by Karen Rock
“We need to sign it together, in person, before a notary. Unless you can manage that remotely, as well.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. MaryAnne had warned her, but this was taking stubborn isolation to another level entirely. Did he really think they could run a business without seeing each other in person? Ever? He’d agreed to be her partner, yet he acted as though the less he had to do with her, the better. That wasn’t how a friend behaved, and it dawned on her that his reasons for joining her had nothing to do with reconnecting personally.
Niall’s brow furrowed. “Of course we’ll meet for that. Otherwise, I’ll handle the programming from home and email you with my input on how to represent us during finance meetings and marketing events.”
Kayleigh’s temper flared so hot and quick that she actually felt her skin flush. It started in her face and burned down to her chest and limbs. It made the hair on her arms prickle.
She took a deep breath. “So other than signing official documents, you and I—” She gestured between them, her motions jerky, an edge entering her voice.
“Won’t see each other,” Niall finished for her, looking pleased with himself. “Thanks for the coffee.” He took another drink, and she clasped her hands to keep herself from snatching it away. He didn’t deserve her treats or this opportunity. He wasn’t a willing partner. He was a reluctant one.
Hot words boiled up, but she shoved them down with all the business finesse she could muster. “So you wouldn’t be a true partner, then.”
He shrugged, bringing his broad shoulders almost to his ears and back down. “More of a silent one.”
Kayleigh shot to her feet and stuffed her papers in her bag. Meeting adjourned. She’d hoped to start a business and renew her relationship with Niall, but not on those terms.
“What are you doing?” Niall’s voice rose, but she ignored him and slid the zipper closed. He wouldn’t get another ounce of her attention. Bitter letdown drummed along the empty spaces inside her.
She slung her bag’s handle around her shoulder and headed for the door. Just like Brett, he was treating her as if she was unworthy, not good enough, couldn’t be trusted to think for herself. And she’d been there and done that. Niall was either all in or all out. She wouldn’t accept anything less. Not anymore.
“You didn’t leave the information for me to look over.” Despite his prosthesis, his long legs helped him beat her to the door. He pressed a hand against it when she reached for the knob. When his eyes searched hers, the color was as dark as her mood, her defeat reflected in them.
“No need.” Her voice sounded shrill. “Now. If you’ll excuse me?”
She tugged at the door until he stepped back, and she opened it.
“I’m sorry this didn’t work out, Niall.” She stuck out a hand, and he looked at it. His dumbstruck expression would have been comical if her situation wasn’t so desperate. She needed help, needed him, but Niall had smashed her hopes to bits today. He’d never be a real partner or her old friend. The war had changed him. Niall may have returned from the war, but her friend was gone as surely as her brother was.
“I thought that’s what we were doing. Figuring this out.” His eyebrows came together.
She shook her head and pulled the door wider. “No. You were dictating what you wanted while I was hoping to collaborate with an equal. Still am, apparently.” Her lungs moved sluggishly in her chest. If even an old friend didn’t want to work closely with her, then who? She might well and truly fail.
When he brushed his fingertips down the length of her arm, she shivered.
“What if that’s all I can give?”
The confusion in his face touched her. But she needed more from him. When she took this high dive, it couldn’t be on her own. If only Chris were here. Her heart ached as she imagined him pushing her out of Niall’s apartment, insisting that she deserved better, promising her that she would find another way.
“I’m sorry. It’s just not enough. Not anymore. Goodbye, Niall.”
* * *
NIALL LEANED IN his doorway, frozen, and watched Kayleigh’s curls disappear down his stairwell.
How had everything gotten messed up? Joining her business was the last thing he’d planned to do. But when he’d seen her again, learned that she supported Chris’s family, he’d known he needed to help. And now she was throwing his offer in his face. Dismissing him.
He’d reached the bottom of the stairwell before he realized he couldn’t let her go. No man left behind, Chris had said to him that day in Kunar. He wouldn’t abandon Kayleigh, no matter how hard she pushed him away. Yet she needed to compromise, see that he could be there for her in his own way.
With the program prototypes he’d provide, she’d be able to convince financers to invest. He’d study her business plan and put in serious hours to give her something flashy to show them. His work would do the talking. It would do a better job than he could. If he attended meetings and events, his unease would drive potential investors and consumers away. Kayleigh had to understand.
He watched her yellow skirt flutter down his stoop and yanked open the door.
“Kayleigh! Wait!”
A gray, tiger-striped cat streaked between his legs and bolted up the steps. He turned to grab it, but was too late. Animals weren’t allowed in the building, but if he wasted time catching it, he’d miss Kayleigh. His gaze swerved back to the street, and he trod down the stairs after the lithe woman.
He followed, lengthening his stride until he caught up and cupped her soft elbow.
She rounded on him; her oval face, usually cheerful, was filled with such a cold anger that he stepped back.
“What, Niall?” Her voice was a tight coil of fury. “Should I have brought more cream for your coffee? Sharpened some pencils for you? Refilled your printer cartridges?”
He rubbed his forehead, the bright sunshine making spots appear around the edges of his vision. “What? No. Why would I need you to do those things?”
She stepped close, and she smelled faintly of flowers, which he guessed was perfume, but beneath that was her own smell, like green grass, like the morning air after a light spring rain. It drew him, as did everything about her.
“Because you don’t see me as a partner. An equal.” Her voice rose and captured the attention of two women sitting on a stoop across the street.
“According to your—” she made air quotes “—‘ground rules,’ I’ll be a flunky taking directives via email missives instead of making decisions with you in person and working as a team. I need a right-hand man. Not another boss who wants to order me around while he sits back and gets the credit.” She swatted the air with her hand. “Forget it.”
“I won’t forget it.” He lowered his voice but kept it firm, with enough authority to keep her from leaving. Kayleigh was jumping to conclusions, misunderstanding him. “Listen. I want to be your business partner. Not your boss. Can we start over? Give me another chance to explain without sounding like Chairman Mao.”
He held out his hands, palms up. When a light wind blew one of her curls in her face, he couldn’t resist tucking it behind her small ear, the silky feeling of her hair and her vulnerable, astonished expression lingering. She was beautiful to him in the same way that’d stopped his adolescent heart years ago. Only that boy was gone, and he’d thought his ability to care had left, as well. Was he wrong? Kayleigh brought out feelings he had no right to feel, especially when she looked at him the way she did now.
A smile showed itself around the corners of her eyes, in the tilt of her head as she studied him. “Chairman Mao, huh?”
He nodded and waited, his thudding heart drowning out the singsong of a passing ice cream truck. And then she smiled. It was warm and sweet, like the unfurling of a flower, and suddenly he felt as though he stood on cracking ice. He held himself very still, worried that if he mo
ved, everything would fall apart.
“Okay. But we’re talking on the stoop.”
His breath rushed out of him. “Fine.” He fell into step beside her, distracted by the brush of her shoulder as they walked back.
Pigeons took flight when he opened his gate and gestured for her to precede him. Up on the landing, they seated themselves, and he stretched out his aching prosthetic leg. It was an older model, and ill fitting, according to the physical therapist. She’d insisted on upgrading, but he’d turned her down, not wanting any bells and whistles.
When he turned Kayleigh’s way, he studied her profile, admiring the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck into her shoulder, the slight bump on the bridge of her short nose. Something about that imperfection added to the charm of her beautiful face. At least he’d thought so as a boy. Still did if he was honest. It made her more human, easier to talk to...only right now, he didn’t have a clue what to say. Suddenly, he was arguing for a partnership he’d never wanted.
“I’m sorry, Kayleigh.”
She examined her clipped, unvarnished nails, and the smallness of her hands struck him. How did such a big personality come out of such a petite person? No matter where she stood, she was the center of the room.
“And...”
His eyes roamed over the crown of her head, wishing he could read her mind and know what words she needed to hear. All he could do was speak the truth. And she valued that more than anything, he thought with a twinge as Chris came to mind.
“Programming I can do. Whatever you have dreamed up in that business plan of yours, I will make come to life. But as far as sitting in at the financial meetings and marketing events, I’m only going to hurt us. Not help.”
She cocked her head and peered up at him, her expression oddly soft. “Why do you think that?”
His hands twisted in his lap. “I’m not the social type, Kay.”
Her hand was cool and delicate as it slipped into his. “You used to be.”
“That was before.” He laced his fingers in hers, unable to resist before letting go. “I’ll never be that person again. Too much happened and I—”
He broke off when an elderly woman appeared to water a potted shrub.
When his neighbor disappeared inside her building, Kayleigh turned, every feature fine and sharp. “I understand that you don’t want to talk about what happened in the war. But know that you can tell me anything. Anytime.”
The backs of his eyes burned. She’d been his best friend, the girl who’d listened and advised him, who’d stood up for him when she thought he’d needed defending from bullies. Yet even she couldn’t tackle this beast inside him. If she glimpsed it, it’d tear her apart, too. Shatter their new partnership. No. He’d keep managing on his own.
“That will never happen,” he said honestly.
He felt Kayleigh recoil, and when she spoke, her voice sounded defeated. “So you’ll never be your old self again.”
It made him wonder. Chris had returned for him. Should he go back for himself? For Chris’s family’s sake? A sudden wish to find that person seized him, though he’d have to return to a bloody field in Kunar to find him.
“No,” he said at last, and brushed away an ant that crawled across his ankle. Even to his own ears, he sounded uncertain.
“I don’t believe you.” A speculative gleam entered Kayleigh’s eyes. “Come to tomorrow’s finance meeting. See how things go. If you don’t think you can handle it, then don’t sign the partnership agreement. There’s little chance of getting this financer anyway, as they rarely take on small projects like ours, but I thought I’d use the opportunity as a test. So no pressure.”
There it was. A chance to step up with no strings attached. Kayleigh had asked for more than he could give, but this—this he could do. He owed it to her and Chris to try. Perhaps after she saw how miserable he was at this social stuff, she’d agree to go with his other option. Remote partnership.
“What’s the address and time?”
Her laugh rang out, and she threw her arms around him, the warm feel of her making him aware of how much he needed to keep his distance from this gorgeous woman. She was the last person he had a right to be attracted to. He pulled back and saw her embarrassed flush.
“I’m sorry. I—I shouldn’t have done that.” She scribbled the address and time on her notepad, ripped off the page and shoved it into his hand before standing.
“I think this is going to work better than you imagine, Chairman Mao.”
A man opened the door behind them and tossed out the gray tiger.
“Who’s that?” Kayleigh ruffled its ears and slid her hands along the cat’s arching back as it rubbed against her leg.
He picked it up and stood. “Don’t know. Just a stray.”
Kayleigh kissed the feline’s pink nose. “I think you should keep him. Call him...call him...Chairman Meow. You two will make a pair.” Her eyes sparkled. “See you on Monday.”
He was still watching when she turned the corner to the bus stop.
“This isn’t going to end well,” he warned the cat. When he set it down, it lived up to its name and meowed in agreement.
“Smart cat.” He gave it a final rub, then stared at the last spot he’d seen Kayleigh before she’d rounded the street corner.
When he slipped inside his dim apartment, he smelled her perfume in the air, the scent making him rethink his isolation for the first time.
How many days until Monday?
CHAPTER EIGHT
“ARE YOU SURE I can’t get you any coffee? Tea?” the Capital Central receptionist asked Niall again. Her arms rested on the countertop separating them, her red lips stretched in a wide smile.
He glanced at his phone. How long before Kayleigh arrived? She was five minutes late when she should have been fifteen minutes early. Not the right impression for a finance meeting.
“No, thanks.” When the receptionist’s fingers slid along his forearm, he stepped back. “My associate will be here soon.”
“And her name is Kayleigh Renshaw?” The woman scanned her computer screen, tapped a few buttons, then peeked at him through her tangle of false eyelashes. “Sorry, but I still don’t have a record of the appointment. I hope she can explain.”
Niall nodded. He needed an explanation, too. After maneuvering him into this meeting, would Kayleigh miss it? Impossible. “Does Mr. Carlton have another meeting at this time?”
The secretary blew on her mug’s rising steam and held his gaze for an uncomfortable minute. “Not for a half hour, but he did leave orders not to be disturbed. Perhaps he set up this consult and forgot to let me know.” She shrugged off her cardigan to reveal a silky red shirt and leaned forward. “So tell me about yourself.”
He slid a finger along his dress shirt’s snug collar. “I’ll be sitting over there.” He pointed to the high-backed, upholstered chairs beside Mr. Carlton’s office door and ignored her disappointed pout. “Please let me know if Ms. Renshaw calls.”
After taking a seat, he leafed through a sports magazine, then tossed it back on the glass coffee table. Where was Kayleigh? He rechecked his phone for messages then stared down a cubicle-lined corridor at two sets of elevator doors, willing one to open.
Men and women garbed in navy, gray or black hurried by him, chatting to one another and carrying files. In the climate-controlled air, the scent of coffee, cologne and air freshener mingled. The large, open space hummed with ringing phones, squealing fax machines and copy machines spitting out papers, the atmosphere electric and purposeful. Yet there was only one sound he strained to hear—the chime of the elevator.
He peered at the silver-metal doors again. Come on, Kayleigh. Let’s get this dog-and-pony show started. The quicker he fulfilled his end of the deal, tried the partnership her way, the sooner he’d get hom
e and continue working on the code he’d started over the weekend. The presentation she’d sent him had intrigued him more than he would have thought, her ideas more complex than he’d imagined. He’d even designed a mock-up of the app, which, although it didn’t include her direct input, came close to what he believed was her vision.
At last, the elevator jingled and a diminutive woman stepped out, her dark hair scraped into a bun that accentuated her fine features, a severe business suit doing little to mask her curves. His pulse sped. Kayleigh. He’d been looking forward to seeing her more than he’d realized. Despite the lack of windows, the room brightened.
Her smile flashed when she spotted him, her hesitant stride lengthening. As she passed him, she waved crossed fingers behind her back, and he marveled. She was happy to see him. Relieved by the look of it. She needed him. Wanted him near, not just for his tech speak, but because he’d once been her friend.
The thought woke something inside him, and it unfurled like a sleepy cat, stretching until the whole of him felt more alive than he had any right to be. He rose quickly, ignoring the scrape of his prosthesis as it moved, loosely, against the sides of his knee.
When she leaned on the counter, he noticed her wiggle a small, arched foot out of her black shoe before sliding it in again, a red blister on her heel. Had she gotten stuck in traffic? Chosen to walk? At least she’d made it.
His good humor evaporated when he saw the receptionist tap her pen before laying it down with an irritated sigh. Yes. Kayleigh was late. But she still had a right to the time left in her appointment slot.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you in without an appointment. And since I don’t have you listed under your name, or your business name—” the woman scanned her computer screen and frowned down at Kayleigh’s card “—High Dive Enterprises, I can’t allow you to disturb Major Carlton.” She picked up the pen. “I can leave him a note with your business card.”