Someone Like You

You can’t program love…or can you?

Kayleigh Renshaw has come up with the idea for a brilliant “compatibility app,” a new kind of matchmaking software. All she needs is a programmer to help her bring the idea to market…and she knows exactly who she wants. But Niall Walsh—a code whiz and her former best friend—has been avoiding her since he returned from Afghanistan. In spite of their history, and some sparks that go beyond friendship, he’s proving reluctant…. Is it her, or is something darker holding him back?

“There’s so much I don’t know.”

Kayleigh’s eyes searched Niall’s, and suddenly she wasn’t talking about the business, but about them, their kiss.

“Kayleigh,” he murmured, and he seemed to be holding himself back, his arms rigid at his sides.

“Nothing makes sense anymore.”

“Life isn’t always logical.” Niall looked away, his eyes darker than she’d ever seen them. “And neither is love.”

A long moment of silence stretched between them. It hung dangerously in the air, like the calm before a summer storm. This was exactly what she’d been obsessing over since their kiss. If only Niall was a stranger and not her closest friend, someone she couldn’t afford to lose if things didn’t work out….

Dear Reader,

Romance is a tricky thing to find. It can lurk in the most unexpected places, like right beneath your nose! Such was the case for me and my husband of twenty years, Greg. We were friends for a long time, and I often wished I could meet someone like him to have as a boyfriend. Then one day it dawned on me. I’d already met that person. Greg! It’s funny how once you’ve put someone in a category like “friend” it’s hard to take them out of it. There’s fear that maybe they won’t fit as well in the new category “partner,” so many of us wait, reluctant to risk ruining the relationship and losing that person altogether.

It takes a big leap of faith and bravery to move your relationship out of the “friend zone.” But when it pays off, you have both your best friend and the love of your life. I recently asked, “What are your tips for lasting love?” in our Wholesome Romance: Mills & Boon Heartwarming Goodreads group. I was amazed at how many of our fantastic group members (and it’s an open group, so please join us!) responded by saying that friendship was a key ingredient to long-term happiness.

When I wrote Someone Like You, I drew on the idea that although there is fear and trepidation in moving beyond friendship, it is the best predictor of lifelong joy. My main characters, Kayleigh and Niall, have been best friends since childhood. They have a special bond neither wants to put at risk by following their hearts. Yet finding true love takes real courage, which is, ultimately, the heart of this novel.

I would love to hear from you. And about your own love stories. To contact me, please email [e-mail]. Thanks!

Karen

Someone Like You

Karen Rock

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KAREN ROCK

is an award-winning young-adult and adult contemporary author. She holds a master’s of fine arts in English and worked as an English Language Arts instructor before becoming a full-time author. When she’s not writing, Karen loves scouring estate sales for vintage books, cooking her grandmother’s family recipes, hiking and redesigning her gardens. She lives in the Adirondack Mountain region with her husband, daughter and two Cavalier King cocker spaniels who have yet to understand the concept of “fetch,” though they know a lot about love.

www.KarenRock.com

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To Greg, my best friend and the love of my life. I’m so glad I met someone like you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

KAYLEIGH RENSHAW’S PEN wavered as she crossed out the last two items on her to-do list: return engagement ring; quit job.

She dropped the pen and shivered, pulling her cardigan tight. These were the first steps toward her new life. She should feel good. Confident. Certain.

Her head dropped to her desk blotter. Oh, who was she kidding? She didn’t know how to go forward, and she couldn’t go back. Or wouldn’t. Not after what she’d seen. Her fingertips pressed against her eyelids as if to blot out last night’s image. How could Brett deceive her that way?

Was she doing the right thing? She peered up at a family picture taken the summer before her parents divorced. Her older brother, Chris, smiled back at her from the photo, and tears blurred her vision. She straightened trembling shoulders. He wouldn’t have wanted her to be weak, even if last night had shattered her.

While Chris had cannonballed into the deep end of life, she’d always stuck to the shallow end, where her feet touched solid ground. Now she’d been tossed into untested waters, and she floundered off balance, expecting to sink at any moment.

A light knock sounded on her office door, and she pushed a snarled curl behind her ear before dabbing at last night’s mascara. “Come in!”

The door swung open, and her coworker and roommate, Gianna, peered around the edge. Her concerned face brought a stinging rush to Kayleigh’s eyes, and her nose burned. She waved Gianna inside and uncapped her water bottle. The long swallow did little to banish the dryness in her tight throat.

“Is it true?” Gianna threw her long coltish shape into a desk chair and leaned forward, her brown eyes searching Kayleigh’s. “About you and Brett?”

“How did you hear?” Despair swept through her. Kayleigh had just left her boss and fiancé’s vacant office. How could word have gotten out so quickly? She touched the empty space on her left ring finger, her stomach knotting.

“Pam. She found your resignation letter and ring.” Gianna nudged the tissue box closer. “The whole department is talking about it.”

A groan escaped her that Brett’s assistant had found the envelope. Now everyone would pity the woman whose life had imploded. “I marked the envelope private.”

Gianna squeezed Kayleigh’s hand. “Sweetie, in Pam-speak, private means open. You know that.”

Kayleigh kicked off her heels and hugged a knee to her chest, cursing herself for not thinking about that. But then, she hadn’t been thinking clearly. “I should have put it inside his desk...and padlocked it.” Gianna’s bark of laughter bolstered her. “Guess twenty-four hours without sleep plus jet lag makes you forgetful.”

Gianna’s razor-edged bob swung as she leaned closer and rested her elbows on top of Kayleigh’s desk—former desk, as her resignation was effective immediately. She gazed across the tastefully decorated room at the framed print of an Impressionist painting, its blurred strokes no longer coming into focus. None of this belonged to her anymore. It was the ghost of her former existence.

“Weren’t you supposed to fly back today?” Gianna glanced at Kayleigh’s desk calendar. “I wasn’t expecting you last night, or I would have guessed something was wrong when you didn’t show up at the apartment.”

Kayleigh nodded and cleared her throat. “I left the conference early. Thought I’d surprise Brett on our anniversary. Except I—I spent the night at an uptown coffee shop instead.” She’d sat beside a window crying as she’d downed five mocha lattes and a bag of chocolate espresso beans, vacillating among disbelief, hurt and fury. Now her insides were a scalding blend of all three.

“You should have come home to Brooklyn.” Gianna’s eyebrows came together. “We could have talked.”

“I didn’t want to wake you, and I needed time to think.” She had the rushing feeling of a rapidly descending elevator. How could she have been wrong about Brett? It made her question everything, including herself and her judgment. After a childhood full of hurtful secrets, she should have suspected her “perfect” relationship was too good to be true.

“I would have wanted you to get me up.” Gianna’s hand tightened around hers. “What happened?”

Kayleigh nodded. “I went to Brett’s when I got in last night. Only—” Her voice broke, and Gianna’s thumb rubbed across her knuckles.

She’d heard the romantic music and the squealing feminine laughter even before he’d opened the door shirtless.

“I found him with someone else.” Saying it out loud made it real, the words piercing her like shrapnel.

Gianna’s olive-toned skin paled. “Who?”

“Melinda Johnson.” Kayleigh willed the moisture in her eyes to dry up. Brett didn’t deserve any more of her tears.

“He put her in charge of developing your new software app while you were away,” Gianna breathed. “You’re sure they weren’t working?”

“She was snuggled under a blanket on his sectional. No, it was pretty obvious they hadn’t been working.” The leftover catered dinner on the table, the lipstick on Brett’s cheek, the nearly finished wine bottle and empty glasses on the coffee table and the guilt on Brett’s face when he’d looked from her to Melinda...all details that she’d absorbed in the moment it took her life to disintegrate before her eyes.

Kayleigh sagged against her chair while Gianna cursed.

“I’m so sorry, Kay. No wonder he gave her your title as team manager.”

The double betrayal was an arrow shot point-blank at her heart. Once again, she’d been sidelined and overlooked, trusting Brett that her time would come if she was patient.

Gianna’s long nails drummed. “You should say something, Kay. Complain to his boss, Mr. Green.” Her face fell. “Oh, wait. That’s his uncle, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Plus, Brett will just claim that I’m a woman scorned.” A paperweight from Niagara Falls caught Kayleigh’s eye, and she clenched her hands to keep from throwing it. Brett had proposed to her there. Had he wanted a spouse or a guaranteed business minion? She dropped the trinket in the trash and it landed with a satisfying thud.

“None of it matters anymore anyway,” Kayleigh muttered as she carefully placed her family picture in her briefcase. Brett had broken her heart and his word. She wouldn’t keep working at Genesis Software Innovations, regardless. “I’ll contact a headhunter. Get another job.” She thought of the financial help she’d been giving Chris’s wife, Beth, and their two sons since his death in Afghanistan. For their sakes, as well as hers, she needed to find another position. Quickly.

Gianna strode around the desk, pulled Kayleigh to her feet and hugged her. “We’ll work this out. I want the best for you.”

“Exactly,” said a deep voice from her doorway, making them both jump. “Maybe Gianna will talk some sense into you, Kayleigh. Stop you from making a rash decision.” Brett filled the doorway in a tailored gray suit with tiny pinstripes, his green satin tie and matching pocket handkerchief making him look slick. Kayleigh gave herself a mental kick for not seeing through his phony charm before.

He crossed the space to her desk and slid her engagement ring across the surface, the Tiffany’s diamond creating a prism of light on her ceiling.

Gianna caught Kayleigh’s eye and, at her reassuring nod, backed toward the door. “I’ll see you later, Kayleigh. Goodbye, Mr. Graham.”

Brett ignored Gianna and leaned on the desk, his musky cologne assailing Kayleigh, his thick gold watch flashing when his sleeves rode up. She breathed deep, the familiar scent making her want to burrow into his arms until this storm had passed. Only he’d caused the tempest and would never be her safe harbor again.

He glanced at a picture of them in her garbage bin. “Kayleigh, please. I’m sorry. I screwed up. Big-time. But it will never happen again.” He handed her the ring, and her palm itched as temptation battled within to put it on and to take it all back. “We’re meant to be together. Besides, you know you won’t last a week on your own.”

She dropped the ring on her desk. How dare he? She peered up at him, anger warring with fear that he might be right. Was he arguing to save a deal or a relationship? “Don’t say that,” she whispered, her confidence ebbing.

He came around the desk and clasped her cold hands. “You’re a dreamer, not a doer, Kay. An ideas person. It’s what makes you brilliant at concepts, but not at execution. Leave that for others. Let me take you out to dinner so that I can make it up to you. What happened last night won’t be repeated. Promise. You believe me, don’t you?”

But she didn’t. In fact, she didn’t know what she trusted in anymore except that she had to act, whether she was a doer or not. She’d worked with GSI since leaving college seven years ago. Starting over was a risk, but it was better than staying with a liar like Brett. A liar who apparently had zero faith in her. She needed to be strong and make her big brother, and herself, proud.

From now on, she wouldn’t be pushed aside, controlled or misled. And if she ever wanted romance again—a concept impossible to imagine right now—it’d be on her terms. No hidden secrets to blow up in her face.

“It’s over.” She handed him the ring, slipped on her heels and headed for the door, her briefcase in hand.

“I won’t accept that,” he said, his voice losing its smooth tone. “You’ll regret giving up on us.”

She stopped in the doorway and stood as tall as her five-foot-three frame allowed. “I’d be sorry if I didn’t go. By the end of the week, I’ll be developing apps for another company. GSI is about to get some competition.”

Brett’s surprised exclamation made her whirl. “You don’t honestly expect me to recommend you to competitors?”

She stared him straight in the eye. “Don’t need it. My qualifications will speak for themselves.”

“I give you a month before you come back,” he said softly as she strode through the door, her head high. “Think, Kay. No one will hire you without references. This is career suicide, and you’re too smart and talented to make that kind of mistake.”

She fought to control her face, though her knees wobbled at that cruel truth. Brett had cheated on her. Why would she expect him to play fair professionally?

Heads came together as she passed her coworkers. Their department occupied the entire floor of the ten-story central office, and the tight-knit group behaved more like a dysfunctional family than a set of associates.

Brett followed her to the elevator and waved his phone. “Call me when you’ve come to your senses, okay?”

She pulled out her cell and punched in a contact number. He gazed at her, puzzled, when his phone rang.

The elevator chimed, and she stepped inside. When he’d brought his cell to his ear, she spoke into her own.

“I already have,” she said as the doors slid closed.

* * *

A COUPLE OF weeks later, Kayleigh trudged down the main hall of her grandfather’s assisted-living center and halted at the front desk. After making cold-call stops at software companies to check for potential openings, her back ached, her toes hurt and the waistband of her business skirt dug into her skin. Time to rethink the extra ice cream she’d been eating to chase away the blues.

If only she’d found a job by now. When she’d heard the rumor from Gianna that Brett was blackballing her in the software community, she’d been skeptical. But after receiving her tenth rejection this morning, she was worried. What if Brett was right and she had committed career suicide? With limited savings, her options were running out fast.

She must have made a noise because a familiar redheaded woman stopped scribbling on a chart and glanced up. A warm smile transformed her stern face.

“Hi, Kayleigh. Here to see your grandfather?”

“I was, but he’s not in his room. It’s good to see you, MaryAnne.” Kayleigh grabbed the counter’s edge to keep from swaying on her feet. It’d been a long day full of dead ends. She really needed one of Gramps’s pep talks.

MaryAnne shoved back her bangs and studied Kayleigh. “You don’t look so well. Are you okay?”

Kayleigh contemplated the nurse’s dark brown eyes. They were so like those of MaryAnne’s younger brother, Niall, Kayleigh’s former best friend. A familiar emptiness rose within. She could have used his solid strength right now. Most of all, she missed him. How long since he’d stopped returning her calls? Two years? It was hard to believe since, prior to his tour in Afghanistan, they’d spoken at least once a week. Now only radio silence filled his end of their former relationship.

“It’s a long story.”

MaryAnne closed her chart and stood. “I have time. Let’s grab some coffee in the break room.”

A minute later they were seated in the small, sterile space, black brew percolating in a machine on the counter.

“So how’s the wedding planning going?” Kayleigh asked. It was a common conversation topic for them since they were both getting married the following summer. Well...one of them was. Kayleigh’s heart absorbed the thought without breaking. Good. Progress. Maybe she’d have only one bowl of ice cream tonight.

MaryAnne contemplated Kayleigh’s left hand and her eyes widened. “Where’s your ring? Did you lose it?”

“I gave it back.” Kayleigh’s chair scraped when she shoved it back and strode to the counter. “How many sugars do you want?”

“Two.” MaryAnne joined her and grabbed a couple of mugs from a cabinet. “I’m so sorry. What happened?”

Kayleigh hesitated before filling the cups. “He cheated on me.” The sting of it was still there, but it’d faded, like the shadow of a stain after a hundred scrubbings.

MaryAnne handed her a wooden stir stick as they returned to the table. “Isn’t he also your boss?”

“Was.” Kayleigh’s gulp of hot coffee set her tongue ablaze. She waved her hand in front of her mouth and MaryAnne grabbed some ice from the dispenser.

“Thanks,” Kayleigh mumbled around the melting cube.

MaryAnne set her elbows on the table and dropped her round, freckled face into her palms. “No wonder you look worn-out.”

Kayleigh nodded glumly. “I’ve been on ten interviews and haven’t gotten a job offer. Even my headhunter has started avoiding my calls. I was hoping to speak to Gramps. Get some cheering up.”

MaryAnne’s mouth turned down at the corners. “He’s in physical therapy and—”

“He’ll want a nap after that,” Kayleigh finished for her, her spirits plummeting. “I’ll come back another time for the chat.” Despite her best efforts, her voice quivered.

“MaryAnne Walsh to the front desk,” announced a voice on the overhead PA system. “MaryAnne Walsh to the front desk, please.”

MaryAnne stood. “I wish I could help.” She put a hand on Kayleigh’s shoulder. “What about Niall? You two used to be so close. Maybe he’s ready to come out of that cave he put himself in since the war. He might know about some jobs. He’s been doing independent programming work for software companies.”

“I don’t think he’ll talk to me. He hasn’t returned my calls since he got back.”

MaryAnne blew out a breath and strode to the door. “There’s more to it than that, though he won’t tell me. And he avoids everyone, even his family. I hardly recognize the bitter recluse he’s become. Seeing each other would be good for both of you.... If I can arrange it, will you meet him?”

Kayleigh’s brain fumbled for the right words to say. Niall. A reunion with an old friend would mean so much. He couldn’t have changed that much...could he?

“That would be—I mean—thank you, MaryAnne,” she said inadequately. “I’d appreciate that.”

MaryAnne came back and gave her a quick hug. “I know he always thought the sun rose and set on you, sweetie. When I tell him that you need him, he’ll be there. Promise.”

But as the door clicked shut behind her, Kayleigh was left alone to wonder.

If he did care, why had he shut her out? They’d supported each other through everything: her parents’ divorce and move, his father’s death and mother’s worsening Alzheimer’s. Yet when he’d been honorably discharged after losing his lower leg in an ambush, he’d rebuffed her. His rejection still hurt. She’d needed to tell him about Chris’s death and had wanted to comfort him because of his injury. Sometimes it felt as if she’d lost them both to the war.

They could have helped each other as they had in the past. A team. Inseparable since their summer-camp days.

His withdrawal had left an empty space inside her that no one, not even Brett, had been able to fill.

CHAPTER TWO

“I KNOW YOU’RE there, so pick up!”

Niall Walsh punched another line of HTML code into his computer, then glared at the answering machine vying for position with the modem, external hard drive, printer and fax machine cluttering his two desks. He pictured his determined older sister, MaryAnne, marching through his Bed-Stuy neighborhood, calling on her cell. Had she forgotten yesterday’s vow not to check in on him so often?

His phone rang again, followed by the beep. For a low-tech device, it was effective. He should have unplugged it when he’d powered off his cell. “I made your favorite, lasagna,” her voice sounded through the speaker.

His stomach grumbled. It’d been a while since he’d eaten. An empty pizza box balanced on his brownstone apartment’s radiator. It was the last thing he recalled ordering, and that’d been yesterday. Still, she’d given her word. Hunger or no, he was staying strong and not letting her in. It was better for both of them.

“Come on, little brother,” he heard her say after he let the phone ring a third time. “I’ve got to get back to The White Horse and help Aiden before my night shift. Buzz me in when I get to your building.”

He imagined the busy SoHo pub his older brother had managed since their father’s fatal heart attack. Aiden had taken charge of the six other children in the Walsh brood, and their Alzheimer’s-afflicted mother. At least he wouldn’t add to Aiden’s responsibilities. If MaryAnne would stop pestering him, he’d never bother a soul again.

He glanced down at his prosthetic lower leg. The last person who’d come to his rescue had paid the ultimate price; the guilt that he lived and his savior did not was a bitter dose he swallowed every day. If not for his actions during the classified mission, that soldier might have been home now visiting with his own sister.

“I promise not to clean your apartment.” Her voice turned pleading as she left her fourth message.

He glanced around his small, dim apartment, noticing things as MaryAnne would. Laundry spilled out of an overflowing hamper beside his bathroom door. His galley kitchen counters were covered in empty take-out containers, and his sink was full of dishes. Dust coated his coffee table, but at least he’d put his empty soda cans in the recycle bin.