The break that Miles had been hoping for so he could take her to his horse farm came a month into the filming of the show. They’d had dinner together several times by then, and had learned a lot about each other. He knew all about the nuns, her friend Brigid, and her years in college. He knew about her father and how she had never been in love. He could see how hard she worked, and how dedicated she was. He saw her vulnerable side and her strengths, and how intelligent she was. But what he didn’t know, and couldn’t, was that she wrote the Alexander Green books. It was the only thing she had concealed from him, and she knew she had no choice. She couldn’t take him into the inner circle of her life—he didn’t belong there, and if he ever misused the knowledge, he could destroy her career, and she would let no one and nothing do that. She protected her work with every ounce of her soul, even more than her heart.
Miles had shared with her his childhood in the north of England, in Yorkshire, boarding school at Eton, a year in Ireland after college, his work for the BBC when he came back, his passion for horses, love of his children, and disappointments of his marriage. He had no desire to be married again. He had dated a few women since his separation and divorce from his wife, but no one he cared about particularly or loved, or wanted to see more of.
He said he had a weakness for actresses, which didn’t serve him well. “They’re so incredibly narcissistic,” he said, and she confessed that her nemeses were would-be writers. He asked her again if she and Alexander Green had ever been romantically involved during the years they’d worked together. It seemed logical to him that it could have happened—she was a beautiful woman—but when he asked her, she said no, and he could see in her eyes that she was telling the truth, although he still had a sense at times that there were things she wasn’t telling him. He assumed they were the painful parts of her youth, like the mother who had abandoned her, and the father she had lost. It never dawned on him that it could be something else much more complicated than that.
He was incredibly drawn to Alex, but he didn’t want to create a difficult situation for either of them with their work, so he held back. And he had no idea how she felt about him. He loved their evenings together, but she was demure and very shy and in some ways very young. He guessed that she had little experience, and she had admitted to him that she had gone out with only a few men. Her entire life was devoted to her work. She was just the kind of woman he would have wanted to find, if he wanted to marry again, but he didn’t. He had vowed after his divorce never to make that mistake a second time. Alex wasn’t the kind of woman he could take lightly, and he didn’t want her to get hurt. Having a casual affair with her would have seemed like profound disrespect, even if she’d been willing, but she wasn’t that kind of woman. He felt it best to remain good friends. And their friendship was deepening day by day. They enjoyed many of the same things, and had a lot in common. It became increasingly natural to spend time together when they could. It was all very wholesome and pure, which was comfortable for them both.
The male lead in the series got a terrible flu that ended in bronchitis, the female lead caught it from him, and they had to stop shooting for a few days, and it could even turn into a week. They shot around them for as long as they were able, and then they had to stop, and Miles turned up in her office grinning broadly.
“We’ve got it!” he whispered as he approached her desk.
“Got what?” She was looking at one of the latest scripts and was distracted.
“The time we need to go to my farm. They’re sick as dogs, and the doctor just said it could turn into pneumonia if we don’t let them rest. Do you think Mr. Green would give you a few days off?”
“I’ll ask, but I’m sure he would. He’s writing right now anyway, and he doesn’t like to be bothered when he is.” Her lies were getting better, and she embellished them as needed. She smiled up at Miles. She felt peaceful whenever she was with him. There was nothing heated or awkward in their relationship. It was a haven for them both. “When do you want to go?”
“Tonight?” His son had just gone back to Johannesburg, so Miles was free. “We could go when we finish this afternoon.” They had to tie up a few loose ends before taking a shooting break. “We could leave by six or seven, and not get there too late. It’s two and a half hours away, three at most. All you need are sweaters and jeans and some boots to muck around in if it gets wet. You could borrow a pair of my daughter’s if you don’t have any with you. You’re about the same size.” Although they looked entirely different. Both of his children were as blond as he, Alex knew from the photographs he’d shown her. She’d had dinner one night in his flat, which was a cozy, eclectic, appealing mess that put its arms around you and made you never want to leave. She had hated to go home to the elegant townhouse that night and wished that things were different and she could stay with him. But thinking that was absurd, and he had never behaved as anything but a friend. “Can you call and ask Green now?” Miles asked hopefully.
“I promise, it will be fine. I’ll ask him when I get home, but he won’t say no. And he’d rather not have me around when he’s writing.”
“All right, if you think so. I’ll leave early, if I can, and pick you up at six.” He was thrilled to be taking her to his farm. He had been wanting to show it to her for weeks and didn’t see how he could. Two of the stars getting sick was providential, though unfortunate for them. Alex beamed at him as he rushed off. She left a little early too, and went home with her driver, to pack. She let him off for the next two days, and told him she’d call when she returned.
“Mr. Green won’t be needing me, ma’am?” He never did, nor any of the staff the driver never saw but knew was there, or so he thought.
“No, Lambert. Thank you.”
She hurried to the master suite and put some music on while she packed. There was a fabulous sound system in the house and she used it a lot to listen to Prince, the Black Eyed Peas, Santana, Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder, and others. She packed in fifteen minutes, after calling Miles to confirm that Mr. Green had no problem with her leaving. Miles called and said he was outside twenty minutes later. He didn’t want to ring the bell and disturb Mr. Green while he was writing. Alex came out with a small overnight bag and a tote stuffed with everything she could think of that she might need for the weekend.
“You’ve got a cheek,” Miles said as he took her bags from her and put them in what he called the “boot,” the trunk. He sounded mildly scolding, as he would to a child.