The One You Want (Original Heartbreakers) Page 3
“Dane.”
“You were a kid,” she continued. “You were reacting to the horror of the situation.”
“You didn’t react to the situation.”
Her next smile was slower to come but no less bright. “That just means I’ve always been more intelligent than you.”
Smart mouth.
Gorgeous mouth. How did it taste?
Stop. Stop!
What kind of rare creature continuously teased the big, bad ruler of the Michaelson fortune? A golden unicorn at the end of a rainbow? It was new to him. But...he liked it, he realized.
Was this how she’d stolen the hearts of all her lovers?
He stiffened, hating the thought. Earlier, he’d convinced himself that West was right...that Kenna was just a sweet girl caught up in the falsity of rumor. He suspected, perhaps, that he hadn’t wanted to believe it, that he hadn’t wanted her to be just like her mother. But here she was, charming the uncharmable, stoking fires of a jealousy he’d never before experienced.
“Do you have a kid?” The question left him before he could stop it.
Her features shuttered, hiding all emotion. “Yes.”
Well, then. If one rumor was true...
“She’s six,” Kenna added. “But don’t strain yourself doing the math. I’ll just tell you. I got pregnant at sixteen and had her at seventeen.”
Something about her tone bothered him. He heard affection and love, sure, but also sorrow and pain. “Is the father—”
“Now, just hold on a sec, Mr. Michaelson.”
“Dane.” Her insistence on calling him Mr. Michaelson frustrated him.
A lot of things are frustrating me tonight.
“I’m not discussing that part of my life with you.”
Fair enough. The fact that he’d even broached the topic stunned him. He, one of the most private people in existence, often refused to answer the simplest of questions about himself, and he always despised those who dared ask. And yet there he stood, grilling Kenna about the most intimate details of her life. As if he had a right to know.
He should walk away from her. He’d done what he’d set out to do. He’d apologized. But he was loath to leave things so strained between them. They would be seeing each other again, after all.
Yeah. That’s why. Not for any other reason. “I heard you say you’re a student. What are you studying?”
Leery, as if she expected him to laugh, she softly admitted, “Elementary education.”
Admirable. “When do you finish?”
“Two years. I hope.”
“Why the late start?”
“My daughter.”
Reminded of the child, he frowned. “The girl whose father you refuse to name.”
She pushed out a heavy sigh. “We’re not going to get very far like this, so I retract what I said about not discussing that part of my life. What is it you really want to know? If her dad was married to someone else when she was conceived, as rumor claims? If I’m a husband-stealing whore?”
A muscle clenched in his jaw. His gaze slid down her body, noting again how the dress hugged each of her delicious curves. She had gorgeous legs any man would kill to have wrapped around him with her hooker heels digging into his back.
“Are you?” he asked.
Her eyes narrowed, dark lashes fusing. While she had glowed with her amusement, she crackled savagely with her anger. What this girl felt, she really felt. Emotion affected her soul-deep.
“I was seventeen when I gave birth to Norrie. I was a kid myself. That’s all. But now I will never give you a chance to get to know who and what I have become.” Up went her chin. Back went her shoulders. She pasted that fake smile on her face, one that definitely didn’t glow. “Would my past make me any less of a person without feelings capable of being hurt now?”
Hate myself. “No,” he said. “You’re not a whore. I had no right...Kenna, I—”
“Don’t bother. You heard the gossip and judged me guilty. That tells me all I need to know about your character. Goodbye, Mr. Michaelson.” She walked out of the library, and she never once looked back.
CHAPTER THREE
THE NEXT DAY was business as usual for Kenna.
Though it was Saturday, she’d risen early in the morning to read the lectures that had been posted for her online courses, and to complete as many of the upcoming homework assignments as possible. Now she was spending the afternoon with her greatest source of joy, Norrie, before her evening would be dedicated to her job at Two Farms.
She pushed Dane Michaelson and his cruel accusations to the back of her mind...as well as the memory of his hard body pressed against her long-neglected one as he’d led her away from the party, the heat of him pulsing around her, driving her mad, the scent of him—testosterone and what could be referred to only as manflesh—thrilling every fiber of her being. She didn’t allow herself to worry about his bad opinion of her. Really. She didn’t. Or wouldn’t.
Starting now.
She and Norrie walked to Strawberry Park, where Brook Lynn, who worked at Rhinestone Cowgirl every morning, making jewelry, was to meet them. It was late spring, the air cool and fragrant, the small hills and meadows covered with wild strawberries, one of God’s finest creations. The plants were spread low across the ground, remaining in small clusters. The flowers had five white petals and yellow centers, the leaves divided into three rounded leaflets with toothed edges.
The wild berries were smaller than ordinary strawberries, bright red and amazingly delicious. She should have been tired of the fruit, as many as she’d eaten throughout her life, but no. She was pretty sure she’d one day die of an overdose.
“Aunt Brook Lynn!” Norrie squealed, running to throw herself into the blonde’s open arms, her hair a red stream waving behind her. “Did you bring me one of your special necklaces? Huh, huh, did you?”
“Hey, baby girl. I sure did.” She handed Norrie a small box. Brook Lynn and her over-the-top designs were responsible for turning the jewelry store into one of the town’s biggest tourist attractions. Not that Edna Mills paid her appropriately.
After the little girl had oohed and aahed over the sparkling strawberry pendant that glistened with all the colors of a rainbow, she said, “Guess what? I promised my momma I wouldn’t talk to strangers because they might want to touch my private places, and that would be bad. Oh, good! There’s Sara!” Norrie rushed to the swing set.
Kenna and Brook Lynn shared a smile. They’d both gotten used to Norrie’s inability to keep anything secret.
“Come on.” Kenna led Brook Lynn to a nearby bench. Along the way, her cell phone rang. She groaned when she spotted the familiar number. “It’s my mother. Probably calling to tell me everything I did wrong at the party.”
A look of yearning flashed over Brook Lynn’s face. The girl had lost both of her parents years ago and would have welcomed a little parental nit-picking.
She kissed her friend’s cheek before she stepped away and answered. “Hello, Mother Dearest.”
“You know I hate when you call me that,” Roanne said on a sigh.
“I could encourage Norrie to call you Granny. Like that better?”
Roanne humphed. “Listen, I want you to come to dinner tonight.”
“I can’t. I have to work.”
“But...won’t you cancel? For me?”
“I’m sorry, but no. I kinda like being paid.”
Roanne murmured under breath, her exasperation clear. “What about tomorrow night?”
Kenna’s one night off. She usually spent it with Norrie, cooking one of her daughter’s favorite meals. Always a toss-up between macaroni and cheese, grilled cheese sandwiches and cheese pizza. But deep down, Kenna was still a needy little girl, craving time with her own mother.
“Wonderful. Bring a date. Dane will be there with his. Kisses,” her mom added in a rush before Kenna could protest.
Click.
For several long moments, Kenna sat in a daze. Dinner...with Dane. And his date.
Date. Crap! Whom was she supposed to take? She had no prospects because she had no social life. Despite what everyone thought, her last relationship—her only real relationship—had happened two years ago with a guy who’d used to spend the summers here. Paul Bramland. Her age, cute. But she’d refused to spend an entire night with him or introduce him to Norrie, and while he’d dealt with those quirks without much protest, he hadn’t been able to deal with her refusal to be seen with him in public. She’d explained her reasons—gossip—but he hadn’t cared. He’d left town and never come back.
Guess I have that effect on men.
Though other guys asked her out, she always said no. She had so little to give, and besides, she knew she’d have to endure looks and whispers if ever she gave in. Why even bother?
“Everything okay?” Brook Lynn asked.
No. No, it wasn’t. But rather than dump all her problems on her friend, she said, “Do you ever just...I don’t know...cut loose? Seize the day? Have fun?”
“Um, did you forget who you were talking to? No. I never do those things.”
“Well, we’ve got to do something about that. We’re too young to be so...”
“Hermit-like?”
“Exactly!” She chewed on her bottom lip as she pondered ways to rectify the problem. Whatever they did, it would have to be discreet. Kenna’s reputation was bad enough. And totally undeserved! She waited on men for a living. They came to the restaurant where she worked, and she served them. If one of them happened to announce he was getting a divorce soon after, well then, some people just assumed Kenna was at fault. Like mother, like daughter.
Not that she’d ever explain the truth to Dane. The guy she wasn’t going to think about anymore.
“Maybe we could, I don’t know...try every flavor of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream,” she said. “Text I hid the body to a random number. Dress up like Cinderella and actually go out in public. Eat a real Krabby Patty. Get a tattoo.” Once she started, she couldn’t stop. “TP someone’s house. Solve a case with Sherlock and Watson. Discreetly ask out a boy. Oh, screw it. Boldly ask out a boy, ignoring gossip.”
Catching her excitement, Brook Lynn said, “We could throw a drink in someone’s face. Gulp blue Gatorade out of a Windex bottle. Skinny-dip. No, no, that’s too cliché. We could jump into a body of water with all our clothes on. Spy on someone. Speak with a fake accent for an entire day.”
“Yes, yes, yes!” She clapped. Then, testing out her fake accent said, “Wez should doz it. Allz of it.”
Brook Lynn nodded enthusiastically. “I’m in! It’z will be soz, well, funz.”
“If an opportunity arises and we’re not together, we have to try to get video proof so neither of us misses anything.”
“Deal.”
“Momma, Momma,” Norrie called, rushing over. Her cheeks were flushed a bright red, almost a perfect match to her hair. Like Roanne, her skin was unmarred by the freckles Kenna had inherited from her father. “Sara said there’s a baby growing in her mommy’s tummy, and when she asked how the baby got there, her mommy said her dad gave her a special seed. Is that true? Did my daddy give you a special seed?”
Oh, sweet hairy balls. Kill me. Kill me now. Norrie knew nothing about her father because Kenna knew nothing. Well, she knew a little. He’d been a few years older than her, a college student, and he had not been married. “Let’s go home and I’ll explain about this, uh, special seed.”
Brook Lynn chuckled behind her hand. “This is where I say goodbye.”
* * *
THE NEXT DAY was not business as usual for Kenna.
Yes, she did her schoolwork. Yes, she spent time with Norrie, and even took her to church. But rather than go to work afterward, she spent the time stressing and scouring her closet for an outfit to wear to the Dinner from Hell. And she didn’t know why she bothered. The contents hadn’t changed in years. Mostly threadbare T-shirts and jeans with holes.
“What do you think of this?” she asked Norrie, who sat on her bed. She held up the blazer she’d purchased at a thrift store to interview for her job at the restaurant. She’d had to rip the shoulder pads out—that’s how old the thing was—but it had obviously impressed Mr. Calbert, so...
Norrie giggled and shook her head no.
In the bedroom doorway, Jessie Kay said, “If it’s true a girl has to dress for the man she wants to catch, then you’re about to catch an eighties heartthrob. Congrats.”
Fine. She discarded the jacket and grabbed her favorites. A T-shirt that read “Free Contradictions Cost $1.00,” and a pair of denims that weren’t even good enough to be given away, and called it good.
“I love it. Total rebel,” Jessie Kay said. “Besides, it’s you. Fancy-shmancy isn’t.”
And that wasn’t a bad thing, she told herself. I’m comfortable, dang it. “Norrie, sweetheart, are you sure you don’t want to go with me?” Kenna asked.
“So sure. Aunt Jessie Kay and me are gonna watch TV.”
Brook Lynn was working at Two Farms that night, but like Kenna, Jessie Kay had the night off. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d let the wild girl watch Norrie on her own, but just like every time before, she was a bit nervous.
At least she had found a date. West, one of the men she’d met at the engagement party, had given her his phone number. Actually a lot of guys had, though none but West had seemed to care about getting to know her. The others had just wanted an in with the Michaelsons.
West didn’t live in town. Yet. If she was remembering correctly, he’d mentioned that he planned to move here and came into town every few days to look at property. He was in his late twenties, and was almost as gorgeous as Dane, with dark hair, sinful brown eyes and the cheekbones and jaw of a fallen angel.
She’d invited him to the family dinner, fulfilling the first item on the fun list. But his response had confused her.
“Does Dane know you called me?” he’d asked.
She’d told him no. Why would that matter?
Then he’d said, “This is probably going to get me killed, but better me than some poor shmuck who won’t realize he’s just stepped on a land mine. Sure. I’m in.”
She should have canceled. He clearly didn’t want to go with her.
“Let’s go veg out in front of the tube now, squirt, and avoid your mom’s incoming panic attack,” Jessie Kay said.
“I want to dessert out in front of the tube!” Norrie jumped up, and the two hurried away.
Panic attack was right. Kenna’s heart had kicked into an unsteady rhythm, making it clear there was only one thing that was certain tonight. She was going to make a fool of herself. She had no idea what to say to West, as his friends called him, or how to act with him.
She and Paul had hung out at his rented house on the rare evenings she’d been free. They’d watched TV, fooled around and gone their separate ways.
And that, right there, was the extent of her “dating” experience.
She certainly hadn’t been dating Norrie’s sperm donor.
Perfect description of him. At sixteen, she’d gone to her first and only rager and watched, completely awed, as the girls had gone crazy, drinking, flirting and dancing. Being an underdeveloped, never admired girl, she’d wanted so badly to be someone else. So she’d drunk more than she should have, hoping for liquid courage, and ended up in bed with random college guys.
Guys. Plural.
The next morning, she’d woken up with three complete strangers and only a foggy recollection of all t
he things they’d done, hating herself, hating them, sore and aching, having to walk through a living room filled with hungover teenage boys who’d leered at her before inviting her to attend the party in their pants, and teenage girls who’d whispered about her, refusing to look her in the eye, and basically making her feel like the lowest life-form on the planet.
#Screwed #NotInAGoodWay
No. No! Not starting that again.
The doorbell rang, drawing her out of her musings.
Crap! It was too late to call West and cancel.
Not going to let old mistakes dictate the future. I move forward. Always. She tugged on her sneakers and strode to the front door. She paused in the living room to kiss Norrie goodbye and give Jessie Kay a warning glare. Take care of her. She’s my life.
Jessie Kay rolled her eyes. “Go bang the hottie. We’ll be fine.”
“What does bang mean?” Norrie asked.
“It means to punch him,” Kenna said, and told herself it wasn’t actually a lie. “But that would be rude, so I’m not going to do it.”
“You’re so nice, Momma.”
“Thank you, baby. Now, don’t stay up too late, and don’t eat too much sugar. And don’t—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Jessie Kay threw a couch cushion at her. “You’re interrupting our SpongeBob marathon. Get lost.”
At the door, she didn’t stop to exchange pleasantries with West but exited and shut herself outside so that there was no reason for him to meet or speak with Norrie. She didn’t like that he’d had to pick her up, but she didn’t have a car. Allowances had had to be made.
West gave her a once-over, his lips twitching at the corners. “We’re going to the Michaelson mansion, yes?”
“Yes.” He wore a dark gray suit paired with a red tie, and he smelled nice. He also radiated heat. But where were the sparks? The same wild surge of attraction she’d felt whenever she’d looked at Dane?
Dane, who was not an option. Ever.
“Is that your subtle way of telling me I’m hobo chic?” she asked.