Second Time Around (Second Glances) Page 5

  Kyra laid it aside. “Not really my style either, but I figured Will’s mother probably has a closet full of Lily Pulitzers and it kind of looks like one.”

  The third dress was a crocheted lace sheath in peach, cut away at the shoulders. The underlayer stopped just above the knee, while the lace continued down a few more inches.

  Emily’s face lit up. “Ooh, I like that one.”

  Kyra frowned at it. “You don’t think the shoulder cutouts are too . . . I don’t know, revealing?” Truth was she’d bought it because she felt beautiful and a little sexy in it, but that was also why she didn’t think it was appropriate.

  “If there was cleavage on display, it might look too overt. But this just shows off your pretty shoulders,” Emily said. “Let’s see how it looks on you.”

  Kyra took it into the walk-in pantry and closed the door, shimmying out of her jeans and into the dress. She smoothed it over her hips and returned to the dining room to stand awkwardly in front of Emily.

  Emily made a circular motion with her hand, and Kyra turned around slowly.

  “It’s perfect,” Emily said when Kyra was facing her again. “The crocheted lace makes it not too formal, and the little bit of peekaboo at the bottom adds a subtle sexiness. I wouldn’t wear it with clogs, though.”

  “You think?” Kyra glanced down at the black rubber clogs she wore for cooking. “Will said to wear flats because the party is on the lawn. Shoes are my next project, now that I have the dress.” She winced inwardly at the added cost. This shindig had better be worth it.

  “And I think dangly earrings and some bangle bracelets. Want to raid my jewelry box after work this evening?” A blush crept up Emily’s cheeks. “Max goes a little overboard on the gifts sometimes.”

  “That would be the best!” Kyra’s mother had never wanted fine jewelry, preferring to buy faddy costume pieces that went out of style in a year. And those Connecticut ladies would know if she was wearing anything less than fourteen karat.

  Emily stood and scooped up her coffee mug. “We’ll make sure Will has a crush on you by the end of the party.”

  “Good job catching the zoning issue with the new location,” Will said as he rose to signal the meeting was over. “Let me know when you’ve resolved it.”

  His five top executives filed out, but Greg Ebersole, his chief operating officer, remained in his chair. As the door closed, Greg pushed back from the table and swiveled toward Will. His gray eyes were sharp with interest. “You were smiling when you walked into the meeting. What’s going on?”

  “Was I?” Will flipped the cover closed on his tablet and took a step toward the door.

  “A real smile, not the fake one you use these days.”

  Greg had come up with the basic idea for Ceres years ago, sharing his pie-in-the-sky dream with a teenage Will one lazy summer afternoon as they drank beer on Will’s mother’s sailboat. Back then Greg was a young chef without the capital to start something big. But Will hadn’t forgotten the man’s vision or passion. When Will had refused to go to law school, his father had challenged him to find a better career. Will had tracked down Greg and persuaded him that they could turn the chef’s dream into reality.

  Maybe that’s why Will was so dissatisfied now. He’d borrowed someone else’s dream.

  Except that he’d enjoyed the early days of building Ceres, when he and Greg had worked and worried and sweated side by side, sometimes even unloading trucks of produce or baked goods themselves to get the ingredients into a café before it opened for business.

  As a result, Greg wasn’t at all intimidated by Will. In fact, Greg wasn’t intimidated by many people.

  As he thought of Kyra’s texts, Will’s lips twitched. “I was just shooting the shit via text with an old college friend.”

  Greg rolled his eyes. “Frat boy humor.”

  “It was scatological but not a boy.” Back at Brunell, something about Kyra had allowed him to relax and let his sense of humor roam free. It seemed she still had that effect on him.

  “Really?” Greg sat forward. “And she’s only a ‘friend’?”

  “Tell me you’re not one of those people who believes men and women can’t be friends.”

  “It can happen, but there’s always an undercurrent of the potential for more.” Greg stood up and collected his own tablet. “Especially when she makes you smile.”

  Chapter 5

  Kyra plucked at the coral lace hem of her dress as she stood in the foyer by the front door, waiting for Will.

  “Stop fidgeting, honey,” Gloria said from her living room, where she was pretending to dust some silk flowers. She’d left the door to her ground-floor apartment open to keep Kyra company. “You look perfect.”

  “It’s not too short?”

  “Even if it were, you’ve got the legs for it.” Gloria put down the feather duster and came to the doorway. “Why are you so nervous about going to a party?”

  “I had such a huge crush on Will in college that I’m starting to feel like I’m back there, obsessing over what he thinks of me.” That much of her history she’d already confessed to her landlady.

  Gloria chuckled. “That doesn’t stop just because you’ve graduated. He thinks something about you or he wouldn’t have invited you on a date.”

  Kyra hadn’t told her the truth of why Will had issued his invitation, or what kind of a party it was. Maybe she should have, since she admired Gloria’s levelheaded view of the world. “He just needed a plus-one so it’s not really a date.”

  “Maybe that was true when he asked you, but once he sees you in this outfit, he’ll be bowled right over.”

  Kyra took two steps across the small foyer to hug the older woman, drawing comfort from the waft of Shalimar, Gloria’s signature scent. “You make me feel like a million bucks.” And she needed a little positive reinforcement at that moment.

  “Honey, you are worth way more than a million bucks.” Gloria gave her a firm squeeze before releasing her. “Now I’m going back to my housekeeping so I don’t get in your way.” She winked as she picked up the duster again. “However, you can’t stop me from watching out the window.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Kyra said. “I’ll want to hear your opinion tonight.”

  “You won’t even have to ask. I’ll give it to you for free.” Gloria whistled as she looked out her front window. “There’s a long, shiny black limo slowing down right in front of our steps. You’d better scoot on out there.”

  Kyra blew Gloria a kiss and slipped through the door to meet Will on the stoop.

  “Hey, Will,” she said, the intense green of his eyes startling her all over again, even though she’d seen him only a week ago.

  “Kyra.” His smile had a sharp, hot edge that made a shiver run over her skin. “You look beautiful.” His voice seemed to pull her toward him like a snake charmer’s music.

  “You’re not so bad yourself.” Keep it light, she thought, even though she wanted to brush her fingers over the golden hair that was catching glints of sunlight on his forearms. True to his word, he’d rolled up his sleeves, and the muscles displayed made her wonder about his shoulders . . . and his chest . . . and his thighs.

  He bent his head and she tilted hers to present her cheek, although somehow he found her lips. It was a mere feather of a kiss but heat slid through her. She lurched back a step to break the contact, but his gaze still held hers and the heat intensified.

  “Shall we?” His voice broke through her momentary daze, and she glanced down to see him holding out his arm, crooked at the elbow in an invitation. Oh, those delicious, upper-crust manners. They undermined her defenses every time. She tucked her hand under his elbow and got her wish to feel his forearm—solid and warm—under her palm.

  He turned them both toward the limousine.

  “I haven’t ridden in one of these since my high school prom,” she said.

  “Yours was probably a lot fancier,” Will said, waving away the driver to open the door
himself. “This one has no multicolored lights or two-tone upholstery, although I did stock a bottle of champagne if you’re interested.”

  Kyra ducked into the limo and found it plenty fancy. The seats were warm cognac leather, and the built-in storage was paneled in a swirly-grained wood in the same tones. The silver-gray carpet was so lush that she wanted to kick off her new shoes and curl her toes into it. A leather-padded privacy panel closed them away from the driver in their own little cocoon of luxury.

  When Will had seated himself and closed the door, Kyra said, “I’m glad we have a long drive because I’m going to enjoy this luxury the whole way.” Not to mention being able to feel the body heat radiating from him where their shoulders nearly brushed.

  “We’re not driving. The traffic will be god-awful, especially on the way home.”

  “Then how are we getting there? Transporter beam?”

  Will didn’t crack a smile. “Helicopter.”

  Kyra swallowed through the nerves that grabbed at her throat. She’d been on a plane twice in her life and liked the view, although a few stretches of turbulence had terrified her.

  But she kept her reservations to herself because she noticed that Will hadn’t really smiled since he’d shown up on her doorstep. She didn’t count that sharklike baring of teeth after he’d surveyed her from head to toe as a smile.

  “This will be my first helicopter ride,” she said.

  “I hope you’ll enjoy it.” He bent his head to rub the back of his neck in an unhappy gesture.

  “You don’t have to go,” she said, wishing she had the guts to offer to massage his neck herself. Touching the warm, vulnerable skin there would be heaven.

  “What?” His head snapped back up.

  “Tell your mother you’re sick or there’s an urgent business matter you have to deal with.”

  His gaze felt heavy on her for a long moment before he shook his head, forcing a smile. “My apologies,” he said. “I’m being a bad host.” He flipped open one of the limo’s compartments and pulled out the champagne. Dom Pérignon, of course. “May I pour you some?”

  “Tempting, but I think I should be sober, at least when I arrive.” She would need to keep her wits about her in order to fit in with Will’s crowd.

  “You may regret that.” He slotted the bottle back into the compartment with a sigh. “Fortunately, if you change your mind, you can get drunk quickly once you’re there.”

  “Is it really that awful?” Kyra had a hard time imagining that the brilliantly successful man beside her would be intimidated by anyone, even his controlling parents.

  “Awful? No. Arion Farm is a beautiful place. The trees will be flowering. There will be foals cavorting in the fields. Champagne will flow like water.” He gestured out the window. “The sun is shining, as per my mother’s request to the Almighty.”

  “Not the farm. I know you love that.” Back at Brunell, when he’d casually mentioned hiding in the stables or getting lost in the privet maze, she’d thought of his childhood home as a sort of enchanted castle. “Your family. Even though you didn’t go into law, your father can’t argue with your success.”

  “My father is a lawyer. He can argue with anything.”

  “What about your mother?” Will had seemed to have fewer issues with her when he was in college.

  “Mother is like a steady drip of water on a stone. She never raises her voice, but she wears you down.” He shifted on his seat. “Schuyler will be there, too.”

  “Your sister? Didn’t she take the pressure off you by becoming a lawyer herself?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck again. “It’s complicated.”

  “I’ve got a whole helicopter ride.”

  He snorted. “It would take longer than even the round-trip to explain all the warped twists and turns of my family.”

  “Well, I’ll listen if you want to talk.” Maybe venting would help him relax.

  He shifted on the seat so he was facing her. “You always listened.”

  “You fascinated me. Like an alien from another planet.” Kyra let her gaze travel over the golden hair that waved back from his high forehead, the straight, sharp lines of his nose and jaw, and the concentrated hue of his eyes. Today he seemed even more foreign and unreachable. She shook her head. “Even your clothes were exotic.”

  He glanced down at his green pencil-striped shirt and khaki trousers. “Not exactly haute couture.”

  “No, it’s haute Connecticut. And I’m from low Pennsylvania.” And his long, elegant body made his outfit look like it was custom-tailored.

  She wondered now if he’d opened up to her in college because their worlds didn’t intersect. He didn’t have to worry about her spilling his secrets to someone who mattered. She’d even wondered then, if on that final humiliating night, he’d escorted her out of the frat house not to protect her but to keep her away from his friends.

  The limousine eased to a stop. “We’re at the heliport, sir,” the chauffeur said through the intercom.

  Will climbed out and ducked his head and shoulders back in to hold out his hand, his broad palm and long fingers offering support and temptation. She laid her own palm against his and he closed his fingers firmly around it.

  As she stepped onto the macadam of the heliport, a blast of wind and noise made her flinch. A chopper was just taking off, its rotors beating the air at high speed.

  Will turned his body to shelter her from the buffeting of the din and the stinging, grit-laden air. The gallantry of the gesture made her insides go quivery. As soon as that chopper was out over the Hudson River, Will stepped back, leaving her exposed to the dangers of the world once again. Or so it felt.

  He grasped her elbow to steer her toward a glossy forest-green helicopter with Cronus Holdings and two crossed ears of corn painted on the side in gold. She’d discovered through Google that Cronus was the holding company that encompassed all of Will’s enterprises, of which there were many besides Ceres.

  “Hello, Roxy, nice day for flying.” Will greeted a slim woman wearing black trousers, a white blouse with a pilot’s epaulets, and mirrored sunglasses, who was inspecting something underneath the copter.

  Roxy straightened. “Smooth as glass, so no fun at all.”

  “I’m not complaining,” Kyra said, the tension in her throat easing at the news.

  “Not a flyer?” Roxy’s voice was neutral but her raised eyebrows somehow expressed her scorn.

  “Her first time in a helicopter,” Will said.

  “So go easy on me,” Kyra added, her stomach still queasy with apprehension.

  Roxy smiled. “No Rambo runs today, I promise.”

  Will kept hold of Kyra’s elbow as she climbed the few steps into the helicopter’s cabin. Four large armchairs in the same cognac leather as the limo’s seats were arrayed around a polished wood console. She took one that faced forward, and Will dropped into the chair beside her.

  “What’s a Rambo run?” she asked as she fastened her seat belt.

  “A very illegal maneuver that involves flying low and fast up a river, generally between cliffs on either side. Don’t worry. There’s no chance of her doing it anywhere near New York City.”

  The helicopter shuddered and began to vibrate, so Kyra assumed that Roxy had fired up the engine. She dug her fingers into the leather armrests as the aircraft rose and sideslipped toward the sparkling waves of the Hudson River.

  “You’ll forget to be nervous once you look at the scenery,” Will said, obviously noticing her white-knuckled grip.

  Kyra shifted in her seat to peer out the window. They were skimming over the New Jersey side of the Hudson River. She swallowed a gasp at the sight of roofs whizzing past far below them before transferring her gaze to the river. The tugboats pushing barges up and down the river left distinct Vs of wake behind them, and the white canvas on the masts of sailboats seemed to glow in the bright sunshine. The George Washington Bridge surged into view, its iron cables looking like fragile cobwebs while
the cars crawled across its span like brightly colored ants.

  She levered herself closer to the window, her concern overcome by her fascination. “It’s a map come to life.”

  Will nodded. “As I predicted. You always enjoyed a new perspective.”

  Pleasure at his words flashed through her. She turned to meet his gaze. “I did.” But somehow the excitement of new discoveries had slipped away from her. She’d been at Stratus for eight years, and at the Carver Center for six. Both jobs had settled into routines. Except for an occasional diversion like the dog food challenge.

  She shoved aside all her dismal thoughts and turned back to the window, exclaiming over the varied sights that passed in and out of view.

  As they got closer to his home, Will grew quieter, so she filled the tense air with a barrage of enthusiastic comments. However, when they circled Arion Farm, he moved to the chair facing her and looked through the same window.

  “There’s the main house.” He pointed to a sprawling stone structure complete with turrets and a circular driveway with the letters AF worked in the paving stones at the center. The lawns around it glowed emerald while a large rectangular swimming pool sparkled aquamarine blue.

  It was Kyra’s turn to go quiet, as the extent of his family’s wealth and privilege was spread out beneath her in a way that was impossible to ignore. Her stomach felt hollow. She would never belong here.

  “That’s the privet maze,” he said as the chopper passed over an intricate pattern of paths and hedges. “I shouldn’t let you see it from above. Makes it too easy to figure out how to get to the center.” The hint of a mischievous boy in his face nearly melted her. “See the oval of the riding ring? The stables are the buildings to the left of it. Schuyler will go hide there before the end of the party.”

  “Maybe we could join her later? Horses are so beautiful.” As a child, Kyra had wanted to learn how to ride. However, she’d put that fantasy away because her parents thought it was a waste of money.

  “Maybe you could borrow jeans and boots from Schuyler and go riding. I’ll even join you.”