Lost Love Found

by Kay Lyons

  "I insist. It is because of you and Mr. Max that we are able to do this. To give back to the people who took us in when we were so desperate to escape. We wouldn't be here if not for you both. It's our pleasure."

  The plates were filled with Rehema's fabulous cooking, a buffet of piri piri chicken, jollof rice, and bunny chow. The choices provided were no doubt intended to fill empty bellies, but it was a culinary delight Max had tasted before when visiting Uncle Jack six months ago.

  The couple sat with them for a few minutes while they ate but then excused themselves to go back to the kitchen. Holland finished chewing and reached for her drink, all the while studying Max. "You have a question?" he asked.

  "Just thinking."

  "About?"

  "You. Here I thought I'd managed to pull off one awesome surprise, but instead, you surprised me. That doesn't happen very often."

  "Likewise. What? Did you think I'm too rich to eat with the homeless?"

  "Maybe. I mean, I truly came to see Rehema and Marcus because this is my favorite place to eat on Nairobi nights, so it was just good timing, but…"

  "But you wondered what kind of man I really am. Curiosity satisfied?"

  She lowered her long lashes over her eyes, a tantalizing feminine smile curling her lips.

  "Mmm. Not even close."

  The comment seared Max's brain and sent his body into overdrive. After a long, heated moment when he didn't disguise his thoughts as he stared at her, he took a breath and forced himself to temper the desire to know all there was to know about Holland. Patience. "Well, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not running away from Rehema's delicious food."

  "So I see. How did you meet them? Because I have a feeling it may be the more interesting story compared to my fundraiser one."

  "Marcus saved my life a couple of years ago when I was in Africa working with my uncle, Jack. Marcus took a bullet intended for me. When I asked him what was the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the world, he said he wanted to be a US citizen. He and Rehema were engaged at the time and he worried about her safety and that of their future family. The news here talks of shootings, but we have no idea what others live through on a daily basis in other parts of the world. Just trying to survive hour by hour. I went to work getting them visas."

  "But you said you live in New York. How did they wind up here?"

  Max's grin widened. "My uncle used to pastor this church and now it supports their mission work. I knew it looked familiar when you pulled in but I wasn't sure until I saw Marcus."

  Holland lowered her head, her teeth sinking into her lip as she slowly shook her head back and forth.

  "Small world," she said softly.

  "The congregation was a support network they wouldn't have had in New York so… they chose to come here."

  "That's a pretty cool gift to give someone."

  "It was nothing compared to what Marcus did for me."

  "Who was shooting at you?"

  "Local drug lord. He didn't like it that I'd come to help the village. I became enemy number one."

  "May I ask how you wound up over there? I mean, I get helping your uncle's work, but that's not the norm for most men in your financial position."

  "Ah. That is a story to be told somewhere other than here," he murmured. "If you've finished, we can head out, though. So they don't feel they have to entertain us."

  Holland turned to see the couple looking their way while trying to work the kitchen. "Good idea. I'll text Rehema later this week and invite her to Ireland's baby shower. We could turn it into a surprise for Rehema, too."

  Holland stated the idea casually, like it was no big deal, but he saw her heart behind it. "I'm sure she would love that."

  Max and Holland said their goodbyes to Marcus and Rehema before walking toward the exit. Along the way, Max got waylaid by several of the church officials who helped keep the soup kitchen going. While he chatted with them, he watched as Holland moved closer to a door leading into the church instead of their exit. And even though she was discreet and he nearly missed the slip of her hand over the donation box, he knew then what she'd done. This program was important. The crowd gathered was proof.

  Holland had moved to a painting along the wall when Max joined her. "I saw that."

  "What?"

  He narrowed his gaze on her beautiful face but he didn't comment further. She stared up at him, the height difference bringing her head to shoulder level.

  "Ready?"

  "Lead the way." When she turned toward the exit, a few strands of her hair caught in the whiskers on his chin, entangling them for a split second. Holland froze, wide-eyed and lips parted, as he gently smoothed her hair back into place. He ran his knuckles over her cheek to her chin, lifting it higher, while reminding himself that a church annex wasn't an appropriate location for their first kiss. After a long moment, he stepped back and gently slid the hand to her shoulder and around her back instead. "Where to now?"

  "Dancing?"

  A low chuckle rumbled out of his chest. "No. Somewhere quiet."

  Max walked her to her Audi and tucked her behind the wheel. She watched as he rounded the front of her car, using the moment alone to attempt to regain her equilibrium. Max was a lot to take in. More than looks, more than money. Just… more.

  Once he climbed in beside her and fastened his seat belt, she got them moving. "Would you like a coffee? Maybe some tea? There's a coffee shop down by the river."

  "That sounds good."

  She drove several miles toward the river walk before pulling off into the parking area of the trendy coffee shop. "Whatever you do, if you meet my sister London, don't tell her I brought you here."

  Max chuckled and held the door for her. Once they had their orders, they moved to a set of empty chairs. She turned toward him, wondering when she'd hit the age of liking a man for who he wasn't rather than who he was. "The church is doing good work there. Rehema has mentioned it quite a few times in passing when we've discussed the food for the upcoming fundraiser."

  "Is it related to the auction Nan donated the desk to?"

  "Yeah. The proceeds help the city shelters and homeless population."

  Max gave her a long stare.

  "You make me nervous when you do that," she admitted. "It's like you're dissecting me. Or trying to."

  "My apologies. My intention isn't to make you uncomfortable."

  "So what is the intention then?"

  "To get to know you. We might disagree on whether or not Nan should delve into the past, but I am drawn to you, Holland. The problem is that I won't be in town long. Once my business is concluded, I'll return to South Africa."

  "Wait. Return?"

  "One of my other homes."

  "You mentioned helping your uncle earlier. Now you say you live there."

  "It's a second home to me. Has been since college. And if you're wondering if there is a special someone there, no. It's… a lot of someones."

  "People you help."

  "Yes. The start-ups fund much of the work I do alongside my aunt and uncle."

  "I see. So my next question is what leads a man like you to do such a thing? I'm guessing if you chose to, you'd never have to work another day in your life. So what drives you?"

  "I could say it's just a characteristic of mine."

  "Is it?"

  "Not entirely. I hated it when I was first sent to stay with my uncle. It was… a punishment. A way of getting me out of the States and away from the media."

  Oh, whatever was that about? "And you needed to be away from it because…?"

  Once more that forest-green gaze narrowed on her and sucked the air from her lungs.

  "You really don't know?"

  "I wouldn't ask if I did."

  Silence. Long, uncomfortable seconds ticked by as they maintained eye contact, frozen.

  "I killed my best friend."

  Holland blinked, sure her expression revealed her shock at his words no matter how hard she tried to
school her features, but of all things he could've said, that wasn't what she expected. "Pardon?"

  "Alec. We were college freshmen on spring break. Too stupid and too rich to have a care or thought of consequences."

  She forced herself to take a sip of her decaf latte but she might as well have been drinking mud for all the flavor it held after hearing his confession. "What happened?"

  She'd worked her job long enough to have witnessed some pretty dark family secrets. She'd even been on the receiving end of proposals and propositions that would make a high-end call girl blush. Nasty people were just nasty people but rich nasty people were cut from a different cloth. Entitled. Self-centered. They didn't possess empathy or concern for anything other than themselves and their desires. Get in their way, make them angry, and nothing was off-limits. But nothing about Max equalled that. Was she missing something?

  "We partied. Drank enough for a frat house, let alone two pathetic frat boys, and then had the bright idea to go swimming."

  Her stomach sank like a weight. The comment he'd made to her about no longer swimming came to mind. Apparently this was where it originated. The why of why he didn't.

  "The girls we're with tell us to race, see who is the better man. So we go in and we're laughing and dunking each other. Everything is fine. Then we take off and when I get to the other side I realize Alec isn't anywhere close. So I go back in, call for him, look for him, dive. He was gone. The girls… they didn't even notice he'd gone under. Alec had passed out from all the alcohol and drowned, and none of us noticed. I didn't notice," Max said. "I wasn't such a good friend."

  "Max… I'm so sorry." There was nothing more she could say. Not when she could read his expression and knew nothing would ever change the way he felt about what happened. He blamed himself, and she knew, in his position, she probably would, too. "That's a horrible thing to happen, a tragedy, but unless you forced him into the water and then held him under, you realize you're not to blame. Right?"

  Max didn't respond to her question. He stared at his coffee cup. Fumbled with the sleeve on the bottom. It took him a long while before he met her gaze again. "Due to my family name, the media swarmed. It was crazy. All of it. My father sent me to his brother, the one member of the family referred to as the 'saint' because he'd become a minister early on. He worked in Haiti then. When I got there and managed to pull my head out of my rear, I realized how blessed a life I had. And how, if I concentrated on the work, I found relief from the pain I felt due to Alec's death."

  "Hard work is good for that."

  He stretched out his fingers before curling them around his cup once more.

  "It was a lifesaver for me. But the summer ended and I went back to school, and life—I—was never the same. Every break after that, I went to stay with my uncle and aunt wherever they were, and I realized more than anything, the main thing they needed was funding."

  "That's why you focus so heavily on start-ups?"

  He nodded. "I'm good at it. And it gives me the flexibility and financial security I need to be where I want to be."

  "Hands on," she murmured. "That's quite a story that brought you to where you are now."

  "It won't bring Alec back."

  "No. But look at what it's propelled you to do. My sister—London—has this mantra about learning to love fast because we never know what time we'll have with someone. We all learned it because of moving around in the military so much, but London has always keenly focused on loving whoever appears in her life while she's able, as long as she's able. I think it fits here, as well."

  "You're telling me you love me?"

  His expression made her laugh and earned her looks from the others in the building. "I'm saying you loved Alec for as long as he was your friend, and when he passed, you carried that love into what you're doing now. You used it for something better rather than letting it destroy you. Max, you're honoring his memory and that means something. Don't you think?"

  Max leaned toward her and she wished they'd chosen to sit on one of the empty couches rather than the chairs. Maybe if they'd been on the couch, he'd use the moment to move closer and cuddle her to his side. As it was, he reached out and grasped her hand in his, squeezed her fingers. And made her happy she hadn't found out about his past from the internet. That bit of his life needed to be told in person by the person who'd lived it rather than a media frenzy looking to sell stories by making up things about a heartbroken young man in mourning. "Max, I'm sorry you lost your friend. But I'm glad you shared that with me."

  He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them. "You made it easy."

  "Good."

  He smiled at her. Held her gaze for a long, breath-stealing moment. "Now, Holland Cohen, it's time."

  "Oh? For what?"

  "For you to tell me your biggest, deepest, darkest secret."

  Chapter 8

  Max watched as Holland's expression changed, but he couldn't quite pin down the flashes moving so rapidly across her face. "Was that a tough request?"

  "No," she said with an uncomfortable-sounding laugh. "It's just difficult to answer."

  "Because you have so many deep, dark secrets?" His mind immediately went to an unflattering place before he reeled it in and forced himself to focus.

  "Because my answers will reveal more than you probably want to know."

  He set the coffee cup aside and leaned toward her. "You can't say that and not follow it up, you know."

  She laughed at his statement but the sound was full of embarrassment and hesitation.

  "Hey, I told you mine. And it was a doozy."

  "So I have to share? Fine. I… have a problem no one knows about."

  "Involving?"

  "Speed. If I get another ticket, I have to go see the judge and will probably be assigned community service."

  Max stared at her, struggling to conceal his amusement. "Trying out for Daytona?"

  "Something like that, yeah."

  "I'm almost afraid to ask about your other secrets."

  "They're bad, too," she said, her tone apologetic.

  "Go on."

  "Well, I hate ice cream. And apple pie. I know it's weird and un-American, but it's true. I'm also terrified of snakes. Like hard-core terrified because if I'd ever see one in a house, it would have to be burned down, no question."

  "I see. Is that it?"

  "Talk radio. Hate it. Who wants to listen to people argue over everything? Give me music or news but don't torture me by forcing me to listen to that garbage. If I want to fight, I'll pick one with one of my sisters."

  Max stared at Holland and wondered if it was possible to fall in love in such a short amount of time. She was attractive. Beautiful. But it was her quick wit and humor that drew him. And just because he also liked the thrill of speed, he'd love to surprise her with a trip to a race track and turn her loose.

  The warmth and friendship Holland had shown Rehema and Marcus, the way she treated his grandmother… Her integrity was something to be valued beyond measure.

  Holland inhaled and exhaled with a low sigh.

  "Wow. Confession is good for the soul. I feel better."

  He laughed and shook his head. The last time he was out with a woman, she'd spent the entire time gossiping about people who were supposedly good friends. But tonight he'd spent most of the evening laughing and wondering if it was possible to truly know a woman like Holland completely.

  "Would you like to walk along the river?"

  "Let's go."

  They threw away their cups and moved toward the door. Holland paused to zip her coat, and he stepped forward to help, using it as an excuse to touch her. That done, he slid his hands around the collar to gather her long hair, liking the silken length as it slid through his fingers.

  "Thank you."

  "You're welcome." He stared down at her, imprinting her appearance on his mind as he pondered her secrets. If those were the worst she could come up with, she lived an honest life. Something else to admire. Becau
se if she was reading all of those books and posting reviews, odds were she wasn't in a hotel bar trying to hook up with strangers just because.

  The river walk was just outside the doors of the coffee shop and they headed toward the long planks in silence. Along the way, Max draped his arm over Holland's shoulders and tugged her close, tucking her against his side and noting the fact she curled against him, slipping her arm around his waist beneath his jacket.

  They strolled along the boardwalk and enjoyed the peacefulness of the evening. After a while, they paused, and Holland stared up at him, her eyes glistening from the lights positioned periodically along the way.

  "Have you ever been to Africa?" The question came out of nowhere and yet, once voiced, he didn't regret it.

  "No."

  "Would you like to see it?"

  "Mmm. I will admit to wondering if I should stop by to see you in action the next time I'm on that side of the world."

  He moved closer, lifted his hands to snag her collar and tug it higher to protect her from the cool breeze. He didn't let go, though, and used his hold to tug her another step closer while lowering his head.

  The last woman he'd dated had demanded he stop his nonsense about giving his money away and grow up. Holland wanted to come see it, and after tonight, he knew she'd be the type to get her hands dirty, too. "You could stop by. Or you could plan a visit, stay a while, and really see what it's about."

  It was a challenge and a request in one. And he couldn't wait to see if she made an excuse or stepped up.

  "Is that an invitation?"

  He lowered his head even more and brushed his lips over hers, holding her gaze and watching as her eyes softened. Her breath hitched in her chest and he pressed harder, deepening the kiss and wrapping her in his arms, learning the feel and taste of her, her scent swirling in his senses until he felt drunk on it and wanted more.

  He guided her backward until her hips rested against the beams lining the walk and supported her. Then he took the kisses deeper still, not stopping until she gripped his arms and a soft sound emerged from her throat that singed his blood and set him on fire.