distastefully, like he’d done in Africa. If Owen thought Kyle was the best, then he probably was. But that still didn’t answer her question.
“But why you? I mean, why were you there? And how did you—? I have…” So many questions. She glanced up at Kyle and felt her pulse accelerate again. What she had were too many feelings. Could she handle having this living and breathing reminder of Owen in her life every day for the next however-many weeks?
But Kyle had seemed to anticipate her emotional quagmire, and he sought to untangle it. “I was in your dad’s building because I had an interview with Dahlia International.”
At the mention of Dahlia, Harper tensed, a familiar feeling of frustration stealing over her. She may have scowled, but thankfully Kyle didn’t seem to notice.
He went on, “I’d met your dad twice with Owen. Had lunch in Seattle and spent some time with him in Amsterdam. You’re really lucky. He’s an extraordinary guy. Anyway, I saw him in the lobby, and he’d just walked over to say hi when this guy went after him. And I… I helped out. Afterward, your dad and I talked some more. He expressed his concerns about your safety, I gave him some advice and he offered me this job. I don’t start with Dahlia for another month or so. So, here I am.”
Harper exhaled a breath. This all made sense. In the way that cosmic jokes, or colliding fates, or whatever this encounter might be made sense anyway. Inexplicably, she felt herself both repelled by and drawn to Kyle Frasier. More proof that her own judgment was not to be trusted. In this case, she supposed only time would tell. If she chose to hire him, that is… Time. Oh, jeez, she’d forgotten all about Mikhail!
Snagging her phone off the counter, she pointed it at him as she sidestepped toward the doorway. “You know what? We’ll talk about this later.” She picked up her bag from the floor where she’d placed it earlier and slipped the strap over her shoulder. “Tomorrow morning, okay? When you come for your interview, we’ll figure all of this out and—”
“Harper, I think we should talk about it now,” Kyle countered smoothly. “The sooner we work out some of these details, the better.” That voice. Deep and low with just enough compassion that Harper found herself wanting to comply. Or maybe the compassion part was her imagination, her hope, that this guy was only like Owen in the good ways. That he might be as willing to help her as he’d been to help her dad. But how likely was that? Like brothers, she’d heard Owen say countless times about himself and Kyle. Just because birds had similar feathers didn’t mean they always flocked together, right? Or maybe they did. See? Clearly, she needed to sort this through.
“Okay, tonight, then. After my date.” She gestured toward the front door. “I’ve kept the poor guy waiting and confused long enough. We’ll skip the bungee jumping, go and have a quiet dinner somewhere, and then I’ll come back, and you and I can have a proper interview.”
“Oh. Your date is gone.”
“Gone? Where is he?”
Kyle shrugged. “In his car cruising down Highway 101, I’m guessing.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That you’d call him later.”
“I don’t have his number.”
“You don’t—” He broke off with a sigh of frustration. “What do you know about him? Did you have him checked out?”
“He’s a friend of a friend,” she answered evasively and yes, a little defensively. At the flicker of disapproval that crossed his face, she added, “I agreed to the date a week ago.” Somehow, she needed to explain her rationale. But how uncomfortable and awkward to admit that she’d been excited (sort of) to go on the first date she’d had since she’d been involved with his deceased best friend. Where they’d been in a relationship based on deception that had ended very badly. This was insane. What was she doing? What was he doing here agreeing to babysit his best friend’s ex, anyway? Who did that? Why would he do that?
“Well, from now on, you’re not going out with Mikhail or anyone else until they’ve been vetted. That includes a background check and all the accompanying intel. And an…assessment.”
“An assessment?” Her voice went high and a little shrill.
His expression seemed to thaw slightly. “Yes, I’ll want to meet them. But don’t worry, they won’t know they’re being assessed.” Kyle offered up a hand in a placating gesture. “No one has to know you have a…security consultant working for you. As far as your friends, and dates, know I’m an old family friend staying in your guesthouse and helping with some maintenance. Your dad, if you agree, has hired me temporarily with the hope that this will quickly blow over. In the meantime, I’m going to teach you how to take care of yourself.”
“Take care of myself?” she repeated, taking advantage of the unintentional gaffe. “Are there cooking lessons involved? What about laundry?” He went wide-eyed, and Harper almost laughed.
“No, I meant… I mean security-wise. I’m going to help you be more aware of your surroundings and potential threats and what to do if you are threatened. I’m going to teach you how to use every feature of your security system and—”
“Kyle, I know what you meant. I was joking. I’m sorry, I’m a bit stressed, and I tend to…” She cut herself off because she didn’t need to point out her habit of making bad jokes under duress. She’d already provided him with ample evidence when she thought he was her date. “Let’s, um, do you want to sit down?” Harper gestured toward the living room.
“Sure.”
Harper watched him walk into the next room. As much as she didn’t want to, it was impossible not to compare the two men. On the surface, they had similar features, brown hair, brown eyes, same olive complexion. But everything about Kyle, including his expression, was darker. Kyle didn’t possess Owen’s extreme good looks, but he’d be plenty handsome if he weren’t so…severe. His thick brown hair wasn’t quite a buzz cut, but it was still a little too short for her taste, too militaryish, too Owen-like. But then again, he’d just gotten out of the military. His physique certainly backed that up, that he hadn’t slacked in his conditioning was obvious. And he had Owen on that score. A couple of inches shorter than Owen’s six foot two inches, he was broader in the shoulders, bulkier everywhere and much more defined. The cut of muscles outlined beneath his T-shirt reminded her of an MMA fighter she’d photographed last fall. She told herself it was the artist in her noting these details and not the woman who’d barely socialized, much less dated, in six months.
His gaze traveling around the room, Kyle took a seat in one of the two chairs adjacent to the gas fireplace. She’d already noticed his eyes were an arresting shade of brown, but so dark it made them difficult to read. Like the rest of him. Although Harper suspected he did that unreadable thing on purpose. The whole time he’d been here, he had yet to crack a smile, or even offer much in the way of emotion at all. Except for confusion, but she couldn’t blame him for that. Maybe it was a good thing. Like a robot sitting in the corner, she could forget he was even there. What she did not need in her life was another man with an overabundance of charm and charisma. Those were the very traits that had suckered her in time and again.
Harper settled on the sofa and asked, “Can I get you anything? Something to drink maybe?”
“No, thank you.”
“How about a snack?”
“No.”
