The One You Want (Original Heartbreakers)

by Gena Showalter

  He didn’t understand the mind-set, but wasn’t going to fight it.

  A soft blanket draped over and warmed them. He might never get up, couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go, even for a moment.

  “Did you always want to take over for your dad?” she asked, breaking the easy silence that had settled between them.

  He smoothed his hand over the ridges of her spine. “I knew I’d have to, so I never allowed myself to consider doing anything else.”

  “Even though you don’t like him much?”

  “Even though.” It was odd, discussing his feelings like this. He’d never done so with anyone else, but Kenna knew his past in a way no one else ever had. She understood.

  She traced her fingertips over his chest. “At least he values you. My mother...” She shuddered against him. “She doesn’t see my worth.”

  Her worth.

  Worth was determined by the price a person was willing to pay to obtain the object in question. What was she worth to him? Dane wondered.

  He shied away from the answer and sat up. “Your mother is an idiot. Excuse my use of the I-word. She doesn’t realize the prize she’s got, and that’s her loss, not yours. Her shame, not yours. There is nothing I would change about you.”

  Kenna kissed the spot just over his heart.

  The ache returned to his chest, prompting him to say, “I’ve got a surprise for you,” just to escape the conversation. “Come on.” He stood and tugged her to her feet. Then he almost changed his mind about leaving the couch—she was flushed, gloriously naked, and there was no female on the planet with curves quite so magnificent. But he wrapped the blanket around her and pulled on his underwear. He led her into the kitchen, placed her at the counter and withdrew over forty small cartons of ice cream from his freezer.

  “Ben & Jerry’s,” she whispered, a sudden well of tears making her eyes look like freshly washed emeralds.

  The sight nearly undid him. “That’s not all.” He grabbed a burger from the refrigerator. He would never admit having to call eighteen different people to learn the answer to one simple question: What the hell is a Krabby Patty?

  “I was going to come to Strawberry Valley tomorrow, bring you everything,” he said. “I couldn’t stay away another day. But I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Oh, Dane.” She pushed to her feet and walked over to him, slipping her arms around him, letting the sheet fall away. “Suddenly I’m feeling very hungry for something else.”

  “Oh, yeah? For what, exactly?”

  “Sundae à la Dane.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  KENNA HAD LEFT HIM, Dane realized. He was stunned. He was enraged.

  Like a puss, he was hurt.

  He’d taken her again. On the kitchen floor. Or maybe she’d taken him. She’d used his body as a buffet table and sampled the different flavors of ice cream. It had been kinky and sweet, cold and hot, all at the same time. It had been utterly mind-blowing. He’d never had so much fun with a lover. Had never laughed and played during sex.

  Never taken a woman without a condom, just as he’d told her. Never trusted a woman enough not to try to trap him with a baby. But he trusted her, and the experience wrecked him, changed him.

  Afterward, they’d watched several episodes of Sherlock, where Kenna had tried to solve the case before the detectives. She hadn’t, but her guesses had been adorable.

  It’s always the butler. You’ll see.

  There doesn’t seem to be a butler in this episode, honey.

  That’s because someone is secretly a butler. Moron.

  To her great surprise, he’d found her ticklish spot and tickled her until she’d cried for mercy.

  And after that, she’d yawned and suggested they go to bed. He’d told her he was too comfortable to move, and that they should just sleep on the couch. Which had been true...but not the whole truth. She’d gone quiet and stiff, but they’d eventually fallen asleep.

  When he’d woken a few hours later, she was gone. He’d searched for her, but hadn’t found any sign of her. Then he’d noticed her car was gone.

  She’d really left him.

  He was used to walking girls to their car the moment the sex ended, because he’d always dreaded having to have a conversation afterward. They always wanted to learn more about the man they’d just rolled around with, which was understandable, but he never wanted to share, and never had the same need to know. Nothing wrong with the girls—everything wrong with him. He got that. He was ice, and nothing could melt him.

  Except Kenna. He’d been looking forward to morning sex and snuggles—seriously, when did I become such a puss?—and talking and sharing and learning, only to find she’d freaking left him.

  He called her cell, but she didn’t answer. Every fiber of his being demanded he go after her and haul her back. Tie her to his bed, if necessary, and pleasure her so intensely she would vow never to leave him again.

  His mind got trapped on that, the image of her bound and at his mercy. His blood heated.

  Mind on the task at hand! He couldn’t go after her. It was dark outside, and he might scare her, cause her to drive recklessly, maybe wreck into a tree.

  He called her again, and this time, left a message. “Are you proud of yourself? Happy you left the man-whore sleeping while you snuck out? At least let me know when you make it home safely.”

  He paced the house as he waited for a response. He’d always loved the solitude here, but now he couldn’t stand it. It was too quiet, too isolated. This is what I deserve. He’d finally reaped what he’d sown, was now forced to partake of the same fruit he’d fed to so many others—and it tasted bitter.

  His phone buzzed, and he dived for it. Not a call, as he’d hoped, but a text.

  I’m safe.

  That was it. No apology. No explanation.

  He chucked his phone across the room and scrubbed a hand down his face. What the hell was going on with her? What had he done wrong?

  By the time the sun rose, his temper was honed as sharply as a blade. He showered, hating to lose the scent of Kenna’s strawberries, but knowing he’d be unable to function otherwise. He dressed in one of his many suits and headed to his car. He would go to work. If she called, they would talk. If not...

  I’m done. He didn’t need this hassle.

  He almost ripped the handle from his car door. Before he slid inside the driver’s seat, he spotted his mother’s sedan in the distance.

  Don’t need this, either. But he waited. She would only follow him to the office.

  Dust wafted from her tires as she eased to a stop. When she emerged, she didn’t approach him but remained standing behind her open door, as if she needed a barrier between them. Ms. Christine Michaelson was a tall, regal woman with hair as dark as his. No gray had dared intrude. As usual, she wore a dress suit that showcased her slenderness.

  “Do you have any idea how many calls I’ve received last night and this morning?” she demanded.

  Should have seen this coming. “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “Eight.”

  Eight employees or one employee who called her friends? Either way, someone would be fired today. They were the only ones who’d seen Kenna and him together. “Wow. That many?” he asked drily.

  “Is the whore’s daughter here?”

  Dane stomped to her, snarling, “Don’t ever talk about her like that again. Do you hear me? She’s the best person I know.”

  His mother flinched but otherwise maintained her stance. “Clearly all the time you’re spending in Strawberry Valley is rotting your brain.”

  Maybe so. “That’s my business, not yours.”

  “Don’t be so obtuse. You’re a man of great wealth. Your business is never yours alone.”

&nbs
p; He swallowed back a sharp rebuke. This animosity between them was new to him. He’d spent the bulk of his life trying to be a source of happiness for this woman. Trying to make up for his father’s actions—hell, his own actions. The affair hadn’t started until after Daniel’s death...a death his mother had always blamed him for, and rightly so. But that meant she also blamed him for the affair. At least in part. He saw it in her eyes sometimes, before she could mask it.

  A man has to take care of his family. No matter what. This was his mother. He owed her loyalty, not stress.

  Kenna’s defection had messed with his head, that was all.

  “How could you be with her?” Christine asked, her chin trembling. “How could you humiliate me like that?”

  “She’s not like Roanne,” he said, backing off.

  “Please! Not like Roanne? The apple never falls far from the tree, darling, I promise you that.”

  What about me?

  He knew he’d never change her mind about Kenna. Why even try? “I’ve got to go,” he said. “Move your car. Please.”

  “We’re not finished here.”

  “We are.”

  “Dane Thomas! You’re proving my point, acting just like your father.”

  That. That’s what she thought about him. But he said, “I’m sorry you feel that way. I am. But I need you to move your car. I’m due at work.”

  She stood in place, stubborn to her core. Fine. He sealed himself inside his Audi and, though it took some expert maneuvering, managed to get out of the driveway without hitting his mother’s vehicle.

  He sped down the road...and bypassed the exit for the office, heading instead for Strawberry Valley. Damn it, he needed to see Kenna, to hold her. To forget this horrid morning, and start fresh—with her. Why had she left him?

  He made a hands-free call to her cell. When there was no answer, he phoned the office and rearranged his schedule.

  But Kenna wasn’t at home. He drove to Two Farms. She didn’t usually serve the breakfast crowd but could have changed shifts with someone to come see him yesterday.

  He made his way inside...and found her taking the order of an older couple. Muted bruises under her eyes, tension tightening her mouth. His jaw clenched. She worked far too much. And now, all he wanted to do was sweep her up in his arms, carry her away and pamper her.

  Conversations tapered off as he closed the distance. Kenna looked over to see what was going on and stiffened. Not a promising start.

  “Kenna,” he said, “we need to talk.”

  Her cheeks flushed a deep scarlet. “Dane. Don’t do this. Not here. Please.”

  Last night she’d begged him and he’d loved it. Today, not so much. “When?”

  “I don’t know. How about...never?”

  “That’s not going to work for me.” He remembered her aversion to town gossip and forced himself to back off. For now. But he couldn’t leave her. Wouldn’t leave her. “I’ll wait till after your shift.”

  She gasped, saying, “But that’ll be hours.”

  “Well, you’re worth waiting for.” He claimed a table outside her section and, as the time passed, watched her rub her back and realized she was sore. Her feet probably ached, too. He scowled. He had enough money to live luxuriously for a hundred lifetimes, and yet his girlfriend had to work herself to the bone? No. It wasn’t right, and he wasn’t going to stand for it. He had to fix it. But how?

  As shifts changed—and Kenna’s continued—he ordered food he couldn’t bring himself to eat from each of the different waitresses and endured person after person sitting across from him, offering him advice, having guessed the nature of his relationship.

  If you want to tame a wild filly, you’ve got to offer her sweet treats.

  All those words did was make him want to ride Kenna out of her hurt.

  My Myrtle gave me fits when I decided to give up my oat-sowing ways and be with her, but I kept showing up everywhere she went and eventually she couldn’t imagine her life without me.

  Had Myrtle considered filing stalking charges first?

  Had Kenna?

  Give the girl time. She’s a stubborn one, our Kenna, but I can tell she likes you. The tension between you two is going to ensure my Robbie gets a very nice afternoon delight.

  His newest waitress, Jessie Kay, clearly knew what was going on before she ever reached his table.

  She threw a menu at him and planted her palms right in front of him, leaning close. “Too bad for you Kenna isn’t on that menu. You can’t place an order for her, and I can’t carry her over to your table.”

  Blunt. “Your point?”

  “I know what your problem is. Kenna took off, and your wittle-boy feelings got huwt. Well, boo freaking hoo. You say you want to talk to her, but why don’t you admit the truth? You really want to scold her. Well, go ahead. Scold her and lose her. You haven’t cornered the market on fear of commitment, you know. Kenna is dealing with her own problems.”

  Damn. She was right.

  She also wasn’t done. “Sitting here sulking isn’t going to do you any good. The only thing you’re likely to get is a case of hemorrhoids. And maybe a side of fries. But I’ll expect a hefty tip.”

  * * *

  KENNA’S DAY HAD gone from bad to worse. First, she’d forced herself to leave Dane, telling herself she’d had half a night with him and that would have to be enough. If he didn’t find her worthy of his bedroom, what hope did they have for a future?

  Then this morning she’d realized the night had left her feeling sated and sore and reeling and desperate and happy and sad and hungry and humiliated and treasured and rejected at once. All the conflicting emotions were screwing with her mind—because she wanted him back.

  Maybe they could make a relationship. So what if he found her lacking—

  So what? Really? Have I no pride?

  Lost in thought, she ended up screwing up most of her orders, even dropping plates and spilling drinks. When Mr. Calbert called her back to his office, she prepared herself for some cursing and name-calling. Only, he sat behind his desk and pulled at his collar. He was so sweaty his hair was plastered to his scalp.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Cutbacks,” he shouted, then cleared his throat. He petted the telephone that wasn’t ringing and said, “I have to make some cutbacks, and since you’re one of my newer hires, I have to let you go.”

  What! One of his newer hires? “I’ve been here for over four years.”

  “Times are tough,” he continued, practically wheezing now.

  “I’ll take a pay cut.”

  “That won’t...that won’t help.”

  He was lying to her. He had to be lying. She had heard nothing about cutbacks and business had been booming lately. “What’s going on? Is this because I broke so many dishes today? I’ll pay for them. Just take the money out of my check.”

  “No, no. Speaking of your check.” He slid an envelope across the desk.

  She sat there a moment, dumbfounded. “Mr. Calbert—”

  “I’m sorry, Kenna,” he interjected. “But you need to leave now.”

  She grabbed her check and numbly pushed to her feet. Was this day really happening or was this a nightmare? She was now without a job, without a means of supporting her daughter. For no apparent reason! Trembling, she stepped out of the office. Jessie Kay and Brook Lynn stood by the soda fountain, watching the restaurant fill up fast as...Dane went from table to table with his checkbook in hand.

  “He’s giving donations to everyone for everything,” Jessie Kay said, awed. “From Joey Middleton’s orthodontic work to Jolene Shepherd’s Sunday barbecue and tea. No one will be talking about anything else for months.”

  Why would he do that? For me?

  She wanted to care, she did, b
ut she was still too numb, hanging by the end of a very thin rope.

  “Oh, Kenna. What’s wrong?” Brook Lynn asked.

  “I was fired,” she said.

  “What!” the girls demanded in unison.

  “I will flat-out murder Calbert,” Jessie Kay said and stomped away before Kenna could stop her.

  “What reason could he possibly have for letting you go?” Brook Lynn asked.

  “Cutbacks.”

  “But...”

  “I know.”

  Brook Lynn hugged her tight. “Maybe this is a blessing in disguise. You’ve got some free time now. You can go do everything on our fun list. Live a little. Finally. Jessie Kay and I will cover rent this month, and I’ll catch up on the list later.”

  No, she had to find another job ASAP. She would not allow her friends to shell out more than their fair share. But now wasn’t the time to mention that. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  She grabbed her purse and left the crowded restaurant before she broke down. The sun was high and glaring, summer creeping in.

  “Kenna!” Dane raced up behind her. “You’ve made it too difficult to wait until we’re alone, honey, so I’m doing this here and now. I know you’re afraid I’ll cut and bail on you, but I want you in my life—I need you in it. You make it better. Make me better. Give me another chance to prove it.”

  She pressed her forehead against her car door.

  Dane’s hands curled over her shoulders, big, strong and warm. Then he cursed and drew back, severing contact. “I know I’ve made a mess of things,” he said, “but give me another chance, and I will make it up to you.”

  A tear burned a path down her cheek, her wall of numbness about to crack.

  “I’m begging you to go easy on me, honey. I’m new to this. I’m going to make mistakes, a lot of mistakes, but I’m trying. I will keep trying. You are special to me.”

  A sob split her lips.

  “Kenna?” He turned her around, frowning when he saw her tears. “Honey, what’s wrong?”