Falling For Ken (Blueprint to Love Book 2)

by Giordano, Lauren

  "Most of the time, I prefer being alone."

  "Is that a reflection on my shortcomings as a houseguest?" Knowing his words would make her smile, he awaited confirmation.

  "You arrived with unexpected benefits." Amusement sparking her eyes, she gave him the once-over. "Despite the circumstances, I think we can assume I greatly enjoyed your stay."

  "Next time, why don't we skip the fall . . . and the hospital trip and the fire."

  "Deal."

  The surprise that flared in her eyes left him a little wistful. As though she couldn't fathom the idea of spending time with him again. But were they really so different? Her frank admission made sense. She kept most people at a distance. Ken could count on one hand those who she trusted– and two of them weren't even human.

  "I think we're getting closer. Is this your street?"

  Harry's gaze slid from her to the window. "Next street on the left."

  Crossing his fingers, he waited until she'd parked in a spot near his building. "Will you come up for a minute? I could show you around . . . maybe try to convince you to stay until morning?" He knew what her answer would be– probably before she knew it herself. Her tension was palpable. After building all afternoon, the energy sat like a boulder between them on the ride home.

  "I've got a big mess waiting for me in the morning. I need to head back and face it." Reluctantly, Kendall faced him. The finality of her expression sent unease crawling down his spine. "We still have unfinished business," she admitted. "It's bound to get ugly before it gets better. I think it's best if we don't try to see each other again."

  "I disagree." Instead of what he wanted to do– haul her against him and remind her why they were so great together– he adopted a neutral tone. "I want to see you. We just need to keep our personal feelings separate from the contract problems."

  The light dimmed in expressive eyes. "There's no way this thing will work, Traynor. Even if we resolve the financial issues, we have other problems. Remember Deborah?"

  "Leave her out of this."

  Wincing, she shook her head. "No. I– I shouldn't have slept with you. I knew you had a girlfriend," she admitted. "But . . . everything was going wrong. I'd just lost everything-"

  "You slept with me because you had a bad day?" Trying for amusement over her revelation, he failed. His chest tightened, making it painful to breathe.

  "A terrible day," she corrected. "My entire life is collapsing. And a gorgeous, sexy, thoughtful man wanted to sleep with me." She glared at him. "So– yeah . . . shoot me. I figured why not have one beautiful, amazing night before I return to hell?"

  "And that's all it was?"

  Disgust crossed her features. "I still shouldn't have done it. I'm ashamed of myself-"

  "Ashamed?" His stomach plummeted over her choice of words. "Kenny, I meant what I said. I care for you."

  "Traynor, you have a girlfriend." Her whisky-soaked voice elevated in the confined truck. " If you cheated on me, I'd work you over with a tire iron."

  Harry chuckled despite the seriousness of their conversation. The image made him smile. Kendall would be fiercely loyal to the man she gave her heart. She would expect no less from him.

  "Honey, we didn't have that kind of relationship." He hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. Compared to the gut-shredding uncertainty he was suddenly experiencing– what he'd felt for Deborah had been pretty damned meaningless. But he hadn't actually realized that until . . . now. He needed time. To analyze what he suspected he was feeling. Run the numbers on why he'd suddenly convinced himself Kendall was somehow different. Give himself time to come up with a more logical explanation. "It's over with Deborah. It was over before I met you."

  "You thought I was her," she accused.

  A brow lifted in disbelief. "Babe, there's no way I'd ever confuse you two."

  She sent him a withering glance. "I'm sure she's very beautiful."

  "Gorgeous." He winked. "But . . . no freckles." The confusion in her eyes made him want to fold her in his arms. But that tactic wouldn't work on Kendall. "That's a deal breaker now."

  "When you were hurt, you . . . talked in your sleep and you asked for Deborah."

  "You're basing our relationship potential on something I mumbled under the influence of painkillers?" If she hadn't been serious, Harry would've laughed.

  "It didn't sound over." She released a shallow breath, clearly battling for control. "What we had was . . . amazing. But– it would never last."

  "How do you know?" He gentled his voice.

  Her smile was wobbly. "I'm not what you're looking for."

  "What am I looking for, Ken?"

  "Please-" She brushed a stray tear from her cheek. "No man is looking for a woman who drives a backhoe for a living."

  "Babe . . . you've single-handedly run a business in a male-dominated industry. Even without that– I wouldn't give a damn if you drove a garbage truck."

  "What does Deborah do?"

  "She's an attorney." The exaggerated eye roll she offered was obviously meant for his benefit. "What does that mean?"

  "Clearly, you need an attorney in the family more than a truck driver."

  "Dammit, Ken." Harry finally erupted. How was he supposed to argue logically when Ken's thoughts were completely illogical? "I don't require a resume when I date someone. Stop selling yourself short," he ordered. "You're beautiful and smart. You're unbelievably talented. Hell, you could probably audition with an orchestra and make the cut."

  Golden eyes pooled with tears. "You need someone who's an asset . . . not a liability. Right now, I can only hurt you."

  He hesitated, wishing he could argue her point. But– damn it. She was correct. His obligation to Specialty hung like a noose around his neck. He could never turn his back on his cousins. His only family– when his own hadn't wanted him. The Traynors meant everything to him.

  Her eyes averted, Kendall seemed to steel her resolve. "I should go."

  In a moment of clarity, Harry acknowledged he couldn't have both. With a cloud hanging over them, it wasn't fair to ask for more. But that didn't stop a cold wave of panic from clenching his stomach. "I'm not involved with Deborah anymore. You had nothing to do with that decision. It had been coming for a long time."

  Her gaze determinedly glued to the steering wheel, she started the engine. "It's probably fixable. You can be pretty convincing."

  "There's nothing to-" He released a frustrated sigh. "I like you, Kendall. I want to see you. Why is that so awful?"

  Ignoring him, she shifted the truck into reverse. "I'll let you know my decision about A & R in a few days."

  She was hurting and tired. Overwhelmed with stress. In one day, she'd lost nearly everything. The daunting problems she faced likely seemed insurmountable, especially when assuming she would face them alone. The logical part of Harry's brain suggested he not push when she was emotionally drained. But the flailing, recently unveiled illogical portion rebelled against the idea of her shutting him out. This wasn't the soft, loving woman he'd spent most of the last week with. It was fear. Or that damn stubborn pride.

  "So, that's it? An amazing one night stand?" Of course, knowing he was being illogical and actually accepting it were completely different equations. Vulnerable didn't feel good. Vulnerable kinda sucked. He didn't want her to leave– not with uncertainty hanging between them.

  Her eyes flashed dangerously. "I don't exactly make a habit of one-night stands."

  "Ken– you trust me. I know you do." His anger dissipated. "Or you wouldn't have let me touch you."

  "You caught me at a weak moment. It won't happen again," she vowed.

  "What if I don't want it to end?" The moment the words left his lips, he regretted them. It was the wrong challenge to throw at a woman like Kendall. For a fleeting moment, her expression had softened, her tough outer shell weakened. Now, the beautiful eyes iced over, gleaming like a cornered tiger in the darkened truck.

  "It's not enough you're taking my business and ruining my
life? You want to string me along, too?"

  "I'd like to continue seeing you." He softened his tone. "I care about you."

  She snorted. "Yeah, well that and three bucks will buy me a cup of coffee in the unemployment line. Your version of reality differs from mine. Let's see if I have this straight– you get to keep your fabulous life and . . . sleep with me when you get the urge?" Nervous fingers drummed the steering wheel. "While I lose my business, put guys out of work who've never known anywhere else. I get the debts to pay off . . . the sleepless nights wondering whether I'll lose my house . . ." She released a shuddering sigh. "Oh . . . and I get to wait by the phone to see if the rich, successful guy I'm sorta seeing can pencil me in for sex on Thursday." Blinking back tears, she turned to stare at him. "Is that about right?"

  The torment in her eyes made him sick with shame. The picture she painted was bleak . . . and likely accurate. And he could do almost nothing about it– except be there for her. Viewing it through her eyes– he knew it wasn't enough. "Ken-"

  "Yeah . . . that's what I thought. I need to go."

  Frustration threatened to swamp him. Where was the loving, talented, mystical woman he'd fallen for? If she would just trust him- He shook his head. Sure, Harry– trust the guy putting her out of business. "Ken– let me help you. I know you care about me." He caught her chin, forcing her to face him. "Just like I need you."

  Need? Where the hell had that come from? He jerked his hand back. Jesus– he'd meant care. 'Need' sounded desperate– and he sure as hell wasn't desperate. Not for Kendall. For any woman. That would never– could never happen.

  Though her eyes brimmed with misery, he caught the flash of defiance as she seized the bait. "I don't need you or anyone else."

  ***

  Was it nine or ten? Kendall had lost count of the number of times she'd cried that week. "And you're doin' it again." Great, shaking sobs that made it damn near impossible to keep her truck from swerving off the nearly deserted road. What was wrong with her? She was in love with Harrison. He'd offered hope. Assistance carrying the burden. And when it was over, he'd hinted at the possibility of a future. Likely short-lived . . . but with her. Instead of showing gratitude for the help he could provide– the beautiful, intelligent brain, the strong shoulder to lean on– she'd shoved him away.

  Her signature move. Better to do it first. Until tonight, it had worked like a charm. All those years ago, when her mother left town, she'd withdrawn into herself. Under her father's bludgeoning criticism, Kendall disappeared a little more. Every humiliation she'd endured in school . . . each hurt thickened the wall she'd built around herself. Refusing to acknowledge pain, she'd discovered the best way to avoid heartache was by keeping her distance.

  Now, she'd succeeded in pushing away the only man she'd allowed close in the last decade. Dumping Harrison before he came to his senses and dumped her first. Why couldn't she trust him?

  She swiped her eyes on her sleeve. Because allowing Harry into her dented heart meant risking him shattering it. Alone was bad enough . . . but alone and heartbroken would be unbearable.

  Releasing a sigh, she noisily blew her nose. She'd shut him out the last time, too. Only difference was– Traynor didn't remember it. That long ago night when he'd stopped to rescue the shivering, devastated girl who'd been ditched on prom night. He'd offered his varsity jacket and an unspoken compassion. His beautiful, emerald eyes had glowed with anger over her treatment. He'd demanded names– of the boy who'd abandoned her in the rain on the side of the road. The fact that they'd attended different schools hadn't seemed to deter him.

  Mortified beyond words at life's latest humiliation, she'd given him an address several blocks from her own. Then she'd slipped from his car without even a 'thank you'. For months she'd worn his jacket. Slept with it clutched in her arms. Pretending it still smelled like him instead of her. She'd dreamed of tracking him down– to explain what his help had meant to her. Discovering that someone– anyone– had cared enough to stop had been eye-opening. She'd tucked his act of kindness away– hidden from anyone who might have demeaned it.

  She mattered. Maybe not to most people– but for that brief moment, she'd mattered to Harrison.

  She'd never thanked him. Ken had been too afraid he might laugh. Or worse– not even remember her. Instead, she'd worshipped him from afar . . . following his actions from the sidelines through high school and college.

  Now– she risked the same mistake. Shutting him out because it was too much to hope that he might care about her. Her father's voice echoed mercilessly through her mind. Why would any man choose someone like her?

  "Why the hell not?" she muttered. "He thinks he likes me." Head swimming, she swung her truck around. Before her brain talked her out of it, she had to go back. Had to at least talk with him. For the first time in forever, she would be honest. With the man she loved.

  ***

  Head pounding, Harry trudged up the steps, leaning heavily on the rail. His brain swirled with unanswered questions. What if Ken ended up hating him? Fatigue weighting him, he knew he wouldn't sleep. Even the anticipated pleasure of finally returning home didn't lift his spirits when he turned the key. His steps echoed through the tiled foyer. In the living room, he eyed the glass-topped coffee table, sparkling from a recent cleaning. Despite being gone nearly a week, his house smelled fresh and clean. Sterile. He missed the earthy scent of basil and rosemary– and Lurch.

  Like clockwork, the cleaning service had stopped by, not knowing he'd been in the hospital. Books and papers were neatly stacked on the sleek chrome desk in the corner. No cushion out of place on his monochromatic sofa. Each decorator-selected piece of furniture had been purchased for its soothing neutrality. His home was in perfect order.

  Harry waited for the sense of calm to slide over him– the way it always had in the past. To restore order to his jumbled thoughts. But his tension only increased as he wandered room to room. Though he'd never noticed it before, everything looked the same. Where was the color? The personality?

  His home was a haven after stressful days at work. But tonight, the noisy silence mocked him. In the center of his bedroom, Harry slowly turned around. Nothing stood out. Nothing to indicate human existence except the water bottle on his dresser. His home was just a unit– like the one next door . . . a space he happened to occupy. If he were a color . . . he'd be beige.

  Swaying on his good leg, he dropped to the perfectly made bed. Heart pounding with sudden awareness, Harry glanced around the colorless room. His gaze fixated on the artwork hanging opposite his bed. For a year, it had hung there. Until today, he'd never noticed it.

  The designer had performed to his exacting specifications. Neutral. No drama– no garish colors to draw his attention. The boring landscape fit the bill. The painting was perfectly acceptable and perfectly dull. "This is your life." Efficient and organized and functional. And completely empty. His gaze sweeping the sterile room, his thoughts flew to Kendall. On her way home . . . probably crying. His mouth curved in a smile. More likely, she was cursing him. One of the many things he liked about her. He might not know what she was thinking, but he always knew how she felt. Her emotions were always right there in her eyes . . . confusion, sadness, passion.

  She was the color. The warmth his life needed. His thoughts drifted to her cozy house. The smells and sounds. Kenny and her damned three-legged dog. Her one-eyed cat. Her gardens and her music. The lively chaos that made her house home. The harsh sound of his suddenly labored breathing broke the silence of the still room. Christ, maybe he did need her.

  The briefcase clutched in his fingers slipped from his hand, hitting the carpet with a muffled thud. When his phone rang a moment later, his thoughts scattered. Kendall. Heart pumping, he nearly stumbled in his hurry to pick it up. Thank God, she'd come to her senses.

  "Kenny?" His heartbeat slowed to a painful thud when he recognized the voice on the other end. "Hey, Charlie." The brief flare of hope slid into disappointment. "You've alrea
dy found something?" Harry rifled through his desk for a legal pad.

  "Uh-huh. I can handle that. Anything on Barker?" Frustration creased his forehead. "Are there other sources?" He released a deep breath. "I know I'm asking a lot, but if what you're saying is true– I don't like where it's heading."

  Ending the call, he stared at his desk, his mind already ticking through his to-do list. Whenever there were problems to work through, his brain became too restless to simply think. Throwing himself into a project worked to clear his head. As pieces of a puzzle fell into place, so too, did the issue he was avoiding. Clarity in one area seemed to lead to clarity in the other.

  Wandering back to the bedroom, he retrieved his briefcase. Seeking the flashdrive he'd filled at A & R, he plugged it into his laptop, eager to work. Discovering answers to his questions about A & R would determine Specialty's financial exposure. The sooner he learned Ken's fate, the sooner he could develop a plan to help her– fixing the damage and righting the ship . . . or helping her unwind from the business in a way that left her solvent. But before he immersed himself in what would likely be an all night project, he picked up his phone.

  One last piece of unfinished business. "Hi, Deb. Yeah. . . I'm finally home." Harry forced a smile into his voice. Though she'd asked him to call, he hoped it wouldn't be a conversation about getting back together. Though it might have been easier to conveniently forget her message, Deborah's firm still handled Specialty's business. But any doubts he may have held about their relationship were answered.

  Though they'd talked several minutes, she never mentioned his accident. As she chatted about the legal conference, Harry felt– nothing. Not disappointment. Certainly not love. Only impatience to move forward.