Read The Other Side of Us (Harlequin Superromance) for Free Online Page B

thousand
kilometers south hadn’t been such a crazy idea after all.
    * * *
    M ACKENZIE HAD PLANNED to
take Mr. Smith for a walk along the beach that afternoon, but the weather had
different ideas. Instead, she spent some time online checking out the various
chat groups and fan sites for Time and Again. She
liked to dip her toe in occasionally to take the temperature and see how viewers
were responding to the show. The uneasy feeling that had sat in her gut since
her conversation with Gordon yesterday intensified as she read excited posts
from die-hard fans. According to them, the past few months had been some of the
best in the show’s history. Dramatic, exciting, romantic, funny...
    It was hyperbole, written by fervent, biased fans. But it still
made her feel edgy. She recorded the show religiously every night but hadn’t
caught up with her viewing for a few days. Since she was on a roll with the
self-torturing thing, she watched three episodes in a row. Every time something
caught her attention—a change in the lighting, some alterations to a set, the
thrust of a storyline—she stopped and reviewed the footage. Two hours later,
she’d bitten her thumbnail down to the quick and the edgy feeling had become
full-fledged anxiety.
    Gordon was right. Philip was doing
a good job. Possibly even a great job. She’d been aware of it before, of
course—God, she’d even been foolish enough to be relieved that the show was in
such good hands—but she hadn’t consciously registered how good his work was.
    She stared at the darkened TV screen, rain slashing at the
windows, Mr. Smith snoring at her feet. If Philip held out for a longer
contract, the production company would be crazy not to give it to him. She’d give it to him if she were in Gordon’s
position.
    Please, please, please don’t let that
happen.
    She wasn’t even remotely hungry but she forced herself to make
and eat dinner. In the good old days, she’d lived on Diet Coke, black coffee and
take-out meals. These days, she made sure she gave her body what it needed to
recover—organic vegetables, lean protein and all manner of virtuous things. She
sat on the window seat in the living room and watched the trees thrash around in
the rising wind while she ate her chicken stir-fry. The storm showed no signs of
abating. Hardly unusual stuff for the Mornington Peninsula—she’d already endured
several storms like this since she’d taken up residence in the beach house—but
pretty spectacular to watch from the comfort of a warm, cozy house.
    Her gaze was drawn to the golden light spilling from the house
next door. It was strange to see it lit up after all these months of darkness.
If her new neighbor hadn’t turned out to be such an uptight ass, she’d have
welcomed the signs of life. But after this morning’s dressing-down, the only
thing she’d welcome was his departure.
    She made a rude sound in the back of her throat as she
remembered the way he’d looked down at her from his position on the fence,
telling her how to manage her dog and acting as though Mr. Smith was some kind
of pirate king who had buccaneered his way into the neighboring yard and raped
and pillaged its doggy occupants. Last time she’d looked, dogs were animals,
with all the attendant urges and instincts of animals. Clearly Oliver was one of
those uptight dog owners who policed their pet’s every move. No doubt poor
Strudel lived a regimented life full of rules and regulations.
    Poor Strudel. Probably those few illicit seconds with Mr. Smith
were the most fun she’d had in a long time.
    Mackenzie scooped the last mouthful of rice from her bowl and
swung her feet to the floor. She wasn’t going to waste another second thinking
about Mr. Uptight. Life was too short.
    She was in bed by nine o’clock, listening to the rain drum
against the tin roof. She drifted into sleep and woke to deep darkness and the
sound of running water. For a few seconds she thought she’d left the tap on in
the