Читать книгу Someone Like You - Karen Rock - Страница 12
ОглавлениеRIGHT NOW, NIALL couldn’t deny that he wanted to be here, with Kayleigh. Since he’d last seen her four years ago, the sweet, funny girl he’d known had matured. Her luminous gray eyes held the silver flash he recalled, and her long black hair still curled around her face. Yet there was something different about her. Gone was the girl he’d gone to camp with, and in her place was a stunning woman. Her green sundress set off her gold-toned skin and showed off curves that made it hard to look away.
How long since he’d held a woman? He gave himself a mental shake as he caught himself staring at her mouth. This wasn’t a date. He’d come to advise and cheer up an old friend. Nothing more. And the sooner he ate and left, the better. So far, Kayleigh hadn’t treated him like a charity case, nor did she know his hand in her brother’s death, and he wanted to keep it that way. His strange reaction to her only complicated things further.
“Excuse me?” he asked when her soft lips moved.
“It’s been a while.” Kayleigh’s uptilted eyes searched his. “Too long.”
His fingers curled on his lap as he battled the urge to reach for her hand. “I’ve been busy.” The feeble excuse hung in the air between them, and he opened his mouth to clarify his meaning, then closed it. Better to let her think the worst of him. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be as bad as he deserved. He didn’t want her thinking they would go back to being friends.
“I’m sorry about your injury. Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“It’s in the past,” he said, then gritted his teeth against the truth that rushed to escape him. Instead, he swallowed it down and the familiar, hard weight settled in his stomach.
“Where were you stationed?” Her voice was almost too low to hear over the loud background music.
His gut twisted as he recalled the acrid smell of explosives around the besieged, remote outpost on his last day in Afghanistan. The slick sweat of his skin beneath his body armor. The staccato fire of bullets and flares of light where grenades hit. The screams of wounded soldiers and insurgents, along with his commander’s order to abandon the post. His hasty decision to double back and grab a hard drive containing classified information.
In the rush, he’d initially left it—a big mistake for a signal combat officer. It was his responsibility to maintain and protect communications. His eyes closed as he recalled the pain that’d ripped through his calf, how he’d been thrown several feet and grabbed by a Green Beret from the unit that’d been called in when the ambush began. When they’d staggered to the Humvees, they’d fallen by the wheels, the soldier’s limp body on top of him. Reaching around the man’s back, Niall’s fingers had come away sticky and red and he’d realized, with horror, that his rescuer was dead.
It wasn’t until Niall had regained consciousness, days later, to see his bandaged stump, that he’d learned a truth more painful than his injury. During his debriefing, his rescuer’s name had been shared. Chris Renshaw. Kayleigh’s brother.
His missing limb could never equal the loss of a family member. If he had grabbed the hard drive in the first place or left the post when ordered, Chris wouldn’t have stayed behind to make sure he got out. Kayleigh wouldn’t have lost her brother. Simple as that.
“Kunar,” he said to her at last, when she repeated her question. He gulped his water, then forced himself to ask, “Is your brother still in Afghanistan?” Keeping this from her was even harder than he’d imagined. Especially when he remembered how much her parents’ secrets had hurt her. No matter the time or distance, he still felt protective. Wished he could shield her. Ironic, considering he’d wounded her worst of all.
Kayleigh’s eyes closed. “He’s in Arlington Cemetery now. He was killed in a classified mission. That’s all the army will tell us.” She looked at him, her anguish as sharp as a knife to his gut.
“I’m sorry,” he said inadequately, but meaning it with every part of himself. “You two were close.”
Kayleigh rubbed her forehead and spoke from behind her hand. “I need to know what happened. But so far, my inquiries haven’t gone far.”
He sputtered on his mouthful of water and set down his glass. “Inquiries?”
“Yes. I’ve written to legislators and military staff. But I won’t give up. Chris wouldn’t.”
He struggled to say something—anything—that wouldn’t betray his emotions. She was right about the man who’d saved him. He wouldn’t have quit.
But before he could speak, Kayleigh’s drink appeared.
“Are you two ready to order?” snapped a heavyset older woman. He must have scared off the other girl. The one who’d been ready to serve him lunch on a gurney. Well, good. He’d rather be treated this way than have a pity party he didn’t deserve.
When Kayleigh turned her head, his gaze ran over her delicate profile and the slight jut of her dimpled chin. She looked soft and vulnerable, and the desire to help this girl who’d lost her brother leaped in his chest. But he doused the thought and sipped more water.
Kayleigh smiled at the waitress. “I’ll have the Five Leaves burger with gruyere cheese and bacon and a side of truffle fries. Oh, and could the cooks whip up some aioli sauce, please? A chef here made it for me once before. It’s just garlic, olive oil, lemon juice and egg yolks. Maybe add a little mustard to spice it up? But the Dijon kind, not yellow. If it’s yellow, then forget it. Please.”
The older woman blinked at Kayleigh, then shook her head and wrote down the order. He held in a laugh. Her habit of demanding outrageous, off-menu items hadn’t changed. At camp, she’d begged the cooks to make dim sum, offer hummus as a daily side and add Cajun spice to the sour cream on taco days. In college, she’d demanded gravy and cheese with her fries after having the dish on a trip to Canada. The cafeteria workers had scrambled out of the way whenever she’d headed down the food line.
The server finished scribbling then turned his way, her expression hostile. “And you?”
“The plain burger, medium-rare, and a side salad.”
“Coming up.” The waitress grabbed their menus without refilling Niall’s glass and marched away.
“Friendly,” he drawled. “She’d be a shoo-in for Miss Congeniality.”
Kayleigh’s laugh spilled from her like a shower of silver coins. “You’re terrible.” She took a sip of her drink, then another and another until half of it disappeared before she set it down. Wow. He’d nearly forgotten Kayleigh’s ferocious appetite, and thirst, always a shock given her petite frame.
She pointed her straw at him. “I mean it. And you probably scared our first waitress out of her station.”
“If you can’t take the heat, stay in the kitchen.”
Kayleigh rolled her eyes. “We’ll apologize when we go and leave her a separate tip for taking our drink order.”
He warmed to her, the familiar tendrils of their old friendship drawing him closer. But he forced himself to stay guarded. “Fine. We’ll leave the tip. MaryAnne mentioned that you’d left your job and—” His voice dropped away as he studied her bare left hand. Another man had put a ring there. Strange how much that irritated him.
“Yes.” Kayleigh cut into the awkward silence, her face glum. “I’ve been interviewing and making cold calls for weeks, but so far, nothing.”
“But you’ve been a software designer for the top app producer in the country. Genesis Software Innovations, right?” His fingers swiped through the condensation on his glass. “You’re a top candidate.”
When she banged down her drink, the fluid sloshed up the sides of the glass. “My ex-fiancé, Brett, is spreading the word that I’m trouble in the workplace. He was my boss.”
“He blames you for the breakup?” Niall pictured finding the jerk and beating some sense into him. Not that it was any of his business, but old habits die hard.
Her eyes narrowed. “Yes. Though he’s the one who cheated.”
He sucked in a harsh breath. “What an idiot. He lost the best thing he ever had.”
A slow smile dawned and stole his breath. “Thank you, Niall.” Then she sobered. “But we weren’t compatible. Do you remember those lists we made at camp after my mother called about the divorce? We called them Must Traits, all the traits our partner must have in order to be compatible.”
His heart skittered sideways. “Yes,” he responded, remembering that evening by the lake, the night he hadn’t wanted to end.
“If I’d used it with Brett, I never would have dated him in the first place. You know how honesty is in my top-five Must Traits for the perfect match? Well, Brett cheated at cards. That should have been a red flag. And he bypassed me for leadership positions...and being supportive is—”
“Number three,” Niall broke in, recalling her list. All fifty items on it.
She pointed her straw at him, her eyes alight. “Yes! And being open is number one. Brett kept secrets from me, the ultimate deal-breaker.”
Niall’s gaze dropped from hers, and he battled the urge to blurt the truth about Chris. How much longer could he be around Kayleigh and not tell her what had happened? Orders or not?
“You know—” she tapped her fingernails against the side of her drink “—that would actually make a pretty good app.”
“What would?” His mind was still in Kunar.
“The Must Traits list. What if it was an app that users could personalize? Wouldn’t it be great if there was a program to create a compatibility score based on how many Must Traits you have in common with someone else?” Her voice rose in excitement. “Think about the heartache it would save people. How it would prevent them from wasting time on the wrong person like I did.”
He glanced up and found himself unable to look away from her sparkling eyes. “Aren’t there products like that already on the market?”
She shook her head. “I’ve seen features like that attached to dating websites, but no mobile versions.”
“When you find your next job, you should pitch it.”
“I’m starting to think that’s never going to happen.” She stared at the table for a moment, then looked up suddenly. “What if I created my own start-up company to produce it?”
He was shaking his head before she finished her question, surprised. Kayleigh had always played it safe. Why the sudden shift? This new version of his predictable friend unsettled him.
“You don’t want that risk. Three out of four start-ups fail. Besides, who would you get to invest, write the program?” He raised his glass for another drink, then lowered it at her prolonged silence.
He met her eyes, took in her measured look and shook his head. “No, Kayleigh. Not me. I’ve got other contracts.”
She leaned forward, and the familiar smell of her, something light and floral, curled beneath his nose. “I’m not offering you a contract. We could be partners. A team, like the old days. Except I’d keep majority control.”
“Have it all. I’m not the right guy for this. You’d need someone to help charm investors, schmooze at marketing events, give statements to the press and most of all, believe in this dating app. That’s not me.”
“But it used to be....” Her softly spoken words gutted him. Yes. He had been that guy once. But the events in Kunar had made working in the civilian world impossible. Especially with her.
Kayleigh crossed her legs, her features sharp with growing excitement. “Hear me out. It wouldn’t be a dating app. It would allow people to input their own Must Traits lists and then synchronize it to others’ lists to get a compatibility score. You aren’t trying to meet people with it, just sorting out the good matches from the bad ones when you do meet someone. That way you have a better chance of starting a relationship with someone who’s perfect for you.”
“No one’s perfect, Kayleigh,” he muttered, feeling a phantom ache where his left calf had been.
Her lips pursed. “No. But there’s someone who’s exactly right out there for everyone. This app will make it easier to find that person and reveal the truth about what each wants right away. No secrets.” He caught a pained expression in her eyes before she lowered her lids and sipped her soda.
After setting down her glass, she continued, “Dating websites and similar products are market pleasers.” Her hand fell on his, and he jumped at the electric sensation. “We could create a viable business while providing a great service—reducing the number of broken hearts, maybe even lowering divorce rates.”
He wondered how much of this had to do with her parents. “It’s not that cut and dried. You’re being idealistic and simplistic. A product like this is a long shot in a market full of ways to get singles together.”
She snatched her hand away as if she’d touched a snake.
“I’ve been working in product development and app conception for over seven years in a Fortune 500 company. I know what the market will support. Besides, this isn’t about getting people together. It’s about ensuring that their relationship will last.”
“Based on a checklist?” Surely she knew that there was more to love than that. He hadn’t been successful in relationships, but his parents had shown him it was possible. Marriage took work, compromise and understanding, not an app with boxes to check off.
“You made a list that weekend at camp. You believed in it then, even though you never showed me what you wrote.”
“There were reasons.” He stopped himself from saying more. That was long ago, a different time. A different guy—a different him.
“So you didn’t believe in it then either?” She took another drink, her eyes on him.
“I don’t remember,” he lied, and hated himself for it when the color faded from her cheeks. But he had to be firm. Not give her any false hope.
The server arrived, dumping their plates in front of them before stalking away.
“This isn’t what I ordered.” He contemplated the runny egg oozing out of the sides of an oversize burger.
“That’s mine. Here.”
They exchanged plates, and he watched with amazement as she lifted a sandwich bigger than her face and chomped on it, her cheeks bulging.
“Aren’t you going to eat yours?” She dipped a clump of fries into a yellow sauce. Amazing how a girl who resembled a music box ballerina could eat like a trucker.
He lifted his burger. “I was, unless you want it, too.”
Her face brightened again and she smiled. His pulse leaped as he took a bite. Despite himself, he couldn’t help enjoying Kayleigh’s company.
But an abyss of secrets and tragedy separated them, and he needed to keep his distance.
When Kayleigh’s empty glass thumped to the tabletop, he hailed their passing waitress. “Another drink for the lady.” She continued walking as though she hadn’t heard him. “Please.” His raised voice made her pause, and she nodded without turning.
“Thanks. I couldn’t finish this without another one.” Kayleigh gestured to her plate, and with a shock he realized it was half-empty.
“So other than this start-up idea, what options are out there? Do you have more job interviews coming up?” he asked after another bite, hoping to distract her from her crazy idea.
The light in her eyes faded. “None. Even the headhunter I hired is coming up short. If no one else will take a chance on me, then maybe I should take a chance on myself. And you should, too. We were good together.”
He nodded, then caught himself. “It isn’t realistic in an uncertain economy. You have to think rationally...look before you leap.”
She gnashed on her burger, chewing with vengeance. When she swallowed, she said, “That’s exactly what Brett would say. And I’m done with playing it safe. It’s gotten me nowhere. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced. I want to investigate this further. Give it a try. What do you say?”
He met her hopeful eyes and shook his head, hating the disappointment that made her mouth droop and her eyes dim. “I’m sorry. My best advice is to stay away from a sure fail.”
She dropped her fry and hoisted her purse. He wished he could take back that blunt statement, but he owed her the truth. He’d promised MaryAnne he’d help Kayleigh, and that meant saving her from her worst instincts.
“You’re wrong.” She fidgeted with the zipper on her pocketbook. “You may not believe in me—yet. But I’ll change your mind. Give me a couple of days to draw up a business plan, and let’s meet again to discuss it.”
His mind raced over the impossible proposition. He could write the code, but the idea was flawed and lacked nuance. Kayleigh had grown up, but his earlier assessment was wrong—she hadn’t matured from the girl who’d listed big-dog lover or chopsticks expert on her Must Traits list.
“I’m not interested.”
She leaned forward, her expression determined. “This may be a gamble, but we’ll beat the odds. Social technology is dominating the market. This idea is fresh, user friendly and has potential for spin-off products.”
He glanced away from her and shook his head. His reasons for refusing went beyond business or his ability to explain.
“You want my help, and I’m giving it to you. My best advice is to find another job. One that pays benefits and has a 401(k). You don’t want all this risk.”
“What kinds of benefits do you earn working from home?”
He shifted under her piercing stare. “I get free medical with the VA, and I have my service pension. Plus, I invest what I make through contract work so I’m set. But you need more security than that.”
When her gaze met his, her expression held a hint of disappointment in him. “I’ll decide what’s best for me, thanks.”
Her words, delivered with quiet conviction, struck a chord in him. They both wanted to be independent, but for different reasons. She intended to leave her mark on life, while he wanted to pass through it without leaving more scars.
She flagged down their waitress. “Check, please!” she called, her eyes on him. “We’ll speak another time. I’d like the chance to give you a full presentation.”
But he’d heard enough. “You’re wasting your time.”
“So you’re content to stay home and never take risks? Don’t you want to go out in the world and live?”
Her words relit a fire inside. Yes, he’d always imagined a different life. But it’d been torn from him, along with his leg, two years ago. “I’m living the way I choose.”
She looked for their absent waitress, then stood and studied him. “I’m not giving up. Give this some thought before it’s an absolute no. I’ll contact you soon.”
And without another word, she strode to the hostess’s station, pulling out her wallet as she went. But before she could pay, he gestured to their server when she emerged from the kitchen and settled the bill. He hadn’t given Kayleigh what she wanted, but he would pay for their meal. He returned her wave, then sat back against his seat as he watched her walk away.
Kayleigh Renshaw.
Yes, he’d keep her at arm’s length. But just for a moment, he allowed himself to think about how much he’d missed her. And how much he always would.
