by Helen Lacey
He nodded and opened the gate. Layla walked up the path and rummaged in her bag for the house keys with her free hand. The porch sensor light came on and she immediately felt conspicuous, like they were on display for the whole world. Silly, she supposed. She lived on a quiet street and had elderly neighbors who retired most nights by nine o’clock.
“Well, good night,” he said.
Layla inhaled. “Would you like to come inside? I think I have a bottle of wine in the pantry. Or coffee. Or soda if you’d prefer.”
He took a second, then nodded. “Soda sounds great.”
He was close as she opened the door and Layla picked up the scent of his cologne. It was warm and woodsy and masculine and a heady mix for her senses. Once they were in the kitchen, Layla quickly grabbed two sodas from the refrigerator and came around the counter and passed him a bottle.
“Cheers,” she said as they clinked. “To new friends.”
“To good friends,” he corrected softly.
They stood by the counter for what felt like endless seconds, one hip pressed against the granite, and Layla couldn’t drag her eyes away from his gaze. His green eyes were blisteringly intense and their connection didn’t waver. Layla knew what was coming. She could feel the inevitability in every pore, every nerve, every inch of her skin. She also knew, somehow, that he wouldn’t make the first move. That wasn’t his way.
It was up to her. And Layla knew she had a decision to make. Over dinner he’d asked if she’d put him in the friend zone and she had given him an ambiguous reply. Yes and no. Which didn’t make sense to her now. Because of course her feelings were not platonic. She might want them to be—in fact, she might long for them to be—but she couldn’t fight the traitor tormenting her since she’d first laid eyes on him. Her long-starved libido.
And her lonely, aching heart.
Strangely, she didn’t think of Frank, and the memory of his kiss, which was usually so strong to her senses. Her memories were overshadowed by the desire running riot through her system.
She placed her bottle on the counter and waited a couple of agonizing seconds until he did the same. Then she stepped closer, and almost in slow motion, rested one hand on his shoulder. The muscles beneath her palm bunched instantly, as though her touch was poker hot. She looked up, noticing everything about his handsome face—the strong jaw, the tiny scar above his left eye, the way his dark hair flipped over his forehead, and the mouth she knew she was about to kiss.
Layla rose onto her toes and leaned into him. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, didn’t flinch as she pressed her lips to his, the sensation almost fleeting and whispery, as though she was taking her first step into the unknown. She pressed further, the pressure increasing, her lips asking for a little more, her fingers curling around his shoulder, her sigh soft against his mouth. And still, he didn’t respond. For a moment, she wondered if she’d imagined his interest, if he was the one thinking they were nothing more than friends. But then he reached up and cupped her nape, his fingers resting softly at her neck for a second before his mouth slowly moved against hers. She inhaled, feeling the tempo of the kiss shift on some invisible, seductive axis. And she was lost.
He anchored her head and her lips parted, allowing the gentle slide of his tongue into her mouth. Layla gripped him harder, stunned by the sensations quickly racing through her. The kiss deepened a little more and she let the pleasure of it roll over her like a wave. She’d always enjoyed kissing, and this one was gentle and slow and exactly what she needed. He knew that, of course. Kane wasn’t the kind of man who would rush a first kiss, and probably a second. He was controlled and measured and the quintessential nice guy. Someone she could trust. And more. She had no doubt that he would be a wonderfully generous lover.
When he raised his head she was breathing hard, her hands both clinging to his shoulders. Layla met his gaze and shuddered out a sigh as he spoke. “I should probably get going.”
He should, but she didn’t want him to. For the first time in forever she wanted to feel something. She wanted to feel his arms around her just a little longer. Kane’s arms.
And it tormented her. She tried to think about Frank...tried to conjure up his image. But somehow, because a flesh-and-blood man was standing in front of her, a man who was all strength and temptation, she struggled recalling the man she’d loved for so many years. In that moment, it was Kane she wanted, Kane she longed for.
But she didn’t say it. Instead, she let go of his shoulders and stepped back. “Okay...good night.”
He moved back. “Yeah, good night. So, there’s a Creedence Clearwater Revival tribute band playing in Houston at the end of next month, and I’d really like to take you to see the show.”
Layla stared at him. He was talking about something that was weeks away. Another date. Just the two of them. It would mean she’d need to find a sitter for Erin again. Of course her grandparents would take care of her. She would be free for the night. To see a band. To stay up late. It sounded like the perfect plan. They could go out. Hang out. Spend time together. Hold hands. Probably kiss. Become a couple. And then maybe they’d have sex. And more—fall in love. All the things people did every day.
In that moment Layla had fear in one hand, and curiosity in the other.
She just wasn’t sure which hand she could offer.
Chapter Seven
“He seems very nice.”
The following morning, at her grandparents’ home, Layla regarded her grandmother over a hot cup of tea. “Kane is nice.”
“When are you seeing him again?”
She shrugged. “We haven’t made any firm plans.”
Layla wasn’t about to admit to her grandmother that she hadn’t committed to Kane’s offer to go out and see the band. Nor did she make any more plans with him. He’d left quickly after their kiss and she’d spent the following hour walking around the house in a daze, wondering why she’d acted so out of character and initiated the kiss. And why she was spending time thinking about more than simply kissing him.
“Lovely shoulders,” her grandmother said, and winked.
“Nan,” Layla implored. “Really.”
Maude laughed softly. “I’m old, not blind. However, I do remember how good your grandfather used to look in a tool belt when he was young.”
Layla covered her ears with a chagrin. “Nan...please stop.”
Maude laughed again. “I like that workingman type—so do you, it seems.”
Layla felt heat crawl up her chest. “Well, he’s obviously attractive.”
“Mmm,” Maude said agreeably. “Different from Frank.”
Layla glanced at her grandmother and shrugged. Frank was tall and lean, with light brown hair that had begun to recede a little, and neat Clark Kent glasses. He’d worked in the finance department at a company in Houston and was more white-collar than blue, more of a thinker than a doer. “I’m not looking to replace my husband with an exact copy, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Of course you’re not,” Maude said gently. “Frank was a lovely man. And he adored you and Erin. All I’m saying is that’s it’s okay to think about the possibility of someone else.”
“Is it?” Layla shot back quickly, and then wanted to snatch the words back. “Sometimes I...” She stopped, looking deep into the teacup. “I feel guilty for thinking I could be happy again. That I could...”
“Love someone else?”
She stilled, meeting her grandmother’s gaze. “Yes.”
“That doesn’t mean you love Frank less, you know.”
She knew that logically. She also knew that since Frank was the only man she’d ever had feelings for, she had no other comparison. She’d never crushed on anyone in high school. She’d never pined after the boy next door. She’d never dreamed of falling in love with a rock star or prince from a fairy tale. There was only ever Frank—rock
solid, trustworthy, honest. The kind of man she’d sworn to find after watching her mother flit from one unreliable hookup to the next. Layla had promised herself that she wouldn’t walk in her mom’s shoes. She’d never cry or plead or beg someone to stay through tears of rage or resentment. She’d find someone who had staying power—who had integrity and consideration. A man who was worthy of loving. And a man who was never going to break her heart.
Until he died and left me alone...
The words rattled around inside her mind. She didn’t like herself when the demons pressed down on her shoulders. But they did. And they hurt. Blaming Frank for leaving didn’t make sense—she knew that logically. Unfortunately, logic rarely found a place in a broken heart.
“I don’t want to be one of those women who have to have a man to be happy,” she said, and grimaced a little.
“You mean, you don’t want to be like your mother?” Maude asked.
“Exactly,” she replied. “I saw too much, Nan. I watched her move from one failed relationship to the next and she was never truly happy, never content with who she was or what she had. I made a promise to myself when I was young that I’d never be like that.”
“Perhaps if your mother had met someone like Frank, she would have found what she was looking for,” Maude said quietly.
“I’m sorry, Nan,” Layla said. “I don’t mean to upset you by talking about her. She’s still your daughter and despite how she is, she’s also still my mother. And I hope she does find happiness in her life.”
Maude placed her cup in the saucer and rested her elbows on the table. “And you?”
“I have Erin,” Layla said, and glanced at her daughter, sitting on the carpet flipping through pages of a picture book. “She’s what matters most. You, Grandpa and Erin are all I need to make me happy.”
But as she spoke, a weird hollowness prevailed, sitting deep in her chest. For eighteen months she’d been in a kind of limbo—quietly grieving Frank and not having to think about anything else. She had her daughter, her grandparents, her work and her studies. It was an easy out—a simple way of staying sane and being able to get on with things. No pressure. No expectation. And no need to feel anything else.
Until ten days ago.
Meeting Kane Fortune had changed things.
Because now she had cracks in her armor.
They were small cracks, of course, because that’s how she did things, little by little, step by step. But the tiny cracks did something she hadn’t expected—they made her vulnerable.
Of course, she could never see him again and get on with her life as she had been doing. She could forget about the intense connection they seemed to have. She could dismiss all the quiet conversations. The laughter. The sense of easy companionship that had quickly come to define their interactions. She could forget the way he touched her hand. Her cheek. And the incredible kiss they’d shared.
It would be easy. Neither of them was invested too deeply.
It wasn’t like they were falling in love with each other.
At least, not yet.
But they would—she was sure of it. And once she waded through the internal monologue in her head, Layla knew she wasn’t really thinking about the they. It was the she. The me. Because she couldn’t possibly know what was going on in Kane’s mind. However, she knew herself. She knew she was risking herself big-time if she continued to see him.
Which meant one thing.
She had to end it before it really began.
* * *
Kane was at the hotel in the concierge’s office on Tuesday morning, talking to Jay about a niggling issue with a couple of storage rooms on the second floor, when he received a text message from Callum asking if he could meet him at Paz Spa by eleven thirty. He texted back with a thumbs-up emoji, ended the meeting and headed into town by eleven fifteen. The spa was busy and there were about half a dozen people sitting in the reception area, plus Callum and Hailey standing to one side and deep in conversation—but the only person he really saw was Layla.
She was standing behind the long counter, her fingers tapping on a keyboard, a small earbud in her ear. Kane lingered by the door for a moment, watching her as she worked, noticing the tiny furrow of concentration between her brows. She looked up and her eyes widened. He spotted a tiny smile, but it quickly disappeared and he nodded in greeting. They hadn’t spoken since the weekend. Not that he was avoiding her—but he was giving her the space he sensed she needed. But that didn’t stop him from remembering the incredible kiss they shared.
Hailey gave him a wave as she headed for the reception desk and Callum met him with a handshake. They talked for several minutes about Fortune Brothers Construction’s tentative plans to expand the spa into the adjoining tenancy.
“I don’t think we expected the place to take off like it has,” Callum said as they headed for the staff lunchroom. They sat down and Callum continued the conversation. “But each month the business is increasing significantly over the last, so the projections for the next year look really encouraging.” He handed Kane a folder. “This is a rough draft of what I was thinking, so check this out when you get a chance and I’ll email you the building specs this afternoon.”
They talked for close to ten more minutes before Callum’s cell rang and he excused himself. Kane remained in the office for a while and flicked through the file he’d been given. The drafted layout was simple enough, and he was checking over the dimensions when he heard someone enter the room.
Layla.
“Oh...hi,” she said, looking flustered. “You’re still here? I saw Callum leave and thought you’d also—”
“I’m still here,” he said. “Clearly.”
“I was about to have lunch.”
“Don’t let me stop you,” he said, and closed the folder.
She nodded and walked to the refrigerator, extracting a flat plastic container and a juice bottle. “Would you like a drink or something?”
“No thanks.”
She exhaled and sat at the other end of the table, looking as though she was filled with a kind of nervous energy.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
She looked up. “Yes, fine.”
“How’s Erin?”
“Great.”
“Enjoying her new playhouse, I bet,” he remarked.
“Not quite,” she replied. “Grandpa has had a bout of sciatica and hasn’t been over to put it together yet. Erin’s been tapping on the box for days. I didn’t want to start it in case I messed it up and put screws in the wrong place,” she added with a soft but shrill laugh.
Kane stared at her, watching as she fiddled with the lid on the plastic container. “Would you like me to come over tomorrow afternoon and put it together for her?”
Layla’s gaze dropped. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you and take up too much of your time.”
“It’s no bother.”
She glanced up. “Well, actually, I have an assignment due this week and I should probably spend my—”
“It was just a kiss, Layla.”
Crickets. Or a deafening silence that was as uncomfortable as hearing nails down a chalkboard. But it needed to be said. And he needed to say it—because he figured she wouldn’t.
Kane got to his feet and moved around the table, sitting down beside her. He watched for a moment as her fingers tapped the top of the container and then he spoke again. “All I’m saying is that it doesn’t have to mean anything or everything. I know you’re not ready for anything serious and honestly, I’m not sure I’m ready, either. I don’t know, it’s all happened very fast. But I can’t deny there’s some connection here. Can you?”
“No,” she replied quietly. “But you’re right. I’m not ready for...whatever this is.”
“Friends then,” he suggested, and saw her palpable sigh of relief. He felt reli
ef, too, because he’d told her the truth—they barely knew each other and Kane wasn’t in any kind of headspace to have a serious relationship. He was still settling into his place among the Fortunes, still working out his role as part of the family, still finding out if he wanted to stay in Rambling Rose long term—and wasn’t sure if New York would call him back. Getting involved with anyone seriously would be unfair to both parties. Particularly a woman who had a child. It could turn into a train wreck. Or it could turn into the best thing that had ever happened to him.
“Friends,” she echoed. “Okay...we can do that.”
“So I’ll come over tomorrow afternoon and put the playhouse together?”
She nodded, still looking a little pensive. “I’m sorry, Kane.”
“For what?”
She shrugged, sighing deeply. “I don’t know...well, I do know. For giving mixed signals. For confusing you. For maybe acting as though I was ready for something when I’m not.”
“I’m not confused,” he said quietly, fibbing a little to make her feel better. “The truth is, I like hanging out with you.”
“I like that, too.”
He grinned and cleared his throat, eager to lighten the mood between them. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow. Around four?”
He didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he quickly got to his feet and left, heading back to his office at the hotel. Now that he didn’t need to be at the hotel full time, Kane was considering his options. The spa extension would keep him busy for a while, and of course there was the job offer in Houston, and he knew Callum had other construction ventures on the table. But over the past week or so he’d struggled with a kind of vague restlessness that had him questioning what he was doing and where he was headed. Kane wasn’t one to dwell and put his edginess down to the hotel being finished and his job with the Fortunes feeling a little too much like it was on the fringe. Kane liked being in control, liked knowing where he was headed and what he was doing at all times. Even when he’d first ventured to Texas, he’d had a plan. Work hard, get to know his extended family, keep his mind on the job. But lately, he felt as though the lines were blurring. He liked Rambling Rose. He liked knowing Adam and Brady were close by and they still had their strong family connection—but both his brothers had their own young families to think about. The truth was, Kane missed his parents and the rest of his siblings and the friends he’d left in New York.
