by Shirley Jump
He deposited the box beside several others marked Wedding Decorations. Then he stepped back and assessed the mass of unassembled bowls, the bags of beads, the jumbled piles of waiting silk flowers. “Are you planning on doing all this yourself?”
“That wasn’t the plan, but yeah, that’s how it worked out. Tonight’s the bachelorette party, so the other bridesmaids are all taking Jackie out.”
“While the maid of honor stays behind and plays Cinderella?”
Cinderella. Maybe that moniker had described her life until now, but Susannah intended to have her time at the ball. Soon. Just not today. Susannah avoided his gaze and started unpacking the box. “It’s not like that. I’m not much of a partier, that’s all.”
He arched a brow and didn’t say anything.
Susannah unfolded a tablecloth and spread it across a round table, smoothing the white surface with her palm. “I thought you were headed for the woods. For your cabin by the lake. You and your new best friend.”
“I had a couple other errands to run first. Then I saw you and…here I am.”
What other errand? she wanted to ask, but didn’t. Again, she reminded herself she wasn’t here to get to know him better, even as every instinct in her body told her this man was hiding some serious secrets. Everything about Kane Lennox spelled brooding, dark, mysterious. How on earth could gregarious, blue-collar Paul have ever hooked up with someone like Kane, a man who seemed so far removed from Paul’s element, he might as well have been on another planet? “So where’s your dog?”
“He’s not my dog. And he’s sleeping in the car.” Kane met her inquisitive gaze. “Yes, I did leave a window cracked. All four of them, for that matter. I’m not completely clueless.”
“I never said you were. In fact, you seem like an awfully smart guy.” She reached into the box for a second tablecloth, but before she could unfurl it, Kane was there, holding the opposite end. He helped her lay the cloth on the table and palm it into shape. “You met Paul in college?”
“Yes.”
“Did you get a degree in history, too?”
Kane chuckled. “No. History was my downfall. The only reason I passed it at all was Paul. In fact, that’s where I met him—in Warfare Theory and Strategy.”
Susannah returned to her worktable and took a seat before the mass of centerpieces yet to be constructed. “If you weren’t good at history, why take a class like that? It sounds a lot more complex than World History 101.”
“It was. I took it because it was my duty.” At her gesture, Kane handed her a package of trim, lowering himself into the seat beside Susannah.
“For what? The army?”
He chuckled. “Sort of. My family duty. I wanted a certain type of degree, and knew which classes would best fit that, hence the Warfare Theory and Strategy class. My father is a rather exacting man, and he didn’t agree at all with my choice of college, so I made sure all my class choices lived up to his standards.”
Susannah’s fingers stilled, silver ribbon suspended midway to the next bowl. “Wow. He was that hard on you? But you…you were what, eighteen already?”
“In my family,” Kane said quietly, “age is never a consideration when it comes to duty. And failure is never an option. So I was very grateful for Paul’s help in history.”
“Never fail?” she echoed softly. She’d grown up in a family that had encouraged every achievement, no matter how small; belittled nothing. She couldn’t imagine having that kind of pressure on her shoulders as a child.
Kane went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “Paul sat next to me, and not only was he the class clown, something I really needed at that time in my life, but he seemed to know his history better than anyone. He saved my butt more than once.”
“Paul is a bit of a comedian. It’s what makes him such a popular teacher at the high school.”
“That I can see.” Kane smiled, then handed her a package of beads.
Susannah opened the bag and began pouring the clear beads into a vase. “So was your major also family dictated?”
He cocked an elbow on the table and studied her. “You really like playing twenty questions, don’t you?”
“Don’t you think we should get to know each other better? I mean, we are going to be latched together for the wedding.”
That was her excuse and she was sticking to it. Her interest had nothing to do with the simmering attraction between them. Nothing to do with the way he studied her, or how watching him touch the silk petals had made her swallow, thinking of those same fingers against her own skin. Nothing to do with the way Kane Lennox had awakened something in her that she hadn’t expected.
He laid the silk flowers in his hand down on the table. “Is that all? Just trying to get to know the guy you’re going to be stuck with for a few hours at a reception?”
Nothing to do with the way looking at him made her wonder if she’d been missing out on something all these years. If Miss Responsibility should take a little vacation—before her vacation.
Susannah inhaled, and when she did, she caught the citrus notes of his cologne. The quiet undertone of man, the low, unmistakable hum of sexual current. “Of course.”
Liar.
His hand inched closer to hers on the table, separated now by only the thin paper-wrapped wire stem of the faux rose. The paper rustled against her skin, nerve endings springing awake like crocuses suddenly blossoming under a new sun. “For this week, I’m here on vacation,” Kane said, his voice low and quiet, as if whispering a secret meant only for her ears, “and that means I don’t want to talk about my job or where I’m from or anything from my ordinary life. I just want to be Kane.”
“Okay…Kane.”
“And while I’m sure it would be wonderful…” at that, his voice dipped into an even lower range “…to know every last detail about you, I think it would be even more fun to maintain the mystery. So how about I remain just Kane, and you are simply—” his smile quirked up “—Susannah.”
Not Susannah the sister, expected to tidy up all the messes. Not Susannah the business owner, working dozens of hours to save for a dream that seemed so far away. Not Susannah the town daughter, who had always been so responsible, so perfect. Just Susannah—
A stranger. No expectations on her shoulders. No one waiting for her to do anything except, as Kane had said, have fun.
Fun. The one thing she’d been waiting to have nearly all her life.
The idea thrilled her. Excited her. Opened up a possibility Susannah had thought was closed to a small-town girl with a sister to raise, at least until she journeyed to the other side of the world. But maybe, for a few days at least, she could be just Susannah, and see what that would be like.
She put out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Kane.”
Kane’s larger hand engulfed hers, his warm palm sending a burst of heat through her body. The insane desire to kiss him surged in Susannah’s gut.
She jerked back, away from him. Whoa. This was going way beyond a simple game of pretending to be someone other than herself. Regardless, she did have responsibilities, did have people waiting on her. And did have seven gazillion beads to pour into bowls.
“I, ah, need to get back to work.”
A smile crossed his face. “I recognize that trait.”
“What trait?” Susannah turned to the table, opening another package of beads and pouring them into the next bowl.
Kane waited until the last bead had finished its tinkling journey into the bowl with its fellow clear friends before speaking. “Workaholic. Type A. Never on vacation. Never taking a break.”
“You must have me confused with someone else, because I am definitely not—” She stopped jabbing the flowers into the beads. “Well, maybe a little. But I have a reason for all this.”
In a mirror to her actions, Kane opened up some beads and filled a bowl, then began repeating her, flower for flower. “Let me guess. World domination of the dog-grooming industry? Or you’re saving to launch a wed
ding-planner business?”
“None of the above.” She slid a pile of the silver bead strings over to Kane, then demonstrated how to attach them, finishing off the centerpiece. “I’m just…saving for the future.”
“I recognize that trait. The ‘I’m keeping my personal cards close to my chest.’ I’m like that, too.”
She laughed. “I don’t think we’re anything like each other. At all.”
“You don’t.” The words came out as a statement, not a question.
“For one, I don’t go around barefoot on people’s lawns.”
“You’ve never gone barefoot in the grass?”
“Well, of course I’ve done that. But—”
“Well, I haven’t.” He pushed the finished centerpiece away, drew a new bowl toward him and set to work again. His work was as efficient and neat as his attire. No wasted movements or time.
“You haven’t…what? Walked barefoot on grass?” Her jaw dropped. “But everyone’s done that.”
“Not everyone has lived the same life you do, Susannah.” The beads made their plink-plink journey down, forcing a pause in the conversation.
“Did you grow up in a city or something? Live in an apartment without a yard?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Something like that.”
“And is that why you came here? To the middle of the country? To basically Nowhereville?”
“I came here because…” Kane paused, and drew in a breath “…this town is as far removed from my life as you can get. It’s…perfect.”
“That’s all?” Susannah heard a hole in the sentence, though, something left out, like a puzzle piece forgotten under a sofa cushion. Or a closet door locked to keep out prying guests.
“That’s all.” A smile crossed his face. “And that’s all I want to say today, Just Susannah.”
She smiled back. “Okay, Just Kane.”
But as they got back to work, Kane’s words tumbled in Susannah’s mind. He’d said they shared similar traits, as if he had her all figured out. But he didn’t. Susannah had little in common with this neatly pressed man who clearly came from the other side of the tracks. He lived in a world so unlike her own he couldn’t possibly understand her, or have anything in common with her. Or understand her driving need to work—so she could leave the very town he’d purposely sought for his vacation.
They worked for another half hour, exchanging little more than small talk about Chapel Ridge, its residents, and the fishing at Lake Everett this time of year. The bowls got filled, the flowers were placed, the tables were set, and before Susannah knew it, the room was ready. In a quarter of the time she’d expected the chore to take. Kane’s cell phone rang incessantly, even though he’d turned it to vibrate. He didn’t answer a single call, merely looked at the caller ID display, and then went on with his conversation with Susannah, as if the phone had never interrupted.
She rubbed at a kink in her neck. At the same time, her stomach let out a low rumble, a reminder that she had skipped dinner. Again. “Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it. You saved me hours of time.”
“Did you eat yet?” Kane asked.
Her face flushed. He had heard that. “I will.”
“Let me guess. Takeout, alone, at your kitchen table, or in front of the television.”
“Well…” Susannah thought of lying, then found it impossible to do so when her gaze met Kane’s piercing blue eyes. He had a way of looking at a woman that seemed to capture her every thought. “That’s the usual approach, yes.”
“Mine, too. How about we both break with tradition and—” he paused, then a slight grin came over his face “—eat together?”
“Together?” she echoed.
“No strings, no date. No ‘expectations.’” He framed the words with air quotes. “Just two people sharing a table.”
Her stomach rumbled again, offering an answer before Susannah could voice an objection. Exhaustion sat heavy on her shoulders, the long day, added on top of dozens and dozens of long days, catching up with her like weight on a rope. The thought of sitting alone at home—again—didn’t sound as appealing as it normally did. In fact, it sounded depressing. When was the last time she’d been out on a date?
Way too long ago, that was for sure.
Besides, hadn’t she vowed she was going to change her life, starting in a few days? What better way to do that than to change her habits? Step out of her rut?
Except…every time she looked at Kane, a mental alarm bell began to ring. Kane Lennox may have piqued her interest with this “Just Kane” and “Just Susannah” game, but Susannah Wilson lived in the real world, one that wasn’t going to go away, not until she hopped on that plane.
Any thoughts of tangling with the fire this stranger represented should be put on hold. Set aside, for later. Or better yet, never.
Because there was something there, something that kept nagging at the back of her mind. Kane Lennox may be Paul’s friend, and he may have been working really hard at coming across as just another vacationer, but something told Susannah there was more going on.
But what? It wasn’t like people came to Chapel Ridge looking for hot investment properties. Or to seek out long-lost family members. The small town held no dark secrets, hidden treasures or incognito celebrities. She shook off her suspicions. Kane Lennox was here for the wedding and a few days off, nothing more. In that time frame, surely, he didn’t expect to kindle anything with her or anyone else who lived in this town.
Even if a part of her wanted to kindle something—the very crazy part, the part that clearly kept forgetting a relationship was not on her agenda. Regardless of Kane’s hotness level.
It wasn’t a date, as he’d said. So she shouldn’t worry one way or another about anything. About fire, or kindling or the way something stirred inside her every time Kane Lennox looked at her with that intense stare of his.
She glanced down at her jeans and T-shirt. “I’m not really dressed for dinner.”
“That’s okay. I was thinking something more…casual.” He grinned.
“Casual?” She arched a brow. “As in what?”
“As in trust a stranger.”
That was the only problem—she didn’t trust him. Not even a little. And what was more—she wasn’t trusting herself, or her reactions to him, a whole lot right now, either.
CHAPTER FIVE
“IF THIS is what you call ‘just dinner,’ I can only imagine how fancy a real date would be.”
Kane heard the tease in Susannah’s voice, saw it in the way she wagged the hot dog at him, and he felt himself smile and relax for the first time in…well, forever. There was something about this woman that seemed to set him at ease, even as being with her forced him to remain on guard, to remember his place—and who he was, or rather wasn’t, supposed to be.
He kept forgetting all of the above, every time he talked to her. Telling her how he’d grown up without ever stepping barefoot on the grass, how he’d never had a pet…he might as well just go around with a Hello, My Name is Kane Lennox and I’m a Billionaire badge.
But so far she didn’t seem to recognize him. Most people didn’t—unless they read the gem trade magazines, Forbes or the Wall Street Journal. Or if he put on a suit and got behind the wheel of his Bentley. Then he might as well advertise his heritage.
He had to rehearse his cover story better. Bored corporate exec, here for a little fresh air, some fishing. Saw an opportunity for both when Paul’s wedding came up. Nothing more.
Now he and Susannah sat beneath the shadow of a red-and-white-striped umbrella, at a hard plastic picnic table, eating from paper rectangular containers filled with something called Coney dogs and French fries. A sense of liberation ran through Kane, even as he blocked his arteries with another bite, and upped his cholesterol with a second order of fries. “This is not my usual dinner,” he said. And thank God for that. If he had to sit through one more dinner party of duck confit and asparagus with Hollandaise sauce, he’d
scream.
“Let me guess,” Susannah said, leaning back to feed an eager, tail-wagging Rover a tidbit of a hamburger patty Kane had ordered just for the dog, “you’re usually eating a bowl of cereal while you watch the news. Or is it delivered pizza with a football game on the big screen?”
He bit back a laugh. He couldn’t even conjure up the mental image of himself sitting on the thirty-thousand-dollar leather sofa in his vast great room, eating a greasy pizza. All his life, his homes had held a person who cooked Kane’s meals, served the dinners to him on priceless china, then whisked the dishes away with silent precision, keeping his home as pristine as his business’s ledgers. Before today, he’d never ordered something as mundane as a hot dog and fries, never imagined himself eating al fresco in a loud and tacky outdoor diner.
But if he told Susannah any of that, he’d raise her suspicions for sure. “Greasy pizza and football, that’s me.”
He was half tempted to add a few grunts, just for good measure. Manly man. Oof-oof.
She cocked her head and studied him, her deep green eyes drawing him, enticing Kane to open his world to her. “Greasy pizza, huh? Is that why you have your napkin in your lap? Why you used a fork to eat your fries?”
He looked down and realized he had, indeed, done that very thing, while all around him, people were eating the meal with their fingers. Damn. He couldn’t have stuck out more if he’d draped himself in a red cape. “My, ah, mother was a big stickler for manners.”
Understatement of the year, considering his mother had brought in every available descendant of Emily Post to teach young Kane decorum lessons.
Susannah laughed, and the light, airy sound again reminded him of chimes. “I guess so. Boy, did you miss out on a lot, then. Half the fun of fries is getting ketchup and salt on your fingers.”
Half the fun. As he looked at her, at her smile, the light in her eyes, Kane could feel the fun emanating from Susannah Wilson like the heat from her body. She was right. He’d been missing exactly that—and had come here hoping to find that kind of fun. Thus far, all he’d found was a dog he didn’t want. If he ever expected this to work, he needed to do what Susannah had said—and get a little ketchup on his fingers.
