Page 1 of Second Time Around
Chapter 1
Kyra Dixon scooped her tray off the counter and headed for the one empty chair ... at a table already occupied by a businessman engrossed in his laptop. But this was New York City, so you sat with strangers when it was unavoidable. That made the vacant chair fair game as long as she didn’t attempt to converse with the man. She’d learned that when she first came to Manhattan from Macungie, Pennsylvania, eight long years ago.
It was tough threading her way through the packed-in tables at Ceres, one of the wildly successful chain of cafés, where she splurged once every two weeks. The food might be fast, but it was also fresh, with surprising ingredients. Plunking her tray onto the table, she murmured a perfunctory “Hope you don’t mind” before slinging her backpack onto the floor and sitting down.
The man nodded but didn’t raise his eyes from his computer, so she allowed herself a quick assessment. The waves of his blond hair appeared so natural that she knew his haircut had cost more than her week’s wages. His navy-blue suit fit his broad shoulders without a wrinkle—it must have been custom-tailored. If he’d walked into Stratus, the high-end club where Kyra worked as a bartender, she would expect a big tip from him. In fact, he looked out of place wedged into the cramped tables here.
Shrugging, she picked up her lamb wrap, anticipating the creamy burst of avocado-and-yogurt spread when she bit into it. It was this combination that tempted her to spend her hard-earned money on eating out before she headed for her bartending job. She sank her teeth through the tomato-basil tortilla, relished the rich fattiness of the lamb, and then ... no avocado, no yogurt.
She put the wrap on the plate and peeled it open. One tiny smear of the creamy spread was positioned right in the center of the tortilla. “Of all the stingy ...!”
“Is there something wrong with your food?” A deep voice with a slight Connecticut intonation made her look up from her defective lamb wrap.
She stared. Her companion had raised his head from his laptop, and she could see that his eyes were a deep jade green. She’d only seen eyes like that once before in her life. She tried to overlay the expensively dressed executive with the lanky classics major she’d known back in college. It could be him. With ten years, a serious haircut, and a lot of success in between.
His eyes widened a fraction. “Kyra? Kyra Dixon?”
Itwashim. The man she’d wanted never to face again.
She flattened the palm of her hand against her chest in exaggerated shock. “Will Chase! Who’d have thought we’d run into each other in the seething masses of New York City?”
For a moment he seemed stunned. Then a glint of amused challenge lit his eyes. “‘I count myself in nothing else so happy as in a soul remembering my good friends.’”
“Quote wars!” For a moment she was back at Brunell University, trading quotations with the gorgeous blond boy from upper-crust Connecticut. They’d pick a topic and trade quotes until one of them couldn’t think of another appropriate comeback. Will had been her suitemate’s boyfriend, but Babette hadn’t been very faithful. So Kyrawas often pressed into entertaining him while Babette was getting rid of another guy. Kyra hadn’t found the duty a chore. “Shakespeare is too easy,” she scoffed.
“Easy but true, in this case.”
Kyra dug into the dusty corners of her memory and came back with: “‘There is flattery in friendship.’”
Will nodded his approval. “Back at me with the Bard. Well done.”
Kyra gave a little crow of triumph as she flashed back to the heady days of college when she drank in knowledge like wine. But those days were long gone. She pulled herself back to the present and the somewhat intimidating man across from her. “Do you work near here?” she asked.
His lips twisted into a smile with an edge of irony. “I suppose you could say that I work right here.”
Kyra glanced around the crowded café he claimed was his office. “Wait ... what do you mean?”
He swept his hand in a half circle. “I own this place. The whole chain and a few miscellaneous subsidiaries, in fact.”
“Oh.” Surprise made her stomach flip. He’d always been out of her league, but she didn’t expect him to bethatsuccessful. Ceres had cafés all over the world. She also didn’t expect him to be in the food business. He had been headed for law school after Brunell.
She’d had to drop out of college after her sophomore year, when he’d only been a junior, so his plans must have changed. Not to mention that Brunell didn’t send her alumni magazines, which contained class notes columns announcing their graduates’ impressive accomplishments. They only sent bills for her student-loan payments. “Wow! Congratulations on your success,” she finally managed.
“Thank you, but I seem to have a quality-control problem.” He frowned at the defective lamb wrap on her tray. “Let me get you a replacement with the right amount of avocado-yogurt spread and thenwe’ll catch up.” He gave her one of those warm, dazzling smiles that highlighted the deep cleft in his chin and made her dream of things she couldn’t have.
“Really, it’s fine,” she said.
He was already standing up with her plate in his hand and an expression on his face that made her glad she wasn’t the manager on duty. He raised his eyebrows in a way that was pure CEO. “I heard you call it ‘stingy.’”
“You’ve got me there.” She gave him a wave of permission and he turned to weave through the tables. As he approached the service counter, the cashiers cast him wary looks. He strode past them and into the food prep area, where she lost sight of him.
Had he known she had a heart-stopping crush on him in college? Or had her we’re-just-friends banter been convincing enough for him to believe that she was merely being courteous by making conversation while he waited for Babette?
He might have thought that, if it hadn’t been for the one awful night.
Her hope had always been that he didn’t remember how that had ended. Or if he did, that he was too much of a gentleman to say so. Because William Peyton Chase III was definitely a gentleman.
Still, embarrassment prickled over her skin with a hot flush. Amazing that she could feel the sting of her humiliation after all these years.
