The One You Want (Original Heartbreakers) Read online

  “Hell, no. Just that I’m feeling a tad overdressed is all.”

  “Well, I’m sorry about that,” she said, and truly, she meant it. “I don’t usually go out with guys, or anyone, and didn’t have the time to shop.” Or the resources. So I had to make do with what I had.” I’m babbling. Stop. “If you’d rather not go with me, I will completely understand and won’t hate you for more than a day. Maybe two.”

  He waved her words away. “Don’t worry about it. You look wonderful and comfortable. I’m jealous. We’ll stop by my place, and I’ll change. It’s on the way.”

  “But the others...they’ll be dressed like you.” I’m fighting his suggestion? Idiot!

  He grinned. “Ask me if I care.”

  Okay, she seriously liked this guy.

  But still there were no sparks.

  At the Strawberry Inn—where he was staying as he looked for a house—she waited in the car. The surrounding streets and shops were crowded, and several people watched unabashedly. She wondered what they were thinking, and what the gossip vines would say tomorrow.

  Lock your men inside. Kenna Starr is on the prowl.

  A guy like Lincoln West wants a woman like Kenna Starr for only one thing.

  She held her head high, pretending not to notice the attention. I’m bold. I’m freaking badass.

  West returned, wearing a T-shirt that read “Never Judge a Book by its Movie” and a pair of jeans as faded as hers, and she burst out laughing.

  He gave a lock of her hair a tug. “Red, you are one beautiful woman, you know that?”

  She sobered instantly, slowly shrinking back in her seat. Too soon! Too soon! “Thank you.”

  He surprised her with a smile full of genuine amusement. “You know I’m only interested in being friends with you, right?”

  No, but that was kind of a relief to hear. “Having you as a friend sounds nice.”

  “Good. Together we can ensure Dane has a very shitty night.”

  How bad was it that her belly quivered at the mere mention of her soon-to-be stepbrother’s name? “Why would we want to do that?”

  West eased his sweet little sports car onto the road. “I’ve known him a long time. I admire him. Hell, I might even love him. He helped me when—well, he helped me, and I owe him. He never lies, never plays games. He always says what he means and means what he says. And he has made it clear you’re off-limits.”

  Wait. What? “You must have misunderstood him.” She was nothing to Dane. Probably less than nothing now.

  Laughter met her pronouncement. “Yeah. Keep telling yourself that. It’s only going to make the evening more entertaining—for me.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DANE HAD BEEN called a lot of names in his life. Asshole, bastard, jerk, Ice Man. Most recently, asshat. Thanks, West. But he’d never felt they were accurate...until Kenna.

  He’d nearly hired a PI to dig into her past—asshole. I’d beat anyone who dug into my past.

  He’d judged her for a past he knew very little about—bastard. But I can guess she had a crappy childhood, same as me.

  He’d judged her for sins he wasn’t even sure she’d committed—jerk. How many times have I had dinner with a female business associate and later found internet posts about our supposed affair?

  He’d let her walk away without offering another apology—Ice Man.

  Someone should take him into pasture and shoot him.

  He kept remembering the way she’d teased him before he’d insulted the very fabric of her character. The heartbreak of her quiet dignity. The resolve of her inner strength.

  Just how deeply had he hurt her? His chest ached at all the possible answers. He kept remembering her dedication to her friends, how she’d stayed till the bitter end of the party to help the servers clean up.

  He might not know every detail of her past, but he liked who she was now.

  Have to make things right. It was the only reason he’d accepted his father’s invitation to dinner.

  Dane led his date into his childhood home. His father and Roanne were waiting in the sitting room, where the engagement party had been held. Thomas had an arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close, as if she were a precious treasure.

  Opinions were subjective.

  Dane fought a wave of disappointment when he realized Kenna hadn’t yet arrived.

  “Well, well,” Thomas said. “Look who decided to put his big-boy panties on and face his dear old dad.”

  “There’s one problem with that statement,” Dane replied easily. “You aren’t dear to me.”

  Thomas pursed his lips when Dane sat on the couch rather than closing the distance and extending a hand to shake. “You’re still blaming me for your unhappiness, I see.”

  “If only that were all I blamed you for.” Dane used to idolize his father. Thomas had been the one to comfort him after Daniel’s death. But since the revelation of The Affair, Dane could barely stand the sight of him.

  Blustering, his father snapped, “One day you’ll fall in love. You won’t be able to help yourself. You’ll sell your soul to be with her.”

  Dane glanced at Roanne. She stared down at her feet. “You speak as if I actually have a soul. As if mine weren’t ripped from me by lies and betrayal.”

  They lapsed into silence, minute after minute ticking by, no one daring to speak. Roanne puttered around the sitting room, fiddling with the trays of hors d’oeuvres, smoothing the fabric of her formfitting white dress. Dane’s date, Courtney, sat beside him on the couch, sipping wine. Thomas finally claimed the chair in front of the hearth and glared at everyone.

  Then the doorbell rang.

  Dane stood, every muscle in his body suddenly tense.

  The housekeeper answered the door, and a few seconds later, Kenna was stepping into the sitting room. Breathing became a thing of the past. Her hair hung over her shoulders like streams of fire. Her cheeks were pale, her freckles stark. She wore a comfortable top and jeans—and he responded as if she were naked, desperate to get to her. To have her. Why? It made no sense. He wasn’t some virginal kid with a fistful of twenties standing inside a whorehouse.

  But...damn. She was natural and beautiful and real.

  And she was a mother. He avoided mothers, he reminded himself. Always. He wanted nothing to do with children. Not raising them, nurturing them or possibly ruining their lives.

  “This isn’t awkward at all,” West said with a grin. “Not a bit of tension in this room.”

  Surprise and irritation filled Dane. Kenna had chosen to come with West. And West had agreed—after being warned away.

  Dane gave his friend a stiff nod of greeting. The fact that the guy was dressed as casually as Kenna suggested they were comfortable enough with each other to converse about their clothes and actually coordinate.

  They better not be comfortable enough.

  While Kenna had stopped in the doorway, West kept coming forward, extending his hand to Dane. They shook, each squeezing hard enough to cause bone to pop.

  West never lost his grin as he leaned in and whispered, “Don’t worry. I know she’s your sister. I’ll treat her right. In bed and out. I’m willing to listen to any objections you may have, though. No? Nothing? Okay, then.” He patted Dane on the shoulder and maneuvered around him to say hello to the others.

  A curse rose from deep in his chest and exploded before he could stop it. West laughed without turning around.

  “One day,” Dane snarled, “I’m going to put your nuts in a grinder and make a testicle salad sandwich.”

  West just laughed harder.

  “Dane.” His father stared at him as if an alien baby had just clawed its way out of his stomach. “That’s no way to speak to a guest.”

  “I’ve been known to say wor
se,” Kenna said.

  Sticking up for him?

  She approached him before he could respond, her fake smile in place. “It’s nice to see you again, Dane.”

  He hated that smile, wanted the real one. He also hated how formal and distant she was with him. No one to blame but myself. “Nice isn’t the adjective I expected you to use.” He smoothed his expression, took her hand—warm, soft, delicate—and kissed her knuckles. He wanted to lick them when he caught the scent of strawberries. Not an odd thing in this town, and not something that would normally arouse him, but it was stronger on her, sweeter, and his mouth watered for a taste.

  Control. He forced himself to release her.

  She took two steps back.

  “I owe you another apology,” he said quietly. Whatever her past, he was no one’s judge and didn’t want to be. “I had no right to attack your character.”

  A few moments passed while she seemed to grapple with acceptance of his words. When she decided he’d meant what he said, the stiffness drained from her shoulders. “Just so you know, I don’t sleep with married men.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Then you’re forgiven.”

  That easily? “Someone’s got to teach you how to hold on to a good grudge, honey.” He grinned.

  What the hell. Me? Teasing?

  Her eyes twinkled up at him, the glow at last returning to her cheeks. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

  Yes, but he seemed to make more than most. One of his had cost his brother his life. His hand inched upward, toward his cheek, to the scars countless surgeries had made more aesthetically pleasing.

  When he realized what he was doing, he scowled. “We’re going to be family,” he said. “I’d like us to be friends.”

  “Friends?” The word was little more than a whisper.

  “Yes.”

  “Friends spend time together.” Her gaze slid over him the way his had slid over her when they’d stood inside the library, and he noticed the way her pulse jumped in her neck. How a tremor moved through her, rocking her on her feet.

  Was she...attracted to him?

  His body responded to the idea, hardening.

  “I—” Whatever she’d intended to say, she changed her mind. “Sure.” She nodded. “That’d be nice.”

  “Nice,” he parroted, and suddenly friendship sounded anything but.

  Roanne and Courtney appeared arm in arm at his side.

  “What are you wearing?” Roanne demanded of Kenna, who went pale again.

  Both females were in designer dresses with heels so tall he was surprised they weren’t mistaken for stilts.

  Courtney went on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and he jolted away, avoiding contact. She stiffened, and he knew he’d embarrassed her, but he’d already explained to her, to every woman he’d ever dated, that his face was off-limits, even in bed.

  “Could you embarrass me more?” Roanne said on a sigh, still focused on her daughter.

  Kenna flinched before squaring her shoulders. “Yes, I could,” she said. “Would you like me to show you how?”

  Dane hid a grin. “I think she’s perfect just the way she is.”

  She gazed at him with surprised gratefulness. “Really? I mean, thank you. Friend.”

  He gritted his teeth.

  “I agree. I think you look lovely,” Courtney said, kind as usual. “But perhaps you’d like to borrow my wrap?” She offered the last for Roanne’s benefit, revealing an aspect of her character he did not like. She was someone who would never pick a side or fight for what she believed in.

  He’d be ending things tonight.

  “Thank you, but no.” Kenna raised her chin. “I’m perfect.”

  The action...he’d seen it before, when they were in the library together...a habit, he realized. When she was being judged—and had to steel herself against hurt? Just how often had it happened in her short life?

  An-n-nd, his chest started aching all over again.

  “I agree about the perfect thing.” West appeared at Kenna’s side and wrapped his arm around her waist.

  Dane pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth to stop himself from speaking. No telling what he’d say.

  “But—” Roanne began.

  “Leave the girl alone, Roanne. She’s as pretty as a picture,” Thomas said, astonishing Dane. His father moved to the entrance of the dining room. “The food is ready, and I’m a starving man. Come on, now, everyone.”

  The others joined him, while Dane hung back. Kenna was the only one to notice. She offered him a nod of encouragement.

  The last time he’d sat at that dining table, Daniel had been alive and his parents had been in love. He’d been part of a happy family.

  As the door to the past opened, memories swamped him.

  Don’t go there.

  Too late.

  I want to skate on the pond, Dane.

  It’s dangerous. The ice could crack.

  It won’t. Please!

  With that heartfelt plea, Dane had caved.

  Now he rubbed his cheek; he could have sworn he felt the jagged edge of ice digging in, digging deep, as he’d tried to pull his brother from the frigid water after the ice had, in fact, cracked. Could have sworn that, despite multiple surgeries to smooth the skin, it was still raised.

  “Dane?” Kenna’s voice drew him out of his head, and the dark mire of his thoughts. “Deciding whether or not to make a run for the door?” She stopped a few feet away from him and smiled, her real smile, and his breath snagged in his throat. So damn beautiful. “Gotta say, you look like you’d rather drop an H-bomb into the dining room than enter it.”

  “For once, looks are not deceiving. But I wonder why you don’t you look that way. The way your mother speaks to you...” He didn’t like it.

  She shrugged. “She’s the only parent I have left.”

  “You forgive her?”

  “Every day, in every way.”

  “You forgive too easily, honey.”

  “You told me that already. But honestly, it’s not easy. It’s just something I have to do. For me. I don’t want to spend my days mad or bitter, and I refuse to let her opinion color mine. Besides, you should be grateful. You’ve had to apologize to me twice, practically begging for that easy forgiveness.”

  “Brat,” he muttered.

  Grinning, she said, “I was headed to the bathroom to wash my hands. At the risk of everyone assuming I lied and that I’m actually suffering from terrible digestive problems, would you like to walk through the gardens?”

  Time alone with her? “I’d like that very much,” he said and offered his hand.

  She hesitated only a moment before wrapping her fingers around his. Suddenly they were skin to skin. The heat of her thrilled him. The softness of her teased him. He wanted...

  More.

  Cursing himself, he led her through the house, avoiding the dining room. Once they were outside in the coolness of the evening and under the stars, she released him. But the memory of her touch continued to haunt him. He craved her softness and heat, fought the urge to grab her hand and hold on for dear life.

  Came here with Courtney. Kenna came with West. She did the right thing.

  But even still, the desire for contact never lessened.

  They slowly moved through the maze of roses, gardenias and clinging vines, the moon high and golden. A lover’s moon. Just bright enough to light the way, and just dark enough to hide his yearning to steal a kiss.

  The tension in him intensified—and pooled in one place.

  “Courtney seems nice,” she said.

  “I don’t want to talk about her.”

  “The other girl—”

  “Her either.”

 
“How many girlfriends do you have?” she asked.

  “None.”

  “None? Wow,” she said.

  “Wow?”

  She laughed, the sound of it as magical as her smile, enchanting him. “Are you my official echo? Yes, wow. You seem to have an unending supply of nondates. But how about I do you a solid and focus on something besides your revolving bedroom door? Like West. He is—”

  A flash of jealousy caused him to speak over her. “I don’t want to discuss him either.”

  “Oookay. You are severely limiting my options for conversation topics.”

  “I’ll give it a try, then. How’d you spend your day?” Thinking about me? The way I thought about you?

  “I don’t want to say.”

  Curiosity crashed through him like a lightning bolt. “Now you have to tell me.”

  “Or?”

  “Oh, honey. I’m a man without mercy. I’m willing to tickle you until you pee your pants, letting everyone think it isn’t just your digestive system acting up.”

  She snorted, and even that was charming. “Good luck with that. I’m not ticklish.”

  “Sure you are.”

  “I’m not. Really.”

  “You are, you just don’t know it. Trust me. No one has found the right spot on your body, that’s all. But I can. It’s a gift.”

  Silence.

  Such wicked silence.

  The huskiness of his tone and the suggestiveness of his words echoed in his mind. He was flirting. He never flirted. Nor was he ever playful. Nor had he ever tickled a woman, or even wanted to.

  Until now. Until her. The woman he couldn’t have and shouldn’t want. Kenna wasn’t one of his in-and-out relationships, even if she would be agreeable to such an arrangement.

  Would she?

  “I was planning a sort-of bucket list,” she said, easing back into the conversation.

  “Sort-of bucket list?”

  “A...fun list. Things my friend and I want to do before we dry up like old prunes.”

  Dry up? Oh, sweetheart. I’ll make you so wet you’ll—

  Nothing.

  He fought the curl of desire low in his belly. “A...sexual list?” he asked, treading carefully.