Page 49 of Second Time Around
Chapter 9
Kyra stood on the sidewalk, gaping at his house. “I know what else appealed to you about this place,” she said. “It’s the antithesis of Arion Farm.”
He looked at his home as though he’d never seen it before. “I thought it was just a bold statement.”
“Exactly. A bold statement that you are totally different from your parents.”
The house stood in a row of beaux arts townhomes with ornately embellished facades. His, however, was starkly modern, an outlier of straight, clean lines with no decoration other than its elegant proportions, glowing windows, and the surface that was flecked with some material that picked up glints of light from the streetlamps.
“It’s beautiful in a totally different way,” she said. “What is the glittery stuff?”
“Quartz. The facade is terrazzo, concrete embedded with chips of marble and quartz and then polished smooth.”
“Did you design it?”
“No, I bought it from a venture capitalist who moved to his own private island near Tenerife. He said the weather is perfect there all year round.” He led her up the steps to the front door, a smooth slab of some warm, golden wood, which clicked open at a wave of his free hand.
“That’s nifty,” she said. “Like a magic wand.”
“My very smart watch,” he said, shaking back his cuff to show a simple stainless steel band.
“So you can just walk in your own front door with no worries. I thought rich people needed all kinds of security.” Then she forgot about her question as they stepped into an entry space that glowed with light and a sense of soaring height because it was open all the way up to the ceiling of the second floor. A wood-and-glass staircase slashed up through the space in two bold flights, while a chandelier of crystal starbursts cascaded down from far above.
“Wow!” she said in a near whisper.
“You asked about security. I won’t go into the details, but you are quite safe here, I promise.”
She dragged her gaze away from his house and huffed out a laugh. “No one would bother to kidnap me. It was you I was worried about.”
Something flickered across his face, a softening. “Very few people worry about me.”
“Because you’re rich? That doesn’t make you any less human.”
“Maybe it’s because you knew me when I wasn’t rich. Or less rich,” he added with a wry smile. “Just a fellow student.”
He had never been “just” anything to her. But she wasn’t sharing that. He already had a dangerous hold on her feelings.
“Well, I’m pretty sure if a kidnapper shot you, you would bleed like the rest of us.”
“You’re right. Money can buy protection but not invulnerability.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I forget that. And then I’m surprised when I feel pain.”
He wasn’t talking about physical pain now. She reached up to lay her hand against his cheek. “If you didn’t, I would worry even more about you.”
He lifted his hand to cover hers and stood like that for a moment, leaning his head lightly against her touch. Then he closed his fingers around hers and guided her past the staircase, through a hall with roomsopening off it on either side, and into an inviting living room, paneled in a pale blond wood on three walls while the fourth was all glass. In the light spilling out from it, she could see a patio that glittered like the house’s facade, dotted with boxy modern wicker furniture with deep cushions, a fire pit, and what looked like a wall of copper with water streaming down it in sheets. Tree branches flickered in and out of the light as the breeze moved them, their shadows waltzing over the patio.
“My garden,” Will said, heading for a sliding door.
As they passed through it, subtle lights glimmered to life around the patio, under the trees, within the fountain, and along paths winding through planted beds. “Fairyland,” Kyra breathed, knowing her eyes were wide with the wonder of it.
“I seem to dwell in theme parks.” Will’s tone was amused.
“What?” She looked up to find him gazing down at her, the lights painting intriguing shadows over the angles of his face.
“You said Arion Farm was Disney World, and now we’re in Fairyland.”
“You’re lucky to always be surrounded by beauty,” she said. “Brunell was beautiful, too. Macungie, not so much.”
“You never talked about it. Macungie.”
