Paige Newhart had it all. That was what she told herself, anyway. True, she had the job of her dreams and lived in her dream house—a penthouse. Still had her fame with the big bank account to show for it. She even had the proverbial dog everyone talked about, thanks to her recently acquired stepbro, Tex, and his last visit. When she saw the monster pup, she told Tex, “It’s on probation. This is not a forever home.”

Her thoughts returned to her present plight. Somewhere, somehow, something’s missing in my life, and it makes my brain ache.

A blinding pain ripped through Paige’s head. She raised a shaking hand to her forehead and massaged it. Oh God, am I having a stroke? Nausea rolled through her, and she groped for the wastebasket in case she had to hurl.

Dizziness overwhelmed her, adding more misery on top of her throbbing headache. Is this an aneurysm? She eased herself from her ergonomic chair and slipped to lay on the gray-colored hardwood floor, mercifully missing her well-organized desk with its pens and pencils—well sharpened and arranged just so. The floorboards felt cool against her cheek.

Ice. Maybe ice will stop the pain. Paige didn’t want to risk standing up to get some. She rolled onto her back, holding her head between her hands, trying to stop the pain or at least keep it at bay. It didn’t work. Calm down. Maybe it’s not a stroke.

She could hear her older sister’s voice in her head, counseling her to breathe. “Inhale.” She inhaled and felt like puking. “Exhale.” She got dizzier.

Tiny—the pooch on probation—licked her hands, whining as if worried. Or more likely, wanting to go outside. Paige pushed the pup’s head away, which didn’t deter the imp. Tiny moved closer and licked her throbbing brow. When Paige turned her head to the side, Tiny began to bark, the sound feeling like shards of glass worming through her brain.

Paige wanted to shoot herself to end her suffering. Instead, she raised her index finger to her nose in the quiet command hand sign. “Quiet.” Tiny didn’t heed her and barked all the louder, bouncing back and forth in a near frenzy. “Tiny, stop. Settle. I’m okay.”

Tiny produced another worried whine, then began drooling on her forehead, which pooled beneath her fingertips.

Paige groaned as she wiped the slime away. “Tiny, stop. I haven’t passed out. I’m awake.”

Through her pain, she heard pounding on the door and the dogwalker’s voice calling out.

“Paige, you okay in there?”

She heard the lock turn, and then Alex was bent over her, soothing and petting the dog while firing off questions.

“Hey, you, okay? Did you fall? Have you forgotten to eat again? How long have you been working? Can you sit up?”

Paige noticed the security keycard she had given him lying on the floor. “Better pocket that before Tiny eats it.”

Alex laughed. “Yeah. Good idea. That dog will eat anything.”

“Tell me about it. He ate my Louis Vuitton pumps.”

Alex shrieked. “Oh no, he did not.” He paused and tilted his head, clearly considering the situation. “At least he has good taste.”

“You mean expensive taste. Help me up, will ya?”

Alex pulled her up to a sitting position and gave her an odd look. “Talk to me. Say a complete sentence.”

She frowned. “Why on earth would I do that?”

Alex scrunched his brow. “A question counts as a sentence, doesn’t it?”

“Probably. What is this, some kind of test?”

Alex ignored her question and commanded, “Raise your arms above your head.”

Paige lifted a brow instead. “Why?”

“Just do it.”

She was tempted to roll her eyes but did as he asked.

Alex took her chin and tilted her head this way and that. “Hmm.” His gaze roamed her face and then her body. He grinned. “Nothing’s drooping.” He paused when he got to her boobs. “Well, your face isn’t, anyway.”

“Very funny.”

“You’re not showing the typical signs of a stroke, so what gives?” He fished in his pocket, withdrew a small container, and shook out two pills. “Take these two aspirins. Just in case.”

She gratefully took the pills with the water he handed her. “I’m fine. I have a monster migraine. I slid outta my chair, I didn’t fall.”

“You know that’s not normal, right? You’re killing yourself. And why? Yesterday, Elyse mentioned that you have no deadline to meet. No new books to write at the moment. No book signings or tours. Why do you push yourself so hard?”

Her cheeks heated. He has me there. “You don’t stay on the best sellers list by lying around. I have work to do.”

“Working yourself to death isn’t going to cut it either. Even the airlines know to tell the passengers to put their masks on first so they don’t pass out before they help their youngsters.” He frowned. “Though judging from their recent performance, it doesn’t appear like they know much about customer satisfaction.” He shrugged. “But I digress. Writing from dawn to dusk day in and day out is not the way to keep your mojo flowing. You need some downtime. Have to recharge the battery. I prescribe a nice relaxing vacay.”

“Thank you very much,” Paige grumbled. “But I already have a mother, you know. And an older sister.”

Alex shook his head. “Yeah.”

She shot him a wry look. “You’re my dogwalker.”

“Nuh-uh. From now on, I’ll be your assistant.

“Elyse is my assistant.”

“She was your assistant—was being the operative verb. She left. Remember? Don’t tell me you didn’t notice?” He rocked, holding his arms as if cradling a baby. “You know… The baby bump? The maternity leave? Maybe you did have a stroke.”

Paige groaned. “Of course, I remember.”