Falling For Ken (Blueprint to Love Book 2)

by Giordano, Lauren

  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."

  "Kenny. . . I'm so sorry." His heart hammered relentlessly in a futile drumbeat. Her voice had gone cold and sterile, nearly unrecognizable. She began to shiver, her eyes bright with unshed tears and it took every ounce of control Harry had not to reach out and fold her against him. Instead, he relived the same helpless rage he'd experienced that cold, stormy night– when he'd been unable to lessen the hurt that had been inflicted upon her.

  "Turns out he was right. My date never planned on taking me to the prom. I was just the entertainment. After he picked me up, we stopped for several of his friends . . . and h-his girlfriend. That's when they dumped me out on the side of the road."

  "I wanted to hurt him." Tentatively, Harry reached out to stroke her face. When she didn't flinch, he released the breath he'd been holding. "I'd still like to hurt him . . . and your father, too."

  Ken raised her hand to capture his. "Fifteen years later. . . I'm finally thanking you. Your kindness that night. . ." Her voice dropped to an anguished whisper. "Do you know how long it had been? Since anyone had worried about me? Wondered what happened to me? Only Jimmy cared whether I lived or died. You were the only person who stopped– the only one who cared whether I got home safely. And I was too embarrassed to t-thank you. But I never forgot."

  "I never forgot you either." Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I always wondered who you were. This'll probably sound weird . . . but I used to scan the crowds– every soccer game– I'd look for you." He shrugged, feeling faintly embarrassed. "I guess it became a habit."

  The ghost of a smile twitched on her lips. "I looked for you, too. You had a State sticker in your window. I became a fan that night." She lowered her gaze. "I held on to that memory for so many years– whenever I was lonely . . . or scared . . . or ashamed. I'd think of you– rescuing me in the rain. And it carried me through another day."

  Her confession humbled Harry, cleansing him. Unable to contemplate that his simple act of kindness could have meant so much to another person. It made him wonder what other actions he'd taken that had reverberated through someone's life. And the actions he could have taken . . . but hadn't. Weaving her fingers through his, he drew her close. Her lips were whisper soft, still tasting of the tears she'd shed when he brushed
them with his.

  "Harrison . . . please understand– when you tell me I'm beautiful . . . when you say-"

  He tried not to wince over her hesitation to say the words he desperately wanted to hear. "I love you?"

  She nodded slowly. "I want to believe you. Really– I do. But this voice in my head . . . tells me it can't possibly be true."

  Instead of embracing his words, she deflected them. But discussing the issue, he realized– was a positive step. "So . . . what's it going to take to muzzle that troublemaker?"

  She smiled, but the warmth didn't reach her eyes. "It's been with me for as long as I can remember."

  Understanding finally dawned, as though someone had flipped the light switch in a very dark room. Before someone could hurt her, she moved out of the way. Instead of opening herself to possibilities, she ran in the opposite direction.

  The only answer to a great defense was an even better offense. The only way Harry could hope to win would be an end-run around her. His actions would have to speak louder than his words.

  "Did you ever think maybe we were fated to meet again?" A fleeting dimple winked in one satiny cheek and he was again blown away by her fragile beauty– and the gutsy determination that shimmered just below the beautiful surface.

  "It crossed my mind," she admitted with a flicker of amusement. "But what's a Traynor doing talking about fate?"

  The opportunity was too good to pass up. Scooping her up from the chair, he smiled over her startled yelp. Kissing her again, Harry savored the sweet, warm taste before his mouth drifted to her delicate collarbone. She allowed him access with a soft sigh of satisfaction. Together, they managed to push the patio door open before he staggered through it with Ken still locked in his arms. Leaning back against the door, he heard it click and nodded with satisfaction.

  "You don't believe any of that stuff," she insisted, her whispered voice already ragged with desire. "You've got your blueprint, remember? Your plan."

  His mouth sought the fluttering pulse in her graceful throat before trailing back up to capture her luscious mouth. His last coherent thought before he set her on the kitchen table was that impressing Kendall just might be the end of him. As she stripped him from his shirt, a satisfying tremor rippled through her when he whispered his answer in her ear.

  "Because I'm the one you're waiting for." Tugging the robe from her shoulders, he pulled her satiny body against his. "I'm the . . . accountant of your dreams." Swallowing her gasp of laughter, he proceeded to remind her how perfect they would be together.

  Chapter 12

  Harrison Traynor was the man of her dreams. Kendall tried to push the thought aside. But like the man himself, he just kept coming back. She wanted so badly to believe him, had thought of little else over the next several days. It was too easy to see what life with him would be like. They laughed and talked. About important things and nothing at all. Each morning, he rose early to make breakfast before he would slip back into bed to awaken her properly-

  "Do these terms sound like what you're looking for?" The discreet cough jarred her back to the present. Thoughts scattering to the wind, Ken forced her attention back to the banker seated across the mahogany desk.

  "Those terms sound fine," she assured him, wondering what she'd missed.

  "You're certain this is what you want to do, Miss Adams?"

  "Very sure, Mr. Baxter." She signed her name with a flourish and shook his hand. As soon as she reached the door, she dragged in a breath of fresh, sweet air. How could anyone spend their days inside when it was as nice as today?

  Her mind wandered back to Harrison on the ride home from the bank, thinking of the night ahead. Evenings were spent on the deck, stargazing and holding hands. Or in the garden where Harrison drank in another lesson about the different plants she had coaxed to life. Or she played music for him. At his suggestion, she'd begun writing it down. To her surprise, instead of inhibiting her musical ability, it only seemed to enhance it. Ken's head was swimming with lush arrangements that simply begged to be developed. She had no right to feel this happy. But that didn't stop the foolish grin she knew was etched on her face.

  The buyout offer for A & R was still alive. With Harrison's advice, she'd countered the first offer. She'd begun envisioning a life beyond the business she'd spent the better part of her life worrying over. The future seemed bursting with possibility, thanks to Harrison. His confidence in her seemed to magically buoy her own.

  Cracking the window in her truck, she inhaled deeply of the fresh scent of summer hay. All in all, it hadn't been such a bad week. Her life was humming along . . . the pieces falling slowly back into place.

  And she was in love with Harrison Traynor. For fifteen years, she'd been in love with the memory of a boy. But it was the man he'd become who'd captured her heart. In a hundred different ways, he'd shown how much he loved her. Now that she'd summoned the courage to admit the truth to herself, she planned to enlighten Harry. He'd waited patiently– smiled when she knew he was hurt by her inability to trust him. Harrison wanted to hear her say the words.

  Tonight, she would take the final step. Tonight, her heart would take a giant leap of faith into his steady hands. She would finally tell him how much she loved him.

  Kendall should have been thrilled.

  Instead, she was terrified. Experience had taught her that when life started running smoothly, disaster loomed just around the corner. But hope was a dangerous thing. Too often it had led to disappointment. But it was there, flaring in her chest. About a future with Harrison– that they would always be happy together. Hope she could pull a miracle out of her hat and finish the dig.

  Her entire crew, including Claire– had agreed to stay on without pay until she received the fire settlement from A & R's insurance carrier. She hadn't been surprised by the men of her motley crew– they'd been with her for years. But Claire's loyalty left her with a warm feeling of pride. She'd only been an employee for a matter of months.

  Despite their show of loyalty, Kendall refused to wait for the insurance settlement to do the right thing. Her crew deserved to be paid. . . handsomely. They'd been working like demons. Four more weeks and she'd be substantially complete. Under the terms of her contract, she'd meet her obligation to Specialty– and to Harry. An emergency loan from the bank would float her payroll for three of those weeks. The loan would buy her twenty-one days to reach an agreement with the insurance company. And it bought negotiating time with the party interested in buying A & R.

  Swallowing nervously, she avoided thinking what this latest risk would cost if she failed. Then she'd gone ahead and signed the second mortgage on her beloved Victorian.

  ***

  "Yo– Woody. . ." Harry waited for Gigantor to acknowledge his presence. He did with a wave and a friendly smile. It was hard to believe there was a soft-hearted human inside the imposing bulk of Woody Cutler. He'd entered into a wary truce of sorts with Jimmy– and by default– with Woody.

  "What's up?" He swiped a grubby fist across an equally grubby forehead.

  "I'm heading out. Kendall's probably already home."

  Concern flared briefly in his eyes. "She's okay?"

  "I'm sure she's fine, but with Lance MIA. . . I don't want her there alone. It's tough enough trying to keep the investigation from her. If I told her she was in danger, I'd probably have to tie her down to keep her away from Lance."

  A knowing grin replaced Woody's worried frown. "I don't know why you're keepin' it from her. She'd probably love to take down that jerk."

  Talking about Barker made his stomach knot. Harry didn't want him within a hundred miles of Kendall. But the thought of her with a scowl on her face and revenge in her heart caused a flicker of a smile to cross his lips. "She'd take him out before the police could get him." Under the circumstances, he wouldn't want to be in Barker's shoes. Hell, he didn't want to be in his shoes if she ever found out.

  Woody nodded. "I'll tell Jimmy you're leavin'."

  Knowing the
operation held little hope of success without their cooperation, Charlie's team had briefed Kendall's crew leaders on the sting operation.

  "See you tomorrow." Since moving in with Kendall, Harry drove out to the site each day to pitch in with A & R's crew, doing whatever he could to facilitate the project. Always a man with a plan, Harry figured that becoming a fixture at the site could only help– with the project, with the investigation and with Ken, who'd assumed he'd taken leave of his senses.

  Jimmy hadn't been crazy about the idea either. But what had started as barely restrained hostility had morphed into mutual respect. He'd pushed back against Jimmy's initial dislike– slowly winning him over. The old man had been in full agreement on keeping Ken in the dark about the investigation.

  Harry was making headway at home, too. Like a tightly budded flower, Kendall was slowly, painstakingly opening up to him. She was learning he could be trusted . . . that his actions equaled his words . . . that he could be relied on. All it required on his part was an infinite supply of patience and an endless calendar.

  But with the sting underway, Harry felt like a juggler with too many balls in the air. It would be terribly easy to drop one. The knowledge that Charlie's team had already dropped the most critical ball– Lance's surveillance– gnawed at him. How could they have been so careless?

  Barker had already been AWOL for two days. There'd been no contact about the deal to sell A & R. Charlie's team had been so damn certain Lance would take the bait, they hadn't considered other options. With a price on Barker's head, the team was running out of time, too. No one seemed to know what to do next.

  He scowled in annoyance when his cell phone rang for the hundredth time. Nearly sunset, the jobsite was still in full swing. Jimmy had rallied the troops and the crews were making more progress than he'd dreamed possible. The sooner they wrapped up this dig. . . the sooner his new life with Kendall could start.

  "Traynor." His pulse quickened when Lance's oily voice interrupted his thoughts. Finally. Relief poured through him. If he could just keep him on the line long enough, Charlie could trace the call and find out where Barker was hiding.