Falling For Ken (Blueprint to Love Book 2) (5 page)

Of course, that was after nearly killing him yesterday. Harry frowned at the sudden memory of a woman in white. Had Ken . . . bathed him? Nah. Not if she was embarrassed simply by glancing at his chest. He was careful not to shake his head. The pain in his skull had subsided to a dull monotonous pounding that became more bearable as the pill took effect.

Downstairs, Ken sang while rinsing his dishes. She certainly wasn't anything like he'd imagined– not that he'd spent much time dwelling on Kendall Adams. She wasn't the type of woman guys spent time thinking about. She was cute, he admitted, now that he'd gotten a closer look at her, and her eyes were pretty. But she was too petite– too opinionated. Too everything. And that smoky voice . . . She sounded ornery without even trying.

Certainly, she wasn't
his
type. An image of Deborah floated across his mind. Now, there was a woman men noticed. Tall, cool and beautiful. She was quiet and soothing on the nerves. There was never a hair out of place on her sophisticated, ash blonde head. She looked phenomenal in a suit or out of one. Together, they'd made a stunning couple.

Ever since his cousin Jake had tied the knot, Harry had mulled the idea of marriage. He wasn't getting any younger. And thoughts of starting a family seemed to crop up more frequently. With Jenna's two kids, Jake had a ready-made family, but the smoldering looks that passed between them indicated his cousin would be adding a few more. It was simply a matter of time.

His eyes drooping, Harry remembered he'd wanted to discuss his departure with Ken. He needed to get back to Stafford– to the pile of work he'd left on his desk. If he could convince Ken that Deborah would look after him, she'd probably take him home. She didn't have to know Deb was out of town. He could manage until Wednesday. By then, Jeff would return. And Mona. Hell, his aunt would take care of him for sure.

Sighing with drug-induced satisfaction, he settled back against the pillows. After four months, Deb's hints about their relationship had grown less subtle. Until Jake's wedding day, he'd been thinking along the same lines . . . Until he'd witnessed Jake's expression when he gazed at his wife– and Harry discovered a lump in his throat. The way they stared at each other had been almost painful to watch. Their smiles so confident– as though they'd unearthed a rare treasure.

Trying to imagine Deb looking at him that way had failed. He'd only ever witnessed that expression on a victorious day in court. She played to win, a quality Harry greatly admired. Deb Lawrence wasn't the warm, fuzzy type, but then, neither was he. They were compatible in so many ways. They respected each other. Many marriages were built on far less.

But Harry couldn't forget Jake's happiness– had been unable to shake the twinge of envy. He'd been forced to admit maybe he wanted more than compatibility. If it wasn't Deborah, he'd find the right woman– one who would fit the blueprint he'd sketched for his life. But unlike Jake, he'd operate from a basis of logic. Acting on some lovesick assumption would only cloud the issue.

His stomach pleasantly full, Harry gave in to his sleepiness. The thought of limping around his townhouse, living off canned soup held little appeal after Kendall's great meal. There was no hope of food in the Deborah scenario. He'd learned early in their relationship that Deb didn't cook. For anyone.

What the heck? Another day or two with Ken surely wouldn't kill him.

Chapter 3

The beast awoke at ten that night. Kendall glanced overhead, following the creaking floorboards when Harrison hobbled to the bathroom. Her forehead creasing with worry, she wondered whether she'd awakened him. After her day at the jobsite had gone horribly awry, she'd been pounding out her frustration on the piano keys. It was that, or wringing her stepbrother's neck. Unfortunately, she hadn't found a justifiable reason for murdering Lance– at least not one that would satisfy the authorities. Lance was never at work long enough to kill anyway. And if she didn't resolve the money issue with Specialty, there wouldn't be any work left.

Adams and Rey was nearly broke.

Two more pieces of equipment had broken down today. Jimmy had called with the bad news. Parts for the lift would cost fifteen thousand. And the damn thing was only three years old. This, after losing two skidloaders in the last month to theft. Kendall couldn't bear the thought of filing another insurance claim. Soon, her carrier would bail on her as well.

"I'm cursed. There's no other explanation."

She'd argued with Lance again. His answer to every problem was selling the company. Her daddy had taken leave of his senses, handing over a chunk of A & R to his new stepson.
Her
company– her blood and sweat– to that weasel bastard. All Lance cared about was the money.

Kendall wondered whether her father realized the hurt he'd inflicted– or if he cared. She'd sacrificed the last decade to A & R. In the darkest hours of the night, when her mind wouldn't let her rest, she could admit the gnawing certainty that Ken, Sr. knew
exactly
what he'd done to his daughter. The only mystery was why.

Lifting her fingers from the ivory keys, she stretched her neck in a futile attempt to unlock the kinks of stress. Her piano therapy would have to wait.

Harrison had slept the better part of two days. He had to be starving. After fixing a tray, she trudged upstairs, reluctant to discover what his mood would be like tonight. She knew Traynor didn't like her much. Normally, she didn't much care what people thought, but having Harrison Traynor under her roof left her edgy and out of sorts. She still hadn't recovered from the previous evening. Touching his fabulous body had been difficult enough. Then, he'd nibbled on her neck and her insides had melted like wax.

Ken didn't want to like him. Heck, she'd
liked
Harrison for years– though he'd never known she existed. But that had been a school girl crush. He'd rescued her on a cold, spring night . . . offering a lift to a pitiful, bedraggled girl in the rain. Harry probably didn't even remember that night. While she had been unable to forget it.

This
however, was business. Traynor owed her money– and wasn't about to pony up. Harry was so damned attractive it would be easy to forget he was ruining her life. She needed to stay focused. Though she still owed him a favor for that night in the rain, it didn't mean she'd let him bankrupt her.

Approaching the bedroom, she froze, hand clutching the knob as butterflies swooped in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't experienced that sick, panicky feeling in a long time . . . of being trapped in a crowd of popular kids– knowing she was moments away from a taunting reminder of her place in the social order– the motherless, friendless, geeky loner.

Lurch hopped painstakingly up the steps, hating to miss any excitement. Kendall was grateful for his company. She couldn't afford to forget who she was– and what Harrison represented. Just like high school . . . he was one of the 'cool kids'. He would take what he wanted, then leave her high and dry. His slurred words the previous night returned to haunt her. She didn't have to meet Deborah to imagine Traynor's girlfriend. Ken was no
Deborah
.

"Harrison? Can I come in?" Chewing her lip, she waited for him to get situated.

"Aren't you going to ask if I'm decent?"

Her face heated at the amusement in his voice. Traynor probably felt trapped– with a lowly, second-class hick. A flicker of anger smoldered through her. High school was eons ago. Who cared what he thought? She wasn't seventeen anymore. And this wasn't the damn prom. She had nothing to be embarrassed about. She was the well-educated owner of her own business, damn it. And she was doing
him
a favor, whether he appreciated it or not.

"Ken? Are you out there?"

Pasting on a smile, she opened the door. "Ready for dinner?"

"Did I hear a piano?" Harry's expression was puzzled, as though it were unimaginable someone like her could play an instrument.

"Sorry if I disturbed you."

"No– it was amazing. When did you learn to play?"

"Just something I picked up," she dismissed breezily.
That and two college degrees, Superstud
. "Are you hungry?"

"I can't remember if I thanked you earlier, Ken. I really appreciate everything you've done."

"It was the least I could do after nearly killing you." Swallowing the lump of resentment, she ignored the stab of guilt following his kind words. Her business problems weren't Traynor's fault– at least not all of them. "How's your head?" Forcing her smile back in place, she tried to relax.

His expression was curious. "Headache's a little better."

Catching a glimpse of his muscled shoulders, her stupid heart began pounding in reaction.

"Are you okay? You look a little stressed."

"I'm fine," she insisted, wary that her frustration was a little too evident. "Let's concentrate on you." She set the tray on the nightstand with an angry thump. Why the hell was he being so observant all of a sudden? He was easier to handle when he was dopey– slurring his words and calling her 'angel'.

When Harry appeared confused by her tension, she experienced a sudden rush of shame. "Traynor– I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I-I've had a terrible day."

"Is there something I can do? I'd leave, but you won't let me."

"It's not you."

Shifting, he pushed up with his good arm. "I can feel your stress way over here. What's wrong?"

Resolutely, Kendall pulled the table closer to the bed. "It's nothing. Forget about it." She attempted a smile. "I didn't think you'd want stew again, so I made an omelet. I grow the herbs out-"

"I'm not eating anything," he interrupted, "until you tell me what's wrong."

His green eyes bored through her until she squirmed uncomfortably. "Stop staring at me like I'm something under a microscope." Stabbing the omelet, she raised the fork to his mouth.

"You're shaking. C'mon Ken . . . what happened today?"

Biting her lip, she glanced away, desperately blinking back tears she knew were moments from flooding her eyes. "Please Harrison? I can't talk about it."

Startling her, he grabbed her hand with his good one. "Look, I can't make you stay. I can barely get out of bed. But sometimes it's easier to talk with a stranger than with a friend."

Expelling a breath, she forced herself back under control. "I don't know, Traynor. I'm used to working out my own problems."

He shrugged. "Maybe talking will help." He patted the pillow next to him. "Why don't you try?"

She eyed him warily, her tears temporarily under control. "I'll talk while you eat. But, don't look at me, okay? If I cry, I don't want you to see."

His expression amused, he pretended to consider her request. "I'll do my best to
not
comfort you."

"You first." She nodded toward his tray and he took a bite of the omelet before pointing the fork at her.

"Okay . . . my turn." Sneaking a quick peek, Harrison ignored her and continued eating. "As you've surmised, Adams and Rey is experiencing a cash crunch. With Specialty holding up our payment-" She shot him a hasty glance. "It's not just your job we've got issues on. It's two other digs, also." 

"Kenny, let's look at those files tonight," he urged. "I want this settled between us. The
only
payment we're holding is last month. We've paid everything you're owed."

"I'm not blaming you, Traynor. I'm just trying to explain what's happening."

"Has it always been like this? The cash flow problem?"

"Hell, no." Ken bolted up. "I've been running the business for three years. And I've never had more problems than in the last six months. Out of the blue, two pieces of equipment broke down today. It'll cost twenty grand to fix them." She shook her head in disbelief. "I was just downstairs thinking it was a patch of bad luck. First the thefts, then you falling in that hole. Now this."

"What thefts?"

"It's a long story." Ken shifted to face him, sitting cross-legged on the covers. "No matter what I do, somehow it gets undone."

"What do you mean?"

"Like the fencing, for instance. I supervised the installation. I know it was solid. I'm always paranoid someone could fall."

"Accidents happen." Shrugging, he took another bite.

"No way." She remained unconvinced. "That system should've held up through a hurricane."

"How can you know for sure?" True to his word, Harry kept his gaze trained on the bread he attempted to butter with one hand.

"Let me." Taking the knife, she swiped the thick slice before handing it back. "I know because I'm a damn engineer, that's why."

"You have an engineering degree?"

She sent him a withering glance. He probably assumed she'd left high school and hopped on the back of a shovel. "Double major. Engineering and music."

She read the astonishment in his eyes. "How'd you have any fun with a major like engineering?"

"My daddy wasn't paying for fun." She smiled. "Look who's talking? The wild man who took accounting?"

"Touché." Harrison stabbed his fruit salad. "Go back to the money thing. When did you start having problems?"

"Six months? I know how to dig a giant hole in the ground, but I'm not super careful with the books," she admitted. "I'm tight with money, that's why I know there's something wrong. I don't spend a dime more than necessary. And I work with my estimator, so I know how much profit we should have if things go right."

"If you don't understand what you're looking at, how do you know when costs are escalating?"

"This will sound strange, but– I just know. I can . . . sense when things are getting tight."

Harrison shook his head in exasperation. "I've got to see your records. Do you keep cost reports?"

"I'm not stupid." She glared at him. "I keep a set of files at the job and one in the office. I thought we were updating weekly."

"Who's 'we'?"

"My secretary, Claire handles all that." Ken pressed her fingers to her eyes. "She works for me and Lance."

Harrison chewed thoughtfully on a banana slice. "Who's Lance? What's his role?"

Her mouth twisted in a grim smile. "My stepbrother. He's in charge of making my life miserable."

***

"Did I miss something?" Harry set his napkin on the tray. Kendall was a damn good cook. "How does Lance make life miserable?"

"Let me back up." Sighing, she twisted her head from side to side as though she were in pain. "When Dad moved to Florida three years ago he took up with some woman and married her. Lance is his new stepson . . . and my new business partner."

No mistaking the resentment in her voice. Harry sensed it masked an even deeper sense of betrayal. She'd spent her life working for him. She'd obviously proven herself. Why would he hand over access to a complete stranger?

"Is he an equal partner?"

"Twenty percent. Just enough to make him move up here and demand a huge salary for doing nothing." Dropping her head, she massaged the back of her neck. "Just enough so he's always into everything– rearranging the office . . . the project records. My job's hard enough without having to go behind him fixing the havoc he wreaks."

"What's wrong with your neck?" he interrupted.

"It makes me want to kill him." Her eyes fluttered open. "Huh?"

"Does your neck hurt?"

She smiled and Harry sensed some of her tension ease. "All the time since Lance showed up."

"Why did your father-"

"That's the million dollar question, Traynor." Pain flashed in her eyes before she slid from the bed. "Guess he didn't trust me enough."

Harry fought the sudden impulse to reach for her when she rounded the bed to collect his dishes.

"I'll take these downstairs. It's time for another pill. I've kept you up long enough."

"I'm tired of sleeping," he said with a flash of irritation. "That's all I've done for two days. I want my briefcase. My head feels pretty good. We can review your files-"

Edging closer to the door, Ken shook her head. "The doctor said four days. It's barely been two-"

"Forget the doctor. I feel better."

Offering an impish smile, she stepped into the hallway. "No dice, Traynor. But thanks for listening. I feel a tiny bit better."

Kendall's steps faded as she retreated downstairs. He heard water running and pans clanging as she cleaned up. Just as he'd started making progress, she clammed up. Surprised, Harry realized he was disappointed. He'd enjoyed talking with her.