Читать книгу Keeping Her Close - Carol Ross - Страница 15

CHAPTER TWO

“YOU—” HARPER BROKE off the word to clear her throat. “You really did save my dad this morning.” Reverent-like, she offered up the tablet in her hands. “I mean, you saved him, saved him. This guy with the salmon eggs…”

A mix of relief and unease swept through him. The first because her tone didn’t have anything to do with her disappointment in realizing who he was. And the second because, presumably, she’d watched the news footage. Despite declining to be interviewed, he’d made the national news. Josh had texted him a screenshot along with a message: Dude. Nice. Did your interview come with an audition? Seriously way to go. You rock.

More texts had arrived from friends and former teammates, as well as one from his mom telling him “they” were calling him a hero on TV. His sister, Mia, had even messaged to make sure that he was okay. Kyle had absolutely no interest in watching the story himself.

“I was just—” He almost said “doing my job,” but then paused because that was no longer true. He tried not to think about how unsettled that fact made him feel. Still, the action had been second nature. He could no more not help someone than he could breathe air. “Anyone would have done the same.”

Twirling a helpless hand, she scoffed. “Yeah, no, I don’t think so. A few people might have tried, a few others may have thought about trying, but that guy was really fast. He was no match for you though. You’re like a ninja.”

“I’m just glad I was in the right place at the right time.” Uncomfortable with her praise, he attempted to put the focus back on the pertinent issue. Hitching a thumb over his shoulder, he said, “You let me inside your house thinking I was that guy, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I can explain.” With a little cringe, she added, “Sort of.”

“I could have been anyone in the world walking in here.” Kyle put some scare into his words and tone, “That fanatic’s brother or cousin or buddy or whoever else might be scheming with him.” Frowning, he shook his head. “I could have been a random serial killer, for that matter.”

“I realize that, but…” Dipping her chin, she studied the tablet before lifting her gaze back up to look at him. Slowly, she repeated the whole process. That’s when Kyle realized that she’d put all the pieces together. He’d wondered if, when, she would or if he’d have to tell her. If he was going to be working for her, they needed to get this conversation out of the way, to clear the air between them.

Placing the tablet on the counter, she brought one trembling hand up and laid it palm down across her forehead. Voice a little shaky and unsure, she said, “But you’re not. You’re none of those things. You’re Owen’s SEAL friend Kyle.” Her gaze collided firmly with his and Kyle watched as a slideshow of emotions played across her face, most he couldn’t identify, but the distress and the curiosity were unmistakable. No matter what had happened between her and Owen, his presence was clearly upsetting her on some level. Between that and the news story—he now suspected that she hadn’t known the extent of her father’s brush with danger—she was probably reeling. Kyle felt terrible about that and hoped that his ultimate purpose for being here could rectify some of these feelings.

“Former SEAL, recently discharged.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you. Owen had photos of you. Of the two of you in Iraq, Croatia, Pakistan, Afghanistan, the Netherlands…” With narrowed eyes, her gaze latched firmly on to him, traveling slowly, analyzing in a way that made Kyle feel unsettled. With a shake of her head, she whispered, “You’re Kyle,” almost like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud. And definitely like she couldn’t quite believe her eyes.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kyle said because he wasn’t sure what to say, how much to say or where to start.

She studied him for a while longer before declaring, “You look different now.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Older, no uniform.”

“No,” she said firmly and with a confident shake of her head, the shock easing into curiosity. “That’s not it. It’s…” Then her expression changed; gathering herself together, she seemed to set that puzzle aside and demanded, “What are you doing here?”

HARPER WAS HYPERCONSCIOUS of the beat of her heart as she stared at Kyle Frasier. It wasn’t fast so much as it was hard and painful like all the still-wounded parts were pounding and grinding against each other in discordant harmony. Barely resisting the urge to grip her shirt above the offending spot, she waited for his answer and struggled to sort the key points: Kyle had been Owen’s best friend; Owen’s best friend was standing in her kitchen; her dad had chosen him to be her security consultant. Questions followed: How much did Kyle know about Owen? How much did he know about her? And her and Owen’s relationship, especially the end? What had Owen told him about his “side business” and Harper’s part in it? Why hadn’t her dad told her that her new bodyguard was showing up today?

Some of this must have been evident on her face because Kyle said, “We have some things to discuss. Harper, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blindside you like this. As I’m sure you know, I was supposed to show up tomorrow morning so you could conduct a final interview, a more formal one, and decide whether you wanted to go ahead with this. With me, I mean.”

“Yes, that’s what my dad said. But he didn’t tell me your name. He was going to send the details in an email. He’s probably already sent it—I haven’t checked. I figured I would have time to review it all in the morning.”

Kyle nodded. “Obviously, I messed that up. I was driving right by here anyway, so I decided to drop in and introduce myself. I thought you might be feeling anxious after the attempted attack on your dad. And, honestly, I didn’t know how you’d feel about hiring me? Specifically. Because of Owen.”

Jaw tight, mouth a hard, flat line, his eyes blazed with intensity as they searched her face, his expression saying so much, and revealing so little at the same time. She chose to ignore the question because she couldn’t answer it. Not yet. Not until he answered a few of her questions first. Her attention was drawn to the news story still on her tablet. Shifting her focus to the headline, she read it again: “BEST CEO Bellaire Attacked.” Her father had called it “an incident.” Lately, episodes like this had been happening more and more, where some extremist got in his face screaming about dams or salmon—depending on which side of the issue they stood.

That much, at least, she could explain. “Yeah, he downplayed the incident significantly. That’s what he called it—an incident. He never said ‘attack,’ or even ‘attempted attack.’”

“I doubt he did. More likely, the news is overdramatizing. I’d call it an incident. The guy didn’t even touch your dad.”

“Because of you.” This person undoubtedly had intentions to hurt her dad. You could see the anger all over his face, the hatred in his body language. Gratitude and appreciation mingled with her shock. She wanted to hug the man standing before her, except he was the opposite of huggable. So not warm and fuzzy. More than once, Owen had said that he’d never seen a better soldier than his friend Kyle. Nor had he ever had a better friend. He worshipped the ground this guy walked on.

If there was one positive thing she could say about Owen, it was that he’d been good at his job. Thanks to his navy training and experience, he knew how to move people and supplies and keep them safe. And other things, she thought distastefully, like he’d done in Africa. If Owen thought Kyle was the best, then he probably was. But that still didn’t answer her question.

“But why you? I mean, why were you there? And how did you—? I have…” So many questions. She glanced up at Kyle and felt her pulse accelerate again. What she had were too many feelings. Could she handle having this living and breathing reminder of Owen in her life every day for the next however-many weeks?

But Kyle had seemed to anticipate her emotional quagmire, and he sought to untangle it. “I was in your dad’s building because I had an interview with Dahlia International.”

At the mention of Dahlia, Harper tensed, a familiar feeling of frustration stealing over her. She may have scowled, but thankfully Kyle didn’t seem to notice.

He went on, “I’d met your dad twice with Owen. Had lunch in Seattle and spent some time with him in Amsterdam. You’re really lucky. He’s an extraordinary guy. Anyway, I saw him in the lobby, and he’d just walked over to say hi when this guy went after him. And I… I helped out. Afterward, your dad and I talked some more. He expressed his concerns about your safety, I gave him some advice and he offered me this job. I don’t start with Dahlia for another month or so. So, here I am.”

Harper exhaled a breath. This all made sense. In the way that cosmic jokes, or colliding fates, or whatever this encounter might be made sense anyway. Inexplicably, she felt herself both repelled by and drawn to Kyle Frasier. More proof that her own judgment was not to be trusted. In this case, she supposed only time would tell. If she chose to hire him, that is… Time. Oh, jeez, she’d forgotten all about Mikhail!

Snagging her phone off the counter, she pointed it at him as she sidestepped toward the doorway. “You know what? We’ll talk about this later.” She picked up her bag from the floor where she’d placed it earlier and slipped the strap over her shoulder. “Tomorrow morning, okay? When you come for your interview, we’ll figure all of this out and—”

“Harper, I think we should talk about it now,” Kyle countered smoothly. “The sooner we work out some of these details, the better.” That voice. Deep and low with just enough compassion that Harper found herself wanting to comply. Or maybe the compassion part was her imagination, her hope, that this guy was only like Owen in the good ways. That he might be as willing to help her as he’d been to help her dad. But how likely was that? Like brothers, she’d heard Owen say countless times about himself and Kyle. Just because birds had similar feathers didn’t mean they always flocked together, right? Or maybe they did. See? Clearly, she needed to sort this through.

“Okay, tonight, then. After my date.” She gestured toward the front door. “I’ve kept the poor guy waiting and confused long enough. We’ll skip the bungee jumping, go and have a quiet dinner somewhere, and then I’ll come back, and you and I can have a proper interview.”

“Oh. Your date is gone.”

“Gone? Where is he?”

Kyle shrugged. “In his car cruising down Highway 101, I’m guessing.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That you’d call him later.”

“I don’t have his number.”

“You don’t—” He broke off with a sigh of frustration. “What do you know about him? Did you have him checked out?”

“He’s a friend of a friend,” she answered evasively and yes, a little defensively. At the flicker of disapproval that crossed his face, she added, “I agreed to the date a week ago.” Somehow, she needed to explain her rationale. But how uncomfortable and awkward to admit that she’d been excited (sort of) to go on the first date she’d had since she’d been involved with his deceased best friend. Where they’d been in a relationship based on deception that had ended very badly. This was insane. What was she doing? What was he doing here agreeing to babysit his best friend’s ex, anyway? Who did that? Why would he do that?

“Well, from now on, you’re not going out with Mikhail or anyone else until they’ve been vetted. That includes a background check and all the accompanying intel. And an…assessment.”

“An assessment?” Her voice went high and a little shrill.

His expression seemed to thaw slightly. “Yes, I’ll want to meet them. But don’t worry, they won’t know they’re being assessed.” Kyle offered up a hand in a placating gesture. “No one has to know you have a…security consultant working for you. As far as your friends, and dates, know I’m an old family friend staying in your guesthouse and helping with some maintenance. Your dad, if you agree, has hired me temporarily with the hope that this will quickly blow over. In the meantime, I’m going to teach you how to take care of yourself.”

“Take care of myself?” she repeated, taking advantage of the unintentional gaffe. “Are there cooking lessons involved? What about laundry?” He went wide-eyed, and Harper almost laughed.

“No, I meant… I mean security-wise. I’m going to help you be more aware of your surroundings and potential threats and what to do if you are threatened. I’m going to teach you how to use every feature of your security system and—”

“Kyle, I know what you meant. I was joking. I’m sorry, I’m a bit stressed, and I tend to…” She cut herself off because she didn’t need to point out her habit of making bad jokes under duress. She’d already provided him with ample evidence when she thought he was her date. “Let’s, um, do you want to sit down?” Harper gestured toward the living room.

“Sure.”

Harper watched him walk into the next room. As much as she didn’t want to, it was impossible not to compare the two men. On the surface, they had similar features, brown hair, brown eyes, same olive complexion. But everything about Kyle, including his expression, was darker. Kyle didn’t possess Owen’s extreme good looks, but he’d be plenty handsome if he weren’t so…severe. His thick brown hair wasn’t quite a buzz cut, but it was still a little too short for her taste, too militaryish, too Owen-like. But then again, he’d just gotten out of the military. His physique certainly backed that up, that he hadn’t slacked in his conditioning was obvious. And he had Owen on that score. A couple of inches shorter than Owen’s six foot two inches, he was broader in the shoulders, bulkier everywhere and much more defined. The cut of muscles outlined beneath his T-shirt reminded her of an MMA fighter she’d photographed last fall. She told herself it was the artist in her noting these details and not the woman who’d barely socialized, much less dated, in six months.

His gaze traveling around the room, Kyle took a seat in one of the two chairs adjacent to the gas fireplace. She’d already noticed his eyes were an arresting shade of brown, but so dark it made them difficult to read. Like the rest of him. Although Harper suspected he did that unreadable thing on purpose. The whole time he’d been here, he had yet to crack a smile, or even offer much in the way of emotion at all. Except for confusion, but she couldn’t blame him for that. Maybe it was a good thing. Like a robot sitting in the corner, she could forget he was even there. What she did not need in her life was another man with an overabundance of charm and charisma. Those were the very traits that had suckered her in time and again.

Harper settled on the sofa and asked, “Can I get you anything? Something to drink maybe?”

“No, thank you.”

“How about a snack?”

“No.”

“Would you like—”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay, so…” She offered her sweetest smile, the one she used on her most anxious, reluctant, camera-shy clients. And then waited for him to return it. Nothing. No reaction whatsoever. Just that same somber expression. When the moment threatened to turn awkward, she finally gave up. “So, I’d like to explain my behavior. Earlier when you first arrived, I thought you were my date.”

“I caught that.”

“I want you to know that I’m not normally so impulsive and…enthusiastic. Well, maybe I am, to a degree. But not like this. This was…” Shifting around she tried to form an explanation that didn’t make her sound like an irresponsible flake. “You see, I was—”

“Harper,” he interrupted with an outstretched hand. “You don’t need to explain. I know what you were doing.”

Harper chuckled self-consciously. “I doubt that.”

“You were going to have some fun on your last night without your new security guy watching your every move.”

Huh. Well. Points awarded for insight, if not personality. “I can only imagine how terrible you think that is.”

He squinted his eyes slightly like he was trying to decide how to respond. Finally, he seemed to make a decision, and said, “What happened already happened. Or didn’t happen in this case. There was a miscommunication between you and your dad. I intend to speak to him about that. I imagine that he didn’t divulge all the details because he didn’t want you to worry, but I don’t think it does you any favors for him to sugarcoat any threat made against him.”

Harper liked that, that he wasn’t intimidated by her dad. That, and he seemed to be a proponent of honesty.

He went on, “You’re fine for now. Meaning you’re safe. The episode was good in a way. It told me a lot about how much work we’re facing here. My goal is to instill specific habits in you so that you won’t need a bodyguard 24/7 for the rest of your life. So, as far as I’m concerned, we can forget about what happened here today and move forward.”

Harper felt her anxiety ease slightly. Did he mean that in a larger sense? Moving forward was what she wanted. But the Owen factor did need to be addressed.

He must have thought so, too, because he said, “I know that it didn’t end well between you and Owen, that you wanted different things.”

“That’s what he said? Different things?”

“Well, he called me the day before he died. He was…upset. You’d left the country, and he felt… He said you guys had a fight and you’d ended your relationship.”

Harper barely held on to her scoff. It was beyond strange to hear Owen’s version of a “fight” that, for Harper, had been so much more than that.

“But he didn’t say what kind of differences we had?”

“No, but I know he was hoping you’d work them out. If he hadn’t died maybe you two would have…”

Harper froze. All her previous tension rushed back in and then some, blazing with a brand-new ferocity. Her skin prickled uncomfortably. Had Owen said that? Because their issues were impossible to work out. She’d never wanted to see him again, would never have spoken to him again even if he hadn’t been killed in that car accident.

She’d been studying Kyle carefully, listening, watching for any clue that he knew about Owen’s enterprise. Owen had told her in confidence, sworn her to secrecy. He’d said that no one from Dahlia knew about his “side business.” But he needed to bring someone else on board because it was growing so fast. Customers were clamoring for the exotic plants and animal parts he was selling. Mistakenly, stupidly, he’d believed Harper’s love for him would allow her to not only accept this endeavor but to help him. Specifically, with the use of her dad’s jet. He took steps, he assured her, to confirm that his dealings were technically legal. But Harper suspected otherwise. At the very least, it was both unethical and immoral.

Kyle said that Owen didn’t specify what their differences were. If he’d told Kyle, it seemed like there’d be no reason not to mention them now. But still, she had to know.

“Did you, um, did you know much about Owen’s work?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. I’ve been offered a job with Dahlia. I don’t start until next month, but I also have another friend working there. So I have a pretty good grasp of what the work entails.”

“In Africa? Did he talk about his time there much?”

“No…” he drawled, his face twisting with discomfort and confusion. Further evidence, Harper decided, that he didn’t know. She wondered what he’d think about the venture. Had Owen not told him because he didn’t think Kyle would approve? She hoped so.

A more burning question followed and seared her conscience. Was it Harper’s place to tell him the truth?