WindSwept Narrows: # 1 Samantha Elliott

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  “Thanks,” Sam turned slowly, looking in the mirror and nodding. “I like this one, too…it’s very comfortable and both will go with the little black shoes I bought. Excellent…okay, unzip me, please,” she turned back to him.

  Logan released the zipper, his mouth open when the dress fell to her feet, giving him a view of the pink lace panties she wore before she stepped back inside the dressing room. He took the long gown carefully off the top of the door, taking both to the counter while she dressed.

  Sam came out, tucking her shirt in with a frown. “Did you pick up those dresses, Logan? I can’t find…”

  “All paid for and ready to go,” Logan handed her the bag.

  “But I didn’t…”

  “A husband’s privilege,” he said with a shrug.

  “Oh, okay, thank you,” Sam smiled and took his hand. “I suppose it really doesn’t matter now. So what do we do now? Are we tourists?”

  “We hide this stuff and get some staples for the suite,” Logan guided her back to the parking garage, carefully arranging the packages beneath a dark cover in the back of the SUV.

  “I want some yogurt, too,” Sam announced as they wandered through the grocery store. “Talk about a frozen face,” she chided when he cast her a look. “It’s full of very good things for your digestive system and it’s yummy.”

  “Yeah, sure…”

  Sam pushed the cart, her head tipped at the choices inside. “We have decidedly diverse tastes,” she announced as things began rolling by on the belt to the cashier. She moved around him, squeezing past behind and began putting things into bags. “We bought wine?”

  “We did, peasant,” Logan agreed with a chuckle, pulling his wallet out at the same time his phone began chirping. He slid it from his inner pocket long enough to look at the read out, frown and slide it away after putting it on vibrate.

  “Do we know a lot of people here? Where were we before here? No, never mind…I don’t want to know…”

  “Sam…” Logan waited while she belted herself into the seat. Bright green eyes turned to him expectantly. “Lunch? How about a place downtown?”

  “It’s a beautiful city…there’s a sandwich shop…why don’t we get some and take them down into the park? Defiance Point Park…” Sam read off the sign.

  Logan ordered a Rueben sandwich, extra pickles and a coffee; Sam ordered turkey with cucumber, mayo and cream cheese with sprouts and a big bottle of water. Sam held the bag while he drove along the park road, pulling quickly into one of the few spots left on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon in Tacoma. They walked to the Asian pavilion, spread the large blanket he had in the back of the SUV and took up residence above the Sound.

  Sam sat cross legged after untying her boots and pulling them free, socks lying on top of them. The sandwich was delicious and large, half of it disappearing before she got up and wandered to the chain link fence, peering down at the water and boats and people milling along the wide concrete path beside the Sound. She turned, leaning against the fence and watching Logan, who in turn, was staring at her.

  “This is a beautiful area,” she said, wandering back to the blanket and folding her sandwich up in the paper they’d wrapped it in. She moved the bag to the side and stretched out on the blanket, face up absorbing the warmth of the sun.

  Logan said nothing, following her example and closing his eyes. He meant to consider the situation he’d gotten himself into. Seriously. But between the feeling of peace and the excellent food, he was soon breathing evenly, barely aware of the kids or boats or chatter around them.

  A while later, Sam opened her eyes slowly. An expanse of button down pale blue shirt lay before her vision. And he smelled good, she decided, inhaling and sighing. She glanced at the wrist watch that dangled over her shoulder. After four in the afternoon. The day is almost gone, she thought, her palm resting on his chest.

  “I saw your eyes open,” Logan said quietly. His palm moved higher, raking the long hair back from her neck.

  “It’s after four…we lost the day somewhere…” Sam exhaled and snuggled closer.

  “It’s not lost…I got it stuck in my memory for eternity and am quite pleased with how it turned out,” Logan rolled to his side, forcing her to her back. They peered into one another’s eyes for a long minute.

  Chapter Three

  Sam felt her pulse quicken, air once abundant, now seemed to vanish. It was inevitable, her mind stuttered. They were on a honeymoon. And they definitely found one another attractive. And he was deliciously sexy, the woman in her pushed the girl to the side, her palm lifting to touch the side of his face. Slim fingers moved over the smooth skin and onto the soft growth of hair at the same time she blinked. His mouth touched hers.

  He deepened the kiss deliberately when he felt her mouth soften beneath his. Welcoming. He got the feeling she was tasting him, sending her tongue out to slowly entice him to the meal.

  She made a tiny, incredibly sexy little sound that sent his blood boiling. His heart beat quickened, his palm left her waist and tangled in the soft strands of red silk, brushing her forehead, her cheeks and cupping her face as the kiss became dangerously hot and seductive.

  Logan raised his head, which given where his mind wanted him to be, was not an easy task. But the rash of giggling kids and barking dogs pulled him back from the erotic location in his mind to reality.

  “Umm…” Sam brought her tongue to moisten her lips. “Kids…”

  “And adults…put your shoes on and let’s clean up,” but Logan brushed her mouth once more with his, the thrill racing through him at her response pulled a ragged groan from his lips. “Beautiful,” he whispered against her mouth, growling and pushing himself to his feet. He strode off toward the fence, fingers clenching the wire as he drew in long drafts of fresh, cold air.

  “Logan?” Sam hurried, tying her shoes and quickly cleaning up their lunch. She drained the water in the bottle and dumped everything into the trash bin, chewing on her lip when he remained staring out to sea. Her gaze caught on the restrooms and walked over the grass, going inside. She splashed cold water over her face when she was finished, staring at the woman in the mirror. She was his wife. It would stand to reason they would have a very combustible reaction to one another. A really nice combustible reaction the female in her recalled with a heady sigh.

  Confused at his behavior, Sam shrugged and went back outside. The blanket was neatly folded but Logan was missing. She frowned and picked up the blanket. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t leave her there. Pretty sure. She walked toward where they left the SUV parked, turning in time to see Logan running up the short grade of grass to join her at the car. He had his sun glasses on so she couldn’t tell where his eyes were or what might be in them.

  “What’s wrong?” Sam slid inside the car when he opened it, about to swing her legs around when he stepped forward, blocking her movement.

  Logan took off his glasses, tossing them to the dashboard before his palms captured her face between them. He stared for a long minute, stunned at the biggest pair of green eyes returning his stare without fear. Without doubt.

  “You don’t know me, Sam…”

  “I…that’s silly…of course I…well, I must or…Logan, I do know you, inside, it’s just kind of…lost for the moment,” Sam sighed. “I don’t have a lot of experience with the whole amnesia thing, Logan, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t go from being a nun one day to a hooker the next. I have basic common sense and…and instincts. That’s why you’re angry at me? Because I kissed you back?”

  “I’m not angry…”

  “You’re giving a good imitation of angry then,” she tossed back instantly. Her hands shot between them cupping his face as he had held hers. “I am not a child, I am not stupid and I know the attraction I feel is real, Logan,” she told him confidently, pulling hard on his face and kissing him soundly. “I think you’re bright enough to figure that out, too.” She shoved hard against his chest and pulled the car door shut with a slam, ha
nds busy buckling the belt and ignoring the laughter that greeted her when he climbed into the car. “Complex,” she mumbled testily.

  “I’m not complex. Just a simple male trying to navigate the world,” Logan started the car and drove slowly through the walkers, joggers and playing kids.

  “We kissed, Logan…why did you get angry with me about it?” Sam pressed, turning and watching him and cursing the sunlight and those glasses.

  “I’ll get the stuff to the suite,” he said as if she hadn’t spoken. “You can take a wander around the property if you want…take the pass key with you and if anyone stops you, just show them that and tell them you’re with me. Remember my name? Logan Sheffield.”

  “Grrrr…we will kiss again, you know.”

  “Not if I can help it until you get your memory back.” He informed her firmly.

  “Oh, really?” Sam arched an eyebrow, her voice low and sweetly challenging.

  Logan was positive he felt a lightening bolt strike his spine and shoot out his shoes.

  “You have work to do?” Sam asked as they drove through the entrance. Logan maneuvered the SUV around the construction vehicles, parking next to the main entrance.

  “I have reports to read, emails to answer and calls to make,” he admitted, opening the back of the SUV.

  “This is a lot of stuff to try and haul…” Sam locked the car and walked to join him, ready to load up with bags when he came out of the entrance with a luggage cart. A bright smile lit up her face when he winked at her. “You are brilliant,” she began loading the cart and even left enough room for her to sit cross legged on the end.

  Logan offered only a chuckle as he maneuvered the cart into the elevator, shaking his head. Her fingers were wrapped around the vertical rails, humming to herself as he pushed the cart to their suite. He helped haul things inside, hastily getting out of her way as she efficiently began putting things away. Retreating as males have done for eons, Logan went to the table and began setting up his laptop, plugging it in and gathering his brief case, sorting through the folders to find what he was after.

  Sam dug into her pack, coming up with a small coated band and her hair brush. She sat on the bed for several minutes, brushing and weaving the long hair into a neat braid down her head and back. Satisfied, she put things away and headed for the door.

  “Sam…” Logan held out the pass card, withdrawing it when she reached out. “Phone?”

  Making a face at him, Sam found the little phone in her pack, handing it to him with a frown. “I didn’t have your number?”

  “New phone,” he improvised, tapping his number in and picking up his own phone. “Now we’re in each others again. There are security guards. Just show them the pass card and tell them your name. A problem, call me, okay?”

  “Aye-aye, sir,” Sam struck off a salute and rubbed her hands together, going off to explore.

  Logan leaned forward, knees spread and head hanging as low as he could bend. Again the voice shouted at him, demanding an answer to what the hell was he doing?

  “First things first,” he said aloud, picking up his phone and scrolling through the choices. “I like having a direct line.”

  “Aw, hell…what do you want?” Came the deep chuckle through the line, the bald head shaking.

  “Tony…we’re friends…can’t a friend just check in now and then?” But Logan laughed. “Okay…”

  “I’m an investigator…”

  “And I need information. Got a pen?”

  “Please…do I tell you how to run a casino? What are you looking for, Logan?”

  “Samantha Elliott,” Logan pulled her wallet from inside the pack and held her driver’s license out to read the number off. “I have a driver’s license number for you.”

  “Samantha Elliott? You’re not serious? You don’t need an investigator,” Tony laughed deeply, his voice chiding. “You need to read something besides the business section, Logan.”

  “Okay…so what am I missing?” He asked cautiously.

  “You should be glad we’re friends,” Tony answered, his voice sobered and tone serious. “I could charge you and call you back in a hour,” the sound of his fingers moving over a keyboard reached Logan. “But because you’re socially challenged…”

  “Tony…please…I can’t get my boots any higher,” Logan said dryly.

  “Phew…where to start…can I know why the interest?”

  “At the end of the conversation,” he promised.

  “Okay…Samantha Elliott…out of Seattle, Mercer Island parents estate. Just to make sure we’re talking about the same Samantha Elliott. About thirty-four, redhead, tall…”

  “That’s her.”

  “Okay…uhh…I’m not sure what you’re searching for so I’ll just ramble a bit here. Smart, social activist, not overly public…in other words, she doesn’t get in trouble, well not the kind you hear about from the kids of other rich people. No drugs, alcohol stuff…no drunk driving or club fights…good schools, good grades…she chooses her friends wisely and sparingly…she doesn’t give interviews. She’s been in a few countries working some human rights issues, the last out of country one about four years ago. Only grandchild, maternal grandparents deceased; father’s grandmother deceased, grandfather still alive. All left her as their heir when they died. The woman is beyond wealthy, Logan.”

  “That explains why the bank managers were falling over themselves trying to help her this morning,” Logan recalled vaguely, listening to his friend’s hmmm on the other end of the line.

  “The last year she’s been involved in reclaiming neighborhoods. She’s angered some politicians and local leaders as well as rich people,” Tony scrolled through one of the pages. “The society page people don’t like her because she doesn’t play by their rules. No…carpet poses, no dinner scenes and no interviews. A quote here: the woman is homely, gangly and in need of some serious training in decorum.”

  “Homely? Gangly?” Logan repeated the words after choking on the water he had tried to drink. “You aren’t serious? Samantha? Who the hell wrote that crap?"

  “Alison Hudson, society editor. Not sure what Samantha did to tick her off, not up on all the gossip,” Tony said with a chuckle. “Anyway…the last four months, while there have been no photos, her name is being bandied about by Carson Strang.”

  “Senate hopeful?”

  “Right in one…seems he’s single and has been trying, unsuccessfully according to most fronts, to corral Miss Elliott. All that money would certainly come in handy to a politician. She was seen with him at a dinner, but information has it that it was a chance encounter. They do not have the same belief in social obligations. However, the last couple weeks, Strang has been making comments that would lead people to believe she was his fiancée. Samantha doesn’t make comments and I’d guess she just figures he’ll embarrass himself with his mouth, so she’s stayed out of it as far as I can tell. I can make some inquiries, if you want more on that issue. Things I’ve read and heard, she’s a determined lady, intent on making people change for the better and help others along the way. I sent you an interesting little speech she gave at a city function. She…well, let’s say I think she let Strang think she was interested and got invited to a Republican fling that would ordinarily not invite her.”

  “Huh…now why does that not surprise me, Tony. I can’t imagine a brick wall lasting long if she was intent that it go away,” Logan shook his head.

  “Headlines are reading today that Strang’s lost his bride. Evidently she’s done a runner…but then Strang would be at the altar on his own. Odd man. Can’t picture him in the senate, but…I’m sure stranger ones have been elected.”

  “Why make claims that can’t possibly come true?”

  “Hell if I know…Samantha Elliott is known in his circle to be eccentric. So I’m sure when nothing comes of it, it’ll be all her fault and he’ll be publicly broken hearted,” Tony outlined the story with a chuckle. “Alright...I’ve spilled my guts…what�
�s your connection with Samantha Elliott?”

  “You won’t believe me,” Logan shook his head, planning his next call.

  “Try me.”

  “I’m married to her,” Logan said simply, listening to the silence and imagining his friend with gaping mouth. “Do me a favor…drop that tidbit to your society friends. I’ll be in touch, Tony, thanks.”

  Logan again scrolled through a list of names, tapping on one and waiting.

  “Hey, Logan, what’s up?” The younger male greeted his friend even as he continued working on his program.

  “Tyler…I need a favor. A seriously discrete favor.”

  Silence lasted a long minute. “And questionably legal?”

  “Yeah, well…that’s up for debate. All I need is for you to create something in a government data base.”

  “Which government?”

  “Ours,” Logan said dryly.

  “Phew…okay…what department?”

  “Seattle, King County, Department of Marriage licenses,” Logan braced himself for the reaction.

  “The…are you…wow,” Tyler’s hands moved expertly over the keyboard. “Lucky for you, it’s Saturday and that is one of the least guarded sections of the government,” he said with a chuckle. “So you want me to create a license application for you and…hold on while I get the forms up…”

  Logan answered questions, helping Tyler fill in the blanks.

  “They won’t even notice the addition and it’ll kick out a copy for you in a day or so when they run maintenance. “You’re getting hitched, huh?”

  “It’s in the works,” Logan admitted slowly, thanking his friend and ending the call. He spent the next hour reading reports and answering emails. Opening the last email from Tony.

  Coincidence, he looked at his wrist at the same time his phone rang. “Sheffield here.”

  “Mr. Sheffield? My name is Al Collins, I’m a security guard and would appreciate it if you could come to main entrance.”

  Logan looked at the number. It was Sam’s. He broke the connection and moved swiftly through the corridors. He sighed thickly as he exited the main entrance.