Searching for Perfect

five

NATE WALKED INTO the living room and took in the scene before him. Beer bottles littered the tables. Some porno flick on the TV screen. An open bag of chips and Funyuns lay half-open on the couch among a bunch of crumbs. And his brother splayed out on the couch, feet propped up, one hand securely tucked into his underwear and cupping the family jewels.

“Hey, man. What’s up?”

Nate nodded at Connor and automatically began cleaning up. Rolled up the open bags and securely closed them with a clip. Scooped up the empty bottles and tossed them in the recycling bin. “Nothing. Did you put out the garbage for tomorrow morning?”

“Nah, I forgot. How come you’re so late? You score?” His brow wagged up and down like Groucho Marx. Usually, Nate would laugh. Tonight, annoyance flickered.

“Met with my matchmaker. I signed up at Kinnections, remember?”

“She hot?”

Yes. Nate shrugged. “Not really. Listen, I’ll be late all week. Can you handle the garbage in the morning and get some groceries? We’re running low.”

“Sure, man, sure.” A big-breasted blonde moaned and wiggled her hips on the screen. Distaste skimmed over Nate. Why did his brother’s actions seem to get worse the older he got? It had been cool in high school. Acceptable in college. But now at thirty-six, it seemed . . . sad. “Wanna watch the movie with me?”

“No, thanks. I’m tired.”

His brother pulled his hand from his boxers and climbed off the couch. They always joked that Connor got the physical genes in the family, and Nate had scored in the brains department. Nate topped six feet, but his brother towered over him and boasted a ton of muscle. He wore his blondish hair long and had encouraged Nate to go that route since he claimed women found it sexy. His eyesight was twenty-twenty and he’d been blessed with his mother’s big hazel eyes and thick long lashes. Bastard. He’d dropped out of college to work construction, and made a decent living except in the winter months, when things got lean and mean. “You look different. Oh, you’re not orange.”

“Yeah, got some body scrub thing to remove it.”

“Lame, bro. Don’t lose the man gene.”

“It was a very manly spa.” He focused on setting the coffeepot to go off at exactly 5:45 a.m. and ignored his brother’s look. Connor always knew when he lied.

“Hey, Ned, you got some extra money you can lend me for the week? The guys want to go out for a beer tomorrow night and I’m light.”

He frowned. “I just lent you money last week.”

Connor waved his other hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll catch up soon. I caught another construction job, so I’ll be working extra. Also decided to go for the supervisor position. Been there the longest. What do you think?”

He glanced up from measuring perfect portions of coffee grounds. “Definitely go for it. You’d do well in management.”

His brother lit up and again Nate acknowledged the guilt that flared up whenever he thought of the sacrifices Connor had made for him. College was expensive, even with scholarships, and after his parents pretty much orphaned them, Con worked three jobs to help Nate get to school and stay there.

“Yeah, I agree. Interviews start next week. But I got caught light after Stan’s bachelor party. Too bad you couldn’t go. The strippers were hot.”

“Sorry I missed it.”

“Guess getting people to Mars is more important, right?” He grinned, tipped back his beer, and finished it in one long swallow. “You got me, right?”

“Sure.” He reached into his wallet, peeled off a few bills, and threw them on the table. “Listen, I changed my name back to Nate. No more Ned.”

Connor laughed. “Why’d you do that? Everyone knows you as Ned.”

“Let’s just call it a new leaf. I’m making some changes so I can find a wife.”

“Shiiiit, bro, I still don’t know why you’re stuck on marriage. Once you screw them enough, you’re done anyway. You hear me?”

Had his brother gotten cruder or was he just weary? “Just call me Nate, okay?”

“Sure, whatever you want. Just be careful with this matchmaking thing.”

“Got it handled. I’m going to bed.”

“ ’Night.”

Nate left the kitchen. When his brother had first asked to become his roommate, he’d thought it’d be a blast. He enjoyed Connor’s company and felt as if he owed him a great debt. His brother was, quite simply, his hero. Any other moody teen would’ve ditched his baby brother behind and taken care of himself. But Connor was the one who drove him to after-school science and math clubs. Protected him from the string of bullies ready to beat the shit out of him. Sat beside the bed quietly while Nate sobbed because the pain of his mother leaving was too much to bear, and the silence from his father cut his heart out.

But now they were grown up. He wanted a life for himself. A wife. Children. A dog. He loved his brother, but he was ready for him to move out. The few months originally promised had turned into a year, and Connor still made no attempt to get his own place. Nate’s haven had become a frat house, where he was the maid, cook, and advisor for Connor and his construction crew. He had to talk to him soon. If he was serious about finding a wife, he couldn’t bring her into this type of environment. Time his brother got his own place and moved out. It would be a good move for both of them.

Nate trudged to his room, stripped off his clothes, and got ready for bed. When he finally lay on top of the crisp white sheets, he thought of Kennedy. Thought of that one sweet, earth-shattering kiss he’d remember for the rest of his life. She tasted of salt, spice, and sin. He’d never wanted a woman as badly before and would have sold his research patent to China just for an opportunity to kiss her once more.

He stared up at the ceiling. The best part was that she had responded to him. Somehow, he’d gotten to her, and for that one moment, she belonged to him. But it was time to pull himself back from the abyss before the entire plan fell apart. He wanted a woman for a long-term relationship and didn’t have the skills to scale maximum-security walls strategically built to keep out men with much more experience than him. If she were willing, he’d die trying to have her. But she wasn’t. And the one thing he wasn’t was stupid.

He would have to be very, very stupid to ever think Kennedy Ashe would want him for forever. She was too beautiful. Too perfect. And that, he knew, was a deadly combination.

It took a long time for sleep to come.

“NO. WAY.”

Kennedy shared a glance with the stylist. The man arched a brow and pursed his lips in disapproval. Benny had a very large ego, well earned, and the idea that Nate didn’t want to follow his instructions insulted him in all ways. Tall and lean, his dark hair was impeccably styled and touched with red to add depth, and a diamond winked in his left ear. He always wore black and manicured his nails; his nose was long with a slight hook that made turning it up at anyone who didn’t suit him all the more easy. Like right now. She rested her hands on Nate’s shoulders, covered by the plastic cape, and met his gaze in the mirror. “What’s the real problem?”

“Are you kidding? You want to highlight my hair? Wax my face? Let me repeat myself. No. Way. I’m going home.”

Benny threw up his hands. He spoke with a fake British accent, though Kennedy knew he was straight from the Bronx. “I cannot work under such conditions. I am an artist. I take your clients as a favor to you, but I will not be insulted.”

“Listen, buddy, I read Glamour, and it specifically states that highlights need to be kept up every two weeks. I’m sure as hell not going to a salon on a regular basis, so you better rethink the plan.”

Benny huffed. Then spoke with grudging approval. “He is right. I refuse to give highlights to someone who will not maintain.”

Nate sat up taller and made a move to rise from his chair. “That’s right. Now who’s the expert? I’m outta here.”

Benny curled his lip in disdain.

“Nate, please listen.” Kennedy placed a light restraining hand on his arm, which immediately grabbed all of Nate’s focus. “Benny is going to polish up your appearance to increase your natural confidence. You’re not getting a fair shot with a lot of good women because you haven’t taken the time to make a good first impression. I promise you it’s not that dramatic a change.”

“You want to cut off all my hair.”

“Consider it shedding season and let’s be done with this,” the stylist sneered.

“Benny!”

Benny picked at a cuticle, already done with the whole episode. Nate glared and crossed his arms against his chest. Kennedy sighed internally. Ah, crap. Dealing with a man’s appearance was always delicate, but especially one with so much work to do. Her fingers itched to uncover what she knew he was hiding: a certain geeky hotness that would intrigue women and find him love.

The unibrow rose. “How come this is all a one-way street? Why don’t you trust me to tell you I’m fine the way I am? I refuse to be some blond-ass Twinkie.”

She bit down on her lower lip to keep from laughing. Benny rolled his eyes. “As if,” he muttered under his breath.

Nate jerked his head. “I heard that.”

“Okay, listen, if you do this for me, I’ll do something for you.”

Benny looked interested. “I had no idea, darling.”

Kennedy rolled her eyes. “Relax, Benny—I’m not sleeping with him. But Nate, you can choose something that will stretch my boundaries. Even though you’re a client, I usually don’t ask them to do anything I wouldn’t be willing to complete myself. Name it.”

He feigned disinterest. “You’re already beautiful.”

A shot of female vanity and pride hit her. “Thank you. Look, you won’t get this opportunity again. Pick something and I’ll do it. The offer disappears in a minute.”

“Let me teach you to golf.”

She winced. Oh, this was bad. Being dragged out on an endless lawn to smack a ball and walk eight miles to do it again was so not on her bucket list. And the outfits they wore were plain scary. Those awful collared shirts and plaid pants above the ankle. She once saw a golfer on TV wearing bright orange shorts without even a hint of irony. Nightmare. Not to mention the droning on and on about handicaps and strokes. “How about we bank the favor for now? Think about it more in depth and come up with something you really want. Okay?” She used her best pout and lowered her lids. Only once had a man told her no when facing off against that particular expression. She knew her odds were good.

His face turned stubborn. “No. Golf. And not just once. I need a few sessions in order to teach you properly.”

She shuddered. Analyzed the options for a way out. Found none. She could threaten him, but he’d still refuse and, without changing his appearance, she’d be too behind the eight ball. Or golf ball. “Fine. You win. But no more bitching and giving Benny a headache. You follow our instructions. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Benny?”

The stylist ran his fingers through Nate’s shaggy locks, a look of disgust on his face. “Deal. This is too horrific not to help with.”

“Thanks.”

She scrolled through her text messages and waited while Benny prepped a moisturizing treatment and began his magic. Kennedy sipped coffee, answered emails, and tried to ignore her client’s grunts and groans of horror as the solution was rubbed into his scalp. Roughly. A razor edge was brought out from the drawer and a hot washcloth placed on his face. Suddenly, Benny gave a shout.

“My God, I am brilliant. This man needs scruff.”

Kennedy walked over. Nate’s voice was muffled under the cloth. “What?”

“Do you think he can pull it off?” she asked.

Benny tapped a finger over his chin and debated. “It’s a gamble. If I do this correctly, he can become my greatest creation.”

“I’m a fucking Frankenstein now? Get me out of here.”

“Shush,” Benny said.

“What the hell? I shave every day and now this is a problem?”

“Shush,” Kennedy said. “Let him think.”

Benny finally nodded. “We shall do it. But it must be delicate. I will set up the pattern but he must promise to follow it exactly. The hair growing in needs to be the right shape so he doesn’t end up looking like a drug dealer gone bad.”

Nate whipped off the cloth. “Drug dealer? No stubble, I’m an aerospace engineer.”

Benny cocked his head. “Hmm, I’m making over a rocket scientist, huh? Not bad.”

“Aerospace engineer.”

“Shush,” Kennedy and Benny said in unison.

Benny wielded the blade in warning. Nate settled back into his chair. Kennedy went back to work, content to let Benny work his magic.

“What are you putting on my eyes?” Kennedy pressed her lips together. Benny didn’t answer, just applied the hot wax to the nightmare unibrow. “That’s hot and sticky. What’s going on?”

“Stop whining.”

Kennedy swallowed a giggle and spoke up. “Benny needs to clean up your brows.”

“They’re eyebrows, for God’s sakes. What can you do to them?”

Benny pressed the fabric down. And ripped it off.

“Shit!”

“Stop being a baby. Women handle hard-core pain on a daily basis. Now hold still, I’m not finished.”

“You ripped my hair off my face. I’m a guy.”

“A hairy guy. You will need to wax regularly.”

“Fuck you.”

Kennedy held back a gasp. Interesting. Nate rarely cursed. Extreme pain pushed his societal limits. She wondered what else did, but then quickly shut down the thought.

An hour later, Ben revealed the finished cut, keeping Nate turned around so he wasn’t able to peek at his reflection. An odd shiver coursed down her spine as she stared at the new and improved Nate Dunkle.

Oh. Yeah.

Frankenstein he was not. His dull brown hair now gleamed with health and shine, in a dusky golden brown that picked up the moss green in his eyes. The expert cut gave the front a bit of a wave that just brushed his brow. The back was a layered razor cut to shape his head and give him a touch of bad boy. The features of his face were finally revealed, and she admitted it had been a crime to cover them up with all that hair. She envisioned the way the dark stubble would edge his chiseled jaw and mouth, adding to the overall appeal. Her belly flipped over just once.

“You’re looking at me funny. How bad is it?”

Kennedy smiled. “You look amazing. Turn around.”

The chair swiveled. Those eyes widened as he took in the new cut. They both waited him out. Kennedy was getting used to his silences, and respected the way his mind processed every detail of the world around him.

“Not bad.”

Benny sniffed. “As if. I am a master. We should have done this for a reality TV show. I would’ve been famous.”

“As if,” Nate muttered.

Kennedy gave him a glare in the mirror and hugged Benny. “You are a genius, thank you.”

“For you, my love, anything. He must moisturize weekly and return to me every week until I am assured he can handle his stubble. Have you considered laser hair therapy for his back?”

“Hey, Ben, have you read the latest article in Esquire citing a diamond earring worn in the left ear gives off an air of desperation? How are you making out on the bar scene lately?”

The hooked nose turned up in its signature sign of disgust. “Stop being a mitch and get your ass out of my salon.”

“A what? A mitch? What the hell is that?”

“A male bitch. Don’t you get out enough? Learn the language.”

Nate gaped. “That word doesn’t exist and is not defined by Webster’s.”

“Live your life by Webster’s standards and you’ll miss out on everything. Wake up.”

“I’m in some type of acid-tripped-up Wonderland. I can take care of my own stubble.”

Benny dropped his voice. “Cross me once, my little aerospace engineer, and you shall live to regret it.”

“Go ahead. Make my day.”

Ken jumped in between them. “Bonding time is over! Let’s go.” She scrawled her name to the VISA sales slip, grabbed the moisturizer, and marched Nate out.

“How do you find these people? First Ming, then Benny. Who’s next, the murderer from Texas Chainsaw Massacre to show me how to socialize properly?”

She clamped down another laugh and headed toward the car. “No, Kinnections will take care of that. The gym is next; I have something planned. You can meet me there Wednesday night. I’ll text you the address.”

Misery carved out his features. “Funny, suddenly having my hair ripped from my skin sounds like more fun.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Is this your car?” She looked down at the super sleek black Tesla and gave him extra points. “Nice.”

He practically beamed. “Thanks. Completely battery powered and emission free.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “And it’s pretty hot. So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Where are you going?”

She frowned. “Home.”

“It’s a beautiful night, you tortured me for hours, and I’m due a reward.” Kennedy jumped off the curb. No way was she going through another stolen-kiss routine. The first one had almost ruined her. Nate laughed. “Relax. I’m not going to jump you. We’re getting ice cream.” He snagged her hand and led her down the sidewalk.

Shock kept her immobile for a while. “Ice cream? It’s March. Ice cream is one of the most fattening treats a person can indulge in. Absolutely not. I’m avoiding dairy lately at all costs.”

“And you’re probably miserable. It’s the last week in March and officially spring. Eating ice cream alone is a crime—you’re coming with me. Consider it babysitting duty. You can watch me eat and make sure I don’t get into any trouble.”

A dozen protests fluttered through her mind, but he allowed her no time to voice them. The sun hung suspended over the line of the Hudson River, caught between day and evening, and threw the world into a rosy light that shimmered off the water. Her heels clicked on the pavement as he settled into a comfortable walking pace and began his way up Main Street. Shops began to turn on their silvery lights and displayed their wares proudly, ranging from pottery and sculpture to an array of cafés promising baked goods, fresh breads, and designer coffees. Kennedy relaxed and waved to Julia, the local librarian, and chatted a few seconds with old man Charlie, who sat on the same park bench beginning at five o’clock until his buddy Frank got off work and they marched to Mugs for their daily Coors Light cocktail. Emma stopped them to give Kennedy a special gluten-free dog treat for Kate’s dog, Robert, to help test out the new samples from the Barking Dog Bakery. Nate seemed comfortable to hang out while she chatted. Emma shot them a curious look. She tried to tug her hand from his grip, but he held firm, so she gave up. When was the last time she strolled down the street hand in hand with a man? His fingers were warm and strong, and it was nice to pretend for a little while that she had a normal relationship like everyone else.

A group of boys flew past them on skateboards, chased by giggling girls. She suddenly realized he seemed to know the town well.

“I didn’t know you were familiar with Verily.”

“I’m not.”

She swung her head around. His profile was strong and graceful in the dying sun, even marred by the horrible frames of his glasses. “Then how do you know there’s an ice cream place open?”

“A quaint, artistic river town in New York on Main Street. Are you kidding? They always have ice cream.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t even have dinner yet.”

“I’m a rebel.”

Kennedy smiled.

They reached the small café, Xpressions, which boasted gourmet treats and homemade ice cream chock full of calories, fat, and deliciousness. Nate took his time picking out the flavor, requesting samples of the Raspberry Razzle and Chocolate Truffle. She thought about getting a fat-free frozen yogurt, but it was just too pathetic even to bother with. He turned to her with a serious frown. “If it was up to you, what flavor would you get?”

A bit of grumpiness overtook her. “Why get fruit in an ice cream? It’s pointless.”

He tapped the small plastic spoon against his mouth. “Brilliant theory. I’ll take a double scoop, please. Chocolate Truffle and the Peanut Butter Bash.”

Her stomach growled. She tried to remind herself that she had a perfectly proportioned piece of poached salmon and unbuttered green beans at home waiting for her. “Peanut butter is also high in fat. You just picked the two worst flavors to guarantee the clogging of arteries.”

He gasped in mock horror. “Worse than the Cake Batter or Cookie Dough?”

“Fine. It’s your funeral.”

“Oh and on one of those homemade waffle cones, please. Sure you don’t want one? They have frozen yogurt.”

She glared. “No, thanks.”

His face relaxed into the joy of a child as he attacked the ice cream cone, a bunch of napkins wrapped around the base. “Let’s sit for a few minutes.”

“I have to get home.”

“Just a minute.”

She huffed but led him to the carved bench by the dog park. They watched the dogs run and play in wild abandon, while they sat under a twisted elm tree. A man wrapped his arms around his lover and stole a kiss by the wire fence. Ken relaxed. She hadn’t come out for a walk in a while. It was kind of nice to just sit and enjoy the sights of Verily.

“I love New York. Always amazed me you can hike the mountains, ride a horse, and see a Broadway play all within an hour of each other. Have you lived in Verily your whole life?” he asked.

“No, we all attended NYU and lived in Manhattan. Then Arilyn, Kate, and I visited for a weekend and fell in love. We decided to open Kinnections and settle here. How about you?”

He snorted around his ice cream. “I ended up in California at the Dryden Flight Research Center. My goal was always NASA, I just wasn’t sure what base I’d end up with, but I’m a numbers guy. Always been fascinated by physics and the challenge of manipulating information and equations to increase efficiency. My teachers couldn’t keep up with me, so it was only a matter of time before NASA came knocking. When it dismantled, the private sector exploded. I was able to come back to New York and enjoy working for a reclusive techno billionaire who wants to fiddle with space travel. But trust me, the astronauts and pilots are the ones who get the glory. And the girls.”

She watched a trail of chocolate ice cream drip onto his spotless lab coat and smothered a laugh. He looked down and muttered a curse. “Damn, I almost got through the day without a stain. I’m running out of coats. Here, hold this.”

He shoved the cone into her hands and tried to mop up the mess with the napkins. Kennedy stared at the gorgeous, shiny, drippy ice cream cone in front of her. Pieces of chocolate truffle peeked out from beneath. A chunk of peanut butter whispered her name. Sanity tugged at the fringes of her mind until a moan from Nate caught her off guard.

“What’s the matter?”

“Stomachache,” he said.

She raised a brow. “You think? Look at this monster. I warned you about dinner.”

“You gotta finish it.”

Her heart pounded and her palms began to sweat. “No! I can’t eat this. I’ll cut off five years of my life and gain ten pounds.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I refuse to waste a good cone. I ate most of it, just have a little so I don’t feel guilty.”

“But I—”

“I had the top half of my face ripped off today. Eat the cone, Kennedy.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, fine.” The first lick caused a tiny shudder of pleasure to explode along her nerve endings. “This is ridiculous. I didn’t eat dinner either.”

“Good, we’ll be sick together.”

The second bite almost put her into cardiac arrest. The third and it was all over.

She was so happy.

A whimper escaped, and she didn’t care. She attacked the cone with more enthusiasm. After all, she was doing him a favor. “So, if you’re studying propulsion, you’re really dealing with velocity. Are you trying to manipulate the formula in order to reach higher efficiency?”

He jerked back and gave her an odd look. A warning bell sounded in her brain, but it was too muted from the sugar rush. He spoke very slowly, as if trying to balance his words, but his gaze shred her to pieces and seemed to rationalize every part. “Yes, but everything works together. In order to change the velocity, you need the right balance of impulse to propel momentum. The thrust equation depends on the mass flow through the engine and the exit velocity.”

“Got it. Do you think the use of chemical rockets is the most efficient?”

Oh, God, the peanut butter hit the piece of truffle and exploded in her mouth like a double orgasm. She crossed her legs and squeezed tight, trying to get herself under control.

Nate cleared his throat. “No, I believe a nonchemical solution where an external source of electrical energy accelerates the propellant that provides the thrust is better. But if I reach a breakthrough on my research, the entire equation and use of the formula will change, which will give us another option.” He suddenly seemed to notice Kennedy’s enthusiasm for the ice cream cone and smiled. “It’s really good, isn’t it?”

“Yes, so good.”

“You have some on your chin. Stay still.” He reached over and dragged the napkin over her mouth, chin, and down her neck. She swirled her tongue around and around the cone and finally got to the crunchy part and took a bite. The crisp, warm wafer melted in her mouth. Heaven. Just one more bite and she’d throw the rest away. She’d eaten enough to make him happy.

“Funny, the way they break down the whole equation, huh?” she commented as she continued munching away. “It translates to people quite well. A person follows an impulse, which propels momentum and creates a change in life. But if one is too impulsive, the momentum could pick up too much speed and cause complete disaster. Life is a balance, I guess.”

“But if one remains stagnant, and never follows an impulse, there is no rocket launch at all.”

She ate the rest of the cone, and the sugar buzzed hot in her veins as happiness flooded through her. “Yes. I guess you’re right. Unless you’re very happy where you are, and then who needs a rocket ride?”

Suddenly, she looked up and found him closer than expected. He had slid over on the bench until his shoulder pressed into hers. His gaze studied her mouth, caressing her face, and the wave of his hair spilled over his brow, making her fingers crave to reach out and stroke the strands back. The ice cream high faded and was replaced by an electrical current based on pure, hot, no-holds-barred, down-and-dirty sex.

“Ken?”

“Yeah?” she squeaked.

The dogs barked. The clang of the gate opening and closing drifted in the air. The breeze tugged the strands of her hair and blew them wildly about. She caught the scent of mint, soap, and rich chocolate. Everything blurred and faded like a movie set gone dark. Nothing mattered except for the slow descent of his mouth toward hers.

“Promise me something.”

Her body hummed and softened, ready to come out and play. Her core ached for his touch on her naked skin, his tongue back in her mouth, his voice whispering her name so sweetly, like nothing she’d ever heard in her life.

“What?” she whispered.

He pushed back her hair with a gentleness that contradicted the hot lust in his eyes.

“Always eat ice cream. It’s a beautiful thing to watch.”

She held her breath. Waited.

He clenched his jaw, muttered something under his breath, and rose from the chair. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”

This time, he didn’t take her hand. Stung but determined not to show it, Kennedy didn’t let herself think of the loss of his touch or the kiss that hadn’t occurred. They walked back in silence until they reached her vehicle.

“Good night, Ken. Drive safe.”

He disappeared down the street, but she refused to look back.

Absolutely refused.