"Pop?" How had Jimmy landed in her dream? Her nose was pressed into the front of Harry's shirt. His heart thundering against her ear, his glorious scent filling her nose.
"I'm– good. I'm . . . I'm okay." Harry's panting breath ruffled her hair. "It's just . . . oh God. This height."
"Stop lookin' down, you idiot."
Harrison's arm tightened around her waist. Had he fallen, too? He was breathing as though he'd run a long, long way. Maybe he was tired? "Harry?'
"Woody– haul us up. Traynor's turnin' green."
Kendall startled when Jimmy bellowed. Pain sliced through her ribcage and she moaned. As the light began to fade, the last thing she remembered was Harrison. The terrible pain faded. Nothing could hurt her anymore.
***
"We're almost home, love."
Battered and achingly fragile– but alive. For twelve hours Harry had waited– first for Ken to awaken, then for the barrage of tests before the doctors agreed to release her. He'd spent the night by her side, while she slept through doctors poking and prodding her. Bruised shadows still lurked under her eyes from all she'd endured.
Her slender shoulders stiffened. "I told you I could get a ride home with Jimmy."
An overwhelming floral scent filled his car. The mountain of flowers had provoked the only smile he'd seen in days. But as he pulled into her driveway, Kendall appeared as though she wanted to launch herself from his car.
Harry would be grateful for the opportunity to apologize. No matter the outcome– at least he'd be able to breathe again without feeling the stabbing pain in his chest. But she sure as hell wasn't making it easy. "Jimmy told me to fix it with you or there's a beating in my future." He wished he knew what she was thinking. "Kenny– can we please talk?"
"I think we've pretty much covered everything." Easing gingerly from his car, she winced with pain.
"We haven't begun to cover it." Approaching cautiously, he stifled the urge to gather her in his arms, instead offering his arm to help her up the steps. When she finally raised her gaze to his, the finality in her expression was another blow to his confidence. "I know I've hurt you. But I swear I'll fix it. Please . . . please let me try."
"I don't trust you, Traynor. And I can't love someone I don't trust."
"You love me," he reminded, trying like hell not to sound as desperate as he felt. "Last night you said you loved me."
"I thought I was dying."
Harry shook his head resolutely. "Baby, we're not ending it like this. I'm sorry I hurt you, but your life was in danger."
"Would you do it again?" Fathomless golden eyes pinned him.
"I– would protect you. With my life . . . I would protect you."
Temper flared in her eyes, heating the gold until it shimmered. "You would lie to me again?"
"I'll never lie to you again," he vowed. "I was wrong not to tell you what was happening . . . but I was so afraid of losing you– I just wanted to hide you from the danger." He swallowed convulsively. "Instead, I led you straight to it."
"That wasn't your fault. No one knew about Claire."
"It was my fault," he insisted, reaching for her. "If I'd confided in you, we might have figured it out sooner. Together."
Her eyes filled with a fresh batch of tears. "I don't think I can do this, Harry. It's too hard. I'm not strong enough." She tugged futilely to release her arms from his grip. "Let me go, Traynor."
"I can't," Harry admitted, and it was so damn true. The pain in her eyes would haunt him for the rest of his days. But he would spend every one making it up to her . . . if she'd let him. He ran a shaking hand down his face, his stomach knotted with the very real fear she would tell him to leave.
"I love you, Kendall. I've never said those words before. You're it for me. If you . . . if you don't want me . . ." Harry closed the space between them, his stance resolute. "I'll go. But-" His voice thick with emotion, he swallowed around the pain in his throat. "I'll keep coming back until I make it right again."
Kendall stared at him . . . thinking about what it meant . . . what her life would be like without Harrison in it. And felt the walls slowly close in around her. "Jimmy said you were hanging over the side to rescue me. He and Woody held your feet-"
His grip tightened convulsively on her arm. "I– couldn't let you fall."
"But– it's so high . . . and you don't like-"
Before her eyes, Harrison's complexion turned chalky. "Can we. . . not talk about that?"
"Harry? You need to sit down?"
"I'm good." He blew out a shaky breath. "Will you at least consider giving me a second chance?"
Kendall had lived her life without– so many things. But she'd never lived it without Harrison Traynor. He'd owned a place in her heart since that long ago night in the rain. But her memory of him was one of perfection . . . of a hero– with no human flaws to destroy the girlish image.
Now, she had the chance to live the remainder of her life with the real man standing before her. With all the dents and flaws. Harrison was stubborn and overprotective. A perfectionist. A planner. All the things she would never be. But he was also the most loving, generous man she'd ever known. He was strong and courageous and honorable.
And absolutely perfect. For her.
Reaching out, she twined his icy fingers through hers. "I don't want you to go, Traynor. I've waited my whole life for you to finally get here."
His sharp cry of relief was muffled when he pulled her roughly against his chest. Under her ear, she heard the reassuring thunder of his heartbeat.
"Kenny– I'll never hurt you again. I swear it." As he rained kisses over her face, she snuggled happily against him, the powerful strength of his arms wrapped around her battered body. She lifted an aching arm to squeeze him tight. A life without Harrison would be a life without music, without laughter. But together, they could face anything. Together, they'd smudge his meticulous blueprint into a wrinkled, livable plan. They'd start building a life– one filled with vibrant colors and quiet moments and the noisy symphony of children to bring them joy and chaos for the rest of their lives.
***
Their wedding was celebrated on a gorgeous autumn day. Harrison had the traditional, romantic ceremony he'd always envisioned. The candlelit church had been fragrant with the spicy scent of harvest. And Kendall experienced the reception she'd always dreamed of . . . a big family gathering in Jake's backyard. No longer the outsider looking in, she was the guest of honor at her very own 'picnic in the park', surrounded by an extended loving family. Harry's relatives blended seamlessly with her motley construction family. Laughter and animated conversations filled the air, mingling with the bluegrass band and the tantalizing scent of barbecue.
She finally belonged.
"Thanks for the great party, Traynor." Ken smiled up at her handsome husband as he tugged her even closer on the dance floor. A moment earlier they'd been stunned speechless when Woody twirled by, dragging Deborah Lawrence by the hand, her flawless cheeks flushed pink with exertion.
"You're very welcome, Mrs. Traynor," he emphasized. "Thanks for marrying me."
"I'm a Traynor now, aren't I?" Burrowing closer to his chest, Kendall released a sigh of perfect happiness. A magical harvest moon hung low in the sky over their heads, the air sharp with the scent of fall. Winter eased closer, waiting around the corner. "Mona and Linc look pretty cozy over there." She nodded to the pair, heads together as they chatted over champagne.
"What– you're a matchmaker now?"
The sudden chorus of tinkling glasses interrupted their conversation. Harrison's answering kiss made her head spin. Once she managed to catch her breath, she found her voice again. "Pretty cool about Jake and Jen."
"He doesn't seem panicked by the thought of twins." Gazing into her eyes, Harrison's smile was conspiratorial. "You know, if we put in some overtime this winter . . . we could maybe catch up with them."
Ken raised a brow, her mouth curving with the irresistible urge to have the last word over her handsom
e husband. "You know what a dedicated worker I am, Harry. Why wait until winter?"
Dedication
To my beautiful daughters who have taught me the true meaning
of the words unconditional love. And to Dan,
best friends for thirty-three years . . . and counting.
Please enjoy the following excerpt from Jefferson Traynor's story, CHASING MARISOL.
Love Under Construction . . .
Construction executive Jefferson Traynor has zero problems attracting women. Until now. It's a serious blow to his ego that the sexy, beautiful Marisol is immune to his superpower charms.
Marisol Ortega is on a mission to build the safest shelter she can negotiate on her shoestring budget. If that means playing along with the gorgeous, cocky stud building it– then game on. A single mom to foster son Hector, Mari can't afford distraction from the crazy hot man pursuing her.
Chasing Marisol was supposed to be a fun, no-strings interlude while building a safe shelter for strong women he has grown to admire. Falling for Mari and Hector wasn't in the blueprint. But can Marisol ever move past old fears to risk building a new life with him?
CHASING MARISOL
Available February, 2016
Chapter 1
She had a run in her pantyhose– left leg, inside the ankle. Not usually one to notice such a small detail, Jefferson Traynor momentarily forgot the phone in his hand– fascinated by the shapely limbs transporting his next girlfriend quite ably across the hotel parking lot.
"Earth to Jeff– you still there?"
"I'm here. Wasting time at Dad's charity thing." His slow assessment had yet to reach her face, and in a way, Jeff was reluctant to continue. The rest of her couldn't possibly hold his attention so readily. "Jake, when I said I wanted more responsibility– I meant at work. Can't you stick this charitable stuff with Jenna?"
His brother launched into the many reasons why his presence at a charitable board meeting was important to Specialty Construction. With a sigh, Jeff resumed his perusal of the lithe body heading toward him, praying her destination would coincide with his.
Wow. He'd been wrong. If possible, the face was more stunning than the body. A Latin supermodel. . . right here in Arlington. Jeff's pulse ricocheted as she drew closer. His presence at the board meeting might be delayed a few minutes while he scored her number.
"So, Dad dumps the homeless shelter gig on you and now you're sticking me with it." The spark of interest he'd experienced as she approached morphed to inferno level awareness. When their eyes finally met over the wobbly stack of files she struggled with, he drew a breath of dismay.
Her eyes were wide-set and shimmering blue. Had they been welcoming, they would have reminded him of the clear turquoise of a tropical sea. Instead, her challenging, don't-even-think-about-messing-with-me stare told him what she thought of his perusal. When she turned haughtily toward the hotel entrance, he was left to admire long, chocolate curls that bobbed with every step.
Damn– he should be offering to grab the door for her instead of wasting time arguing with his brother. "Jake– are you gonna pull this four-kids-excuse forever? Because it's getting a little old." Pocketing the keys to his bike, he hustled after the supermodel. Jeff managed to reach the door as she jockeyed her briefcase with the precariously sliding stack of folders.
"We'll argue later. I'm late for this stupid charity thing." In one motion, Jeff stuffed his phone into his pocket and reached for the door handle. Offering her one of his patented Traynor smiles, he winked. History being what it was, Legs would be unable to resist for long. "You look as though you could use some assistance. Allow me to get the door, Miss-"
Ignoring his blatant end run, she responded with a smile, but it was the kind meant to freeze out– not invite in. And it most definitely didn't reach her eyes. "Thank you."
Okay– maybe a little too obvious. Truth was– most women approached him, not the other way around. But her voice held promise– husky, melodic and a touch of an accent. Definitely worth another try. Not the least deterred, he fell into step beside her.
"Can I carry something? I'm on my way to a meeting but I always have time to assist a beautiful woman." Eventually they all caved. The Traynor charm was damn near irresistible.
"Only the beautiful ones merit assistance? What a shame." She eyed him with amusement. "Many women need assistance." She turned for the bank of elevators. "Thankfully, I'm not one of them."
***
"What is wrong with you?" Marisol Ortega muttered as she rode the elevator to the third floor. Her arms were moments from snapping under the weight of her briefcase and the load of presentation materials she carried. An absolutely stunning man offers assistance and what does she do? Accept gracefully? No– that would be too easy.
Absolutely stunning and completely full of himself, she amended, entering the carpeted hallway. Remembering his expression, she smiled. Gorgeous, hazel eyes had registered something akin to shock. Perhaps it had been worth it after all. Motorcycle Stud wasn't familiar with being rejected– for anything. Despite his disarming smile and the drool-worthy build his expensive suit couldn't hide– everything about him screamed 'player'. Mari had too much experience with that type to ever be tempted again.
Sexy and conceited were only attractive for a short while. Inevitably, the inherent shallowness left her bored. Her next relationship would be with a plain, earnest man. Maybe even a bit dull, Mari decided. No– not dull. She needed someone to laugh with. So– plain, earnest and funny. And gainfully employed, she added– after a brief flashback to Nick. Employed would be a major plus.
A little bitter, Mari? Because that definitely sounded like sour grapes. And what did it matter anyway? She had enough problems to manage without adding a high maintenance man to her list. Besides– she had Hector to think of now.
Annoyed with herself, she shook off the ambivalent mood. It would not serve her well to head into this board meeting with an attitude. She needed cooperation– and lots of money. Otherwise, the shelter would suffer for her bad temper. The wealthy patrons who showed up for these meetings expected to feel noble about the money they parted with. With the exception of a few hardworking board members who truly embraced the mission– most wanted to hear a sad story, learn how their specific donation would make the difference, then write their check and leave.
Setting the stack of PR materials on the table inside the room, she massaged her aching arms. Her practiced eye noted the fine china coffee service, the tray of expensive pastries that would barely be touched by the toothpick-thin wives of the wealthy executives she was courting. Yet, if the trappings weren't there, her shelter would appear less worthy– less photogenic to the corporations she solicited. She continually walked a fine line between wasting valuable donations on the elaborate trappings required to gain more donors and appearing too lowbrow to merit their attention.
Hearing the rustle of footsteps behind her, Mari shelved her thoughts. Pasting on a smile, she turned to face her arriving guests. "Good
morning-"
"So, we meet again."
Her smile faltered as she met the discerning gaze of the sexy fratboy from the lobby. What were the odds? "What a pleasant surprise," she lied. "I'm Marisol Ortega from the New Beginnings Shelter. And you?"
"Jeff Traynor, from Specialty Construction. Nice to meet you."
Her hand was engulfed in his. She noticed he took his time before releasing it. It was a nice hand, she admitted reluctantly. Sturdy. Capable. "You're related to Linc and Mona? They're wonderful people." Who couldn't possibly have spawned such a self-indulgent charmer. Perhaps her original impression had been wrong.
"My parents– and they are pretty great. They speak very highly of the shelter. On behalf of Specialty, I look forward to helping in any way we can."
Mari couldn't help her smile. "You realize our shelter is the very one you referred to in the parking lot as 'being stuck with the homeless shelter gig'?"
His expression chagrin
ed, he raised his hands. "Guilty as charged. But try not to let my initial impression sway you."
"You've suddenly realized a previously undiscovered interest in the homeless?" His warm, green eyes sparked with what she could only term mischief. How could a man his age have the capacity to appear as though he'd been caught with his hand in a cookie jar? "Perhaps you had an epiphany in the elevator?"
"Go figure." A slow grin flashed. "Seriously, the shelter means a great deal to my parents. Therefore it means a great deal to me."
"Where is Mr. Traynor? He's well, I hope?"
"Dad's out of town this week, so he asked me to sit in for him. Something about an addition you're planning?"
"Yes, we've been working together for months on the final plans." She chewed her lip at the realization there would be yet another delay. With Linc out of town, she would make little progress. "I'd hoped to spend a few minutes with him after this meeting to finalize the outstanding issues we still had-"
"I'll be happy to review the plans with you," he interrupted.
Jeff's smile revealed perfectly even white teeth and a dimple in one cheek. It truly was unfair that one man could be blessed with such amazing features. She hesitated– knowing the flare of interest in his eyes was more of a personal nature than a sudden fascination with the city's homeless population. "Perhaps I should wait for Linc-"
"I insist," he interrupted. "He'll be ticked if he thinks I'm the reason your project is delayed. He assured me I should do whatever you asked."
Thankfully, a sudden cluster of new arrivals crowded the doorway. The tall, likeable man standing before her was a little too charming. Nodding to Jeff, she drifted to the door. "Very well. I look forward to working with you."
***
Nodding as introductions were made, Jeff tried to contain his smile. A private meeting with a gorgeous woman– a project that would keep them in close contact. He owed the old man big-time. He couldn't have planned the situation better himself. Marisol. An unusual name for a beautiful woman. She'd be charmed. Grateful for his assistance. By the time the project was ready to break ground– she'd be his for the taking.
Falling For Ken (Blueprint to Love Book 2) Page 25