Page 9 of Her Reclusive Beast

The rest of the day passes with me mostly in my happy place, reading a new manuscript and imagining how much better it will be when I’ve addressed all the little issues.

It’s not until the next day, however, that I am able to pin Max down to review some of these changes.

“I don’t care, Jenna. Do whatever you think is best and will take the least amount of time,” he practically snarls.

I gape at him. Maxim Behr giving his editor free rein? Never going to happen so he must be hiding something. I’m just opening my mouth to accuse him of this when there’s a firm knock on the front door.

Max pauses briefly as if considering whether to ignoring it. “Stay here and finish it up, Jenna. The sooner the better.” Finally he turns on his heel and saunters from the room. Whoever is on the other side of the front door must be beyond confused by now. And why doesn’t Max want me to see who it is?

5

I’m only slightly ashamed to say I eavesdropped on Max’s conversation with the visitor. Of course I did! Any self-respecting person would want to know more about whoever is visiting the most reclusive and enigmatic man on the planet.

It’s a man. One with an extremely polished and cultured voice. With a thread of laughter running through it. The kind of humor that isn’t exactly carefree. He clearly knows Max well and they go back some time. They’re comfortable with each other, which has me feeling slightly jealous. I wish Max would talk with me as easily. Their voices are too low to catch anything more than a word or two, unfortunately. When they move out of the hallway and towards the kitchen, I have to pause to contemplate my next move. I decide to give them fifteen minutes and then I’ll casually wander into the kitchen for a cup of coffee and force an introduction.

I attempt to focus on the new manuscript pages while I wait out my self-imposed time-out, but I can’t concentrate. When I finally end my exile and stroll towards my destination, I pause abruptly in the hallway when I hear a cat meow. Is that… it can’t be. But nobody meows quite like Kiki. All thoughts of spyingbefore entering the room flee from my brain as I rush into the kitchen. Freeing my gorgeous girl from her cat carrier, I cradle her to my chest despite her loud protests.

Finally, I look up and into the amused green eyes of a man who stepped right off the cover of GQ — from the old days before they got street trendy. He scans me from head to toe and casts an inquiring glance toward Max. Who sighs. Heavily.

“Jenna, this is Javier. Ignore him. He brought your things and will be leaving again shortly.”

Javier rolls his eyes and shows no signs of an imminent departure. “Is that any way to treat family, Max?”

My eyes widen. These two look nothing alike. Javier is almost too pretty, particularly next to Max’s rugged and larger body. “You two are related?”

Max purses his lips thoughtfully. “Remember our arrangement regarding information, Jenna. The connection between myself and Javier definitely falls into that category and will require a down payment from you first.”

Remembering exactly what he said about telling me his past, I blush furiously. Javier straightens with a smirk. “What’s this, now?”

Max shuts him down with a glare. “You — out.” He points his finger past Javier towards the front door.

Javier shrugs and saunters in the direction indicated. “Don’t forget, you now owe me a favor. And I’ll be collecting in about six months.”

“In your dreams,” Max mutters.

“You aren’t the only one contending with some form of mating fever.” With a mocking salute, Javier turns and disappears through the front door. It’s only then that I see a small stack of boxes in the hallway.

“What’s that?”

“Your things,” Max replies dryly. “Check them over and make sure he didn’t forget anything. I’ve got no problems sending him back if he did.”

I stare at him, then at the boxes. “Kiki is more important to me.”

He sighs. “Well then, be careful about open doors and windows until she settles in. This isn’t the city and there are coyotes and eagles happy for an easy catch.”

I clutch Kiki tighter to my chest, but she’s had enough and wriggles free. Stopping only to glare at me, she takes off like a streak of lightning upstairs.

Retracing my steps, I decide coffee is definitely a requirement before getting back to work. If I stay up, I think I can finish today. Max is a very clean writer, so aside from some punctuation and small rewording, which I’m doing as I type, I don’t need to hand it back for revisions. Of course, I haven’t read the end yet.

When I do, I cry. It’s far too much of a thriller to have a genuine happy ending. It ends more on the hope for one. The main character does now have answers if not revenge. And also the chance for love, even though he doesn’t have the actual girl in his bed yet. As an editor, I can’t complain. Readers will eat this up. Seeing the comparison of the main character to Max and how he thinks of me, I’m not particularly happy.

It’s late when I finish and wander through the house to my room. I don’t bother turning on lights, instead keeping one hand on the wall like I’m in a Victorian dark Gothic romance. I pause near the staircase leading up to the main bedrooms. I can’t help testing the doorknob. It’s closed but not locked and suddenly I have the worst urge to snuggle against Max’s warmth. It’s almost like the story brought the feeling on. Dare I?

I force myself to continue to my own room and brush my teeth before deciding for sure. Although my mind is mostlymade up. I swiftly change into my pajamas and slippers and then glide silently back to the stairwell.

“Max?” I call softly at the entrance to his room. He doesn’t stir, his softly glowing skin looks damp. I reach out a hand and find him burning up. What was it Javier said as he left? Something about mating fever?

I shake Max’s shoulder gently. “Max? Are you okay?”

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