Falling For Ken (Blueprint to Love Book 2) (22 page)

His grin told her he was doing the damned mind reader thing again. "I'm not in any rush. I planned to stay a few days. My bag's in the car."

"Harrison. . . I've got enough problems without having to deal with you on top of-"

"I'm here to volunteer my services," he interrupted smoothly. "I don't have a place to stay. I thought I'd bunk down with you."

Kendall didn't know what to feel anymore. She'd just about exhausted all the anger she had left. Her supply of tears had thankfully dried up, too. Fatigue, she had plenty of. Her body wanted to sag into the chair and never move again. And their conversation wasn't helping. If ever there was a man worth leaning on, Harry was the guy. Her brain knew better than to hope for love. But the ice around her stupid heart was cracking– softening toward him.

Falling for Harrison meant relinquishing control of her ironclad will– the one force that had propelled Ken rather nicely over the past dozen years– through turmoil and heartache. She'd be forced to wait him out– always on guard . . . never able to relax. The only question was how long. A month? Six? A year? The not knowing would kill her. Because it wouldn't be a question of
if
he grew tired of her. Only when.

And what would be left of her when he decided it was over?

"As I'm about to be arrested shortly, you can have the whole damn house, Traynor. I don't care anymore. Just remember to feed Lurch and walk him at least once a day. Wink can take care of herself but she gets ornery if you don't pet her."

Leaning back in her chair, Ken hoisted booted feet to the desk, weariness crashing over her. The sun beating through the window heated her skin. A nap would feel so damned good right now.

His amusement disappeared in a flash of disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

"The fire marshal is suggesting I set the fire Tuesday. According to Floyd, I planned this."

"You're not joking?" Harrison stared, eyes wary over her deceptively calm demeanor. "Who the hell is Floyd?"

"The fire marshal. You probably saw him leave." Her lids felt weighted as she sank deeper into her chair.

"And he learned this . . . without talking to witnesses?"

She smiled when his eyes sparked. When she grew too weary to battle . . . Harrison could get angry for her.

"Babe, you're scaring me. Is he the best this town has?"

"Just about," she admitted on a yawn. "Floyd's not a bad guy. He just needs to retire."

"You don't sound terribly upset about going to jail."

"Like you said, they haven't interviewed anyone yet." She shifted her gaze back to him. "You were with me. It's not like I don't have . . . an alibi." She closed her eyes for a minute. They were so heavy. "Now, if you decided to turn on me . . . I'd have a problem."

Chapter 11

Harrison eyed her drooping lids, his lips quirking in a thoughtful smile. Slumped comfortably in the ancient upholstered chair, Ken released a husky sigh, sliding into sleep. Her long, silky hair was caught up in a lopsided ponytail that slipped over her shoulder, covering half her face.

For several minutes he watched her, listened to her breathing deepen as she finally lost the battle to remain awake. The dark smudges under her eyes made his smile fade. His chest constricted on a sudden wave of frustration. How could such a little body absorb so many blows and remain standing for as long as she had? How much longer could she continue this way before she collapsed under the weight of stress? Kendall was running on empty and had been for a while. Staring at her slight frame, Harry vowed to change that.

It didn't take much convincing a half hour later to get her loaded into his car for the drive back to her place. It had, however, taken a full twenty minutes to convince Jimmy not to brain him with a lead pipe. The only thing saving him from a beating was the warm, slack body nestled in his arms. Kendall came first with the old man. His affection for her was obvious . . . though Jimmy buried it under a hide as thick and tough as an elephant's. Harry was grateful to him.

All those years, he'd protected Kendall. The soft, silky woman in his arms had been a soft, sweet, little girl. And Jimmy had ensured that no matter how her father mistreated her, she'd always had him to turn to.

Glancing to his right, he found his smile again. Kenny was peacefully asleep, curled up on the seat, oblivious to the breeze wafting through his car. He remembered Jimmy's grudging words when he'd reluctantly allowed him to pass.

"This ain't finished. You hurt her and I'll make you sorry for the rest of your days."   It wasn't finished. Not by a long shot. He remembered Kenny's insistence that if she were destined to meet the man of her dreams, fate would lend a hand. He'd laughed at the ludicrous suggestion she would simply bump into the man she was meant to spend her life with. How could she operate without a plan? A blueprint? How could she leave everything to chance? Harry had made it his business to plan for everything.

His parents' marriage had taught him only that loving someone hurt . . . that everything and
everyone
else was sacrificed when you loved someone. He'd taken that knowledge and run with it, distancing himself from any relationship that might leave him vulnerable.

But Harry didn't know how to distance himself from the ache of compassion he felt for Kendall's lonely childhood. From the hot, bubbling anger toward parents who hadn't cherished her. He hadn't expected the . . . longing he experienced every time he looked at her. As though he could spend the rest of his days just . . . being with her. He sure as hell hadn't planned for the deep, stirring certainty taking root in his chest.

He thought about his blueprint . . . the meticulous map he'd drawn for his journey through life. And forced the question that had nagged him for days. What would his blueprint look like without Kendall in it?

***

Kendall blinked owlishly and pulled herself upright in the seat. "Where am I?" She winced at the raspy sound of her voice, still sluggish from sleep.

"We're nearly home. You're going up to bed for a nap."

"Traynor– I have a hundred things to do and you want me to nap?" He'd only been back an hour and already he was telling her what to do?

"Yeah. And if you don't give me a hard time, I might be convinced to join you for a little while."

Glaring at him, she realized her heart wasn't in the argument. It was too busy careening around her chest, tripping like a rapid-fire machine gun.

Traynor. In bed. With her.

In seconds, she went from unconscious to throbbingly aware of him. One subtle glance at his knowing grin told her he'd just finished reading her every thought. "Quit doing that."

"What have I done now?" Pulling into her driveway, he switched off the engine before turning to face her.

"You're pretty sure of yourself all of a sudden." She eyed him suspiciously.

"In matters of the heart, it's important to appear confident."

"Name one time in your life you weren't positive of the outcome," she challenged. How could someone like Harrison understand what it was like for everyone else? He'd been one of them– the 'has-it-all' crowd. Despite his mother's alcoholism . . . despite his father's emotional abandonment . . . he'd still managed to be popular, well-liked and ultimately, successful. She, on the other hand, had spent her life outside the candy store window, nose to the glass, watching everyone else eat sweets.

Startled when he tipped her chin up, Harry forced her to make eye contact when she would have turned away– when she wanted to look anywhere other than into those knowing eyes.

"I'm not positive now," he admitted. "I know what
I
want– what I've wanted from the moment you left me Tuesday."

Rather than struggle against the walls of her chest, her heart leaped straight into her throat. "W-what's that?"

"I want to make love with you again. I want to see your eyes . . . that beautiful flashing gold. I want to feel your luscious body-"

"H-harrison-" she croaked. Heat flooded her body, leaving her shaking in its frothy wake.

"But most of all, I want to hear you . . . when you say my name. It's the most incredible sound I've ever heard."

Her eyes widening with shock, she struggled to pull in a breath. When Harry released her, she rocketed from the car. She had to stop twice on the way up the porch stairs, grasping the railing when her knees threatened to collapse. Risking a glance over her shoulder, Harrison trailed her by a step or two, deftly mastering the steps with his cane. Ken acknowledged that his broken ankle had been reduced in status to a mere nuisance. Whistling softly under his breath, he winked in acknowledgment and her pulse soared to what was surely a dangerous level. With his injuries nearly healed, spending time with Harrison was about as safe as juggling a sparking stick of dynamite.

"We'll see about that, Traynor."

***

They made it to her bed, but only barely. Kendall's intent had been space . . . lots of it. This thing with Harrison– was too dangerous to start up again. But he caught her in the kitchen. All he had to do was touch her. Those perfect, capable hands. . . And that smile– the one that tricked her into thinking she was the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen.

She was done for.

She'd lost her hairband in the kitchen when he'd tugged her hair free of the ponytail. Their shirts had been discarded on the landing halfway up the stairs, leaving Lurch in a jumbled pile of clothing. Kendall couldn't be sure, but she vaguely remembered leaving her bra on the banister at the top of the stairs. And by the time Harrison rid himself of his pants, she wasn't able to think at all. Skin on glorious skin. She ran trembling hands down his back, reveling when his muscles corded under her fingertips. Lord, she'd missed feeling him next to her. She'd missed his quiet presence.

All these years, her solitary life had never felt lonely. Until this week when her house had seemed shatteringly empty without him in it. She'd missed his teasing remarks. The only time she'd heard his easy, bantering voice had been on her voicemail. She'd missed everything about him.

"Kenny . . . you're so beautiful." She shivered when he traced the length of her arms. They stood facing each other at the foot of her bed. His touch was soft, the caress gentle, as though he was fascinated by the texture of her skin. "So soft and beautiful. So responsive. I love watching you."

She only had to lift her gaze to Harrison's eyes to see the conviction behind the words. In his unwavering gaze, she was beautiful. For as long as it lasted, she would choose to believe him.

"Kendall. . . I missed you this week. Did you think of me? Even once?" 

The last week had been lonely . . . so unbearably lonely without him. She slowly nodded, too mesmerized by the smoldering expression in his eyes to look away, her heart too giddy with joy to remember she wanted to be cautious. "I thought about you all the time."

Harry released the breath he had been holding and acknowledged the first trickle of relief. It bothered him that he was even a little nervous. And while part of him was shouting with the rough need to pull her against him, with the overwhelming desire to touch and be touched, another part of him had iced over with fear. He was supposed to be the one in control. But when he held Kendall in his arms . . . when she swayed toward him the way she was now, he felt anything but control. He felt only desire . . . a dark, desperate need that threatened to spiral out of control. He'd tried to
keep himself separate from it and when that hadn't worked he'd tried to run from it. And in the end, he hadn't really wanted to leave.

When Ken's lips curved in a tentative smile that ignited her golden eyes, an answering stab of possessiveness clenched his gut. When she leaned in to brush his lips with hers, Harry felt only the liquid pull of heat. And knew he would never have enough of her. Not today. Not in six months. Not in a dozen years.

His hands shaking, he tugged her closer, groaning with raw pleasure when their bodies collided. Sinking into her sweetness, he deepened the kiss until they were both trembling with need.

"Harrison. . ."

His name was a soft breathy moan that spilled from her lips when Harry found the fluttering pulse in her throat. She melted against him like soft, pliant wax, her head falling back against his shoulder when his mouth latched on to her breast. His heart thundered in primitive response to the sheer wonder of her surrender. Her nipple tightened against his tongue and he nearly exploded with the need to be inside her. He lowered his hand to her waist and still lower to her smooth, flat stomach. Ken's knees actually buckled when he cupped her with his hand. Harry's smile was fleeting at best when he discovered her hot, wet center. What was left of his control simply shattered.

"Kendall, love. . . I need you. Tell me you want me." Raising his gaze to hers, he found his first real smile. Huge with wonder, the beautiful golden flecks on fire with passion. If his own need wasn't so painful, he would have given anything to simply watch her beautiful, expressive eyes, watch them glaze over when he took her over the edge of the precipice they both clung to.

"I want you . . . now, Harry." She tugged him down on the bed, her hands trembling when she sheathed him with a condom. He groaned low in his throat while he tried to capture her hands. But the pull of her heat, the sheer wonder of her skin against his own was too much for him. He couldn't wait a moment longer.

They sighed in unison when he finally slipped inside, filling her. Her smile was one of delight. Harrison felt a corresponding ache of acknowledgment in his chest. His thoughts grew disjointed with each thrust until his sole focus was pleasure. And when Kendall moaned, when the shivers of her release rocketed through him, the throaty rasp of her sexy voice sent him beyond the edge of reason. His mind splintered into a thousand tiny pieces.

She was still quaking when he collapsed next to her, her eyes still dazed when he leaned in to kiss the satiny sheen of her shoulder. As he stared down into her face, his heart tripped along like a freight train. And when she smiled up at him, Harry was lost all over again.

How had desire turned so quickly to need? It should have troubled him that he could no longer separate the two. But she'd slipped inside his head. She'd taken ownership of his heart. He'd felt the connection and tried to dismiss it. But there would be no more denial. At least not on his part. Because in the dusty corners of his muddled brain, an increasingly persistent voice whispered crazy words like forever. Holding Ken in his arms felt as natural as breathing. Protecting her, helping her. . . He wanted it all. And he wanted it with Kendall. She was the light and the warmth in his sterile, lonely world. She was the woman who would bring color and dimension to his flat blueprint. The only woman who could bring his plan to life.

He needed her. And right now, forever didn't seem like nearly enough time. With a thunderbolt of certainty, Harry knew he could spend the rest of his life coming home to her. On the good days and bad. Especially the bad days– because she would make them better– just by being there.

"Kenny?"

"Mmm?"

Her sleepy, sated voice dragged over his nerve-endings. Even now, only moments later, he wanted her again. "I love you, Kendall."

"That's nice." Sighing, she burrowed into his neck.

The silence ticked on for several long seconds. Harry was just beginning to wonder whether he would have to wake her up and summon his courage all over again when she bolted up.

"What?" All trace of sleepiness gone from her expressive eyes, his heart stumbled when he read her panicked expression.

"I love you." When she would have leaped from the bed, he quickly blocked her escape, pinning her trembling limbs with his good leg. "I'm sorry to spring it on you like this, but you're just gonna have to learn to live with it." 

"Harrison. . . y-you don't have to say. . . that." She hesitated, seeming to choose each word carefully. "My eyes are wide open. I know what I'm getting into. You don't have to pretend to feel something-"