brow furrowed, and Owen glanced around nervously. “I meant to mention this to you earlier but with all the stuff with Simon, I didn’t want to freak you out.”
The yucks danced in her gut. “What?”
“Don’t panic,” he said, giving her arm a squeeze. “I forgot to tell you something about Mr. Jordan, the restaurant manager.”
Kendall relaxed immediately. She was sure Owen was going to confess being in love or lust or whatever he felt. She hoped this wasn’t about wanting to set her up again because she had no time for men.
“When he finally showed up for the meeting last week...this is going to sound strange...but he sort of looks like...”
Kendall stopped listening because behind Owen, Trevor was stepping out of a cab. Even though her brain told her it couldn’t be Trevor because Trevor was dead, she watched as this Trevor ran a hand through hair that was much too long. Her Trevor always wore his hair short—military short. This Trevor patted his pockets then shook his head like he should have known there was nothing there.
It wasn’t until he looked up and right at Kendall that she noticed the world around her had gone fuzzy, not just the sights but the sounds, too. It was like she was underwater. Owen seemed so far away. Did he see Trevor, too, or was she the only one? Owen’s voice as well as the street noise was muffled. The only thing that wasn’t blurry was this Trevor, who was smiling as he glided over to her.
He was beautiful, dressed in dark gray slacks and a light purple button-down. Her Trevor never would have worn purple. Ever. But it looked so good on him. The sleeves were rolled up like he was ready to do some work. His arms were as tan as the first time he came back from Afghanistan.
She wanted to touch him. Hold him. Cry on his shoulder. Beg him to be real. Then let him have it for leaving her, for not choosing her and Simon. She would have done all of that if her arms and legs weren’t numb. There was a tremendous burning in her chest, but the rest of her was frozen.
Trevor’s eyes never left her and his grin widened as he got closer. He was right in front of her, and she wasn’t sure how she was still standing, or breathing for that matter. “You must be the K in KO Designs,” he said in a voice that wasn’t at all like her Trevor’s. It was deeper, rougher.
Before she could say anything or hold his hand like she wanted, the world went from fuzzy straight to black.
“SIT HER DOWN over here,” Owen said, clearing some junk off a dusty chair. The poor guy was almost as pale as the woman in Max’s arms.
“Does she have low blood sugar or some kind of medical condition I should know about?” Max asked. He wasn’t sure how she was going to hold herself up when she was unconscious, so he held on to her.
“Not that I know of.” Her business partner was flustered. “You should put her down. She’ll pass out again if she wakes up and you’re holding her.”
Max’s eyebrows pinched together. There was no way he was blaming him for this. Who passed out at the sight of someone? Although... His mother had always teased him about being a knockout. Kendall Montgomery was indeed out cold, and all he had done was smile and attempt to introduce himself. Maybe he had KO’d the K in KO Designs with his devilish good looks. He fought a smile. It was funny, even though it wasn’t.
Her eyes began to flutter open and, though it was absurd to think he had anything to do with her passing out, Max wanted to set her down before she came to. She looked up at him as he set her on the chair.
“Oh, God, did I die?” She was horror-stricken. Her eyes were wide and wild. “I can’t die. What about Simon!” Her hand covered her mouth.
“No, no, no, K. You’re fine. You’re alive,” Owen said, pushing Max aside and helping her sit up straight. “Mr. Jordan, here, brought you inside.”
“Mr. Jordan?”
The beautiful but somewhat strange designer rubbed her forehead and stared at Max. She was pretty enough to be forgiven for spilling her coffee all over his shoes. This time.
“Please, call me Max,” he said to both of them. This Mr. Jordan stuff made him feel uncomfortable. The only Mr. Jordan that Max ever knew was his grandfather, and his mother’s father was nothing but a mean, old man. He scanned the room. “Let me find you some water.”
The restaurant was a big, torn-apart space with nothing to offer but broken furniture and an empty bar. He decided to duck outside and spotted a Dunkin’ Donuts on the corner, down the street.
He bought Kendall water and a glazed doughnut, just in case low blood sugar really was the culprit. When he returned to the future home of Sato’s, the two designers were hugging. This was not how he expected day one to start. He waited for them to break apart before he handed over the food and drink.
The biggest, softest brown eyes stared up at him. This woman was the knockout. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a ponytail that fell halfway down her back. The navy V-neck shirt she wore accentuated the length of her neck, and her skin was the color of the cream he put in his coffee.
“I figured everyone likes glazed doughnuts. I’m a Boston cream fan myself, but some people don’t like stuff inside their doughnuts. I love vanilla pudding but hate jelly. I mean, if I want jelly, I’m going to put it on toast, not in my doughnut.”
Both designers stared and blinked, blinked and stared. They were beginning to make him self-conscious. He hadn’t had a pimple since the twelfth grade, but all their gaping had him wondering if he didn’t have a giant red bump on his nose.
“You should probably eat something,” he said, filling the awkward silence. “I bet you skipped breakfast this morning. Am I right?”
Kendall glanced at Owen, then nodded her head. “Yeah. I was in such a rush, I totally forgot to grab something. Thank you...Max.” She said his name like she was testing the way it sounded. As if he might correct her and tell her it was something else.
“You’re welcome,” he said with a wink. “Eat up so we can get to work.”
Kendall pulled out the doughnut and took a bite, humming in appreciation. She ate and she drank. She smiled and she blushed. She was even prettier with a little color in her cheeks. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand instead of the napkin he had stuffed in the small paper bag, and she never stopped staring.
* * *
MAX WAS HOPEFUL things would be less awkward as the day progressed, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he was under a microscope. During the morning meeting with the contractor, he caught her studying his shoes. When he was pointing out some issues in the blueprints, she seemed completely distracted by his hands. Not to mention the five minutes she spent fixated on his chin. Max had to go the bathroom to make sure there wasn’t something there.
Getting a woman’s attention was nothing new. One of Max’s favorite things about his job was working the room, sparing no one from his charm. He was used to women watching him, flirting with crooked smiles and batted eyelashes. Those looks fueled his ego nicely.
This was not that.
Kendall was currently talking on the phone, but she was also watching Max tour the room with one of the subcontractors. The crease between her eyebrows was the dead giveaway that she wasn’t flirting. She was judging. Why was she judging him? All day he felt like he wasn’t meeting some standard.
As soon as she got off her phone, he intended to find out what her problem was. He finished with Joe the subcontractor and strode over to Kendall, who, even though she was looking right at him, didn’t seem to notice he was headed her way.
“I bought you breakfast and still I feel like you’re holding the whole fainting spell against me.”
She startled when he spoke.