Falling For Ken (Blueprint to Love Book 2) (14 page)

Harrison paused several steps below her, a chuckle escaping his lips. "Ken Adams, dominatrix. I guess it could work-"

"Please-" She snorted in response.

"Do you smell something?"

Kendall whipped around at his tone. Harry was serious this time. She sniffed the air tentatively. "Something's burning. That moron probably flicked his cigarette into the wastebasket again."

Fumbling with her keys, she dropped them once before managing to unlock the door. As usual, it stuck. She was just getting ready to give it a swift kick when she fell back on the stoop. Landing on her butt, she looked up to find Harrison's broad back blocking her from entering the door.

"What the heck are you're doing?" 

Palms flat against the door, he swept down the panel. "Making sure we don't meet up with a fireball when I open this. Stand clear," he ordered.

"Why would Lance set the building on fire? You heard him . . . he wants to sell the business, not burn it."

Traynor offered her a brief glance over his shoulder before he turned the knob and pushed against the door. "If I were as desperate to sell as he seems to be, I'd probably be reckless enough to settle for the insurance money."

She shook her head. "You've watched too many movies. Besides, he's still inside. Do you think he'd actually set the place on fire and then wait it out?"

"You just pointed out his truck is gone."

"The only way he could've left without us seeing him . . . would be to jump off the stoop and cross the front lawn. But then how'd he get his truck?"

"Maybe someone got it for him. Maybe someone was waiting out front."

Dusting off her rear end, Ken rose to her feet. “You're so suspicious-”  

A moment later they were both doubled over and coughing in the thick, black smoke roiling from the reception area. Sweat poured into her eyes as heat of the blaze seemed to envelop them.

"I'll see if the bastard's still in here." Harry covered his mouth with his good hand. "You stay here," he ordered.

"What? Harrison–? No! Where are you?" The popping sound of wood crackling hurt her ears. The air thick with the acrid fume of burning fabric, the fire would soon be an inferno. Seconds later, she heard the tinkling of broken glass when the windows exploded.

"Harry!" Shielding her eyes from the intense heat, she took another step forward, feeling her way through suffocating smoke.
Where was Traynor?
He'd been right beside her a minute ago. Her heart lurched when she thought of him, lost in the swirling black smoke.

"Harrison? Where are you?" He'd disappeared in the dark, pulsing heat. How would she ever find him? Kendall took another step and stumbled into a desk. "Harry!" 

Taking shallow breaths, her lungs burned with the desperate need for clean air to breathe. Dropping to the floor, she covered her mouth with one hand and continued searching, her hand sweeping out in the hope of bumping into him. Seized with panic, she tried to shake off the dizziness that wanted to engulf her. It seemed only moments had passed before her ears began buzzing. In her confusion, the blackness swirled, smothering her with a heaviness she couldn't combat.

With a muffled cry of agony, Kendall realized she was lost.

"Here. I'm over here." She felt a jerk on her arm as he yanked her back toward the open doorway. The rush of fresh air felt like heaven against her overheated skin. Scooping her into his arms, Harry took the stairs two at a time, not stopping until he'd dragged her halfway across the front lawn. After depositing her on the grass, he staggered to the ground. Rasping in great gulps of clean, fresh air, Kendall coughed for several minutes before raising her head to stare at him. Harry's beautiful eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot from the billowing clouds of smoke they'd endured. He was covered from head to toe in sooty, gray ash. She could only assume she looked even worse.

"You okay?"

She tried to answer but discovered her scorched vocal cords refused to cooperate. After another fit of coughing, she simply nodded in agreement.

"Just sit tight. Someone'll be along to help us," he rasped.

"Where's your cane?" Ken choked out the strangled words around the stabbing soreness in her throat. Talking was still not a good idea. She cocked her head in response to the faraway wail of sirens.

"In there." He gestured toward the building.

"God– your ankle–" He'd put all of his weight and most of hers on his broken ankle when he dragged her from the fire. "Your cast is a mess. They'll probably have to re-set it."

Nodding, Harry's gaze remained on the burning structure a hundred yards behind her. The building seemed to be a living creature, throbbing with the intense heat of the blaze. Nothing would remain standing. Her place of business would be a total loss.   

"Lance?"

"Long gone. I checked both offices." He glared at her. "What the hell were you thinking? I told you not to move."

His voice still raspy from smoke, Harry sounded furious with her again. She'd been responsible for nearly killing the man, not once, but twice. "I thought you were lost."

"Kenny, I nearly had heart failure when I couldn't find you."

"Same here."

"Do you ever follow directions?"

If the string of bad luck she'd been experiencing before today hadn't already sealed the fate on her business, the fire would do the trick. Most of A&R's expensive equipment had been stolen over the last several months. The few remaining assets she had left were the inventory of heavy equipment parked on various job sites and the pieces she had stored in the garage. Thankfully, her garage was out of reach of the flames that continued to engulf her office. But equipment alone wouldn't save her.

She was finished.

Together, they watched the roof collapse as fire trucks roared up the street, too late to save her building. . . her dream– too late to do anything but hose down the smoldering pile of rubble that remained. Three years earlier she'd been charged with the responsibility of carrying out her father's legacy. And just three short years later, she'd failed. Miserably.

Three decades of history had just gone up in smoke.

Tears burned in the back of Ken's eyes, and she was helpless to stop their spill down her soot-blackened cheeks. The brilliant colors of her flaming building softened and muted, a horrific watercolor of flickering orange shadows through the sheen of drenching tears. The rough plaster of Harry's cast scraped her fingers when his hand found hers.

"Don't cry, Ken."

His words released the floodgates. Clasping her hand, he hauled her back against him as she wept.

Harrison held her patiently, his heart thumping reassuringly against her ear, his good arm slung around her shoulders. She sniffed and hiccupped in shuddering breaths. "I guess you're gonna be really late getting back today."

***

"Stop calling yourself that," Harrison ordered for the second time as he stepped into her bedroom. The morning ripe with promise had been beaten and burned into submission, melting effortlessly into mid-afternoon. "You're not a jinx, Ken. This fire has nothing to do with bad luck. I'm betting on arson."

Toweling her hair, she paused mid-scrub to shoot him an incredulous glance in the mirror. "Knowing that idiot, it was probably a cigarette butt."

"We'll see what the arson investigator has to say," he shot back, his voice still raspy from the smoke he'd inhaled. His eyes still burning, he still felt a thousand percent better since he'd showered. He'd coughed so much he would have sworn he'd sacrificed a lung, but compared to the thought of burning up in that inferno, Harry felt fantastic.

It was the image of Kendall lost in that building that he couldn't seem to shake. What if he'd allowed her to enter it alone? His stomach knotted at the thought of how close they'd come. Leaving her to search the back offices had been a nearly fatal mistake. When he'd crawled back to the reception area, she'd been gone. In that moment of blinding panic, he knew with certainty they would die. Because there was no way he could have left without her. His heartbeat accelerated at the truth of his acknowledgment.

It had been nothing short of a miracle he'd stumbled into her. A miracle he'd stayed conscious long enough to drag her out. A shudder rippled through him as he stared at her reflection in the mirror. Another minute and they both would've-

"I'll be done in five minutes. Then we can finally head back into town." She flicked a glance at her watch.

"Why don't I just stay another night? The fire marshal wants to see us tomorrow anyway." He hated the thought of leaving her. Not after what she'd endured today. "Or . . . come with me."

They'd watched the fire burn for nearly an hour, then been examined by the paramedics who had re-set his ankle. As he'd stepped from the ambulance, they were met by the police, who questioned them repeatedly. Kendall had been on automatic pilot, answering questions while fighting back tears.

"Harrison, take my advice– save yourself." She tossed her towel on the bed, filling the air with the scent of her shampoo. "Go home . . . get some rest and when you wake up tomorrow, just pretend you never met me."

"You're not
that
bad."

Flouncing back in the chair, she tucked one shapely leg under the other before picking up her brush. "I'm a walking disaster." She waved him away when he would have argued. "I'll escort you safely back to your old life . . . and then I'm done."

"I can't leave you– not after what's happened."

Resigned golden eyes met his. "What more can happen?"

"Don't tempt fate," he warned.

"I just want to fall into bed. Get drunk and fall into bed," she corrected. "When I wake up tomorrow, I might have the strength to handle all this." Reading his disbelief, she sighed. "I'm fine."

"Damn it, you're not fine. It's okay to cry." She was so stubborn. Hearing the tremble in her voice, Harry knew she was fighting tears. He couldn't understand why she didn't simply give in. What was so wrong with being human?

"I've cried more in the past week than I have my whole life. And where has it gotten me?" 

"I'm not leaving you alone today. If you won't go with me, I'll just stay here with you." Glaring at her, he tugged on the neck of the too-tight shirt he'd been relegated to wear. Stafford, and his closet full of well-fitting clothes was still tantalizingly out of reach.

"Please, Harrison. I've– had it. Okay?"

Finally. He detected the tiniest crack in her impenetrable armor. She was coming undone.

Glaring at his reflection in the mirror, Kendall wrestled a comb through her wet hair. Even with the five foot clearance he'd given himself, her scent wafted out to torture him. She smelled delicious. Free of makeup, and with her incredibly soft skin scrubbed clean of soot, Kendall Adams was a stubborn, curvy, sexy-as-hell woman he wanted to know better.

"Come with me," he suggested. "Stay at my place tonight. Take your mind off things. We'll meet the fire marshal tomorrow and then we'll stop by my cousin's party."

She set the comb down with a thump. "Take my mind off things? I'm bankrupt. My business just burned to the ground. I've got a lunatic stepbrother who wants to push me under a bus. Pets who need to be fed and walked," she ticked off. "I'm not up to meeting all your relatives at some stupid garden party where I'll feel completely awkward."

"It's not a garden party. It's a welcome home for my cousin Jake and his new wife."

"Perfect. It's too . . . happy. I'll only ruin it."

"You'd like them. I want them to meet you. The Traynors always like to meet the  subcontractors we're out to ruin."

His joking comment received only a wan smile. Harry couldn't leave her like this. He'd gotten used to her take-no-prisoners attitude. Defeat didn't suit Kendall at all. Worried by the prospect of losing the argument, he persisted. "It's just a barbecue."

"I've had enough barbecuing for one day."

Advancing into her line of vision, Harry picked up the comb she'd thrown on the vanity. Taking another step closer, he carefully went to work on the tangle, ignoring the way his heart began to race. Her breath hitched in surprise. Hell, he'd shocked himself, too.

"I don't like you being alone out here. Lance is dangerous."

"How often do I have to tell you I can take care-" Ken jerked up from the chair, forgetting he was still holding the comb that was now imbedded in her long, thick hair. Instead of pushing him away, which was surely her intent, she stumbled into him. Harry released the comb and heard it clatter to the floor as he caught her, balancing them on his good leg. As her maddening scent enveloped him, he tightened his hold on her shoulders. So silky. So soft. Her skin was like satin under his fingers.

"I can handle Lance," Kendall continued, as she righted herself and tried to pull away.

"I'll be the judge of that." Knowing his words would receive an immediate reaction, she didn't disappoint. Annoyance swept over her features.

"That's not how this is gonna work, Traynor." She swatted at his hands as though brushing away a pesky fly. "You can let me go now."

"No. . . I don't think I can." Harry absorbed the ripple of surprise as he tugged her closer. Transfixed by magnetic, amber eyes, he watched annoyance morph to confusion as his words registered. Her eyes were his window to the truth. It was the only place, he realized, where Kendall couldn't hide her thoughts.