She’d forgotten she was barefoot and looked around for her boots. One lay on its side right next to Will’s other loafer. She dodged around him, keeping the same five feet between them, and scooped up her shoe.
He bent and then pulled her other boot from under the bed. As he handed it to her, their fingers brushed, making her suck in a breath. She plunked down on the bed to hide her reaction from him—and from herself.
As she zipped on her boots, she tried to formulate a farewell that hit all the right notes: genuine regret, appreciation for what they’d had, a wish to remain friends but only at a distance. When she got up, she caught Will standing with his hands in his pockets, staring at the floor. She had the odd thought that he was also trying to find the right words, even though he was usually eloquence itself.
He must have felt her gaze because he raised his head. “You have my cell number. If you ever need anything—anything at all—call me. I mean that. I wish—” He shook his head.
“Me, too.” She walked over to lay a hand on his shoulder and rise on her tiptoes, brushing a kiss over his lips. “I’d prefer that you not come with me in the limo. Too many memories. Good ones.”
When she stepped away from him, she saw a cloud of hurt darken his face. A feeble spark of pleasure flickered inside her. He’d wanted to ride home with her. That would be something to hold on to.
She hit the down button on the elevator and stepped inside as the door opened.
His mind had gone blank. No, that was wrong. His mind had gone hollow. Echoing. Dark.
The elevator’s hum ceased, so he knew Kyra was walking down the hall to the front door. He should be there to hold it open for her, but he couldn’t make his feet move.
Why the hell was he standing here instead of spending these last few minutes by her side?
Because she wanted to leave without drama. He could give her that since she’d given him a whole night to say good-bye.
As the loss hit him, he folded slowly down onto the bed, his elbows braced on his knees, his head hanging.
Why couldn’t he love her?
Chapter 16
Kyra woke up Sunday morning with the kind of hangover that meant you’d broken up with your boyfriend the day before. Dragging herself out of bed, she stood in the shower for twenty minutes before she could open her eyes more than a slit. As she dripped on the bathroom tiles, she swallowed three painkillers. Then she looked in the mirror.
And winced. The shower had cleaned off the streaks of mascara she’d seen in the restroom mirror last night after she’d cried on Cleo’s shoulder for an hour. She hadn’t intended to spill her guts to her fellow bartender, but she’d bought Cleo a drink after closing to celebrate the giant tip a couple of businessmen from Peoria had left Kyra. She’d joined Cleo, and the alcohol had made her feel so much better, she had a couple more. That was when the crying started.
However, the exhausted circles under her eyes weren’t coming off with soap.
She really wished she’d never run into Will in Ceres. Oh God, now she wouldn’t be able to go back there, just in case he showed up on another tour of inspection. Another misery to chalk up to his account.
No, that wasn’t fair. She’d done it to herself. Which made her feel worse, not better.
She toweled off, threw on flannel pajama pants and a T-shirt before dragging herself into the kitchen to drink a bottle of water. She should have done that last night before she went to bed.
Now she had a whole day off to wallow in how alone she was. She could throw herself a solitary pity party because there was no one here to care what she did. This was one of the times she really missed her mother. Even if she didn’t understand Kyra’s ambitions, her mom loved her and would comfort her when she cried.
Kyra thought about asking her landlady for a home improvement project to take her mind off Will, but Gloria was too sharp not to realize that Kyra was upset about something. And she wouldn’t hesitate to ask if it was Will. Not to mention Kyra’s head was pounding in a way that made concentrating difficult.
She could try to read one of the books that were piled on her bedside table, but she suspected the words would swim around on the page in front of her bleary eyes. At least the hangover caused so much physical pain that it masked the emotional pain of Will’s absence. Sort of.
She pulled another water out of the fridge and shuffled into her living room to try watching television as a distraction. As she settled onto the sofa, she heard the ping of her cell phone coming from the backpack she’d dropped in the hallway in last night’s drunken stagger to the bedroom. It wasn’t Will, so why bother to get up? But she heaved herself off the sofa to retrieve it.
It was a text message from Emily. Sorry to bother you on your day off but we have a situation with Felicia and Shaq. Could use your input, if you wouldn’t mind coming in for a powwow at noon.
Emily never disturbed the staff on their days off, so this had to be bad.
I’ll be there, she responded, glancing at the phone’s clock. She had an hour to clear the haze out of her brain.
Time for coffee and burnt toast.
When Kyra walked into the director’s office at the center, Emily gave her a sharp look but didn’t comment on her pallor or general air of desolation. Kyra was grateful but even more worried. She lowered herself gingerly into the chair in front of the desk. “What’s going on?”
Emily clicked a few times on her laptop and then turned it around for Kyra to look at. The photo was of a child’s bloody forearm and wrist.
Kyra winced. “Ouch! Please tell me that’s not Felicia. It looks horrible.”
“Davina Gibson sent it, claiming that Shaq attacked Felicia. She’s at the emergency room now. I wanted to go be with her, but Davina says she doesn’t want anyone from the center near her daughter. She was pretty upset, and who can blame her? Poor little Felicia.”
Kyra glanced at the photo again and wished she hadn’t. She could see the tooth marks now that she knew what she was looking at. One wound was so deep that bone showed through. “I can’t imagine how much that must hurt.”
“Diego somehow persuaded her to let him get Shaq from their neighbor and take him to Dr. Quillen’s,” Emily said. “He’s distraught about the whole thing. He thinks it’s his fault because the kids wanted to take their dogs home like he does. That breaks my heart, too.”
Kyra frowned, fighting her way out of the hangover fog. “I just can’t believe Shaq attacked Felicia. That dog is a lover, not a fighter.”
“Diego says the same thing, but he’s a kid and biased by his love for the animals. I wanted to get your clearheaded take on Shaq.” Emily’s usually serene expression was grim. “He might have to be put down.”
Kyra gasped at the idea of the big, affectionate dog being killed. “How soon?”
“I’m not sure yet. We’ve arranged to have Dr. Quillen kennel him until further notice, so he’s no longer with the kids. His junior kid, Min-joo, is going to be heartbroken, but I can’t let her even visit him.” Emily squeezed her eyes closed for a second. “This is my worst nightmare come true. We try to vet the dogs so thoroughly, to make sure this wouldn’t happen, but I knew it was a possibility. You can’t predict the behavior of animals. I shouldn’t have allowed such a big dog in the program but he seemed so gentle. Felicia fell in love with him at the shelter and pit bulls don’t get adopted much, so I thought . . .” Emily spread her hands in a gesture of regret.
Kyra thought of Shaq lolling on his back in the yard while she chatted with Greg Ebersole, of Shaq leaning against her thigh for a head scratch the first time she’d ever met the dog, of Shaq wearing a bow tie at Max’s induction party. “There’s no way Shaq would attack Felicia. There’s not a vicious bone in his body. I need to talk to her.”
“Her mother has pulled her out of the center,” Emily said with a shake of her head. “She made it very clear that none of us should come near Felicia. She says she’s hiring a lawyer.”
“That doesn’
t sound good.”
Emily massaged her temples. “Max wants to hire the big law firm his company uses, but I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Our insurance company should deal with this.”
Kyra frowned. “Don’t insurance companies usually settle to keep legal expenses down? Some people would see that as an admission of guilt on the part of the center, so I think that could endanger the K-9 Angelz program. Not to mention that it wouldn’t save Shaq.”
“Max is concerned about the program—and Shaq—as well.” Emily turned the laptop back around and flipped the top down. “I hope that Davina will calm down once her daughter has been treated. I hope even more that she’ll let us know how Felicia is doing. I hate to think of the child in such pain.” Emily’s eyes brimmed with tears.
“Where’s Diego?” Kyra wanted to reassure the boy that he wasn’t responsible for the catastrophe.
“At Dr. Quillen’s with Shaq. He’s worried the dog will feel abandoned. He took your special dog food with him.” The tears spilled down her cheeks. “He’s such an amazing, compassionate kid.”
“Especially considering what a piece of scum his father is.” Kyra had been astonished the first time Emily had told her about Diego’s background.
“That’s why these kids are so incredible. They overcome all the odds stacked against them.” Emily grabbed a tissue to wipe away her tears. “I want the K-9 Angelz program to continue because it means so much to the children. They need the unconditional love the dogs give them.”
Kyra leaned forward to lay her hand on top of Emily’s. “We’ll find a way to get through this.” Not that she had a clue how, but they had a lot of good people—staff, trustees, parents, and kids—who cared deeply about the center. Together they could solve any problem.
But Monday morning brought more bad news. Davina had indeed hired a lawyer, and not just an average one. She’d retained Titus Allen, a darling of the media because he represented high-profile, high-drama cases with big payouts. Which baffled Kyra. The Carver Center didn’t have the kind of money Allen usually went for.
Then she remembered that Max had just joined the board of trustees. And he was engaged to the center’s director. Would that make Allen smell money?
They were going to need one hell of a tough lawyer to win this battle.
Kyra understood why Emily didn’t want to have Max hire his law firm. Billionaire Board Member Fighting Single Mom. That was a headline they didn’t need.
Kyra perched on a kitchen stool and stared at her phone. She knew someone who knew tough lawyers. He’d said to call if she ever needed anything. She would never ask for herself, but the center was a different matter.
But she’d better run it by Emily first, so she hiked up the stairs to the director’s third-floor office. Emily was frowning at her laptop when Kyra walked in and closed the door behind her.
“I might be able to get us a really good lawyer,” she said, taking the bright orange chair in front of the desk.
Emily lifted her gaze from the computer and waited.
Kyra shifted in the chair. She’d forgotten that she’d need to explain to Emily that she and Will were no longer together. “Will’s father is the senior partner at Chase, Banfield, and Trost. Since Will is a big fan of the center, I’m sure he’d be able to get a top-notch lawyer to work pro bono. That way Max won’t be connected to the law firm.”
“But you will be,” Emily pointed out.
“Will and I broke up over the weekend.” Kyra tried to say the words without inflection but her voice cracked the tiniest bit midsentence.
Emily stood up and came around the desk to give Kyra a slightly awkward bent-over hug. “I’m so sorry. I know he was a friend first, so that makes it doubly hard to lose him.”
The hug was surprisingly welcome, and Kyra curled her hands over Emily’s arms to give her a grateful squeeze. “It was bound to happen. Probably better sooner rather than later, so it doesn’t hurt quite as much.”
Emily straightened. “It would be painful for you to be in contact with him again. I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”
“I’m offering.” Kyra swallowed. “We both know it’s going to take a lot of legal clout and skill to face down Titus Allen. The man is a master at trying the case in the media. We need someone equally savvy.”
Emily was silent a moment and then knelt in front of Kyra. “Look me in the eye and tell me you won’t be upset by talking to Will again so soon.”
“I’ll be upset, but I’m a big girl. I’ve broken up with men before.” Never a man like Will, though. She’d never fallen in love with anyone else, probably because she had never given them enough time or attention. “The center needs a big gun. I can get one.”
“Max could get one, too. It’s just that . . .” Emily turned her palms out in a gesture of indecision.
“Let me do this.”
The director studied Kyra’s face a moment longer before she rose to her feet and nodded. “Thank you.”
“I may not be able to reach him right away. CEOs tend to be busy.” She gave Emily a wry look.
“Just let me know when you hear from him.”
Kyra walked slowly back down the stairs as she formulated and discarded conversational openings. Finally, she decided to text him as her opening salvo, so that he knew exactly why she was getting in touch.
She sat on the kitchen stool and pulled out her phone.
You said to ask if I needed anything. The Carver Center needs a good lawyer. You know some. Please call me when you have a chance.
She stared at her message, trying to imagine what Will would think when he read it. After all, she was asking him to go to his father for a favor. But she’d seen how Twain Chase looked at his son at the party. She was sure his father would be happy to offer any assistance that Will requested, just for a chance to have a conversation with him.
She could even pretend this was a way to bring father and son together. But Will might not see it that way. It might make him angry to be obligated to his father.
However, she couldn’t back off now since she’d committed to Emily.
The worst that could happen was that Will would say no. And hate her for making him do so.
She hit send. And then pulled out ingredients for the most elaborate meal the kids had ever tasted.
Her phone lay silent on the counter for almost half an hour before a ping echoed off the stainless steel.
She yanked her hands out of the giant bowl of ground meat she was mixing and washed them at high speed, drying them on her apron as she approached the phone.
Her heart was thudding and she had to think about sucking in air as she swiped the text message open.
In a meeting. Will call in fifteen.
Greg was giving Will a beady-eyed stare. He must have caught Will checking his phone during the meeting. Will had waited until he thought everyone was looking in the other direction, but it was tough to fool his COO. About anything. Greg had already asked him what the hell was wrong with him today. Will had brushed him off but Greg wouldn’t give up until he had an answer.
Will preferred not to face the inquisition just yet. He needed some time to come up with answers himself.
Will realized he was bouncing his heel against the floor with impatience and forced himself to be still. Why the hell couldn’t they draw the obvious conclusions and wind this up? The prospect of hearing Kyra’s voice again was making it impossible for him to concentrate anyway.
Finally, he couldn’t wait any longer. “Caitlin, I’d like you to head up the market research on the pet food. See what locations we should start looking at. Should we stock it in existing restaurants or open separate storefronts? That kind of thing.” He looked down the conference table at Greg. “You know more about the rest of this than I do so I’ll let you finish up. Excuse me.”
That would earn him a virtual torture session with his COO, but he didn’t give a damn. Kyra needed his help. Why that took precedence over a high-level meeting about
the new pet food project was something he didn’t want to examine just now.
Striding into his office, he closed the door and hit Kyra’s speed dial. It took two rings before she answered.
“Will, thanks for getting back to me so quickly.”
He listened as she described the situation with the girl, the dog, and the mother. When he heard the name Titus Allen, he grimaced. The man would splash the Carver Center all over the media in the worst possible light.
“I thought your father’s law firm might have someone who could stand up to Allen. Schuyler mentioned that they’re always looking for noncriminal pro bono work.” She sounded uncertain. “I’m sorry to ask you to go to your father for a favor.”
“Schuyler is also a partner at the firm. She’ll know the right person for the job.” He thought he heard Kyra sigh and briefly wondered if she thought this would somehow bring about a reconciliation with his father. “I’m glad you called. The Carver Center should be allowed to continue doing its impressive work.”
“I knew you’d feel that way.” But she sounded relieved.
“Kyra . . .” He ran his hand over his hair as he stared out the window at the boats on the river. He wanted to say something personal, something about them, but . . . “I’ll call you as soon as I’ve contacted Schuyler.”
“Great. Thanks.” She fell silent and he had the sense that she, too, was searching for some more intimate words, but she said, “I’ve got to finish cooking the snack. Talk with you soon.”
He stood in front of the window, tapping his phone against his palm as disappointment hollowed out his chest.
What did he expect?
He had no right but he wanted more.
Ever since Kyra had walked out Saturday morning, he’d felt like his skin didn’t fit him. He’d fought it by exhausting himself in his home gym, then running numbers on the pet food project until Greg had told him to get a life and refused to return his e-mails. That sent Will out on an informal tour of more Ceres locations, although he avoided the one where he and Kyra had met.
Second Time Around Page 24
