the back of her neck, gentle and tense at the same time, as if even a caress could serve to remind her how easily he could overpower her. She narrowed her eyes and turned to him. "What in God's name did they do to you at that hospital?"

  His fingers tightened almost to the point of pain, and she cried out softly before she could stop herself. He was looking directly at her but she had the sense he was seeing someone else. Panicked, she clawed at Alex's wrist. "Cut it out," she whispered, and before she could ask him again what was the matter, his body pinned her to the seat and his mouth seared over hers in a kiss that was not like Alex at all.

  He's acting.

  She dug her nails into his arms and bit down on his lip until she had enough force to push him away. "Stop it," she ordered. "Just stop it now."

  For a moment he froze, his eyes paling to the gray of Arctic ice and then slowly draining of life until all that sat across from Cassie was a shell. And then something shuddered its way up his body, moving like a blush, bringing color to his skin and settling as a spark in his eyes. He was Alex again, and he shrugged. "You didn't have to bite me," he said. "I just figured you'd like a firsthand performance, too."

  Still cautious, Cassie curled up at the far side of the back seat. "Who told you where I went?" she accused, her eyes sliding to John in the front.

  Alex reached for her hand and laced his fingers with hers. "I know everything about you," he said, smiling.

  She was beginning to think that he did. He was back to being the Alex she'd grown accustomed to in the past few days, funny and gentle and comfortable as a worn armchair. Cassie wondered if this was just another character he'd played along the line, one he kept himself wrapped in most of the time.

  She shook her head to clear it. What was she thinking? She had seen Alex with his guard down--when he talked about his parents, when he tried to teach her karate on the shallows of the beach, when he reached for her in his sleep and whispered her name. It was impossible to act all the time; it was ridiculous to think that what she saw was not real. She squeezed his hand. "Sorry," she said. "I don't usually bite." He turned slightly, patting his side, and she willingly slid closer to him. "But what made you pickAntony , for God's sake?"

  Alex smiled. "You used to love Antony when we were first married," he said.

  Cassie opened her mouth to object, but changed her mind. Alex was right. He did know everything about her, and at the present moment she still knew next to nothing, and the only choice she had was to believe him.

  They drove for fifteen minutes in silence, and then Cassie felt Alex kiss the top of her head. "You're probably just nervous about meeting the staff all over again," he said.

  Cassie stared out the window. She knew she was passing trees and roads and flowering bushes, but the car was moving so quickly that the world was just puddled in colors; she could pick nothing out individually. "Yes," she said. "That must be it."

  THE HOUSE STOOD AT THE END OF A MILE-LONG DRIVEWAY UP A winding hill in Bel-Air, a white mansion with wrought-iron grillwork and a slate roof. The front porch supported a second-story veranda where floor-length lace curtains blew through open French doors. Roses climbed up a trellis on the left side of the house; heliotrope wound its way up the right. In the distance Cassie could see formal gardens and two smaller houses, little white replicas of the main house. It looked for all the world like a Louisiana plantation.

  "My God," she whispered, hearing the gravel crunch beneath her sneaker as she stepped out of the car. "I can't possibly live here."

  Alex took her by the elbow and guided her up the porch steps. John opened the front door, a magnificent oak panel carved with the head of a lion.

  The parlor was an overwhelming room with a cathedral ceiling, a double curved staircase, and rose marble floors. Cassie stared down at her feet, which rested in the reflected pool of light from a multicolored cathedral-style window over the door. Alex's initials spread like a stain over her left shoe and her ankle.

  "Cassie," he said, and her head snapped up. "John has told everybody about your...little problem, and they'll go out of their way to help you today before we go to Scotland."

  Cassie ran her eyes over the line of figures that stood at the bottom of the left-hand staircase like a row of toy soldiers. There was John, of course, who was not only the driver and bodyguard, apparently, but a majordomo of sorts. There was a man with a pastry apron wrapped around his large frame, a young girl in a simple black and white maid's uniform. Another man stood off to the side, as if he was unwilling to be associated with the household staff. He stepped forward and offered his hand. "Jack Arbuster," he said, smiling. "Your husband's secretary."

  She wondered what in the world Alex needed a secretary for when he already had an agent, a publicist, and a personal assistant. She thought maybe he was in charge of answering fan mail, or paying the utility bills.

  "I need to catch up on a few things before you fly out," Jack said to Alex. He winked at Cassie apologetically.

  Alex put his arm around her waist. "Give me an hour," he said to Jack. "I'll meet you in the library." As Jack walked off, Cassie followed him with her eyes, trying to see what was around the corner. Tugging her sideways, Alex pulled Cassie past the maid, the cook, and John. "Come on," he said. "I'll show you as much as I can, and if worse comes to worst I'll leave you with the blueprints till you can find your way around."

  He took her to a library paneled in cherry and filled with first editions of hundreds of British and American classics, pointing out one entire shelf filled with copies of scholarly journals and magazines that featured articles Cassie herself had written. He led her through a dining room whose table could seat thirty, a projection room with a pristine screen and ten overstuffed couches. In the kitchen, she stuck her head in the stainless steel refrigerator and counted the copper pots that were racked above the marble island, and was given a bite-size apple turnover by the cook as a parting gift.

  There were six bathrooms and ten bedrooms, each decorated with pale silk wallpaper and French lace curtains. There were three sitting rooms and a recreation center with pinball machines, a bowling lane, a pool table, and a big-screen TV. There was a whole wing she hadn't even seen when Alex brought her upstairs to the master bedroom. He opened the double doors to a suite, comfortably furnished with breezy striped sofas and thick Persian rugs. A stereo was recessed into the wall, in addition to a television and a VCR. Flowers were arranged in bowls on several tables, beautiful blooms that brought out the lavender and blue accents of the room and that, Cassie knew, were not native to California.

  "We must spend a lot of time up here," Cassie said, stepping behind Alex through an adjoining door that revealed a tremendous bird's-eye maple sleigh bed.

  Alex smiled at her. "Well," he said, "we try."

  Cassie stepped up to the bed and traced the whorls in the patterns of wood. "This is bigger than a king-size, isn't it?"

  Alex flopped onto the mattress belly-first. "I had it made up special. I have this theory about beds--they're like goldfish bowls. You know how if you keep goldfish in a bowl, they stay the size of your thumb? Well, when you move them into a pond, like we have out back, they grow ten times that size. So I figure the bigger the bed, the less I'll be stunting my growth."

  Cassie laughed. "I think you've passed puberty."

  Alex grabbed her wrist and pulled her down beside him. "You've noticed?"

  She rolled toward him, staring at the light beard that already broke the smooth line of his jaw. "Where's my lab?"

  "Out back. The little white building--the second one you come to. The first one is where John lives."

  Cassie frowned. "He doesn't stay in the house like Mrs. Alvarez?"

  Alex sat up. "We like having the place to ourselves at night," he said simply.

  Cassie walked to the gaping fireplace that stood opposite the bed, then fingered the empty brandy decanter on the mantel.Aurora , she thought, and she felt Alex's hands on her shoul