Skyscrapers & Camelot (Renovate Book 1) Read online

As we round a corner and are brought to a wide open door, he holds his hand out, directing me inside. “After you.”

  I enter, feeling his eyes on me.

  His office is so bright with another gorgeous view of the city through a large floor to ceiling window that is directly behind his desk.

  He unbuttons his jacket and sits down, and I follow, taking a seat directly across from him. Once I take out my notepad because I’m old school and like to write everything down, I look up to see him staring at me, and it makes a shiver run through me.

  I look into his eyes and smile nervously, but just as I’m about to start, Gretchen walks in.

  “Keegan, can I get you anything?”

  He shakes his head, staring at me without losing eye contact.

  “Would you like anything, Ms. Brennan?” he asks.

  “No, thank you.”

  “That will be all, Gretchen. Please hold my calls until we are finished.”

  I can’t help noticing she called him by his first name. This whole situation has me anxious, nervous, and sad all at the same time. I have known this man since I was a child and am jealous that she can call him by his first name, while he can’t even remember me.

  “Go ahead, Ms. Brennan.”

  “Where were you born?” I figure I should get right to the heart of things, see if it triggers a memory for him that he can connect to me, the person sitting right in front of him with the same first and last name, looking almost the same as I did when he left.

  “Indiana, Pennsylvania.” Still, no recognition in his eyes. Damn.

  At this point, I decide I should just get some of the interview questions out of the way for my article.

  “Why did you decide you wanted to become an architect? Did someone influence your decision, or has it just always been a dream of yours?”

  He purses his lips and looks as if he’s remembering something. “I’ve always been fascinated with buildings and structures. I guess the whole thing started when I was little, and my brother and I built forts in my parents’ backyard. It just became an obsession, I guess, and I never quite grew out of it. There wasn’t too much excitement in town, and my mother refused to let my brother and I sit inside all day.”

  Yes, I remember playing in his backyard. I was the princess, and he built the forts to protect me from the evil dragon. Keegan played the role of the knight in shining armor, slaying the dragon.

  “So you built forts out of sticks?”

  “Something like that,” he answers with a smirk.

  I smile and snicker. Picturing him as a little boy makes me happy.

  “What did you do with the forts after they were built?”

  “Usually, my brother and I demolished them and started over, building something bigger and better.”

  Still nothing? What is it going to take to jog his memory?

  “Would you agree that architecture is a lifestyle more than it is a job?”

  “I do think about architecture all the time.” He motions toward the city outside his windows. “How can I not, being surrounded by that skyline? It’s not just the structures, but what surrounds them. Whenever I take a trip, I plan it around the buildings I want to see. It’s about the entirety of the project, the lighting, the materials. Everything that is seen—the sky, the trees, even the people—influence what type of design will be built.”

  I look at him in awe, feeling his passion. He’s making me feel things I shouldn’t be feeling in a simple interview. He’s giving me goose bumps by simply talking to me.

  “To answer your question, Ms. Brennan, yes, I agree that architecture is a lifestyle. It is part of me, and I honestly can’t imagine being happier doing anything else.”

  “So you never wanted to be a baseball player or race car driver?” I ask, trying again to spark his childhood memories.

  He immediately answers, “Well, of course. What American boy doesn’t want to do that? Childhood dreams are just fantasies, but once you find what makes you happy, there is no point in those dreams. When you find what you are meant to do, everything else merely becomes a memory.”

  Is that what I am, a forgotten memory? I feel like crying, but the last thing I need to do is embarrass myself. Therefore, I pull myself together quickly before he notices and continue.

  “So you take great pride in your work?”

  “Yes, I absolutely do.”

  “Do you share the same vision with Kaleb—I mean, your brother? You started your company with him,” I fumble, unable to believe I just made such a major fumble.

  Keegan doesn’t even seem to realize my faux pas, not missing a beat before he answers with, “Yes, but sometimes, we butt heads. He is the eyes and ears of the operation, less artistic and more goal-orientated. Talent runs in the family, but he is more interested in the big A-type buildings and projects. My brother believes in experimentation with the ever-evolving industry.”

  I immediately continue, “Did you have any inspiration for Camelot, the design that put you on the map?”

  “Yes, Camelot was a vision I’d had for a very long time. It went through rigorous transformations to get it just right. You could say it was like a child to me and one of my accomplishments I’m proudest of.”

  “I’ve read your parents are both still happily married and extremely supportive of you and your brother. Is that true?”

  “As supportive as any two parents can be,” he answers.

  I remember how very much in love his parents were. They were always smiling at one another, and Keegan and I caught them kissing quite a few times. He thought it was gross, but I always thought it was sweet. I would love to be with someone who adored me and kissed me at every opportune moment. I don’t remember a lot about my parents together, but I know they were very much in love. My father never even got close to remarrying.

  “Camelot has been described as a modern-day fairytale brought to life. How has that made you perceive happily ever afters?”

  “A happily ever after is only something from a children’s story. Real life isn’t as cut and dry. The villain might just be your heroine, and the prince may lose his way, but the story continues with no clear ending.” He pauses, studying me. “You look disappointed in my response. Do you not agree with my philosophy?”

  “I’m not disappointed in your answer,” I tell him. “I’ve just believed in happily ever afters since my mother read me fairytales. Nothing you could say would change my mind.”

  He smiles at me, and I smile back, hoping this awkward line of questioning from him will end.

  “I just have a few more questions, and then you can get on with your day,” I tell him.

  “Take your time, Ms. Brennan. No rush.”

  I nod my head. “You have been called one of New York’s most eligible bachelors and photographed with beautiful woman; do you date?”

  “Do I date? That’s a loaded question. Yes, I go on dates, but I don’t tend to be associated with anyone long term.”

  I can’t help interrupting, not knowing how to feel about his wording. “You make dating sound like a business partnership.”

  “Nothing about my dating is about business, but I do bring dates out to business functions. You see, if I didn’t, I might be bored out of my mind. It’s nice to have a distraction sometimes.”

  “I see.” So what, he’s a player now? I mean, I have seen the pictures, but to hear him say it … I feel a little nauseous. I must get these last two questions done and get out of here. This is beginning to be embarrassing.

  “What’s next for you in the ever-changing world of architecture? Anything you would like to share with our readers?”

  “Let’s just say I have been working on a secret project, which I have yet to unveil even to my brother.”

  “Interesting,” I say.

  “What is?”

  “You being secretive.” I give him a questioning look because we never kept secrets. We told each other everything. I couldn’t even keep one around him if I tried. />
  “I’m not one to divulge my uncompleted projects. I trust my brother like no one else. I just won’t settle for anything less than perfection.”

  “So you are a perfectionist?”

  He nods at me.

  “I am, too,” I tell him shyly before finishing up by asking him a couple more of my prepared questions.

  “Thank you so much for taking the time to sit down and answer these questions. I will email the article to your assistant when it’s done. I was told you would need to okay it before it’s published, correct?”

  “Yes, Gretchen will make sure I get it.”

  Yes, I’m sure Gretchen will. Why do I not like her, besides her being long-legged and gorgeous?

  I begin to gather my belongings, checking the time on my phone. I was anxious to have this interview end, but now I’m sad. Is this the last time I will see Keegan? Was this our last chance at reconnecting? I just don’t have the guts to ask him why he possibly doesn’t remember me. I don’t understand. I wish Reese were here. She would know what I’m thinking and save the day. I hope she got some great shots.

  I begin to stand, and at the same time, Keegan stands and buttons his jacket. Then he holds out his hand and says, “It’s been a pleasure.”

  I shake his hand, enjoying the touch. Suddenly, there is a knock at the door, and I immediately let go of Keegan’s hand.

  “Come in,” he says.

  When I turn around, entering the room is none other than the older James brother. Kaleb has the biggest smile on his face, and he looks like he’s grown a foot since I saw him last. His short, dark hair is styled perfectly, and he is wearing a three-piece suit similar to Keegan’s, only in grey.

  Kaleb always lights up a room, and seeing him now, I feel relieved because I can see the recognition in his eyes. At least someone doesn’t easily forget.

  He quickly moves toward me. “Aimee Brennan in the flesh.” He gives me a big bear hug, lifting me off the floor and swinging me around. My briefcase drops with a thunk to the floor.

  Keegan interrupts. “Kaleb, are you done yet? I think you may have broken one of her ribs.”

  “Keeg, stop hoarding this girl like you did when we were kids.”

  Keegan smiles at me, and I’m taken aback. What game is he playing? He does remember me? This whole time, I was making a fool of myself? I don’t know whether I should be furious or happy he hasn’t actually forgotten me.

  “So, little Aimee Brennan has become the roving journalist. Hey, Keeg, you remember when Aimee had her own newspaper when we were little? She wore that hat that said ‘Press’ to all your little league games and featured you in every single sports section. She delivered those papers to everyone on the block, classic Aimee Brennan. Now look at you, all grown up.”

  I smile, knowing he’s teasing me. At eight, I did publish my own paper, and it may have been printed on construction paper, but it was a damn fine paper.

  “If I remember correctly, you both helped me deliver each and every one of those papers. Even Mrs. Sawyer requested a subscription.”

  “Oh, yeah, Mrs. Sawyer loved you. She always told us not to tease you too much. Some things never change,” Kaleb states.

  Keegan is silently watching both Kaleb and I interact, seeming a little irritated. I’m the one who should be irritated with him.

  I decide it’s now or never to put the cards out there. “Keegan here made me believe I was a stranger. He even introduced himself as Mr. James.”

  “Really? What’s up with that, Keeg? This is your long lost best friend. I was sure I’d find the both of you playing hide and seek in here, and not the good kind.” Kaleb winks at me.

  “Wow, Kaleb, you really haven’t changed.”

  “I guess not, but have you, Miss Aimee. Are you single, dating, married, or complicated?”

  “If you must know, I am single.”

  “I’m just messing with you, Aimee. Keegan here has vowed to stay unattached till the millennium, so no worries. Right, Keegan? No one cramping your playboy, millionaire lifestyle?” he says while looking at me.

  “Kaleb,” he warns.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, just your usual assery.” Keegan stares at him, annoyed.

  “That, I am! No denying that.”

  I make a mental note of his sudden moodiness, even if it is fun to watch Keegan get irritated. These boys have always been like this. Kaleb knows how to push his buttons.

  “So, Aimee, I have to run to a meeting across town, but what are you doing tomorrow night? We need to catch up, all of us,” he says, looking at Keegan.

  “I’d like that. Tomorrow night sounds great.”

  “Okay, how about drinks?”

  “Perfect,” I say.

  “He pulls out his phone, unlocks the screen, presses a few buttons, and hands it to me.”

  “Just type in your number, and I’ll text you the details later.”

  I quickly type in my cell phone number and hand him back his phone. Then he gives me another hug, but not as big as the last one.

  “Now don’t flake out on me, and bring that pretty photographer I saw downstairs.”

  “I won’t flake out, Kaleb. I mean, how could I miss the opportunity to experience your assery?” I laugh.

  “Well played, Miss Aimee. See you two kids later.” He then walks out of Keegan’s office

  Keegan and I merely stare at one another for a few moments before I finally break the silence and say, “So you do remember me?”

  Keegan turns around, walks to his desk, and picks up a photo from it, handing it to me. I look at the old photograph, a picture of us from a camping trip we took in high school. In the photo, we are huddled together, looking into the camera with two huge grins on our faces. We really were inseparable.

  “Of course I remember you, Aimee. How could I forget you? You were like my other half. I don’t have a single memory from my childhood that doesn’t include you.”

  I stare at him in shock. “Then why did you act like you had no idea who I am, Keegan?”

  He responds, “Why did you?”

  Here we go. It’s like we are going in circles now.

  “Well, since I was nervous of seeing you after all these years without a letter or even a call, I just assumed you had forgotten me.”

  “Are you mad?” he asks.

  “No, I’m not mad, just glad you didn’t forget me. “

  “I’m happy you haven’t forgotten me, either, Aimee,” he says in a low, sexy voice that sends a shiver down my spine.

  “So we both agree and can move on?” I tell him.

  He nods, takes back our picture, and places it back on his desk. “Tomorrow night, then?”

  “Yes. Are you free, Keegan?” I ask then laugh.

  He smirks. “I’ll have to check with Gretchen.”

  Wait? What? Are they involved? Maybe he does date.

  “Oh, have you been dating her long?”

  He looks at me a little dumbfounded. “No, Aimee. Gretchen is my assistant, and I was joking. I would never date an employee; it’s bad for business. Plus, according to Kaleb, I plan on being unattached till the next millennium.”

  “Oh, sorry, I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

  “You’re cute, you know that?” He touches his finger to my nose.

  He thinks I’m cute? Kid cute or adorable cute?

  He walks to his desk and picks something up.

  “Here’s my card. My cell phone number is on there. Now Kaleb has your number, and you have mine.”

  “Oh, I have a card.” I grab my briefcase which is still sitting on the floor then take one of my cards out of the side pocket and hand it to him. “That has all my contact numbers, as well,” I explain.

  “Well, it’s official.”

  “What is?”

  “That we are reacquainted,” he tells me.

  “I wouldn’t go that far, Mr. James. I mean, we have no clue what the last six years has been like for each other. Well, at least for
me. I know you have been pretty busy becoming a famous architect.” I wave my hands around, indicating our cushy surroundings.

  “Tomorrow night, then?” he questions.

  “Yes, tomorrow night.”

  “Just a warning, if you bring the photographer, Kaleb will be a super flirt. I can tell when he’s on the prowl.”

  “Her name is Reese Mathers, and she’s my closest friend and roommate. I think Kaleb should be the one you are warning, not me.”

  We stare at one another briefly before the phone rings in his pocket, and we are taken out of our moment. He talks to whoever is on the other line, and I presume it is business. When he holds up his finger, telling me to wait, I oblige, looking around his office. I notice there are no other pictures on his desk. Interesting … Maybe he only put the picture on his desk today.

  He ends the call. “I have an appointment, but I’ll see you tomorrow. I can walk you out.”

  He walks toward me, motioning me to the door, and puts his hand on the small of my back, making me feel incredibly comfortable. I can’t believe we have been apart for so long, but it’s like we are the old Aimee and Keegan, best buds and friends till the end. However, what I am feeling is more than nerves.

  As he walks me to the front lobby, Gretchen is coming out of the elevator with Reese in tow.

  “Keegan, you’re still here? Your meeting started ten minutes ago,” Gretchen says.

  “Thank you, Gretchen. I lost track of time.” He then turns to me. “It was a pleasure, Ms. Brennan.”

  I watch him as he walks out of the lobby. There goes Keegan James, the man, the myth, the legend.

  Gretchen interrupts my thoughts with last minute instructions to email the copy of my article to her when it’s completed. Once I agree, both Reese and I wait for the elevator. Nothing is said between us, but I can tell Reese will be giving me the third degree the moment we exit the building, and I haven’t been this excited to tell her something in so very long.

  Chapter Four

  I was right; the minute we walked out the door, Reese grabbed my arm and told me to spill. I may have let her simmer for a while, not wanting our cab driver to overhear me acting like a giddy teenager, since I felt like I was fourteen again.