Chapter One

The Unexpected Connection

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“E XCUSE ME?” AMY SIGNALED to the young employee as the angry throb in her temple ached. “I can’t get this machine to work. Can you help, please?”

“Yes.” The teen looked at Amy as though she was a geriatric who needed to be euthanized as she sauntered over to assist. “What’s the problem?”

“I can’t scan this.”

Amy thrust the loaf of bread at the assistant, aware she was flustering. She’d been at the store self-check-out for far too long already and still had other errands to run before she took her purchase back to her underwhelming studio apartment. Cross that she’d forgotten bread and had been forced to drop into the store, she reached for her purse. Everything there seemed to be double the cost of her usual store, the additional expense amplifying her frustration.

“Here.” The adolescent took the bread. “Let me.”

Jonah’s request for money pinballed around Amy’s mind as she made space for the teen to scan the loaf. Her promise to her son had plagued her ever since their conversation. She’d agreed to help him take the revision program. What else could she do? She wanted Jonah to excel, but standing in the overpriced store, she still had no idea how she was supposed to fund his educational requirements.

Inevitably, even though Amy had attempted to scan the loaf half a dozen times, the teen managed the task with infuriating ease. The girl suppressed amusement as she turned back to her customer.

“Anything else?” She dropped the loaf into the open bag Amy had prepared.

“No, thank you.” Amy meant it literally.

The solitary note in her purse affirmed her tragic financial position. The loaf of bread was all she could afford.

“I’m happy to help.” Smirking, the teen sloped away, her sneering expression exacerbating the pounding in Amy’s head.

“I bet.” Muttering the retort, she slid the note into the machine. She held her breath, hoping the mechanism would work, process her transaction, and give her whatever change she was owed, but to her utter despondency, it only spat the note back at her. “Oh, come on!”

Why doesn’t anything work?

Exasperation flooded her system as she collected the cash. Tears threatened if she couldn’t get a grip on her emotions fast. Struggling with the self-service machines shouldn’t be a big deal, but she was so close to the edge emotionally, the slightest drama was liable to push her over the precipice.

Loath to have to call back the conceited teen, Amy glanced in her direction to find the girl talking to another customer.

Brilliant. Amy’s jaw tightened. No choice, then. I’ll have to resolve this myself.

Just like everything else.

The final line reverberated in her head, temporarily stealing her breath. Life had been hard enough before Graham’s death, but they’d managed to pay the mortgage on a small three-bedroom house. Once he’d gone, though, there was no chance Amy could sustain that lifestyle. She’d been forced into the rental market, the properties she could afford depleting from a one-bed house to her studio apartment.

At this point, life was nothing but a struggle. Every incoming bill triggered apprehension—hours of stress and sleepless nights. Increasingly, whatever she tried, none of them could be paid. She was finding it hard to even make the minimum payments anymore. She was—

“Mrs. Kendal?”

Her heart stilled fleetingly at the sound of her name, and spinning on her heel, she looked up to find a man towering beside her.

“Oh!” Startled, she tumbled backward, dropping the note and watching in what seemed like slow motion as one of his large hands reached out to save her.

“I’m sorry.” Warmth twinkled in his eyes as he steadied her, inadvertently pulling her in his direction. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, you didn’t,” she lied, tucking the loose strands of her hair from her face as she stepped away. The truth was her heart was racing, both from the shock of nearly falling and the handsome guy who’d played both antagonist and savior. Her gaze ran over his high cheekbones, the soft-looking stubble at his chin, and the mop of dark hair on his head. Probably around her age, he was tall and dressed in what looked like an expensive, well-tailored suit.

Who is this guy?

“Here.” He crouched to retrieve her note and handed it back to her.

“Thanks.” She took the cash, distantly aware that she still had to pay for the bread. “Do I know you?” Clearly, he knew her. He’d called her by name.

“Please, let me introduce myself.” His focus remained fixed on her face. “I’m William Kyle. I knew your late husband, Graham.”

“Graham.” Amy whispered his name, simultaneously sad at his loss and guilty at the way she’d been ogling the stranger.

Graham would have tutted and rolled his eyes at the way she was staring at another man like a hormonal schoolgirl.

“Yes,” Kyle went on. “Graham and I worked together a few times.” His face fell. “I heard what happened to him. Please accept my condolences.”

“Thanks,” she repeated, unsure what else to say. “I don’t remember him talking about you.”

“It had been a while.” He pressed his full lips into a hard line, inviting Amy to imagine, albeit briefly, what else his mouth could do. “I’m sorry to have missed the funeral.”

“It was a small affair.” She feigned a smile as she recalled the miserable event. She’d wanted to celebrate Graham’s life, but naturally, she’d had no funds available. She’d had to take out another loan to pay for the catering and the payment package to deal with even the basic service. His loss had only intensified her problems.

“I wished I’d made it.”

Standing beside him, Amy had to admit she wished he had, too.

Stop it! She chided herself. He’s paying respect to my dead husband.

“If only we could turn back the clock, eh?” Her laughter sounded hollow as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Amy wasn’t sure what it was about the enigmatic Kyle, but suddenly, she was conscious about the way she looked. She wasn’t even sure if she’d brushed her hair before she left the apartment. She rarely thought of those things anymore.

“Indeed.” One of his dark eyebrows twitched, drawing her attention to the gesture.

How had Graham done business with Kyle and never mentioned him? True, she hadn’t met many of his business associates, but she was sure she’d have remembered someone like the guy standing in front of her.

“I interrupted you.” He motioned to the blasted machine that had been tormenting her.

“I was trying to pay for my bread.” Her focus fell to the note in her hands. “I despise these machines.”

“They can be... temperamental.” Kyle smirked.

“That’s one way of putting it.” She’d intended to be in and out of the store in minutes, not standing around arguing with technology. Kyle, though, had offered a welcome interruption.

“Will you allow me to try?” He took a step toward her. “I have a way with these things.”

“Sure.” She thrust the note at him, vaguely cognizant that she shouldn’t be handing over her only remaining money to a complete stranger, yet still prepared to do so.

“Save your cash.” Shaking his head, he reached into his pocket. “I have coins for this.”

“No, no.” Amy sensed heat pooling in her cheeks. “I can’t let you do that.” She lurched forward to compel the money into his hand, but he dismissed her with one raised palm.

“You’re not letting me do anything.” An emotion she didn’t recognize glinted in his eyes, and for the first time, she noticed what a deep shade of blue they were. “I’m offering to help.”

Before she could think to argue, he’d slipped a coin into the slot to pay for her bread and waited as the machine processed the transaction and counted his change.

“That’s very kind.” Ambushed by his generosity, she stood stunned as he collected the smaller coins and her receipt. “Please, let me repay you.”

“I wouldn’t hear of it, Mrs. Kendal.” Presenting her with the bagged loaf, he smiled. “Consider it my good deed for the day.”

“Well, I’m exceptionally thankful.” That was putting it lightly. The pennies the bread had cost might not have represented much to a man who could afford such a sharp suit, but it meant a hell of a lot to her. “And please, call me Amy.”

“Grateful enough to let me buy you dinner, Amy?” His lips stretched wider, as if he realized how cheeky he was being, yet knew he could get away with it.

“Dinner?” Her throat dried. No one had offered to buy her dinner for years. She and Graham had scarcely had the money for such luxuries, and there had been no one else.

“Yes.” He pushed the loaf gently at her. “It’s a meal that people eat at the end of the day.”

“Yes.” Her tone was wry as she accepted the bread. “I know what dinner is. I just can’t...” She paused, considering all the reasons why she shouldn’t accept such an offer from a stranger. “I shouldn’t say yes. I don’t really know you.”

“I promise to be a gentleman.” He feigned a salute. “But I’d still like to have dinner with you.”

With me?

The words hovered on the tip of her tongue. Why would anyone so attractive and self-assured choose to socialize with her? She still owned one mirror, after all. She was aware of how rundown and bedraggled she looked most of the time. She just didn’t have the will, or funds, to do anything about her appearance.

“I... I don’t know what to say.”

The hustle and bustle of other shoppers continued around her, but everyone else had faded into the background, like an uninspiring score in a compelling movie.

“Say, yes.” He leaned closer, and for the faintest moment, the aroma of his spicy cologne tantalized her nostrils. Rich and earthy, the scent was as enticing as the man.

“Yes.” The word was past her lips as though he’d commanded it.

Clutching the bread to her chest, Amy wondered if she should take it back, but gazing up at the Adonis, who seemed keen to dine with her, she guessed he wouldn’t accept the answer, anyway. She couldn’t remember meeting anyone who’d captivated her as easily as Kyle.

“Excellent.” Reaching into his jacket pocket, he produced a small card, which he offered to her. “Here’s my card. In the interests of parity and because I know a lady is allowed to change her mind, I’ll leave it to you to get in touch.”

“Thank you.”

She took the pristine-looking card from his manicured digits, running her fingertips over the hard edges. Her attention fell briefly to the font—a sharp black set against the ivory background—and examined the wording.

William Kyle.

His phone number was listed below in the same stylish calligraphy, but there was no mention of what he did for a living.

Who carries a card but doesn’t include their profession?

“Will you call me, Amy?” His soft purr cut through the intensity of her internal monologue and there wasn’t a moment’s hesitation as she gave her response.

“Yes, Mr. Kyle. I will.”