Falling For Ken (Blueprint to Love Book 2)

by Giordano, Lauren

  Mentally replaying the conversation with his cousins, Harry realized Jeff had been right. Kendall was different from the usual women he dated. He felt different when he was with her . . . less like himself. Less like the self he'd always assumed he should be. Less like the man everyone had come to expect.

  Through Ken's eyes, he was human– incredibly so. And he hadn't felt that way in a long time. Truth was, he'd felt hollow inside . . . as though there'd been a computer chip implanted in his chest instead of a heart. For the longest time, he'd isolated himself from everything except the bottom line. Both Specialty's and his own. In his mind, his blueprint had been cast in stone. No whims allowed. No eraser marks. No emotion in the decision-making process.

  But Kendall didn't think that way. And that was probably half the fascination. She wasn't impressed with the suit or the status or his connections. When she looked at him, she saw a man– a funny, aggravating, flawed man. For the first time, Harry felt . . . real. Instead of a boring guy playing a dutiful role. He wasn't a robot anymore. His life had changed when he'd taken a header into that parking garage– when he'd fallen for Ken. And he wasn't ready to relinquish the light, happy feeling of being alive. At least not yet.

  Another few months and Miss Hardhat's fiery disposition would probably wear thin. They'd both be ready for a change. The sharp jab of possessiveness caught Harry off guard. Okay– so for now, that notion didn't play well. For now . . . she was his.

  His pulse ratcheted a notch in anticipation. Hell– he'd missed her. It had only been three days . . . but she'd tangled in his thoughts a thousand times. Her refusal to budge had frustrated him at first. By the second day, it made him smile. He'd gotten used to her smoky voice teasing him. Arguing with him. Harry couldn't decide what he missed more– kissing Kendall or debating with her.

  One thing was certain. She was so damn stubborn that if he ever won her over, she'd be his for the taking. Assuming she'd ever lower her guard enough to trust him. His hands tightened on the wheel. Did he want her trust?

  Harry wanted a whole lot more than that. His gut fisted with an emotion that felt surprisingly like determination. He wanted to win. He wanted– her. For as long as it needed to last.

  ***

  "What the hell do you mean, Floyd?" Kendall slapped her hands down on the cluttered desk, barely resisting an urge to strangle the old coot standing before her. There were days when she longed to be in a bigger town– a place where people didn't know every last damn thing about her.

  Like her lapse with Harrison Traynor. If one more person asked how she was feeling . . . always accompanied by a long pause and that you-should've-known-he'd-dump-you expression in their eyes– she would scream. Jimmy's bull in the china shop method of compassion was hard at work. He'd probably warned the crew, his well meaning attempt to protect her from the prickly subject of Harrison. Of course, that had only drawn more attention to her.

  "Nothin' to be alarmed about, Miz Adams." The fire marshal shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. "We just don't want you takin' off anywhere sudden-like. You don't have any plans to leave the state now, do you?"

  She stiffened at the insult. "What possible reason would I have for torching my business? It's been in our family nearly thirty years. For God's sake, Floyd– you grew up with my daddy."

  "Now, Kenny," he whined, "everyone knows you bin' havin' financial trouble. Maybe you just got tired tryin' to make ends meet."

  "If you believe that, you deserve that reservation at Shady Oaks your kids are saving for you, because you're losing your marbles."

  "Kendall Renee– if your daddy heard you, he'd take a bar of soap to that sassy mouth."

  She ignored the sting of truth. A bar of soap would've been child's play. A whipping was more her father's style. "Is there anyone else on this so-called investigation team, Floyd? Anyone who's actually looking for clues– like a faulty heating system . . . maybe some bad wiring?"

  "Kenny, no one's accusin' you of anything yet." The old man gentled his tone. "For Pete's sake, the lab boys don't even have the test results back yet."

  "But you've found a canister of accelerant near the scene and you think I left it there." Jerking from her chair, she paced the length of the trailer. "Do you think I'm stupid? Don't you think if I started the fire, I'd make sure I had an alibi? That I'd get rid of the evidence, for God's sake?"

  The fire marshal opened his mouth, shutting it again when he realized she'd only come up for air. "Don't you think I would've avoided getting myself killed in the process?" Kendall whirled around, stomping back. "What about Lance? He was in there after I left. After– get it? As in– later than me. That moron throws his cigarette butts in the trash all the time. Have you checked? I told you when I went back upstairs to my office, the fire was already going."

  "He said y'all left together."

  "And you believe him?" She glared at him. "Hell's bells, Floyd! You've known me thirty-one years. He's been here six months," she pointed out. "What about Traynor?"

  "Yep– I heard about you two. Sorry about him dumpin' ya like that."

  "The fire, Floyd." Gritting her teeth, she resisted the urge to hurl something at his head. "Harrison was there. We reviewed files for several hours and then we left together. Have you interviewed him?"

  "There ain't been time, Kenny. I figured I'd stop by and talk with you first."

  She glared pointedly at the door. "To answer your original question. . . I'm not going anywhere. Now, if you don't mind, I still have a hole to dig."

  She'd barely laid her head on the desk when she heard the outside door open again. Mother of God– now what? Resisting the urge to pound her forehead on the cool Formica top, Ken reluctantly raised her gaze to meet the next nightmare sticking its ugly face around her door.

  "You busy? You must be– since you can't find time to return my calls."

  Ignoring the cold lump of despair suddenly strangling her chest, Kendall forced a shallow breath. And discovered it hurt to breathe. "Nothing goin' on here, Traynor. Burning down my business left me with loads of free time. I'm getting a manicure later today."

  Harrison had the gall to smile. "Ah, it's take-no-prisoners Ken. Where's your twin? The one I like so much?"

  "Go to hell." What was it about him? Half the time she wanted to swing a Louisville Slugger at his head. The rest she spent wishing for foolish things she had no business hoping for.

  He moved stealthily closer. "Where's the other Ken? She has beautiful, golden eyes I can't stop staring into. And this incredible, argumentative mouth– I just want to kiss into silence."

  Kendall was helpless to control the shiver of awareness forking through her. The bastard actually grinned. "If you think I'm falling for your sweet talkin' bull-"

  Her nerve endings sizzled under his perusal. Fisting suddenly restless hands, she scowled when her stupid heartbeat accelerated

  "Her skin is like satin under my fingers." Continuing as though she hadn't spoke, his gaze burned steadily, seeming able to peer inside her. "She has this incredible throaty moan when I'm inside her."

  "H-harrison-" Swallowing, she staggered back a step. Her face had to be flaming.

  His voice dropped to a whisper and he took another step. "Is she gone for the day?"

  "I didn't return your calls because . . . I w-wasn't . . . interested in talking." If he heard the desperate little squeak in her voice, he chose to ignore it.

  "You're right," Harry agreed, closing the distance between them. "Talking doesn't seem to work with you." The last was whispered against her lips before he sealed them with his own. Kendall struggled against him for a moment before giving in to the temptation of his mouth, relinquishing to the haze of memories she couldn't make herself forget. She'd thought of nothing else-

  She fell against him with a soft moan of frustration mingled with desire. The moment he touched her, her limbs seemed to lose their bones. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she fell headlong into his kiss. Lord, how she'd missed him
. . . ached to feel him in her arms again. Hell– she could return to her senses later. She'd be lying if she didn't admit she needed comforting. Right now, she needed his touch. Desperately.

  It was several minutes before reality began seeping under the edges of passion and Ken jerked away from him. The slumbering satisfaction in his eyes made her stumble back against the desk. Mortified, she discovered her hands shaking. "Damn you, Traynor. You'd better leave before Jimmy catches you. He's got a shovel with your name on it."

  An enlightened smile creased Harry's face. "A price on my head? That's promising." When he reached for her again she bolted around the desk, relieved to have something sturdy between them.

  "Don't flatter yourself. He's protective, that's all."

  He nodded with approval. "Good. You need taking care of."

  Despite her frustration, Ken chuckled. "Maybe I wasn't clear. He means to protect me from you."

  "That should be easy enough to clear up." Apparently deciding that any attempt to catch her would prove futile, Harrison pulled out the chair to her desk and flopped into it, a smug expression in his beautiful, brilliant, lying eyes.

  Wary, Kendall pulled up a side chair, keeping an eye on the door. Forcing a neutral expression she sure as hell didn't feel, she prayed he couldn't see the pulse ricocheting in her throat. "How will you explain away your girlfriend?"

  "I'll tell him the same thing I'd have told you if you'd answered the damn phone." The first trace of annoyance crept into his voice. "That I broke it off with Deborah two weeks ago– before I ever met you."

  "That's a lie." Kendall bolted to her feet. "You were talkin' to her Tuesday night-" When Harrison stilled, she realized she'd revealed more than she'd intended.

  "How would you know . . . unless-"

  "I came back to apologize. That's all." Better to set him straight before he leapt to conclusions. She flopped back in the chair, feigning an indifference she didn't feel.

  "And you heard me on the phone." Stacking his hands behind his head, he leaned back in the ancient chair, grimacing at the harmony of squeaks. "I told you my personal relationship with Deb was over– but she's still Specialty's lawyer."

  "Not my business." She was too tired to win an argument with him today. And it was damn near useless to try when he had that annoying habit of reading her thoughts.

  "Why didn't you stay? If you heard that call– we only spoke a few minutes."

  Her gaze slid away. Because he'd asked her to come over. That phone call had gnawed away at her all night. As dawn filtered through her windows, she'd arrived at the miserable realization that . . . she'd trusted him. He'd crawled under her skin and wormed his way into her heart. And if she felt this miserable now, then how would she feel later– when he abandoned her?

  "I wish you'd stayed. I missed you, Ken." His voice was softly persuasive. "Being away from you these past few days made me realize how much I like being with you."

  A foolish flame of hope ignited in her chest before she resolutely doused it. She couldn't take the strain of loving Harrison. Couldn't live with the uncertainty. She could bear the weight of losing everything else . . . the business– her crew, her livelihood. But not Harry. She had to guard her heart against him. Lock it away in a steel box. Because loving him would shatter her when he decided to move on.

  "Nothing's changed, Harry," she warned. "We're too different. I don't want to see you anymore."

  "You sure about that?" His smile twitched. "Five minutes ago, I could've taken you on this desk." His gaze heated as his checked the open door. "Against that wall." His voice dropped to a caress. "Swallowing your moans . . . so no one hears when you-"

  "Traynor-" Releasing a shaky breath, she fought the erotic image in her head. Her face burning up, Ken knew he was trying not to laugh.

  "I've finished reviewing your financial records." Deliberately changing the subject, Harrison dangled the carrot just beyond her nose.

  Sliding her chair closer to the desk, she leaned her elbows on the edge. "What did you find? Was there a mistake?"

  "Several. But not the way you're thinking," he warned when her mouth curved upward.

  Her smile dissolved. "You're still insisting I got the payment from Specialty?"

  "Yeah. The mistakes I'm talking about are internal errors– you've got a bunch of misapplied payments and if you ask me– a couple pretty suspicious looking vendors you've been paying quite a bit of money to."

  "How could it be that screwed up? I coded everything for Claire before she entered anything into the system. It's not like we're running fifty jobs," she reasoned. "More like two or three big ones and half a dozen small projects."

  "Well– someone botched the entries pretty well. I've got the file out in my car. We can review it later."

  "Why don't we look now," she suggested, caution seeping into her voice. "No need to hold you up."

  His grin told her he was doing the damned mind reader thing again. "I'm not in any rush. I planned to stay a few days. My bag's in the car."

  "Harrison. . . I've got enough problems without having to deal with you on top of-"

  "I'm here to volunteer my services," he interrupted smoothly. "I don't have a place to stay. I thought I'd bunk down with you."

  Kendall didn't know what to feel anymore. She'd just about exhausted all the anger she had left. Her supply of tears had thankfully dried up, too. Fatigue, she had plenty of. Her body wanted to sag into the chair and never move again. And their conversation wasn't helping. If ever there was a man worth leaning on, Harry was the guy. Her brain knew better than to hope for love. But the ice around her stupid heart was cracking– softening toward him.

  Falling for Harrison meant relinquishing control of her ironclad will– the one force that had propelled Ken rather nicely over the past dozen years– through turmoil and heartache. She'd be forced to wait him out– always on guard . . . never able to relax. The only question was how long. A month? Six? A year? The not knowing would kill her. Because it wouldn't be a question of if he grew tired of her. Only when.

  And what would be left of her when he decided it was over?

  "As I'm about to be arrested shortly, you can have the whole damn house, Traynor. I don't care anymore. Just remember to feed Lurch and walk him at least once a day. Wink can take care of herself but she gets ornery if you don't pet her."

  Leaning back in her chair, Ken hoisted booted feet to the desk, weariness crashing over her. The sun beating through the window heated her skin. A nap would feel so damned good right now.

  His amusement disappeared in a flash of disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

  "The fire marshal is suggesting I set the fire Tuesday. According to Floyd, I planned this."

  "You're not joking?" Harrison stared, eyes wary over her deceptively calm demeanor. "Who the hell is Floyd?"

  "The fire marshal. You probably saw him leave." Her lids felt weighted as she sank deeper into her chair.

  "And he learned this . . . without talking to witnesses?"

  She smiled when his eyes sparked. When she grew too weary to battle . . . Harrison could get angry for her.

  "Babe, you're scaring me. Is he the best this town has?"

  "Just about," she admitted on a yawn. "Floyd's not a bad guy. He just needs to retire."

  "You don't sound terribly upset about going to jail."

  "Like you said, they haven't interviewed anyone yet." She shifted her gaze back to him. "You were with me. It's not like I don't have . . . an alibi." She closed her eyes for a minute. They were so heavy. "Now, if you decided to turn on me . . . I'd have a problem."

  Chapter 11

  Harrison eyed her drooping lids, his lips quirking in a thoughtful smile. Slumped comfortably in the ancient upholstered chair, Ken released a husky sigh, sliding into sleep. Her long, silky hair was caught up in a lopsided ponytail that slipped over her shoulder, covering half her face.

  For several minutes he watched her, listened to her breathing deepen as she fin
ally lost the battle to remain awake. The dark smudges under her eyes made his smile fade. His chest constricted on a sudden wave of frustration. How could such a little body absorb so many blows and remain standing for as long as she had? How much longer could she continue this way before she collapsed under the weight of stress? Kendall was running on empty and had been for a while. Staring at her slight frame, Harry vowed to change that.

  It didn't take much convincing a half hour later to get her loaded into his car for the drive back to her place. It had, however, taken a full twenty minutes to convince Jimmy not to brain him with a lead pipe. The only thing saving him from a beating was the warm, slack body nestled in his arms. Kendall came first with the old man. His affection for her was obvious . . . though Jimmy buried it under a hide as thick and tough as an elephant's. Harry was grateful to him.

  All those years, he'd protected Kendall. The soft, silky woman in his arms had been a soft, sweet, little girl. And Jimmy had ensured that no matter how her father mistreated her, she'd always had him to turn to.

  Glancing to his right, he found his smile again. Kenny was peacefully asleep, curled up on the seat, oblivious to the breeze wafting through his car. He remembered Jimmy's grudging words when he'd reluctantly allowed him to pass.

  "This ain't finished. You hurt her and I'll make you sorry for the rest of your days." It wasn't finished. Not by a long shot. He remembered Kenny's insistence that if she were destined to meet the man of her dreams, fate would lend a hand. He'd laughed at the ludicrous suggestion she would simply bump into the man she was meant to spend her life with. How could she operate without a plan? A blueprint? How could she leave everything to chance? Harry had made it his business to plan for everything.

  His parents' marriage had taught him only that loving someone hurt . . . that everything and everyone else was sacrificed when you loved someone. He'd taken that knowledge and run with it, distancing himself from any relationship that might leave him vulnerable.