The One You Want Page 6

  "Kens?" Dane glared at Kenna with accusation. "He's helping you with your list?"

  "Yep," West replied, even though he had no idea what they were talking about. "She's gonna keep me distracted from the fact that you bought the Anderson ranch right out from under me. Had the deed signed over before I could make a bid."

  The Anderson ranch on the edge of town. Kenna had personally hoped the place would burn to the ground. It was the scene of the crime, where she'd lost her virginity and conceived Norrie.

  "A lot of thought went into its purchase," Dane grumbled.

  "Oh, really?" West said. "In just a few days?"

  "I wanted it and decided to take it. You had the chance, but hesitated."

  Grinning, West slapped him on the shoulder. "Exactly the situation you're finding yourself in now, my friend. Wouldn't you say?"

  Dane pulled at his tie, clearly uncomfortable. "Yes, well, I also made sure you had another option. The Glass house. It's bigger." His attention returned to Kenna, as if he were trying to tell her something. "I liked the pool at the Anderson ranch better."

  "Good for you." The Glass house was--had been--owned by the parents of Harlow Glass. A girl Kenna's age, though the two of them had never run in the same crowds. Harlow had put the "snob" in "snobby" until she'd abruptly dropped out of public life to be homeschooled. Harlow was spotted every now and then, but she always kept her head down and never stopped to chat with anyone.

  Where was she living?

  "You can use it," he finished. "The pool."

  "No thanks," she said, and gave him another fake smile. "I'll use West's."

  Brook Lynn approached her side. "Is everything all right, mates? You need me help with anything?"

  "Dane needs help," West said. "A lot of help."

  Brook Lynn looked at him and frowned. "Wasn't talking to you, now was I?"

  He showed no sign of offense. "Okay, now I have to know. What's with the bad accents? You guys in some sort of reality show?"

  "Yes," she replied. "We're calling it The Nutcracker."

  He chuckled. "Wow. You country girls are a tough crowd."

  "Kenna," Dane said, his tone firm.

  "I'm fine," she told Brook Lynn, ignoring him. Then she walked away, leaving the boys to their conversation. The bowls of beef stroganoff she'd ordered for Dane and his date were ready. She carried the food to their table even though Dane remained at the bar.

  "Hey," Blondie said, grabbing her wrist before she could walk away. "Do you know...is Dane seeing anyone else?"

  No reason to hide the truth. "Yes. A lot of someone elses."

  The girl's shoulders slumped with disappointment. "He told me he would never commit, but I didn't want to believe him."

  And that, right there, was another reason to stay away from him. He wreaked havoc on all women, even though he obviously wasn't offering them very much.

  Like I have room to talk. Kenna turned to go--and smacked into a hard wall of muscle. A wall named Dane. He radiated heat and testosterone, and she sucked in a breath as he took her hand and dragged her into her boss's office.

  Mr. Calbert saw, but rather than scowl, as he normally would have, he gave her a thumbs-up. Ugh. The Dane Michaelson effect was universal.

  The door slammed closed, sealing her inside with him. Alone. Heart hammering, she jerked from his grip.

  "Don't ever do that again," she said. "I need this job, and I need my tips. I can't afford to make my customers wait."

  "West is currently making sure I'm your only remaining table. And would you please stop using the accent? It's distracting."

  Accent thicker, she replied, "I'll stop when the bloody day is bloody over, I will." She tugged at the door, but it held steady. When she pivoted, she realized why. Dane had his big hand flattened on it, just over her head. She glared up at him. "Move."

  "Not until you listen to me."

  "There's nothing for you to say."

  "I think there is."

  "And you are always right?"

  "Yes. No. I don't know anymore!" He hit the door once, twice, making the wood vibrate against her back. "Rhonda is not my girlfriend, and you shouldn't be seeing West. He dates a new girl once a year. One girl, two months. No more. I don't know why. What I do know is that it never lasts past that point."

  "He and I are friends, that's all."

  Dane's eyes narrowed to tiny slits. "That's how it starts."

  Was he purposely trying to make her crazy? "How what starts?"

  "A sexual relationship with West."

  It should be illegal for him to say either of those words. Sexual from those gorgeous lips was more carnal than a caress. And relationship? Verbal. Orgasm.

  "Is that what happens with you and all your women?" she asked.

  He ran his tongue over his teeth. "No."

  "And yet you're so sure that's what will happen with West and me?"

  "Yes," he hissed.

  Heart hammering a thousand times faster, she asked, "And that bothers you...why?"

  "Did I say it bothers me?" The harshness of his tone echoed off the walls.

  Any other time, she might have flinched. But the fact that he'd just evaded her question spoke volumes. Would it bother him?

  Can't let myself care.

  It was obvious Dane was as messed up about romantic entanglements as she was. The difference was she didn't want to stay that way any longer. She wasn't fighting change. She was ready to get out there and finally live her life, meet someone, fall in love and settle down. Norrie deserved a happy family.

  Kenna released a long, heavy sigh. "I'm attracted to you, Dane." The accent made the words seem less than sincere, so she added, "I am. I don't want to be, but there you go. I'm attracted to you, and I can't make it stop. But I'm not interested in a one-night stand or even in being your long-term booty call, on rotation. I've learned the value of a good reputation, and I don't want to lose mine again. Because I'm not just responsible for myself anymore. I have my daughter. She means everything to me. Her own grandmother sometimes treats her like a nuisance, and some of the townspeople still haven't forgotten that her mother can't even name her father."

  Rambling. Right. Where was she going with this?

  She guessed she should address that shocked look on his face.

  "That's right," she said. "I don't know who he is."

  His body coiled as tightly as a rubber band about to snap in two. "Were you...assaulted?" he asked gently.

  "No. I was drunk." She braved ahead, cupping his cheeks to make sure he was in the moment and not inside his own head.

  He sucked in a breath, but gave no other reaction.

  "I like you," she said, "I really do, and I'd like to be your friend, just as you suggested. But if that prospect is too much for you now, well, I guess I'll understand. Either way, there will be no more grabbing me and hauling me off. No more staring at my lips or caressing my jaw, making me think you want to kiss me senseless."

  A tense round of silence before he gritted, "I...like you, too."

  Disappointment that he hadn't said it more quickly turned to resolve. "Good. Then we don't need to speak of this anymore." She moved her hands to his chest. His heart was hammering as hard and fast as hers, surprising her. She gave him a little push. He could have resisted, and there would have been nothing she could have done about it. But he moved away, allowing her to pivot and open the door, to walk away and not look back for the second time since he'd come back to town.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  DANE RANG THE doorbell and waited almost...nervously. But at least he wasn't acting like an idiot anymore.

  He'd thought to distance himself from Kenna by taking a date to her workplace, to firmly establish the fact that Kenna belonged in a sister box...to move on--he'd managed neither.

  Bottom line, he'd panicked about the tenderness of his feelings for her. He knew that now, some part of him recognizing that she wasn't like other women, not to him, and if he wasn't careful, he would find
himself entangled in a commitment and miserable.

  But he was miserable now, so, what was the difference?

  They'd had their confrontation a week ago. Since then he'd done nothing but punish himself at the gym. Kickboxing, the punching bag and hour after hour on the treadmill. Nothing had helped. He'd constantly reminisced about her proud departure from the office, hating himself, maybe even hating her, and he didn't want to experience anything like that ever again. He'd even found himself wondering what the hell was so bad about a commitment if it meant kissing Kenna, touching her, driving inside her sweet little body...then waking up to her and kissing, touching and driving inside her all over again.

  He had to make things right between them. He didn't care that he was acting like his dad. He didn't care that she had a kid. He didn't care that she didn't know the father's name. He only cared about her.

  He just had to be with her.

  The door swung open, and he had to look down...down...down...to a mini-Kenna. She was short with a fall of bright red hair and stunning green eyes. A round cherub's face. The ache in his chest returned. Damn. How was he supposed to talk to her? He did not speak princess.

  Heart-shaped lips pursed. "You're a stranger, and Momma says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers. They might want to touch my private places and that would be bad."

  Kill me. "I'm your...Uncle Dane. And you must be Norrie." His only experience with someone her age was Daniel, and that occurred almost two decades ago.

  She flashed him a bright smile. "My name is North, and I know, I know, I have the same name as that rapper guy's kid, but my momma says I'm her bright star and I always help her find her way home, but when I was a baby I had trouble with some of my letters, because babies are dumb, and I called myself Norrie, so now everyone else does, too."

  The words poured out of her, and Dane could only stand there, oddly...charmed.

  Not charmed. No way. Not getting embroiled with her. He would be with Kenna, if she would have him, but he would keep distance between himself and the kid. "I'd like to speak with your mother."

  "Norrie Isabelle Starr." A twentysomething woman with dark blond hair came up behind the girl. "Your mom will murder me in my sleep if she finds out I let you answer the door on your own. Thanks for that." Navy blue eyes focused on him. "Hey, I know who you are."

  "I'm afraid I can't say the same." Though he remembered seeing her at the engagement party.

  "I'm Jessie Kay, one of Kenna's roommates."

  "Uncle Dane is not a stranger," Norrie said to Jessie Kay. "Do you think he could have luncher with us?"

  Luncher?

  Jessie Kay gave him a once-over, saying, "Luncher is a combo of lunch and dinner. Too late for lunch, but too early for dinner. Trademark pending. Now, what are you doing here?"

  "Uncle Dane is going to cook for us," Norrie announced.

  Um, never. "Is Kenna here?" he asked, focusing on Jessie Kay.

  "She had to go to her school and talk to her teacher," Norrie piped up, "because it's important to keep open lines of communization even when xasperating men won't respond to your thousands of emails."

  "Communication," Jessie Kay corrected. "Exasperating."

  Norrie threw her arms up. "That's what I said. Anyway." She rolled her eyes, and Dane had to fight a grin. Really not getting embroiled with her. "Momma will be back at three, she promised, and we're gonna go pet Sara Lambert's puppies. Sara didn't have the puppies, because no one gave her any of that special seed, and she's too young, but her dog, Muffin, did have the puppies. But I can't have one 'cause--"

  "Dude," Jessie Kay said, shaking her head, "you've gotta learn when to stop."

  Good advice. "I'll come back later," Dane said, backing away.

  "Oh, no you don't." Jessie Kay grabbed his wrist, stopping him. "Yes," she said to the little girl. "Uncle Dane is going to cook our luncher."

  The little girl jumped up and down, clapping.

  "No. No, I'm not," he said.

  Norrie stilled, tears filling her eyes. "You're really not?"

  Oh...damn. "I...am?"

  "Great. You two have fun. I'll be watching TV in the living room if anyone needs me." Jessie Kay smirked at him before walking away and plopping on the couch.

  What was her game?

  What did it matter? He tried not to panic. What if the kid cried? What was he supposed to do? At what age did kids stop wearing diapers?

  This was going to be a disaster.

  "Come on," the girl said, taking his hand. Hers was small, delicate.

  She led him into the kitchen, moving so fast he was only able to glance at his surroundings. But a glance was enough. The home was small and run-down, with old paint peeling on the walls and holes in the carpet. Scuffed furniture.

  Kenna and her roommates had clearly done their best to make the place as attractive as possible, because there were feminine touches everywhere. A drape of sheer cloth over a lamp. A vase overflowing with fresh flowers. A bowl of fruit. A pink blanket cascading over the arm of the couch.

  Norrie sat at a yellow laminate counter and folded her hands together, waiting patiently. He relaxed when he realized the home's open concept gave Jessie Kay a clear view of the kid.

  "What are you hungry for?" he asked.

  She hooked a hank of red hair behind her ear. "Can you make a cheese pizza?"

  He looked in the fridge, but didn't see more than a gallon of milk, a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter and maybe ten thousand packages of cheese. No tomato sauce. No ready-made crusts. The freezer had boxes of pizza ready to be thawed, but they didn't look appetizing.

  "How about I order one?" he suggested.

  "Even better. The number is on the wall."

  He placed the order, and though The Tomato Shack didn't deliver, he offered the teenager on the other end two hundred dollars, all the cash currently in his wallet, to make it happen. As he waited, he walked around the kitchen looking through semibare cabinets, tightening knobs, lighting the pilot light on the stove, fixing a squeaky hinge on the oven door and messing with the leaky pipes under the sink. There was a somewhat awkward silence between Norrie and him, but better that than conversation.

  Of course, she just had to speak up. "My momma says we don't need a man to do our chores for us, 'cause we are smart and capable and I believe her even though Sara's mom says men were born to be our slaves, we just have to know how to manage them."

  "Sara's mom is an idiot."

  Norrie gasped. "You said the I-word."

  "Is that bad?"

  "Real bad. Get-grounded-for-a-month bad."

  Great. "Maybe don't mention to your mom that I said it."

  "I won't. Because she heard you for herself. Momma! You're home!"

  *

  KENNA CAUGHT HER daughter in her arms as Dane cursed and lifted his head out from under the sink. His hair was sexily rumpled and there was a streak of oil on his cheek.

  All of her girlie parts sizzled to instant life. He was here! And he was performing live and in-person girl porn--household tasks! "I didn't expect to see you," she said to Dane.

  "I'm going to my room," Jessie Kay called. "Y'all do me a favor and argue loud enough so I can listen in without having to strain myself."

  "If you want to listen," Kenna called right back, "just stay in the living room."

  "You know I'm not that rude."

  "What are we going to argue about?" Norrie asked. "Uncle Dane saying the I-word?"

  He pulled at his collar and ignored the little girl. "I wanted to talk to you," he said to Kenna, looking more uncomfortable than she'd ever seen him.

  Kenna realized she wasn't upset that he'd introduced himself to Norrie. The introduction would have happened sooner or later, considering the upcoming wedding. But...she thought it was more than that. That she wanted to see him with her daughter...see how the two got along.

  Answer: not well. He wouldn't even meet the girl's gaze.

  The doorbell rang, saving her from havi
ng to think up a reply. Talk...about what? They'd said all they needed to say.

  "Pizza!" Norrie wiggled out of her arms.

  Pizza?

  Dane held up one finger and rushed to the door. He returned with--surprise, surprise--a pizza.

  "The Tomato Shack delivers now?" Kenna asked.

  "With the right incentive," he muttered.

  Meaning money.

  While they ate, Norrie regaled Dane with stories about hair barrettes, dog poop and all the reasons sparkly unicorns just had to be real. Kenna had heard the stories before and faded in and out, trying to pretend Dane wasn't in the room, looking edible.

  "Can we go now?" Norrie asked her.

  She didn't have to ask where the girl was so eager to go. Sara's house, to see the puppies. Kenna had been dreading this. Norrie would want one and beg, and Kenna would have to say no--always no--because they couldn't afford to feed an animal. Not to mention the fact that they were rarely home.

  "Go get cleaned up first."

  Norrie rushed off.

  "I don't just mean stick your hands under the water," Kenna called. "Use soap and then brush your teeth."

  "Duh! I'm not a germ farm!"

  "She's...unique," Dane said.

  "In the best possible way," Kenna snapped.

  He held up his arms. "I know. I wasn't saying otherwise."

  An awkward silence settled between them.

  "So...were you able to open lines of communization with your professor?" he asked.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, wondering what Norrie had told him. But she already knew the answer, didn't she? Norrie had told him everything she knew.

  "Yes and no. I found out I had been dropped from my classes, so all the work I'd done was a waste." Was that bitterness in her tone? Probably. It wasn't her fault the financial aid had failed to come in on time.

  "Why were you dropped?"

  Unwilling to answer, she waved the question away. "What did you want to talk to me about?" Then, "Before you answer that, I should probably warn you. I'm stressed and tired and not at my best. It might be better to postpone the communization if you don't feel like fighting."

  "Take her up on the offer," Jessie Kay called through the wall. "She's nasty when she's stressed."

  Kenna banged on the wall, shouting, "No one asked your opinion, so zip it!"

  Jessie Kay's reply was a triumphant, "See!"