Page 88 of Kiss an Angel

“Dr. Alex Markov.”

Her mind reeled. “He’s—uh—not here right now. May I take a message?”

Her hand shook as she wrote down the man’s name and number. By the time she hung up, her head was reeling. Alex was a doctor! She’d known he was well educated and that he had another life, but she hadn’t imagined anything like this.

The mysteries surrounding her husband deepened, but she had no idea how to discover the truth. So far, he had refused to answer any of her questions, and he continued to act as if he had no existence beyond the boundaries of the circus.

She licked her dry lips and looked over at Jack. “That was a man who wanted to speak with Alex. He called him Doctor Markov.”

Jack slipped several files back into the open drawer of the file cabinet without looking up. “Leave the message on the desk. He’ll see it when he comes in.”

He’d shown no reaction, so he obviously knew more about her husband’s life than she did. The knowledge hurt. “I know it’s just an oversight, but Alex hasn’t ever told me exactly which branch of medicine he practices.”

Jack picked up another file. “I guess that’s the way he wants it, then.”

Frustration ate at her. “Tell me what you know about him, Jack.”

“Circus people learn not to ask too many questions about anybody’s private life. If people want to talk about their past, they will. Otherwise, it’s their business.”

She realized that all she’d done was embarrass herself. She made a play of rustling through the papers and escaped as quickly as she could.

She found Alex with Misha, squatting down to examine the horse’s fetlock. She stared at him for a long moment.

“You’re a vet.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re a veterinarian.”

“Since when?”

“Aren’t you?”

“I don’t know where you get your ideas.”

“I just got a phone call for you. Someone wanted to speak with Doctor Markov.”

“So?”

“If you’re not a vet, what kind of doctor are you?”

He straightened and

patted Misha’s neck. “Did you ever think it might be a nickname?”

“A nickname?”

“From my days in prison. You know how convicts give each other names.”

“You weren’t in prison!”

“I thought you said I was. For murdering that waitress.” She stomped her foot in frustration. “Alex Markov, you tell me right now what you do when you’re not with this circus!”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m your wife! I deserve the truth.”

“All you need to know is what you see in front of you—a bad-tempered circus bum with a lousy sense of humor. Anything more would just confuse you.”

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