by A. C. Arthur
And then because every fiber in her being screamed that she jump on him, wrap her legs around his waist and let him have her once more, she stormed out of the kitchen and headed directly to the bedroom, where she grabbed her purse and overnight bag and left.
Chapter 15
He hadn’t stopped her from leaving.
Why?
Because he wasn’t in the habit of begging or chasing a woman.
Did he miss her?
Like the night would miss the day, dark would crave the light, right inevitably sought out wrong.
Entering Lucien’s of Greenwich he walked straight to the back, the room that was reserved every Sunday morning from eleven to two in the afternoon for the Desdune family brunch.
He hadn’t stopped to speak to Cary, the bartender, or Marlese, the host. He’d simply swung open the door and stomped inside. His steps were long, purposeful, his mind not on brunch or family or anything else but her.
She was supposed to be with him. That’s what he’d thought this time yesterday morning when he’d been out walking Romeo and she’d been in his kitchen preparing breakfast.
The whole scene had felt so right, so homey, so everything Sam had ever wanted. The sad thing was, it wasn’t enough for him to want it alone.
His cell phone rang a second before he entered the back room. He stopped, pulled it free of the holder on his waist and hoped to see a familiar number.
He got his wish.
Then again, he didn’t.
“Desdune,” he answered reluctantly.
“Hi, Sam. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for days now.”
Her voice was sugary sweet, and Sam could just imagine how she looked. It was Sunday morning so she’d be dressed for her appearance at the First Joshua Baptist Church.
Leeza Purdy would be dressed in an impeccable suit, her heels would be high, patent leather probably. She’d have a matching hat on her head, purse in one hand and Bible that didn’t open any other day of the week in the other.
“I’ve been working.”
“I figured. You’re always working. I keep telling you it’s too much,” she began.
Yes, she had told him he worked too much. During the year they’d dated she’d told him so many things—complained about so many things was more like it.
“I’m on my way to brunch. Is there something I can do for you, Leeza?”
“Well, yes. I’m calling about the charity ball. Are you wearing your black tux or the white one? Actually, I think this year would be better if you wore the black pants and white dinner jacket.”
With his free hand, Sam rubbed his temple and watched as his brother, Cole, stepped up beside him.
“I won’t be attending the charity ball this year, Leeza, so it really doesn’t matter.”
“What? Not attending?” She giggled. “Of course you’re going, Sam. It’s the most important function of the season. Everybody who is anybody at the club will be there. Your parents will certainly be there and the Bennetts, so it makes sense that you and I attend.”
Cole stood close, at least three inches taller than Sam’s six-foot-one stature. His older brother had the mocha skin of their mother and sister Bree. His wavy black hair was cut low and matched the dark, expertly trimmed goatee on his face. His thick brows raised in question. Sam frowned, moved his free hand from his temple and twirled one finger around near his head, indicating that Leeza was crazy.
Cole chuckled. The Desdunes as a whole had been extremely happy the day Sam broke off his engagement with Leeza.
“Even if I were going to the ball, Leeza, we wouldn’t be going together. Our relationship is over, remember?”
He could hear her pouting over the phone, if that were possible. “Sam, we are not going to have another unsavory scene like the last one.”
“No. We’re not,” Sam said with the last bits of his control wearing extremely thin. “There’s no need for a scene, as you put it. The fact is that we aren’t a couple anymore. Plain and simple.”
“There’s nothing plain and simple about this foolishness you keep spreading. I’ve already had to deal with the rumor mill after you so rudely made your feelings known at the restaurant.”
He hadn’t thought he was rude. He’d simply had enough. And when he’d decided to tell her that in a nice, calm manner, she’d been the one to go off, yelling and screaming as if he’d slapped her. Which, coincidentally, if he weren’t raised to treat women like the queens they were, he probably would have.
“It’s done, Leeza. You need to find yourself another date to the ball.” And because he was definitely tired of hearing the high-pitched squeal of her voice and had just spotted Bree and her husband, Renny, coming through the front door of the restaurant, he disconnected the phone.
“Not taking no for an answer, huh?” Cole asked as Sam put the phone back into its case.
“You know Leeza, if it’s not what she wants to hear, she has trouble accepting it.”
“Yeah, I’m just glad you had the good sense to dump that controlling windbag.”
Sam frowned at Cole. “Go ahead and tell me what you really think about the woman I was going to marry.”
“Hey, the operative word here is ‘was,’ little bro. Like I said, I’m glad you dumped her when you did. Otherwise we all would have had to endure her loud, whining talk every week at these gatherings.”
“Mornin’,” Bree said, approaching her brothers and looking suspiciously from one to the other. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” they both said in unison.
Bree arched a brow. Of Cole and Sam and her husband, Renny, who stood behind her, she was the shortest, craning her neck to look up at the men.
“You were talking about something before I approached,” she said slowly.
Renny put an arm around her waist. “The fact that they stopped talking about it when you arrived means it has nothing to do with you,” he interceded. “What’s up Sam? Cole?” He spoke with a nod to each brother.
“Hey, Renny,” Cole said, reaching out a hand and shaking his brother-in-law’s. “She’s still a nosy little spitfire.”
Renny chuckled as Bree continued to glare at Sam.
“I don’t think that’s going to change, no matter how hard we try,” Sam said, mimicking Cole’s move and shaking Renny’s hand.
“She’s getting better,” Renny said in his wife’s defense.
“I can’t tell,” Sam was saying when a little boy ran up to him, wrapping his arms around his legs.
“Uncle Sammy, Uncle Sammy!” Jeremy Richardson, Sam’s five-year-old nephew, looked up at him with the biggest teddy-bear-brown eyes Sam had ever seen.
His bad mood melted instantly.
Bending, Sam scooped the little boy up into his arms. “Hey, little man. How’ve you been?”
“Good,” Jeremy responded as Sam settled him on his hip. “Mama got me a Spider-Man outfit for Halloween.”
“Whoa, trick-or-treaters better watch out then, Spider-Man is going to be on the prowl.”
“I got a bag and candy in the bowl to give out. I want to eat the Reese’s cups, but Mama won’t let me.”
“That’s right, if you start eating them we won’t have any left next week to give away.” Lynn Desdune with her tall, athletic frame had joined them. She was smiling today, a light in her eyes that Sam hadn’t seen in a while and that made him happy.
Lynn had been through a lot, marrying young, having a baby and then her no-good husband just up and leaving her and Jeremy. Earlier this year Sam thought he’d seen something between her and Trent, but that fizzled. And based on Lynn’s own words, “It was just sex and it was good.” So he hadn’t felt the need to pull his longtime friend up about messing with his sister. It seemed as though they were two consenting adults, taking care of their needs. Lynn had actually been pleased to hear about Trent’s engagement and expected parenthood.
“So what are you dressing up as?” Sam asked Lynn.
“I w
as just going to ask you that question, since he wants you to take him trick-or-treating.”
“Yeah, can you, Uncle Sammy, can you?”
No way was Sam going to decline. His nephew meant too much to him. Family meant too much to him, which is why he wanted to start one of his own so badly.
Unfortunately, the woman he was now convinced was perfect for him had other ideas. She was of Lynn’s “just sex” mentality, and that just wasn’t flying with him.
Come hell or high water, Karena Lakefield was going to see things his way.
“So, Sam, tell us about this Karena Lakefield,” Marie Desdune asked her son when they were drinking mimosas and sitting around the large banquet table.
Sam shot Bree an irritated glare, and ornery nymph that she was, she only smiled and lifted a brow as if waiting for his response.
“She’s a client,” he responded in a clipped tone.
Marie nodded her head. She had the same milk-chocolate complexion as Bree and Cole. Her short stature gave her a pleasingly plump appearance, while her jet-black hair was stylishly curled.
“You don’t usually take clients to your house,” Marie added with an impish smile of her own.
How had they known Karena was at his house? No doubt the newest private investigator in the family had found out that little tidbit of information. Well, he’d been a member of this family long enough to know there was no use in trying to keep anything away from them.
“She needed a break from the job and all the stress of the case, so I brought her out to the house for a relaxing weekend.”
“And you didn’t bring her to brunch to meet us?” Marie asked.
“She had to go back to the city yesterday.”
“Hmm, doesn’t seem as if you were successful in helping her relax if she ran back to work so quickly.” This was Cole, casting his normal brotherly barbs.
Probably seeing that his son needed saving, Lucien Desdune chimed in. “What’s her case about, son?”
Sam breathed a sigh of relief. “Stolen artwork. Some guy impersonated an artist and sold Karena’s gallery a stolen painting. Apparently there have been other stolen paintings reported.”
Renny, who also owned an art gallery and was a talented sculpture, spoke next. “I’ve been hearing about a lot of that going on. Have you found the owners of the paintings?”
“Not yet,” Sam said. “This artist, Leandro, is reputedly some recluse. We’re trying to track him down, since the insurance companies are being really tight-lipped about the owners.”
“So a claim has been filed?” Renny asked.
“No,” Bree answered. “Not yet. All we have are the appraiser’s reports saying that the paintings were stolen. That’s why we figure finding Leandro is our best bet for figuring out whom he really sold the paintings to.”
Renny nodded. “That’s probably a good angle. But it’s weird that none of the owners of the paintings have reported them missing yet. I’ve heard of Leandro. His work is in high demand. If somebody owned one of his pictures, they’d know immediately if it went missing and they’d definitely have it insured.”
Sam agreed one hundred percent with what Renny was saying. That had been the part of the case that had puzzled him.
“Sounds like you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you. Probably not a good time for you to be chasing a client’s skirt,” Lucien added.
Leave it to his father to be candid. “I’m not chasing her skirt, Dad.”
“Nah, if she was at his house he’s already achieved that goal,” Cole joked.
“Don’t be crass,” Marie admonished.
“And it’s not like that,” Sam defended. “Karena’s not like that. She’s dealing with a lot right now. Her father’s really hard on his daughters when it comes to business. I think he’d prefer they all get married and become housewives like his wife.”
“But Karena doesn’t want that?” Marie asked.
“No. Neither do her two sisters. From what I can tell they’re all just as ambitious and stubborn as their father.”
“Why is that they are always made to seem like bad traits for a woman?” This was Lynn, Sam’s oldest sister, speaking up.
“I didn’t say it was bad, just hard to deal with when they all keep butting heads.”
Marie took another sip of her mimosa, watching her son carefully. “Well, if anybody can help her, Sam, it’s you.”
“Yeah, Sam’s the hero of the family,” Bree said with a smile.
He frowned and would have given another smart remark but a cell phone rang.
“Oh, that’s me,” Bailey said, quickly pulling out her phone and looking at it. “I’ve got to go.”
“But you barely ate anything,” Marie said quickly. Although Bailey wasn’t blood-related, the Desdunes were the closest thing she had to family in Greenwich, and with Trent’s request that Sam keep an eye on her, the rest of his family had dutifully fallen in step. “You should eat more and slow down. Working is not everything.”
“Thanks, Ms. Desdune. But I’m okay, really,” Bailey was saying as she slipped her purse strap on her shoulder and went around the table to give Marie a hug. “I’ll have a big dinner,” she whispered into the older woman’s ear.
“Make sure you do. And call me tomorrow so we can talk. You look as though something’s bothering you.”
Bailey was already shaking her head, her long braids moving with the motion. “I’m fine,” she started saying. “But I’ll call you anyway.”
Marie smiled, appeased with Bailey’s acquiescence. Next Bailey hugged Lucien, who looked at her with the same worried expression he gave his daughters. “Be safe,” he said.
Bailey kissed his cheek and was on her way out when Sam stopped her.
“What’s going on?”
She leaned over and whispered, “I’ve got a lead on the Chester kid. I’ll call you later with the details.”
Sam had to agree with Marie and Lucien—Bailey didn’t look like she was okay. He’d have to make a point to deal with that.
Chapter 16
Karena walked into her office bright and early Monday morning, determined to put the tumultuous emotions from the weekend out of her mind. She’d spent the latter part of Saturday and all day Sunday in her apartment, trying like hell to ignore the gnawing need for Sam’s touch, for the sound of his voice, his laughter and even, heaven help her, for the sight of his gorgeous dog, Romeo.
What a silly name, she thought, sinking into her chair and clicking the buttons to turn her computer on. Who would name their dog after a character in a play, unless it was your favorite play. The tragic story of Romeo and Juliet, star-crossed lovers who would never see the happiness that their hearts so eagerly bled for. Thinking about the story made her sad. No, to tell the truth, thinking about Sam made her sad.
Why did he have to want something she couldn’t give? Better yet, why couldn’t she give him what he wanted? Too many questions, Karena thought, clicking her mouse in an automatic gesture, opening programs and waiting as her overflowing inbox appeared on the screen.
Sam wanted forever. She’d seen it in his eyes as he’d taken her hand in his and said the grace that would bless their breakfast on Saturday morning. He wanted a family, home and hearth. He wanted to build something—something akin to what his family already had. And truth be told, there was a part of Karena that longed for the same thing. Yet there was an even bigger part that wanted to run like a screaming banshee from it all.
It wasn’t in her. It just wasn’t.
She wasn’t housewife material. Hell, maybe she wasn’t even mother material. Who knew? All Karena knew for sure was that her entire life had been steered toward succeeding in business and showing her father that she was just as good, if not better, than any son he could ever have hoped for. As for her mother, there really wasn’t anything Karena felt she could prove to her.
Noreen was already set in her ways, in her beliefs of what a mother and wife should be. It had been instilled in her from h
er Southern-bred childhood, and she’d done an excellent job at it. Why she couldn’t have strived for more, Karena had no clue. But she had begun to believe that maybe it wasn’t for her to figure out. Maybe her mother’s life had been exactly what her mother had wanted it to be.
Her head was beginning to hurt. Stress was a killer. She knew this because she’d read plenty of articles on the subject. Just as she’d felt the warning signs attacking her body. Tension set in her shoulders like heavy bricks while her temples throbbed. She reached into her drawer and pulled out the jar of extra-strength aspirin she’d brought from the wholesale warehouse because five hundred in a bottle just made more sense to her than going to the drugstore and buying a bottle of twenty-five, knowing she’d take those twenty-five in the span of one week.
She hadn’t eaten breakfast but she did have a cup of coffee nearby, so she popped two aspirin, took a sip of coffee and reminded herself she needed to get to work. The things going on in her personal life had no place at the gallery. She’d have to deal with them later.
Just as she clicked open the first e-mail from Monica, there was a knock on her door. She looked up and felt the coffee and two pills she’d just swallowed twist and turn in her stomach.
This wasn’t going to be good, somehow she knew.
She was the last person he expected to hear from this morning. That’s why when he walked into the office and Bree handed him a message from Karena’s office, Sam felt momentarily confused.
Saturday had been a roller-coaster ride for them both. Between the heated emotions emanating from their sensuous lovemaking and the surface covering their deeper feelings for each other, they were both going crazy. He’d sensed it and yet he’d pushed anyway. Why? Because that’s the way he was. When Sam decided he wanted something or someone, the way he had decided with Karena, he went after it, no holds barred.
Unfortunately, Karena hadn’t appreciated that approach.
He moved with slow strides into his office with Bree hot on his heels.
“It was her assistant who called, saying that Karena had some very important people in her office and she needed you to get there as soon as possible,” she said with a serious tinge to her tone.
