Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Not that Kennedy had plans to marry Claudia. It had been only two months.
He respected Kate a hell of a lot, even considered her a friend in a cautious, circle-around-each-other kind of way, but they’d always steered clear of each other’s romantic lives. And he did not, for one second, like the idea of his assistant and girlfriend gabbing about him in the conference room.
“Well, be sure she doesn’t get in the way of your work,” he said, choosing his words poorly, the way he often did around Kate.
Her eyebrows lifted. “Claudia’s not the one getting in the way of my work tonight.”
“Sorry,” he snapped. “I’m sure you had riveting plans.”
It was a low blow. He knew it even before he saw the flicker of hurt in her eyes. She whirled around, turning her back to him.
Damn it. Kennedy was known for acting with thoughtful precision in all things. Regret was not a particularly familiar or welcome feeling for him.
Apologizing was even more unfamiliar.
“Kate—”
She opened her desk drawer and pulled out a set of headphones. She punched one end into her computer, holding the earbuds out to the side, prolonging the motion so he could see them before tucking the earpieces beneath her hair.
Conversation over.
Kennedy sighed. Fair enough. He still needed to apologize, but he’d wait until tomorrow. Probably around ten a.m., when she was at peak caffeine, lowest stress, and when she smiled the most often.
Not at him, but, well, someday.
A guy could hope.
3
Thursday, March 28
Mondays were typically the most hectic, hair-pulling days at Wolfe Investments, but this week, Thursday was giving Monday a serious run for its money.
“Kate Henley,” she said, picking up her fifth call in as many minutes. “Mr. Cannon’s in a meeting right now. May I take a message or connect you to voice mail? Sure, one moment . . .
“Kate Henley . . . Mr. Bradley’s in a meeting at the moment. May I—Oh, hi, Mrs. Stilner. I’ll let him know you called.
“Kate Henley,” she said as she scribbled Mary Stilner’s name on her notepad. “Hey, Stacey. Thanks so much for getting back to me. Can I call you in a few? I’m drowning over here . . . Yep, the party’s this Saturday. Perfect, thanks so much.”
She hung up the phone, her hand hovering over the receiver for a full ten seconds, knowing that for whatever warped reason, phone calls seemed to come in bursts on days like this. When a full thirty seconds passed, Kate slowly pulled her hand away from the receiver, not wanting to jinx the fact that finally she was between bursts.
“Is it always like that?”
Kate looked up from her notepad at the interruption, her right hand never pausing in its note-taking. Then she saw the face behind the masculine voice, and her pen slowed to a halt.
The man looming above her was Kennedy but . . . not. The eyes were hazel instead of brown, the hairline slightly less square, the mouth . . . smiling?
Grinning, actually. Definitely not Kennedy.
The man extended a hand down. “I’m—”
“Jack,” she said before he could introduce himself. “You must be Jack Dawson.”
“Guilty. And just unlucky enough to be born a few years too early for my parents to realize I’d share a name with Leonardo DiCaprio’s character dying on the Titanic.”
“Leo’s character dies?” Kate asked, letting her chin wobble for just a second.
Jack’s smile dropped, and Kate laughed. “I’m kidding. I’m Kate Henley, and yes, I’ve seen the movie.” She shook his hand.
“Ah, Kate . . . as in Winslet.”
“Wow.” She let her voice take on an awed, hushed tone. “Exactly how much mileage do you typically get out of this Titanic thing?”
He gave an exaggerated wince. “Too much?”
“It’s really embarrassing for you,” she teased lightly, even as she marveled that she’d known Kennedy for years and they’d never developed the easy rapport she’d established with his brother in five seconds.
Even if he and Kennedy hadn’t shared a last name, she’d have known who he was immediately. The family resemblance was strong among all four Dawson brothers, though this was the first time she’d met Jack.
“I thought you were in London.” She scrolled through her memory, remembering that he was in international business of some sort.
“Paris, most recently.”
“Ah. You’re back for the party?” she asked after a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure Kennedy’s door was still closed.
“Yeah, although I’m also back in New York for good. Well, at least for the foreseeable future.”
“Oh! I hadn’t heard. Your parents must be thrilled.”
“Actually . . .” He put his hands in his pockets and leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You’re among the first to know. It just became final yesterday. I was hoping to tell Big Brother Extraordinaire in person. He around?”
Kate smiled. “Does he know you call him that?”
Jack lifted one eyebrow. “You’ve met Kennedy, right? He insists upon it.”