Keeping Kennedy Read online

  KEEPING KENNEDY

  Debra Webb

  A note about the author: Though Debra Webb has earned a reputation for outstanding romantic suspense, she began her career with nearly a dozen sassy and spicy romances. For the first time these heartfelt romances are now available worldwide in e-book format. Previously published as a Kensington Precious Gems, available only in Wal-Mart for one short month, Debra is proud to present her beloved tales of romance.

  HERE TO STAY

  FREE FALLING

  TEMPTING TRACE

  UP CLOSE

  BASIC INSTINCTS

  KEEPING KENNEDY

  TAMING GI JANE

  GOING TO THE CHAPEL

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2011, WebbWorks, LLC

  First Printing: November 2000 Kensington Precious Gems

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  KEEPING KENNEDY

  Debra Webb

  Chapter One

  He was naked.

  Kennedy Malone froze in the doorway to Douglas Drake’s bedroom. Prone on the bed and sprawled amid a tangle of rumpled sheets, he was down for the count. Fortunately, a narrow length of the twisted linen covered his rear end. His tan had deepened considerably with his time in Africa. Kennedy frowned at the unruly tumble of thick black hair on his pillow. He looked in desperate need of a close encounter with barber clippers.

  All right, she might as well get this over with. She took a fortifying breath and stepped into the dimly lit room. When had he gotten back anyway? He wasn’t supposed to arrive—she glanced at her watch—for another hour. Of course, that was the one thing you could always count on with Drake: he didn’t follow anyone’s schedule but his own. The man had no concept of the rules or boundaries or propriety. He did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted and however he chose to do it. She had decided long ago that Drake was half nomad and all playboy. She shook her head. Though he wasn’t home often enough or for long enough to be a nuisance, whenever Drake was around, females frequented his apartment.

  Pondering the obvious reasons why, Kennedy folded her arms over her chest and scrutinized the man. He was asleep; he’d never know. Usually she made it a point not to look directly at him. He was one of those guys who liked to get close to a person and make a lot of eye contact during a conversation. Under normal circumstances, she did the same. It was part of her job. But something about Drake’s direct, all too perceptive gaze unsettled her. She had no intention of giving him the foolish idea she was interested. In her experience men like Drake believed all women were prepared to fall at their feet.

  Well, not Kennedy Malone.

  It was true enough that he was handsome in a rugged sort of way. He had classic features, a square jaw, nice nose, a strong chin…and full lips. The tanned shoulders now on display were wide and powerful looking as was the chest that tapered into a ribbed abdomen. Her gaze slid slowly down his long, muscled legs. He had an amazing body; she had to admit it. Invading his privacy like this made should make her feel guilty, but it didn’t.

  She pulled at the collar of her silk blouse and averted her errant gaze. Yes, the man had all the right assets. “And he’s a slob,” she muttered, squashing the strange sensation that made her feel restless. She took a moment to survey his enormous but sparsely furnished bedroom. He couldn’t have been in the apartment for more than a few hours and already his room was a wreck. Clothes were scattered on the hardwood floor. A ransacked—partially unpacked, Drake would insist—duffel bag stood in one corner. Two leather totes she recognized as his camera bags sat at the foot of the bed. The closet door remained forever open, shirts slung carelessly over the top and hanging on the knobs.

  Absolutely nothing could be considered pretentious about Douglas Drake. What you see is what you get was his motto. In no way did he resemble the men with whom Kennedy worked every day. He was nothing at all like anyone she even knew.

  But he would do.

  He had to do. There was no one else.

  And she was desperate.

  Desperate enough to ask her neighbor, a man who was sinfully attractive, for a very personal favor.

  Kennedy crossed the room and peered at the haphazard contents of his closet. Not a suit in sight. “Damn.” Oh well, she had suspected as much. Drake always wore jeans or cargo pants with basic T-shirts. Sneakers and hiking boots were the only footwear he appeared to own. He was definitely no clotheshorse.

  No problem. She could remedy that with a quick trip to the Men’s Shop. Edward, her favorite fashion expert, would find just the right designer and fit for a man like Drake. Well, she amended, for the kind of man she wanted him to portray.

  She turned in the direction of her unsuspecting partner-in-crime and set her scheme into motion.

  “Drake, wake up. I need to talk to you.”

  He didn’t move.

  She eased two steps closer to the bed. “Drake!”

  “What day is it?” he mumbled without moving an inch. The words were muffled by sleep and the fluffy, white pillow in which his face was all but buried.

  “It’s Monday, 8:00 a.m., time to wake up,” Kennedy replied crossly. She didn’t have time for this. The flight was leaving at two that afternoon and there was entirely too much to be accomplished before then. “Get up, Drake. I need your full attention.” She nudged his leg with her foot when he still didn’t budge.

  His one visible eye popped open. “Kennedy?” he asked, his voice rough, his tone surprised.

  She blew out a disgusted breath. “You have to get up, Drake. Now!”

  Like lightning, he bolted from the bed. The sheet fell to the floor. Her eyes rounded, her mouth dropped open, and the air evacuated her lungs.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded as raked his fingers through his hair. “Is the building on fire?”

  Belatedly her own sense of propriety kicked in and Kennedy spun around. She blinked twice to dispel the image of Drake standing naked before her. “No, the building isn’t on fire,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically high-pitched. She frowned and tried to clear her throat.

  “Then what the hell’s the problem?” he groused. “Did Iggy get out again?”

  She shuddered at the mention of his pet iguana. “No,” she croaked, then glanced around uneasily to be certain. “Iggy’s around here, someplace.” The lizard had quickly learned to make itself scarce when she arrived, or suffer the earsplitting consequences. Frowning, she listened for any sounds of rustling material to indicate that Drake might be putting clothes on. No such luck. “I came to talk to you.”

  He breathed a scorching swearword. “Well, spill it then. I’ve been up forty-eight hours straight. I’m spent. I need some sleep.”

  “Could you…” She squeezed her eyes shut in a last-ditch effort to erase his naked image. The man’s total lack of modesty rattled her. “Would you mind getting dressed? I can’t talk knowing you’re standing behind me…like that.”

  He exhaled long an
d loud.

  “Please,” she added hopefully.

  “Sure,” he muttered. “Who needs to sleep? Not me.”

  Kennedy relaxed when she heard him fumbling with his clothes. “Are you still planning to take a two-week break before your next assignment?”

  “What?” he growled.

  Obviously Drake wasn’t a morning person, especially when deprived of sleep. “You said before you left that you intended to take a couple weeks off after Africa. Is that still the plan?”

  “Yeah, sure…I don’t know. Ask me later. I haven’t thought past getting between the sheets.”

  She shivered at his choice of words and immediately chastised herself. This whole situation had her out of sorts. She squared her shoulders and forced her mouth to utter the necessary words. “I need your help.”

  “What?”

  Was the man deaf as well as exhausted? “I said, I need your help.”

  He moved closer. She could feel him. Damn it. She should have known this wouldn’t work. How could she—someone who’d made a career out of fixing other people’s lives—screw up her own life so royally?

  “You can turn around now. I’m decent.”

  She somehow doubted his last statement. Men like Drake were never decent in the true sense of the word. Even fully clothed and in the most innocent of situations, they exuded sexuality. Kennedy swallowed. She had known Douglas Drake for over three years and never once had she been tempted by him—at least not on a conscious level. She was immune to his devilish charm and his drop-dead-gorgeous looks. Nerves, that’s all these alien feelings could be. She was nervous about putting a spin on her own life.

  Slowly, reluctantly, she turned around. Her eyes widened. That was decent? He’d pulled on a pair of faded, rumpled jeans, but nothing else and even the jeans weren’t fully fastened. Her dismayed gaze followed the trail of silky black hair that spread over sculpted pecs, then narrowed and plunged down a muscular abdomen only to disappear behind his half-open fly.

  “You said you needed my help.”

  She snapped her gaze up to his face, which proved even more distracting. Between the two days’ beard growth, his tousled hair, and the sleepy look in those luminous gray eyes—

  “Kennedy, is something wrong?”

  She blinked, suddenly remembering to breathe. Wrong? Oh, yes, something was definitely wrong. She’d lost her mind. She gave herself a mental kick in hopes of finding it. It didn’t help. “I’m sorry.” She blinked again before meeting his concerned gaze. This was Drake, she reminded herself—a pal, a buddy. He never had this effect on her. No one did. She licked her seriously dry lips and struggled to regain her bearings. “I’m just a little distracted this morning. I—”

  Something slid between her feet. She shrieked. Her stomach roiled when a long, scaly tail curled around one foot. She didn’t dare move for fear of tripping over the iguana. Her shrieks usually sent the damned lizard scurrying, but not this morning. Obviously feeling overly confident in his master’s presence, the disgusting thing stood his ground—right between her legs.

  “Iggy, that’s no way to say hello,” Drake scolded. He crouched in front of Kennedy, reached between her feet and removed his pet. Her breath caught when Drake’s forearm brushed the inside of her ankle.

  What, for the love of Mike, was wrong with her?

  He stood, stroking his beloved Iggy. “Come on,” he said, then padded barefoot toward the door. “I need a shot of caffeine.”

  Reminding herself to exhale, she followed him into the great room. She was out of sorts, that’s all. She would fine as soon as this was settled.

  One of the perks of a corner apartment, the huge window taking up the majority of wall space in his living area flooded the room with light. The brilliant sun highlighted the greenery surrounding the indoor rock garden and small fountain he had built for the ugly lizard. With Iggy deposited into his man-made habitat, Drake crossed to the island bar in the center of the room. She forced herself to be patient while he readied the coffeemaker to brew. By the time he turned his attention back to her, a full three minutes had passed and the smell of fresh coffee had filled the air. Anticipation had her nerves on edge. God, she was running out of time.

  “What’s up, Kennedy?” He propped one lean hip against the counter and plowed his fingers though his long hair.

  Okay, this was it. No matter how ludicrous it sounded, she had to do this. And he had to help her. He simply had to.

  “Would you like to wait until after coffee?” he suggested when she hesitated.

  She shook her head. “It can’t wait. I…I need a favor from you.”

  He shrugged. “Name it.”

  She managed a weak smile. If only it were that simple. “How long have we known each other?” Go for the guilt first. Build a case he can’t refute.

  Appearing thoughtful, he rubbed his unshaven chin. “About three years or so. Why do you ask?”

  “And during those three years, since your housekeeper refused to do so,” she proceeded, ignoring his question, “how often have I taken care of Iggy for you?”

  He shrugged. “Every time I’ve gone on location for a shoot.”

  “The way I figure it, approximately two weeks out of every month during the past three years I’ve come to your apartment twice a day to feed and water that…Iggy.”

  “That’s probably a fair estimate.”

  “And several times since moving here and becoming your neighbor—and friend,” she added pointedly, “I’ve driven you to the airport when you would have missed your flight otherwise—even when I was already running late myself. Not to mention that I’ve rescued you from a number of disastrous dates over the years.”

  He nodded. “You have. You’ve been a very good friend, Kennedy.”

  “Not once have I ever asked you for anything, right?”

  He considered the question for a time, his gaze narrowing suspiciously. “Come to think of it, you haven’t.”

  “Well.” She crossed her arms over her middle and lifted her chin. “I’m about to call in all of my markers.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets which, to Kennedy’s irritation, widened the gap at his zipper, revealing even more silky black hair. “Like I said, name it. If it’s within my power and it’s not illegal, I’ll do it.”

  “It’s definitely not illegal, and certainly within your power.” Now, if she could just push the words past her lips. “You know how it is when you’re happy just as you are. Your career is going exactly like you’ve planned it and life is good, but your parents don’t seem to get it.”

  He scratched his chest and shrugged again. “Not really. My family doesn’t interfere with the way I live my life. It’s kind of an unspoken rule with us Drakes.”

  Kennedy blew her bangs out of her eyes. She had to get on with this, time was wasting. “Well, I’m not so lucky. My parents think that because I’m not married and having babies like all my cousins that I’m not happy.”

  A grin spread across his face, revealing another of his assets: straight, white teeth. “I can’t imagine that.”

  Offended, but not certain how or why, she looked him up and down. “You can’t imagine what?”

  “You and babies.”

  Annoyance creased her brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Though she certainly didn’t want children at present, she was perfectly capable of bearing and attending to them if she were so inclined. It wasn’t as if the idea were unthinkable.

  “You’re just—” He passed a hand over his face. “I don’t know, all work and no play.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “And that’s precisely the attitude that has gotten me into the predicament I’m in now.”

  He chuckled. “I didn’t mean to insult you. What I meant—”

  “I know what you meant. Anyway” she glanced at her watch once more “you know that I only manage to get home once or twice a year.” She frowned. “In fact I haven’t been home since last Christmas.” It was Octo
ber. She did the math…ten months. Had it been that long? “And that was a disaster,” she continued morosely. “My last single cousin had just gotten married. My folks hounded me every time they called for months after that. It was hell! Finally” she moistened her lips and summoned up her resolve “to get them off my back, I told them I was engaged.”

  He made a dismissive face. “So what’s the big deal? You told your folks a little white lie.”

  “Everything is a big deal with my folks,” she lamented. “They’ve spent the last seven months telling everyone in town I’m engaged.” She sighed. “Now I have to go home and face the music—so to speak.”

  “Tell them you and your boyfriend broke up,” he offered. “It happens all the time. People get engaged, and then they break up. It’s a no-brainer.”

  Kennedy swallowed. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why can’t you?”

  “Because of the reunion.”

  “Reunion?”

  She crossed the room to stare out the window at the busy street below. She loved D.C. She loved the excitement, the energy. She loved her job. Kennedy closed her eyes. How had she gotten herself into this mess?

  “Tell me about this reunion,” he said quietly.

  She looked up to find him at her side. Too close. She scooted away from him. “It’s my ten-year high school reunion.”

  He nodded once in understanding.

  “I can’t face all those people and allow them to believe for one second that the only guy who asked me to marry him dumped me,” she said wearily.

  “But you haven’t been dumped,’ he reminded. “You weren’t even engaged.”

  “I know that and you know that, but they don’t.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t let them think I’ve failed. If I don’t show up with a fiancé they’ll all know the truth.”

  “So, tell them your fiancé is on assignment somewhere and couldn’t come along.”