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)
You know me. Things take me a while.
She shoved the key into the lock, pushed open the office door, and tried to ignore the wave of Kennedy that hit her. She went to the wooden file cabinet along the right wall of his office and, after unlocking the cabinets, began putting everything in place. She’d done it so many times, she was more or less on autopilot, knowing which folder to put each sheet in based on letterhead or logo alone.
She picked up a piece of ivory paper, blinking down at the letterhead in confusion. Not because she didn’t recognize it, but because it definitely didn’t belong in Kennedy’s files. It was from Columbia University, and Kennedy was a Princeton guy. And yet it was definitely addressed to Mr. Kennedy Dawson.
Still baffled, she scanned the contents, realizing that she’d gotten this same memo herself late last week. It was a generic form letter informing those affiliated with the school that the admissions, alumni, and administration offices had all been temporarily relocated during renovations. Kate had gotten the memo because she was an alumna of the business school.
Why would Kennedy get one?
Pointlessly, she glanced over her shoulder, and then, before she could think better of the invasion of privacy, gave in to the need to know. She opened up one of the drawers, to the Cs, searching for Columbia. She didn’t find it, but there was a folder marked C—a plain manila folder, not navy, the way it should have been if it was a folder Kate set up for him.
Kate sent up a silent apology for snooping and then pulled out the folder, somehow already knowing that her instincts were correct. The C stood for Columbia.
The stack of paper inside was relatively slim, but the impact of what she found nearly knocked her off her feet. Dazed, Kate walked slowly backward until she found herself sitting in Kennedy’s chair, reading the contents over and over until it finally sunk in.
Ian hadn’t paid for her MBA tuition. Kennedy had.
Why had Ian lied? Why had Kennedy? It didn’t make any sense, but there was no denying what she’d read. Kennedy had written an enormous check years ago, paying for her entire degree with one signature. There was no indication that he’d split the cost with Ian, no mention of a transfer of funds.
Kennedy had given her that gift. And hadn’t said a word about it.
Kennedy might not have fallen in love with Kate the way she had with him, at first sight, all in. But he had cared when she’d assumed him indifferent.
I think too much; I’m always up in my head. I may not feel as quickly as you, but I do feel, Kate.
Of course he did.
And suddenly Kate realized that she’d made the most massive mistake of her life.
31
Monday, June 10
Kennedy stared down at the chessboard. Moved the white pawn forward, then moved it back. Then he realized that he wasn’t white; she was.
And she’d never be playing with him again.
He crossed his arms and glared around the room. What did people do on days off? It was too nice out to stay inside and watch TV. He wasn’t depressed, for God’s sake. He could go for a walk to the park—Nope. That made him think of her. Just like work made him think of her. Same with food. Drink. Breathing.
Shit. Maybe he was depressed after all.
Good speech, Dawson. Don’t romanticize it.
The sound of dozens of chess pieces clattering to the ground snapped him out of the flashback, and Kennedy looked down, stunned as his brain caught up with what he’d done. In a rage, he’d swiped the chessboard to the ground.
Kennedy Dawson didn’t do rage. But then, he didn’t really do love, either, and look where he was now. Head over heels for a woman who didn’t love him back.
He started to bend down to pick up the pieces but stopped. He’d do it later. Right now, the mess suited him. So did the anger.
Kennedy headed toward the kitchen, intending to call his brothers and see if any of them could make time for a weekday round of golf. Chasing a tiny ball around while playing the world’s most frustrating sport sounded like just the thing.
A pound at his front door had him pausing in the hallway and reversing course toward the foyer. His front door was wood but had glass paneling at eye level so he could see who was on the other side. At least, normally he could. He didn’t see anyone right now, which meant the other person would have to be . . .
Very short.
Kate.
He knew it. Sensed it. Hated how much he hoped for it.
Kennedy ordered his dignity to ignore the insistent pounding. Let her wait. Let her hurt like he was hurting.
He opened the door.