Second Time Around (Second Glances)

by Nancy Herkness

  “I thump a lot of melons. And sniff them.”

  “You’ll have to teach me sometime. But I’ll let you get back to work.”

  As Emily exited, Kyra pulled out her cell phone. She texted Will: Did you lean on Farr to set up a visit to the Carver Center? If so, thank you.

  She’d finished cutting up the melon when her phone pinged again. The only time I discussed it with him was at the party with you. He asked for the Carver Center’s number himself.

  Pinkie swear?

  He texted back a graphic of the Boy Scout salute of three fingers held upright.

  She chuckled. Were you really a Boy Scout? Doesn’t seem the prepster thing to do.

  Eagle Scout, thank you very much.

  Beefing up your college application then.

  That implies it needed beefing up. I’m offended.

  Kyra thought for a moment. Better to be slapped with the truth than kissed with a lie. —Old Russian proverb. Gotta go back to work. Some of us don’t have minions.

  Veritas lux mea.

  Truth is my light. She snorted and shoved her phone back in her jeans pocket. Just because it was in Latin didn’t make it smarter.

  The guests were still lingering as Kyra consolidated the remnants of the hors d’oeuvres onto a couple of half-empty platters. Max strolled up, his brown-and-white rescue dog, Rocco, trotting along beside him. Emily had presented Max with the puppy last Christmas, and the two were now inseparable. Rumor had it that Max even took Rocco to work when he wasn’t experimenting with hazardous chemicals. The contrast between the tall man in an elegant custom-tailored suit and the little street dog with the lopsided ears was utterly endearing. No wonder Emily had fallen so hard for her billionaire chemist.

  “I wanted to thank you for the impressive spread of food,” he said. “The crab bites were small miracles of deliciousness. I admit to eating more than my fair share.”

  “You were the guest of honor, so we’ll forgive you,” Kyra said, glowing at the compliment. “Without your gift of the magic ingredient, no miracles would have been possible. Even more important, thank you for joining the board of trustees. It means a lot to all of us.”

  “I didn’t join it just because Emily is the director,” Max said. “I believe in what the Carver Center does for the kids . . . and the dogs. I hope to support more programs like this one, so seeing it in action firsthand will broaden my knowledge.”

  “Mr. Max!” Felicia dashed up, followed at a more dignified pace by Shaq, who was wearing a black bow tie for the occasion. “Did you ask her yet?”

  “I was getting to it.” Max smiled down at the child before lifting his gaze back to Kyra. “Rocco’s been having some stomach troubles so I was wondering if you could give me some guidance.”

  “Ms. Kyra made Shaq so much better.” Felicia stooped to hug the dog. “Pretty soon he’s going to be able to come home with me for a slumber party. I can’t wait.”

  The dog licked the girl’s face, making Kyra laugh and reach down to stroke the animal’s big, solid head. His eyelids drooped in an expression of canine ecstasy. “Shaq’s looking very handsome this evening,” Kyra said.

  Felicia beamed. “My mama made the bow tie so he’d be stylin’.”

  Kyra turned to Max. “I’ll give you some of Shaq’s special blend to take home.” She explained about slowly increasing the proportion of new food to old.

  Max bent down to pick up Rocco, tucking him under his arm as he stroked his short, wiry coat. “Now you’ve got a personal chef on top of everything else,” he said to the dog. “You are spoiled rotten.”

  Felicia straightened up. “Ms. Emily says our dogs deserve to be spoiled because they give us their love and that’s the best gift of all.”

  “Ms. Emily is a very wise woman,” Max said solemnly.

  “You got to say that ’cause she’s wearing your ring,” Felicia said.

  “Out of the mouths of babes . . . ,” Kyra murmured.

  Max smiled. “You’ve got it backward. I put a ring on her finger because she’s so wise.”

  Felicia cocked an eyebrow at him. “She ain’t here listening, you know.”

  “Felicia, I was looking all over for you.” A slender woman dressed in a bright red suit and heels walked up to them.

  “Sorry, Mama,” the girl said. “Mama, this here’s Ms. Kyra, the chef, and Mr. Max, the trustee.”

  “I’m Davina Gibson. Good to meet you.” She nodded to Kyra, making her elaborate braids swing gracefully.

  “Your taco macaroni recipe was a big hit here. Felicia says you might have another dish for me,” Kyra said.

  Davina nodded again. “My grandmother cooked for ten kids and passed her recipes down to me. I’m glad to share them.” She turned to Max. “I hear you got us the K-9 Angelz yard. Felicia sure loves that dog, so I have to thank you.”

  “Emily had far more to do with creating the program than I did,” Max said. “But you’re welcome.”

  “Ms. Emily makes a lot of things happen,” Davina said.

  “She works hard because the kids are her passion,” Kyra said.

  Max gave them the flashing smile that all the female staff members tried to elicit. It had less effect on her now that Will had claimed her thoughts but it was still gorgeous. Davina seemed dazzled by it, too, because she blinked a few times.

  “Mama, will you come with me to put Shaq in his crate? You haven’t seen where he sleeps.” Felicia tugged on her mother’s hand.

  “Sure, honey,” the woman said. She looked back at Max and Kyra. “Thanks for the party. Felicia loved the crab. That’s a real treat.”

  Emily joined them as Davina departed. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you, Kyra. Farr Lange is coming tomorrow at three o’clock. I hope that works for you.”

  Max looked surprised. “Isn’t he a trustee of the Thalia Foundation?”

  Kyra noticed that he slipped his arm around his fiancée’s waist and drew her closer to his side.

  “I forgot to tell you, too,” Emily said with a rueful smile, her face soft as she met his gaze. “I was so focused on the big event tonight. Kyra met him at a party and obviously impressed the heck out of him.”

  “I went to college with Will Chase, who introduced me to Farr.” That sounded innocuous enough.

  Emily’s eyes were dancing with amusement but she didn’t add to Kyra’s minimal description.

  “It would be great to get more foundation money behind the center, since you insist on limiting what my Catalyst Foundation can give you.” Max’s voice held a touch of irritation.

  “Your foundation supports many other very worthy causes that count on the money,” Emily said in a way that made Kyra think they’d had this discussion a few times before.

  “I’m going to let you two duke this out alone,” Kyra said with a smile.

  As she carried a stack of empty platters downstairs to the kitchen, her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She slid the dirty dishes onto the center island to read Will’s message: I’m free to pick you up any time now.

  Pleasure hummed through her at his impatience. She glanced at the time and the state of the kitchen. I’ll meet you out front in an hour.

  A gentleman always comes to the door, he texted back.

  But she didn’t want people to see him. Max would recognize him for sure. That would require some awkward explanations. She’d just have to make sure to be outside already.

  A gentleman is nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Kyra texted.

  No argument here, he shot back.

  She laughed and stuck her phone back in her pocket. She had a lot to do if she was going to keep everyone from seeing her golden lover.

  Kyra was sitting on the front steps, actually enjoying the balmy spring evening, when the limo floated up the street, the glossy black paint catching the streetlights. She jumped up and ran down the steps and across the sidewalk before Will could do more than push open the door.

  She pitched herself into the car’s in
terior, landing almost on his lap.

  “I like an eager woman,” he said, pulling her in for a mind-bending kiss. “But I suspect I’m being kept away from the Carver Center.” Amusement and hurt colored his voice.

  “I just needed some air and quiet after a crazy day.” True as far as it went.

  He cradled her against his side, and she noticed that he wore jeans and a T-shirt, not a suit. “How does a hot Jacuzzi and a glass of wine sound?” he asked.

  “Will you be in the Jacuzzi with me?”

  “If you’d like, but just as company. You’re tired.”

  “We’ll see what comes up.” She grinned at him.

  He groaned. “Frat house humor.”

  As she relaxed into him, exhaustion swept over her in a wave and she yawned. “I think you’ll need to be in the Jacuzzi to keep me from falling asleep and drowning.”

  His arm tightened. “Before you fall asleep, I want to ask you something. Farr is visiting the Carver Center tomorrow, and I had planned to come with him. However, I don’t want to cause you any discomfort.”

  She lifted her hand to touch his cheek. “You’re sweet to ask instead of just showing up. Our director, Emily, knows that I see you, um, socially. So as long as you don’t ravish me on the kitchen counter, it will be okay.”

  “I’ll save that for my own kitchen counter.” He dropped a kiss on top of her head.

  She closed her eyes, rocked into drowsiness by the motion of the limousine.

  “One more thing,” Will said, his voice rumbling in her ear where it was pressed against his chest. “I was talking to my COO, Greg Ebersole, about your limited-ingredient fresh dog food. He thought that might be something Ceres could expand into. He wants to discuss it with you, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  Kyra’s eyes flew open and she sat up. “He doesn’t need to talk with me. I just Googled it. There’s no secret recipe or anything.”

  “He sees some strong marketing opportunities by tying it in with the K-9 Angelz project. There could be some real money in it for the Carver Center.”

  “Wow! That would be great.” Emily wanted to expand the program and had her eye on another building and adjacent lot farther north in Harlem where the prices were still reasonable. A corporate tie-in could generate the kind of cash that would make it possible to buy the properties. “But he should really talk to Emily about that sort of thing. I’m just the cook.”

  “You’re the creator of the dog food.”

  “Well, sure, I’ll be happy to tell him everything I know. That should take about ten minutes, tops.”

  “Don’t undersell yourself.”

  He sounded annoyed. Maybe he’d talked her up to his colleague and didn’t want her to undermine his glowing description. “Don’t mind me. I’m just tired.”

  He stroked her hair. “I wouldn’t have brought it up except that Greg is gung ho about the idea.”

  She didn’t want to think about dog food right now. She nestled her head on his shoulder, yawned until her jaw creaked, and slid down into sleep.

  Will felt her relax and pulled her closer against him to hold her steady as they bounced through potholes and swayed around corners. Her body felt small and trusting, almost like a child, in his arms. Strange how the tough, independent Kyra stirred his protective instincts in such a powerful way.

  So powerful that he’d hired a private investigator to look into her debt load. Now he understood why she had given up the idea of going back to school, because the amount had surprised him. Frustration made his jaw clench. He could wipe out the debt in a millisecond using only his personal checking account—and had even considered doing so anonymously—but she would know he was behind the payment. And she would not be happy about it. In fact, she might be offended enough to end their relationship.

  The prospect of not seeing her again made his chest go hollow. She stirred and muttered something. He eased the grip that he had unconsciously tightened on her.

  He already had to battle her perception that there was some great abyss between them because of his money and background. Ironic that the self-reliance he admired so much about her made him want to shake her at the same time. He could tell from her response that the conversation with Greg was not going to accomplish what he had hoped. Kyra would either see right through it or decide that she wasn’t qualified for the job.

  Now he had to come up with an alternative strategy because he wanted her to make more money and he hated her job at Stratus. Bartending kept her away from him until late at night, when he couldn’t stop himself from making love to her. Guilt ate at him that he was driving her to exhaustion, especially since she had fallen asleep at eight o’clock.

  Not to mention that even at a high-end bar, he knew how male customers were looking at her and calculating the odds of taking her to bed with them. Her sex appeal was part of her success at her job. But it made him crazy to imagine other men ogling the opulent curves of her breasts in the V of her vest or the flash of smooth stomach between her jeans and her top. Those were his private property now.

  Yet he couldn’t ask her to make changes in her life just to accommodate him. Their relationship was too new, too undefined. Which bothered him. He found himself looking into the future and wanting her there with him.

  She made him understand that he wasn’t being true to himself. But he didn’t know what was true, so he needed her to help him. She saw things—including him—so clearly and honestly.

  He stroked his palm lightly down her back, and she snuggled into him. A strange fear tightened his throat. The things he could offer her were things she’d made clear that she didn’t need. He was at the mercy of whatever she felt for him.

  And he wasn’t at all confident about what that might be.

  Chapter 13

  Last night Will had been true to his word. He had filled the Jacuzzi tub in his enormous master bathroom, helped her into it, and then perched beside her as she floated among the swirling, fragrant bubbles, sipping a glass of Le Montrachet. He’d even stripped to his waist so he could wash her hair, his long, clever fingers massaging her scalp in a way that made her moan with pleasure. Then he’d wrapped her in a thick, fluffy towel before tucking her into his bed. Naked, but untouched.

  The feel of the soft linen sheets against her clean, bare skin had been close to orgasmic. When he had finished undressing and slid under the bedclothes beside her, she rolled into him, wanting more. He gathered her against his chest, kissed her gently, and said, “Sleep, sweetheart. I can tell you need it.”

  How could that be even sexier than having sex with him? Yet it was. Last night, at any rate. Today, she was hungry for him again.

  Now she fussed around the Carver Center’s kitchen. The children’s snack was prepared, the big casserole dishes ready to pop into the ovens to be baked. She rearranged a few of the hanging pots, put out a fresh dish towel, and wiped an errant fingerprint off the stainless steel counter. Because Will was coming to visit in ten minutes.

  Her worlds were about to collide.

  Emily arrived and saved her from more nervous fidgeting. “Everything’s ready upstairs,” the director said before she glanced around the kitchen. “Wow! This place looks like one of those television kitchens.”

  Kyra laughed. “Maybe if we had a granite countertop and a couple of Viking ranges. But I gave everything an extra polish this morning.” She smoothed down the top she had changed into after cooking and cleaning. It was a soft, silky robin’s-egg–blue fabric, sleeveless with a draped neckline. She’d also added dangly silver earrings.

  “And you came in early, I noticed.” She gave Kyra’s shoulder a squeeze. “Thank you for helping to put our best foot forward, even though I think you’ve already given us a leg up.”

  “Nice body part metaphors,” Kyra said.

  “I thought so.” Emily winked before checking her reflection in the countertop and adjusting her ponytail.

  “I guess we shouldn’t have a swig of the cooking sherry before we�
�re about to entertain possible donors,” Kyra said with a wry smile.

  Emily’s eyes were warm with concern. “What worries you about the visit?”

  “That’s a good question.” Kyra shrugged. “I guess that Will is coming into my world for a change, and I’m not sure what will happen.”

  Would he fit in or disrupt it? Would his opinion of her change? His arrival at Stratus hadn’t thrown her into a tizzy, but that was because the high-end bar was really his world. She just worked there.

  “He will admire you even more for the wonderful work you do here,” Emily said. “How could he not?”

  “Thanks.” Kyra tried to draw confidence from Emily’s words but her nerves were still taut with tension.

  She heard the front door open and the deep voice of Powell, the guard at the front desk. She and Emily exchanged a glance and stepped out into the entrance hallway.

  Farr walked toward them, wearing a power suit and an expression of cordial interest. Although Kyra introduced Emily to Farr, her gaze strayed to the man behind him.

  Will was leaning slightly over the desk as he exchanged pleasantries with Powell. The sun slanting through the front window turned his hair brilliant gold, and his profile displayed his aristocratic breeding in the high forehead, straight nose, and strong chin. His pale gray suit outlined the expanse of his shoulders and the length of his legs in a way that made Kyra’s mouth go dry.

  He turned his head, and his eyes met hers. It was like being hit by a thousand volts of electricity. Her nerve endings sizzled with awareness. His charming smile turned into something intimate and intense. “Hello, Kyra,” was all he said, and yet his voice sent tremors shimmering through her.

  “Will. So glad that you could come.” She did her best to keep her voice normal as he drew nearer. However, a slight quaver snuck in as she went through the initial courtesies again.

  Emily went into her director-sweet-talking-donors mode and asked them if they’d like any beverages before she gave them the tour.

  But all Kyra could do was watch Will, his bespoke suit and elegant presence contrasting with the worn brown linoleum floor and the cream-painted walls smudged by carelessly worn backpacks and grubby hands. He looked at ease but out of place. She wanted to kiss him in the worst way.