Reese could be a little overprotective at times. But she could deal with it. He had been her best friend for as long as she could remember, and she loved him like a brother. She quickly repressed the thought, which she knew was a lie. She did love him, had always loved him, and not as a brother. He was the man she would never have, and as her best friend he’d always looked out for her. She no longer fantasized about “what might have been,” but accepted the role he played in her life now—the part he would always play.
She picked up his masculine scent long before he reached her. He tapped Corbin on the shoulder and took over as her dance partner. She couldn’t help but smile at him. Like always, he dreamily smiled back.
Reese had no idea that whenever he smiled at Kenna—even though they were just friends—he had a way of making her feel beautiful and special. Even though their relationship was far from intimate, she knew him better than anyone. She knew his likes, dislikes, his innermost secrets. She knew when things were bothering him without having to ask. She could feel him. She could decipher his mood, and could even pick him out of a crowded room. It was like she had radar, a sixth sense, where Reese was concerned. They were simpatico.
Without saying a word, they danced the tango like contestants on Dancing With the Stars. When she had needed a partner for her ballroom dance classes a few years ago, he had obliged, but after much complaining. There was never any doubt that they were great dancing together, but they also looked incredibly good together.
The tango ended and the band began playing a swing dance number. The swing dance was another favorite of hers. And as she and Reese stood facing each other, hand in hand, moving their feet in rhythm to the beat, they couldn’t help but laugh. Reese was the only man who could keep up with her on the dance floor and do it with such style.
As they danced, she couldn’t stop her eyes from roaming over his body from head to toe. He was handsome in his tuxedo, but then he looked handsome in everything. He was one of the hottest men she’d ever laid eyes on, and in a room filled with good-looking Madaris men that said a lot.
Reese was tall, almost six foot three. And as far as Kenna was concerned, he was the epitome of masculinity at its finest. His deep, rich copper skin tone only deepened the most gorgeous pair of brown, bedroom eyes any man could possess. Then there were his dimples and his generous lips that beckoned women to want to lick them for days.
She swallowed hard, suppressing such thoughts, and reminded herself that although she secretly loved him, their relationship was based on friendship, nothing more. But that didn’t stop her from appreciating him as a man—and seeing him through the eyes of a woman sexually attracted to a man—every once in a while.
The swing dance ended and the band began to play a slow song. Kenna turned to leave the dance floor when Reese tightened his hold on her hand and pulled her closer to him. She went willingly.
When he wrapped his arms around her and drew her closer to his muscular frame, she put her head on his chest and closed her eyes. It wasn’t the first time they’d slow-danced together, but it was so rare that she relished the times they did.
After three dances with Reese she wondered why no one had cut in. She tilted her head away from his chest and took in the curious looks that were focused on them across the ballroom. Although she and Reese weren’t the only ones on the dance floor, his family standing on the sidelines of the ballroom had their eyes glued to them. Why?
She tilted her head upward and met Reese’s gaze. “Is something going on that I should know about?” she asked softly.
He smiled at her. “Why do you ask?”
“Everyone is staring at us.”
He glanced around the room and returned his gaze to hers. “They always stare at us when we dance together.”
“Yes, but this time it’s different.”
He shrugged. “You know how my great-grandmother is. She heard you’re moving in with me and has probably gotten everyone thinking that there’s more than friendship between us.”
“But why would she say something like that? Everyone knows we’re nothing more than friends,” Kenna said.
“Yes, but I’m sure she reminded them that in the beginning Syneda and Clayton had been friends, too.”
“Yes, but things between us are different. Surely they know that.”
He smiled. “They do. Don’t worry about it. They’re just trying to mollify the old gal.”
Kenna sighed softly and rested her face on Reese’s chest again. She couldn’t understand why his great-grandmother would say such a thing when everyone knew the kind of women Reese was usually attracted to—tall and slender, which was something she definitely was not.
The song ended much too soon, but instead of leading her off the dance floor, Reese tilted her chin upward to meet his gaze. His brown bedroom eyes scanned her face with concern. “Hey, you’re okay?” he asked in a voice that was so low it was barely audible. It was lower than she’d ever heard before.
She nodded and smiled. “Yes, I’m fine. What about you? Are you beginning to think my moving in with you isn’t such a good idea after all?”
“No, I still think it’s a good idea. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t let you stay with me? And don’t worry about my great-grandmother. We know the real deal regardless of what others believe is going on between us, right?”
She nodded, keeping the smile plastered on her face. Yes, he was right. They knew the real deal. He would never look at her the way he looked at other women. They would never be anything more than best buddies.
“Right,” she said, smiling. “We know the real deal even if they don’t.”
He returned her smile. “True.”
She drew in a deep breath as he led her off the dance floor, and she wondered how she was going to remain level-headed living under Reese’s roof for thirty days.
Chapter 2
A month later…
Reese leaned in the doorway with a cup of coffee in his hand and looked behind Kenna to the moving truck parked in front of his ranch house. It was a truck he knew was loaded down with heaven knows what.
He had offered to fly to Austin and help her make the drive to Houston, but that independent streak in Kenna—which annoyed the hell out of him at times—had refused his help. She claimed she needed to do things herself, since it was her way of turning another page in her life. A part of him understood that, mostly because he understood her.
“So how was the drive?” he asked, offering her the cup of coffee in his hand. Like him, she needed the caffeine, especially during the early morning hours, and it was early. At four in the morning most of Houston was still asleep, including the men who worked his ranch. Kenna preferred driving at night, although Reese had been concerned about her safety.
She took a sip, closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. She opened her eyes and met his gaze with sparkling eyes. “I hope you never lose your knack for making coffee. Starbucks has nothing on you, Reese Madaris.”
“Glad you think so,” he said, chuckling, taking
