Second Time Around

by Nancy Herkness

  “It’s a hard habit to break,” Twain said, returning Will’s hug. “Good luck, son.”

  “I’m going to need it.”

  Chapter 22

  Kyra’s arms were buried up to the elbows in a giant bowl of chopped fruit when Isaiah peered around the doorjamb from the Carver Center’s hallway. “Oh, good, you alone,” he said.

  “You are alone,” she corrected, but Isaiah had vanished. “Yeah, I’m alone,” she muttered as she mixed the salad with her bare hands. A piece of loose hair fell over her forehead. Without thinking, she used her wrist to brush it back, smearing fruit juice over her forehead and in her hair. At least she didn’t have to look good later for bartending. “And who knows? It might even be good for my hair.”

  She smiled. In less than twenty-four hours, she’d gotten into the habit of conversing with Malcolm about whatever she was doing in the apartment. He was a very chatty cat, so he often responded with trills, chirrups, or an occasional ear-splitting yowl. She’d have to watch her impulse to continue her external monologues at the Carver Center since the kids might think she was going crazy.

  As she redistributed a clump of diced apple, she heard footsteps that sounded noticeably different from the kids or the staff. Each thud was sharper and heavier. Somehow she wasn’t surprised when Will appeared, framed in the kitchen doorway, looking like pure temptation in a tailored gray suit, his jewel-green eyes and golden hair glinting in the kitchen’s harsh light. Only he could look good under fluorescent bulbs.

  She squeezed her eyes shut to battle the longing that threatened to choke her.

  “Kyra, please hear me out.” His smooth, deep voice sent ripples of yearning through her as his footsteps came closer.

  She angled her head downward, so when she opened her eyes, she was staring at the multicolored fruit. “Will, I told you that I can’t be your friend.”

  “I don’t want to be your friend,” he said.

  That made her look up, bracing herself for the familiar perfection of his face. “Then why the hell are you here?”

  “I missed you.”

  She sucked in a breath as the simple words battered her self-control. “Yeah, well, life’s tough all around.” Her harshness was an attempt to stop the conversation in its tracks.

  “Please, Kyra . . .” Will stretched out his hand, palm up.

  She heard whispering outside the door and suddenly Isaiah, Jayden, and Zion poured in from the hallway, lining up in front of Will. Isaiah nodded and Jayden stepped forward as the other two began to beatbox. “Hey, Ms. Kyra, don’t be on his case,” Jayden chanted. “’Cause he’s our homie, Mr. Will Chase.”

  The other boys repeated, “He’s our homie, Mr. Will Chase.”

  “He know he done wrong so give him a break,” Jayden rapped. “Let him say sorry, he make a big mistake.”

  “He make a big mistake,” Isaiah and Zion said, busting out some moves as they got into the swing of things.

  Kyra glanced at Will’s face to see that his jaw was slack with amazement as he watched his young supporters.

  She pulled her arms out of the fruit and planted her hands on her hips, picking up the rhythm of Jayden’s words. “You tell Mr. Chase that he better make it good, ’cause I don’t want things to be misunderstood.”

  “To be misunderstood,” the chorus chanted.

  Will took up the challenge. “See, Ms. Kyra, I gave it lots of thought, especially the thing that happened on the yacht.”

  Kyra’s gaze flew to his face as heat flared through her. His eyes danced when the boys repeated, “That happened on the yacht.”

  She glared at him and shook her head, but she could feel his hands on her as though they were back on board the Royal Wave.

  “Okay, boys,” Will said, his voice commanding. “You’ve broken the ice for me and I appreciate that, but I need to talk with Ms. Kyra alone now.”

  “We hear you, Mr. Will,” Isaiah said, giving Will a fist bump. “You got this.” He led the trio out into the hallway.

  “Completely alone.” Will pivoted to swing the heavy door closed and shot the ancient, pitted bolt. He stood with his head down and his back to her for a few moments before he turned. “I didn’t know they were going to do that.”

  Kyra wiped her sticky, wet hands on her apron. “I figured that out.”

  “I told them you had good reason to be mad at me and I had to apologize. I guess they decided that I would need some help,” he said with a rueful grimace. He stood in front of her, his gaze roaming her face as though he were trying to memorize every detail.

  Kyra wiped her hands again because she didn’t know what else to do. “Could you just say what you came to say?”

  He walked forward until only the kitchen island separated them. The air seemed to vibrate with his presence.

  “Kyra, I didn’t trust myself to know what love should be. I questioned my own judgment because with you it was so different . . .” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “I was afraid of how you make me feel. It’s crazed and intense and unsettling. But it’s also brilliant and exhilarating and makes me want to do handsprings.” He spread his hands at his sides. “I kept calling it something other than love because it burns so hot. When you walked away I thought I would get past it, that the craving would fade without your presence to fan it, but”—his voice rasped as though it was hard to force the words out—“my life has no joy without you.”

  Too many emotions were crowding in her throat, making it hard to push speech past them. But she needed more. She swallowed hard. “What does that mean?”

  His knuckles went white as he gripped the edge of the stainless steel island. “It means I want you to spend every night with me, to make love to you, to wake up together every morning and have breakfast. I want to take you sailing and seduce you on a secret beach. I want to take you to parties . . . and to Paris. I want you to get to know Schuyler and my parents better.”

  Kyra held up her hand, trying to stem the rush of images his words were painting. Hope bubbled through her like champagne and she felt drunk on it, which wasn’t conducive to cautious, rational thought. “You know your mother doesn’t like me.”

  His smile had a strange edge on it. “Thanks to you, I’ve gotten past my need for parental approval, so I don’t care.” His smile turned warm. “But once she gets to know you, she’ll change her mind.”

  “You’re sweet,” Kyra said, “but I can’t picture it.”

  “I want to kiss you. Badly,” Will said, his voice gritty with restraint. “But I won’t do it without your permission.”

  She wanted that badly, too, but she forced herself to stay on her side of the island.

  “What is it?” he asked when she didn’t answer him.

  It was hard but she looked him right in the eye. “I believe that you don’t care what your mother thinks, but there are other people in your world. I’m so different from them.”

  His jaw went stiff with anger. “I live in the same world”—he emphasized the word irritably—“as you do. You mingle with CEOs and politicians and brain surgeons at Stratus.”

  “I don’t mingle. I serve them.”

  “You charm them, challenge them, make them feel attractive and witty, while you mix drinks for them. That’s not serving. Hell, I mix drinks for people who come to my office at Cronus.”

  “But I do it for money.”

  “So do I,” he said with a flash of a smile. “Just more money.”

  She gave a weak laugh at that.

  He flattened his palms on the island and leaned in. “The only person who believes you are less is you.”

  “Except your mother,” she said. Will didn’t acknowledge her lame attempt to avoid the real topic, and she had to consider the truth of his words. Neither Farr nor Schuyler had ever treated her as inferior in any way. Even Will’s father appeared to view her as just a date Will had brought to a party. At least, he didn’t look at her dress with scorn.

  She’d let Will’s backgrou
nd and one person’s disapproval intimidate her. “But you’re a billionaire,” she said.

  “Yes, I am. I can buy helicopters and yachts. So what?”

  “So I can’t even pay off my college loans.” She knew she sounded bitter.

  The anger came back into his face. “Because your mother, who should have helped you, instead saddled you with her problems. In fact, you are all the more impressive because you refused to walk away from the obligation. Many people would have.”

  Somewhere inside her, a weight seemed to slide away. Or maybe it had just shifted onto Will’s powerful shoulders, but she no longer felt crushed under it. She had considered herself a failure for so long that it made her giddy to see herself from Will’s perspective.

  “You always did have an answer to every argument,” she said.

  “Annoying, isn’t it?” he said, one corner of his mouth kicking up.

  “No, it’s wonderful.” She allowed herself a real smile. “When I see myself through your eyes, I look very different. I’m going to try to believe in that vision, because I want to be that person for you.”

  “You’re already everything for me. I love you,” he said, his voice rumbling low with emotion.

  Kyra thought her heart would explode right out of her chest. “Say it again.”

  He fixed those amazing eyes on her and drew out each word. “I. Love. You. Will you forgive me for not recognizing that truth sooner?”

  Kyra bolted past the island and hurled herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck without regard for the fruit crud she was smearing on his expensive suit. His body felt even better than she remembered it, warm and solid, permeated with Will’s delicious scent. He brought his mouth down on hers with a tenderness that surprised her, his eyes closing as their lips touched.

  “I was afraid I would never do this again,” he said when he pulled a fraction of an inch away. He angled his forehead against hers. “I’ve been such an idiot. I don’t deserve you.”

  “True,” Kyra said, tears welling up and streaking down her cheeks. “But for some reason, I can get past that.”

  “Now I need to hear you say it,” Will said, his fingers whispering through the hair on either side of her face. “So I can do what I should have done the first time.”

  She knew what he meant because his feelings were clear on his face. “‘Doubt that the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move his aides, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love’ you,” she said, borrowing the Bard’s eloquence.

  His smile was pure joy. “‘For where thou art, there is the world itself, and where thou art not, desolation.’ I love you. It’s so good to hear those words and feel how right they are.”

  She could barely breathe as happiness rioted through her. When he lowered his head and took her mouth in a kiss that held all his pent-up feelings, she felt light-headed and swayed into him.

  His arms tightened around her and he lifted his head. “Greg’s taking over as CEO and I’m phasing out of Cronus and Ceres to be a teacher. You gave me the courage to do that.”

  She laughed for no reason except that she couldn’t contain all the emotions ricocheting around inside her. “I found out that I can finish my college degree part-time. You inspired me.”

  Will smiled down at her. “We make each other better when we’re together.”

  “That seems like the best kind of love.” Kyra brushed back a stray strand of his shining hair. “Oh, I hope you’re not allergic to cats.”

  “Not that I know of.” He raised his eyebrows in a question.

  “I was lonely after we split up, so I adopted Malcolm.”

  “You replaced me with a cat.” Will’s eyes were alight with laughter.

  “Yep, I have another blond guy in my life.”

  He pulled her close again, stroking her hair down her back. “I can’t believe my good luck in meeting you at Ceres that day.”

  “Do you believe in fate?” she asked, resting her cheek against the steady beat of his heart. “I never did.”

  “I believe you make your own fate,” he said. “You choose who and what to love and that shapes your character and your life. But maybe I started Ceres so that you would walk back into my life.”

  “That’s a heck of a lot of work when you could have just done a search on Facebook.”

  “And this is why I love you,” Will said.

  “Because I’m a smart aleck?” But his words burrowed deep inside her, spreading sparkles wherever they touched.

  “Because you’re smart.”

  He ran one arm around her shoulders and one around her waist to bring her against him. “As much as I enjoy talking, there’s a more concrete way to show you how I feel.”

  He angled his head so that their lips met perfectly, the kiss beginning as a slow exploration but quickly turning into a scorching demand. Desire slid through Kyra like a draft of fine vintage brandy, pooling low in her belly with sensual warmth. Will’s hands moved over her back, rubbing the fabric of her T-shirt against her skin, sending flutters of sensation dancing along her nerve endings.

  He seized her bottom and lifted her onto the kitchen counter, standing between her thighs, his erection pressed against her sensitive center. Skimming his lips down her neck, he licked at the skin where it joined her shoulder, making her shiver with pleasure.

  When he brought his hands up to cup her breasts, she leaned away from him. “I’m afraid your posse is lingering outside the kitchen door, so we can’t go any further.”

  Will groaned in agreement. “You made me forget where I was.” He flicked her aching nipples once with his thumbs, making her gasp and arch. Then he pressed his palms flat on the counter on either side of her thighs. “If I don’t stop now, I won’t be able to.”

  She could hear the raggedness in both of their breathing. “Those boys are not stupid. They’re going to have a good idea of what we’ve been doing.”

  “Ah, but my conscience is clear because we stopped short.” Will put his hands around her waist and lifted her down from the counter. “Tonight, however, there will be no stopping until—”

  Kyra put her hand over his mouth. “If you say any more, I’ll drag you into the pantry and sully your conscience in a big way.”

  She grinned as Will’s hands curled into fists of frustrated lust. When he nodded, she dropped her hand and went to the door to unbolt it and swing it open.

  Sure enough, the three boys were perched on the bottom steps of the staircase, their heads swiveled in her direction.

  “Did you and Mr. Will get right?” Isaiah asked.

  Will appeared beside her and slipped his arm around her waist. “We got right,” he said, smiling down into her eyes. “Very, very right.”

  And then he bent his head and kissed her, right in front of their audience. She heard snickers and a snort of disgust, but she didn’t care. Because the man she’d thought she could never have was kissing her as though he would never stop.

  Epilogue

  Six months later

  Kyra stood at the front of the gathering of spectators on the sidewalk outside the first Ceres for Canines and Cats. A ribbon in Ceres’s trademark deep green was stretched across the storefront, twisting slightly in the October afternoon breeze. The store’s facade featured several heights of drinking fountains for dogs, as well as poop bag dispensers and fake fire hydrants set in beds of bark mulch. The store designers had taken their job seriously.

  But what made her grin was the assemblage of Carver Center kids with their K-9 Angelz. Will and Greg had made the product launch publicity all about the original inspiration for the new, fresh pet cuisine.

  Shaq, his collar decorated with a green bow to match the ribbon, was front and center with Felicia, whose arm had healed successfully, thanks to Ben Cavill’s medical expertise and connections. Even Davina Gibson had joined them and stood off to the side, her eyes on her daughter while pride glowed on her face. She had written a letter of apology to Emily. Of course, Emi
ly had accepted it and welcomed Felicia back to the center. But they’d learned some valuable lessons from the experience.

  Diego hovered over another half-dozen kids and dogs who were being wrangled into place by the Cronus marketing team, petting the dogs even as they directed them.

  Kyra smiled to herself. Malcolm would have loved to be a part of this, but today was about the K-9 Angelz program. In fact, Will had tried to get her into the photo op, arguing that she was the original inventor of 3Cs, as the marketing people had already nicknamed the food for the customers’ convenience. But she would have felt ridiculous taking credit for the simple recipe she’d put together, so Will had settled for making sure she was at the front of the audience.

  He stood in the background, talking with Greg as they watched the kids and dogs. He’d gone low-key, too, wearing a white button-down shirt with khakis. He was even letting his hair grow a little longer, although far from ponytail length. As he brushed back a stray lock behind his ear, Kyra decided she needed to persuade him to grow it even longer so she could twine her fingers into the golden silk of it.

  Her breathing hitched as she pictured it curtaining the sides of his face while he moved over and inside her.

  Her X-rated reverie was interrupted when a television van drove up, discharging a reporter and cameraman from a local New York station. That was the cue for the ribbon-cutting ceremony to begin.

  Will and Greg strode forward together, but when the crowd quieted, Will spoke first. “I’d like to introduce Greg Ebersole, the cofounder of Ceres,” Will said. “He will be taking Ceres and all of Cronus Holdings into the future as the new CEO. There is no one with a greater passion or vision for the company we’ve built together. With Greg at the helm, the sky’s the limit.”

  Applause rippled through the audience, and the reporter’s face went from bored to intent at this new angle on what had seemed a routine story.

  “Thanks, Will,” Greg said, his voice gruff. “Before we started working together, I’d never seen a preppy sweat, but you impressed me because you weren’t afraid to get your khakis and polo shirts dirty.”