Trusting Jake (Blueprint To Love Book 1) (28 page)

"Please God, let him be all right." She groaned when she viewed the damage to a body that until six minutes ago had been damn near perfect. Harrison’s left arm lay at an awkward angle.
Probably broken
. Spots of blood had leeched through his cotton shirt in several places.

Harrison appeared to be sleeping. Hurrying on legs that wanted to fold beneath her, Kendall confirmed the rise and fall of his chest through his shredded designer shirt. Moments later he moaned. Traynor was coming around. Swallowing a shiver of icy fear, she stepped closer.

His lashes were coal-black spikes against the chalky paleness of his face. From her vantage point he didn’t look nearly as arrogant as he had only minutes earlier. "That pretty face survived intact," she muttered. And was immediately mortified. What in blazes was wrong with her today?

"That’s a relief. I was concerned whether GQ would still want me after this."

When his eyes fluttered open, Kendall instinctively leaned over his face to shield them from the light. Even at the bottom, the glare could be ferocious.

"Ken?"

"I’m so s-sorry. I don’t know where that came from. Please forgive me." Hearing the rasp of fear in her voice, she tried to steady it. Melting down wouldn't help. Traynor needed to remain calm. Conscious of his emerald gaze following every movement, she brushed away some of the dirt.

That had to be good, right?
His being aware of her? "You probably shouldn’t move," she warned when he would have rolled. "Ambulance is coming. How do you feel?"

"Like I tumbled off the side of a mountain."

Kendall sat back on her haunches. "I think your left arm is broken."

"It feels that way. Good thing I'm right-handed."

"You've broken it before?" Gently, she ran shaking hands over the rest of him.

He winced. "Football. One of the reasons I switched to soccer."

She skimmed down his legs. "It doesn't seem like anything else is broken, but I can't be sure."

"But my face is okay?"

Her glance was sharp. "Dammit, Traynor. I said I was sorry."

Harrison attempted a smile that twisted into a grimace, the skin pulling taut over his cheekbones in an effort she recognized as a battle for control over pain. Pain appeared to be  winning.

She made a consoling sound in her throat. "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere."

On impulse, she nearly grabbed his right hand before thinking better of it. What if that was broken too? Instead, Ken laid a hand against his forehead. Her fingers bumped against his wallet, lying in the dirt near his head. Scooping it up, she tucked it in her pocket. Of their own volition, her fingers returned to his dusty hair. The thick, black strands were surprisingly soft.

"S’Okay. Don’t need-"

Groping to recall her first aid training, all she could remember was CPR. Since Harrison was breathing through rather perfectly formed lips, he clearly didn’t need mouth-to-mouth. Dragging in a steadying breath, Kendall tried to swallow her rising panic.

"Hell, Traynor, I feel responsible." Unsure of where she could touch without hurting him, she stroked his cheek until she heard the soft wail of sirens in the distance.

"It’s not as though you pushed me." He paused for several beats. "Right?"

She played along, pretending not to notice the thread of anxiety in his voice. "I solve all my contractor problems by dumping them into foundations." 

Aware of him watching her, Ken tried not to wince at the sight of his battered body. It wouldn’t help him to know how afraid she was. "Won’t be long now. I bet you’ll be up and movin' before the weekend’s out."

"Hope so."

Traynor was deathly pale.
Where were the damn paramedics?
When his eyelids fluttered shut, her heart plunged to her stomach. "Harrison?"

"Mmm?"

"You got big plans this weekend?" She asked out of sheer desperation, ignoring the shrill of panic in her voice, unsure whether she should allow him to faint or force him to remain conscious.

"You got something in mind?"

"I think I'm supposed to keep you awake, so tell me what you’re doing this weekend," she ordered.

His eyes jerked open at the command. "Working. Always working," he muttered.

Far above, she heard the painstaking progress of the rescue crew and decided keeping him awake was better for her guilty conscience. Ken had never been one for small talk, and certainly not with men like Traynor, but the silence had gone on too long, filled only with his shallow breathing and the snorting sound of equipment rumbling above their heads.

"Friday night and no plans? How's that possible?" When a shower of pebbles fell from above, Kendall threw her body over his, careful not to place any weight on him. Her insides liquefied when she thought of another possible worry.
Please don’t let there be a cave-in.

Eyes closed, Harry's eyebrows scrunched in thought, oblivious to their impending doom. "Too much to do. Jake’s on– honeymoon. Jeff . . . vacation. All gone."

"So, you’re in charge?" She could kiss off any hope for the possibility of a financial reprieve. Traynor hadn’t been in a giving mood when he arrived. Kendall assumed his tolerance of her had deteriorated over the last several minutes.

"Guess you could say that." When he attempted a weak smile she felt even worse. How could she think about money now? She had the uncomfortable urge to place his head in her lap. To do something– anything– to alleviate his discomfort. But her daddy always said she had a knack for making bad situations worse.

Kendall brushed the strands of dusty hair from his forehead, revealing an evil-looking gash she hadn’t noticed earlier. Her stomach clenched in a knot of anguish.

"Dammit to hell. Is there anywhere on you that isn’t hurt?" Her bottled-up remorse exploded in a wave of helpless fury.

"If I apologize for falling, will you stop yelling at me?"

Tears filled her throat and spilled from her eyes, forcing her to hesitate before answering him. "I’m so sorry, Traynor. You can’t imagine how awful I feel. If I could trade places with you, I would."

His eyes fluttered open at the croaky sound of her voice, searching for her through the haze of dust. "I hear them."

Harrison’s sharp groan of pain sent fear skittering down her spine. Swiping her tears, she ignored her momentary lapse. Burrowing through the rubble, she grabbed his hand, forgetting that it might be broken. His skin was cool and clammy. Hell—what did that mean? Shock? "They’ll be here in a minute." Relief coursed through her when he acknowledged the pressure of her fingers with his.

"Ken– can you do something for me?"

"Anything . . . just tell me." Kendall watched, amazed as he fought to stay conscious. His voice had dropped to a whisper and she leaned down to hear his next words.

"Could you loosen your grip? You're crushing my hand."

***

His head pounding, Harry discovered it hurt to breathe. Over the roar in his ears, he heard an argument escalating. Forcing his eyes open, he glanced around. Hell– he was in an ambulance. He must be worse off than he knew.

"I need to go with him-"

"Ma'am– please step back."

Ken hadn’t released his hand. She'd loosened the painful grip, thankfully, but he'd been aware of her presence the entire time. Even as he'd passed out– and again when he lurched awake while they carried him from the hole. Unfortunately, it didn’t sound as though she would be leaving him now.

"Jeez– let her come." Harry just wanted to get the hell away from that crater. The sooner he made it to a hospital, the sooner they’d patch him up and he could drive back to Stafford.

Blissfully, it was quiet for a moment before Ken's smoky voice issued several orders to her team as she hoisted herself into the ambulance and they were underway. When her fingers slid between his, Harry was surprised to realize he'd been expecting them.

"So– your name is really Ken?" She had freckles. A sprinkle of them, across her nose.

"Short for Kendall." Her gaze had switched to the scenery flashing past the window in a blur of green and brown.

A pretty name. Harry frowned. Why the hell was he thinking about Ken? Could he have a concussion? There wasn't a spot on his body that wasn't throbbing or bleeding. Maybe he was delirious.

Several minutes passed before she spoke again. "We’re almost there."

"You realize this doesn’t change anything." He frowned, trying to remember what he wanted to say. "We still need to discuss your contract." When her eyes widened, Harry again experienced a sense of familiarity.
Those eyes
.

"Harrison—let’s worry about getting you patched up."

He wondered if it was guilt causing her change of heart. "Where’s my briefcase?"

"The boys were bringing it out of the hole. I’ll get it for you tonight, once you're squared away at the hospital."

"Thanks." His fingers twitched against hers and again, Harry felt the tiniest flicker of comfort. She was one of the most prickly females he'd ever met. Kendall had been belligerent, demanding and insulting prior to his nosedive through that fence. Yet, she'd been the first person into the hole to rescue him. Since then, she'd been surprisingly human. "Thanks for coming with me."

"When I nearly kill a man, it's the decent thing to cart him to the hospital."

Harry felt the strangest urge to smile, but damned if he knew how that could be possible. "So, where’s the original Ken Adams?"

"My dad," she admitted. "He retired to Key Largo three years ago, so I’m the only Ken left."

"You’ve been running the company since he retired?"

"I’ve worked for A & R since I was seventeen."

Their conversation ended when the ambulance arrived at the emergency room. Releasing his hand, Ken stepped aside while the attendants hustled him inside. The last Harry saw of her was a shaky smile of encouragement and a shy little wave. He was left to wonder whether she'd be waiting when he was finally released or if he'd have to hitch a ride back home.

***

Every instinct urged Kendall to follow him through those doors, but her brain jerked the reins. Lord’s sake, she’d nearly killed the man. What the hell was she thinking? Backing away, she found a seat in the waiting room. When an hour ticked by with no word, she approached the window for a status report, her heart thudding like a freight train.

"You’re with Mr. Traynor?"

Nodding, she crossed her fingers. The clerk didn’t need to know the details. "Any news? Can I see him?"

"Not yet. But since you’re waiting, you can complete the insurance papers." Slamming forms onto a clipboard, the harried woman passed it through the window.

"But-" Kendall sighed when the woman turned to answer the phone. After several minutes, she gave up. The slender bump in her pocket reminded her she held Harrison’s wallet. It lay there, beckoning her to rifle through it.

Not rifle, she corrected. Rifling was when you didn’t have an actual reason. Rifling was snooping. With a deep breath, she withdrew the leather fold.

She'd prepared a mental list of the contents. At least one picture of the skinny supermodel he was most assuredly dating. Probably sporting a thong, she amended. Guys like Harrison didn't date average women like her. Kendall had grown numb to the inevitable feeling of failure at being a woman. Hell– Traynor had automatically assumed she was a guy. But she’d learned the hard way that jeans and boots were suited for digging in the dirt. And it was more important to gain her crews’ respect than to attempt lookin' cute. She ran a construction company– not a damn nail salon.

Summoning her courage, she removed the insurance card. Every minute or so, she snuck a peek at the doors, certain Harrison would burst through them and find her snooping. She was relieved to return the forms a few minutes later, his wallet safely back in her pocket. Back in her seat, she couldn’t help wondering about the group photo she’d spied. Harrison and two others, smiling for the camera atop a mountain, during what was probably a pricey day of skiing at a fancy resort. One was Jake, Specialty's senior partner. And the youngest had that Traynor look. He might be Jeff, she surmised.  

"Ma’am? Mr. Traynor is asking for you."

Kendall eyed the nurse with apprehension. If
she
was the one he wished to see, Harrison must be desperate. "Will he be okay?"

"The doctor says he'll make a full recovery."

Releasing a shaky breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, she trailed the nurse through doors leading to a corridor that smelled strongly of antiseptic.

"He’ll need some recuperation at home for a week or two," the nurse continued.

She bit her lip at the news. When the pain meds wore off, Traynor would be seriously ticked.

"This way, please Mrs. Traynor."

Mrs. Traynor?
Kendall followed her into a brightly lit examination room. "I’m not-"

"Babe, is that you?"

Any intelligent words she might have summoned died in her throat.
Good Lord, he has a head injury.
Nearing his bedside, she ran her gaze over his battered face, the angry stitches standing out in stark relief against his too pale skin. His beautiful mouth twisted in a grim line when he tried to smile. Harrison’s eyes flickered open to reveal recognition of her and a strumming pain that hadn’t been quelled by drugs.