Free Falling For Ken (Blueprint to Love Book 2) by Lauren Giordano Page A

silence lengthened. "Sorry." Scooping up the toast that had skidded off his plate, Ken avoided the scrutiny she knew she'd find in his eyes after her tirade.
    "I'll get your coffee before my shower. Then I'll move you downstairs before I run over to the site for a few hours."
    "Don't worry about me. I can get downstairs. Take care of yourself and go."
    Her back to him, Ken raised her gaze to the ceiling. Too late, she glanced in the mirror and realized he'd caught her expression. Lord, would she ever learn to be more careful? She spun around to face him. "Look Traynor, no offense to your manhood, but you're gonna need help. I don't want you taking another header– especially not down my stairs. The insurance company doesn't like me much."
    "I'm completely capable-"
    "Will you please not argue? Just this once?"
    Harrison stared at her, any trace of warmth gone from his eyes. Regretting her words, Kendall acknowledged the obvious. This is what she did to men. She provoked the hell out of them. But she hadn't meant to lash out. Swallowing her pride, she yielded to gnawing guilt.
    "Please, Harrison. I don't like leaving you alone. The doctor said you've got to be really careful. I promised to watch over you and instead, I'm always leaving you. I'll feel much better if you let me help you get comfortable."    
    "Alright," he conceded reluctantly. "Let's stop talking about it. Go take your shower."
    ***
    It would have been perfect. In his mind, Harry envisioned himself firmly planted on her couch with Lurch by his side, the remote in one hand and a mug of freshly brewed coffee in the other. His expression would be just smug enough to indicate disdain for Ken's ridiculous concerns. Unfortunately, Harry's mind wasn't working clearly. For the first time, he wondered whether the blow to his head was more of a concern than he realized.
    He'd made it to the landing where he leaned heavily on the banister. He was sweating profusely and his damn leg was killing him. He'd also managed to wrench his good shoulder when his allegedly good leg buckled and he'd dove for the railing to keep from plunging to the first floor. Lurch wasn't helping, teetering on the landing with him, yipping excitedly while bouncing underfoot on his three legs.
    How had it all gone south? The moment he'd heard the shower start, his feet hit the floor. Now, he had to get downstairs before Kendall appeared with another of her withering I-told-you-so looks. Tipping his head back, Harry winced when she tried to reach a high note in the shower, oblivious to the fact that her musical ability clearly didn't extend to her slender throat.
    He groaned at the fleeting image of her in the shower and resolutely shoved it from his mind. All night he'd tried to erase the mental picture of her. The only word Harry could think of to describe the way he'd felt was mesmerized. Standing in the dark watching her, awed by the sheer wonder of her talent and by the ethereal loveliness of the woman herself. He swallowed around the sudden dry patch in his throat.
    She'd been serene and mysterious in the moonlit room. Long, flowing hair trailing down her back, her body limber and graceful in the thin, cotton gown. When she'd opened her eyes– when she'd finally returned from the beautiful place she'd visited, Kendall had turned to him. And smiled.
    And his heart stuttered.
    Almost afraid to breathe for fear of breaking the spell she'd cast over him, even now, Harry wasn't certain whether it was the woman or the haunting music that had mystified him. Later, after the house had gone silent, he'd debated whether he'd conjured her in a dream. Or if she'd merely been a side effect from all the pain medication. For how could a person be so completely different from an original impression? The question still stumped him. Because there was no way the fragile, luminous beauty he saw in Kendall was locked inside the prickly shell of Ken Adams.
    This morning he'd waited, eagerly– to see her again.