Searching for Perfect (Searching For 2)

Her last image was of Nate's face as he bent down to kiss her.

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 confide

nce. 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."