Falling For Ken (Blueprint to Love Book 2) (23 page)

"But I
do
feel it. I know it's too soon," he admitted. "I'm not looking for you to say anything, okay?"

"Harrison– h-how can you . . . how can you know-"

"I've spent thirty-three years on the planet never feeling anything like this,” he explained, frowning over the trace of annoyance he heard in his voice.

"But-"

"Look– I know you don't want to trust me, but you're going to have to make an exception." He cut off her stammered reaction, his heart skipping erratically in his suddenly constricted chest. Hell– he shouldn't have told her. Not so soon. He felt the crackling tension in her body, felt the shockwaves radiate out to encompass him, too. He should have waited– until he could make her realize she loved him, too.

"But– where did this come from," she whispered.

"I've been fighting it . . . nearly from the beginning." He nodded over her expression of disbelief. "You don't see what I do when I look at you . . . when I spend time with you."

"I'm just . . . a novelty. Those feelings won't last."

His heart sank with the certainty of her words and nearly broke over her bewildered expression. Of course love didn't last . . . not in her world. No one had ever loved her enough to stay. How could she believe in someone like him– when her own family hadn't been worthy of her trust? "I know what I feel, Kenny. My heart knows."

"Harrison . . . you don't– if you knew the real me . . . you wouldn't want me."

Amber eyes bright with unshed tears, the pain flaring in their depths made Harry's chest ache. He brought his fingertips to her lips, silencing her confusion. His feelings were too new . . . too raw. He didn't think he could bear to hear her uncertainty. It would be better to simply wait her out. She cared for him. They couldn't be so connected without her wanting it too.

He would reassure her what he felt was real. Through whatever happened, he would be there with her. That together, they would be happier than he'd ever dreamed possible.

"Don't say anything," Harry whispered before he dropped his gaze to her lips and smiled. "Let's just wait and see what develops, okay?" He brushed his mouth against hers, his heart soaring over the telling shudder she couldn't seem to contain. Ken opened to him on a soft sigh of wonder and he stepped willingly back into her warmth, tumbling back into love all over again. He finally had a plan. The blueprint was clear. He would gain her trust . . . and her love . . . one kiss, one stroke, one loving word at a time.  

Kendall would learn just how patient he could be.

***

There'd been no more talk of love, only the actions of a man in love. They'd driven each other crazy for as long as Harry could bear it before he'd experienced the most powerful release he'd ever known. Then he'd held Ken until she'd stopped trembling, until his own heart had finally slowed to a dull, reassuring thud. He'd watched her slip into sleep, enjoying her soft smile when she stretched against him.

He watched her now from the doorway, lingering over the task, reluctant to leave for even an hour. But keeping up with Charlie's schedule meant he had calls to make. Once downstairs, it only took a moment to retrieve the number he'd scribbled in Kendall's office a few days ago– mere minutes before the place had gone up in flames. He dialed the number, gathering his thoughts while he waited. The phone rang several times before it was finally answered.   

"Yeah?"

"Lance? This is Harrison Traynor. We met last week?" He frowned when the oily little weasel cut him off– rambling about the fire and the cause. His blood pressure spiked when Barker immediately tried to pin the blame on Kendall. With effort, he forced back the contempt  surging through him. Charlie had given specific instructions. He couldn't mess up the plan just because he was furious.

"I was calling about the offer you made a few days ago– you know. . . about selling? Is that something you're interested in? The way I see it– you and Ms. Adams don't have much choice. I need that sitework completed in the next month– otherwise, Specialty will be in a bind with the schedule." Biting his tongue when Barker interrupted him, Harry forced back the words he wanted to let fly. For Charlie's plan to work, he had to bait the hook just right. Scanning the bulleted items in his notes, he checked them off.

"Lance– if we buy A & R, that saves us the time and trouble of you going into default. There's no sense involving the bonding company. Hell, we'd lose a couple months negotiating a settlement." Harry listened carefully, jotting notes on the legal pad. So far. . . everything was proceeding according to plan. If Barker seemed eager, it would confirm Charlie's intelligence– that he'd exhausted his chances with the people higher up the food chain.

"Great. I'm sure we'll be able to do business. Why don't you discuss my offer with Miss Adams and I'll call in a few days."

***

Later that night, when they were both comfortably seated on her deck, Harry took the final step off the plank and put Charlie's plan into action. Kendall was relaxed and happy, her bare feet tucked under the fluffy folds of her robe, her violin still loosely clasped in slender fingers. She'd played for him. . . shyly at first. . . then with certainty. And she'd taken him on a mystical, lyrical journey that left him breathless. The arrangement was moody yet hopeful, gently optimistic but cautious. And the musician herself was absolutely magical. Harry watched, mesmerized while she wove his heart through her fingers, binding him more tightly to her with each passing second.  

She was quiet now, gazing softly into the growing dusk as it settled peacefully over them. The heady scent of her sleeping garden washed over him, leaving Harry more content than he'd ever dreamed possible. But the moment he dreaded had finally come. His heart stuttering an erratic beat, he prayed he wouldn't regret the words he was about to speak.

"There's been an offer for your company, Kenny."

Her luminous eyes were startled when she raised them to meet his. "How can that be? Who would know about-" Understanding dawned in her expression. "Everyone knows I'm in trouble, right?"

Harry ignored her question. If he hesitated now, he might change his mind. "It's not bad for a first pass. But we could probably get them to raise the offer a little . . . get enough so you can pay off all your debts. Maybe walk away with a little money left over."

"How did you hear about this?"

He'd anticipated that question. "They contacted Specialty . . . they know about the bond. Probably figured we'd be working some kind of deal with you." 

"Who are these people?"

He cringed at the stiffness that had crept into her voice. Dammit, he wanted this to be over with. The sooner they moved beyond the mess with Lance, the sooner he could devote himself to their future– to the more daunting task of earning her trust.

"They– they didn't say. It's some kind of joint venture. A few different interests. . . their attorney contacted us."

Ken turned to him, her expression unfathomable in the growing darkness, but something flickered in her eyes that tightened the knot in his stomach. "How could I take any offer seriously if I don't know who they are?"

Harry shrugged, forcing a casualness he sure as hell didn't feel. "If the money's right . . . the rest usually falls into place pretty quickly."

She shook her head, a frown forming in her eyes. "What about my crew? I'd want to know they'd be protected. Would they still have jobs?"

He weighed his answer carefully. Relaying too much information at this stage would only raise her suspicions. "I don't know. These are all questions I can present to them."

"If not, I'd want enough money to pay them for their loyalty. They deserve a severance after all these years."

"Kenny, you may not have that option."

"Then I'm not interested." Setting her instrument on the weathered teak table, she clasped her hands in her lap. Flickering candlelight cast exaggerated shadows on the deck. Releasing a sigh, Harry worked to bank his frustration. Why did she insist on carrying the burden of everyone else's problems?

"Don't you have enough to worry about?"

"My crew has always been there for me, Harrison. They've always had my back. I won't desert them now."

"What about the fire? This is the poorest excuse for an investigation I've ever seen. You said yourself he wants to arrest you."

"I've got you for an alibi, remember?" She expelled an angry breath. "And there's the little matter of the truth. I didn't start the damn fire– Lance did."

"We're not off the hook yet," he muttered, shaking his head.

"What's this 'we' business?" Ken sat up straighter in her chair, her voice lowered in anger. "These are
my
problems, Traynor, not yours."

Harry hoped the despair didn't show on his face. Armed with the knowledge that he loved her, she was still keeping him at a distance. Swallowing the stab of disappointment, he carefully schooled his voice. "Kenny, I want to help. Whether you ever decide you love me-"

She flinched as though he'd struck her and his heart tumbled the rest of the way to the floor. Proving himself trustworthy would be a full-time project. How long before she realized he wasn't going anywhere? How much time was required to undo a lifetime's worth of damage?

"Let's take this one step at a time," he repeated. "I love you– and I want to help."

"Stop saying that!" Her expression worried, Ken's glance slid away. "I don't need you to say that. And I don't want your help."

"Well that's tough because I'm not going anywhere." He chilled his voice to match hers. "We can work together, or we can get in each other's way. But the end result will be my assistance."

Whether she liked it or not, he was speeding up the process. She would trust him, dammit. And soon. Harry wasn't about to let her go off in a huff. Not with her psycho step-brother on the loose. "So, think it through that damn stubborn head and let me know which way you prefer." A headache forming behind his eyes, he stalked to the patio door.

"Harrison. . . wait."

Her soft, husky voice stopped him in his tracks. The thread of fear was unmistakable in her tone. Hope flared briefly, making him hesitate, his fingers still on the handle. At least she wasn't completely immune to him. As the silence lengthened, Harry felt her tension coil around him. Heart pounding, he waited.

"I-I have to tell you. . . I have to thank you for something," she corrected.

He wanted to face her, but feared she would clam up if she knew he was watching. Instead, he released the handle, his back still to her. "I'm listening." 

"I– we've met before. A l-long time ago. You helped me. . . and I never thanked you. I always wanted to. . . but I was too ashamed-"

His body rigid with tension, he trekked swiftly back over the years. When? When had he helped her? And why didn't he remember? Those eyes. . . he wouldn't have forgotten her.

"You. . . probably don't remember." Ken's voice was thick with unshed tears. "But I've never been able to forget."

"When did we-"

"It was cold that night," she interrupted, not seeming to hear him. "I didn't wear a coat. I wanted to show off my d-dress. But April nights are so unpredictable. . ." Her voice trailed off. "I didn't know it would rain."

An electric current jagged through his chest, leaving him swaying. Spinning around, Harry had crossed the deck before he was even aware of it. Dropping to his knees before her chair, he reached out, his hand tentative. And caught the tears sliding down her smooth cheek.

"You were the girl– the girl in the prom dress. I gave you a ride." The images from that cold, black night returned as vividly as though it had happened yesterday. "When I first saw you– I thought you were hurt."

Her smile was so sad it made him ache. "No. . . just pathetic. But you helped me that night. . . when no one else would. I was so humiliated. . . I almost wished you hadn't stopped." She released a ragged breath. Emotions waged a war across her face in a battle to regain control. "But you
did
help. . . and I never thanked you."

"You didn't need to."

"I'd been invited to the junior prom.
Me
." She shook her head derisively. "I should've known it was a set-up. I should've r-realized he meant it as a joke."

Suddenly, Harry knew exactly what had happened. "He was an idiot, Ken. Teenage boys are cruel, selfish idiots." His hand fisted at his side, the knife in his stomach twisted tighter. He'd always wondered . . . The girl in the rain. Her hollow eyes. The empty resignation in her expression– had reminded him so much of himself. She had
looked
that night how he'd felt on the inside.

"I was so hopeful . . ." Ken stared out into the darkness, not seeing him. "That maybe I finally fit in. . . that– someone wanted me." Her knowing glance destroyed him. "I chose to overlook the obvious."

"You were sixteen."

"I should have known." She shook her head. "My father. . . was right. Damn him." 

Hot, angry blood pumping through his heart chilled with warning as Harry sensed something awful approaching. "What did he say?"

Her eyes were lost in memory, but pain flared visibly in the golden depths. "That no one in his right mind would want me . . . I was the d-daughter of a whore– and everyone knew it."