Valley of Stars (The Merriams Book 3)

by Ava Miles

  She shrugged. “Big deal. I had my own mark to make after I got demoted because of you. But let’s not get sidetracked. So you met with Joseph…”

  “Like I said earlier, he’s willing to take us to the tribe,” Boyd said, fighting the urge to reach out and finger the brown cotton of her dress billowing in the breeze. “The rest is up to us. According to Joseph, we’ll have to convince them we’re worthy of the find.”

  Her brows slammed together. “Worthy? That sounds ominous.”

  He’d thought so too at first. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Joseph has already vouched for us. They wouldn’t have given us a meeting otherwise. Except…we might need to pretend we’re a couple on this trip. Share a tent. Be affectionate. From the way Joseph described the vision, that seemed important.”

  He had to try.

  She sliced her hand through the air. “In your dreams. A couple doesn’t have to mean a romantic couple. A couple could be business partners, which we seem to be at this point. Trust me when I say, I hope our association is both brief and painless.”

  This time he did touch her dress when the wind blew it against his leg. She was so beautiful. Had he told her enough? “I’m all for the painless part. The last six months have been brutal.”

  “Stop saying things like that,” she said, her tone seething.

  He stood up, prepared to take on the tiger. “You think you’re the only one who got hurt? This wouldn’t have happened if you’d listened to me about the Hendricks job instead of going off the rails thinking I’d betrayed you and your family. Give me some freaking credit, Doc.”

  She shoved him in the chest, but he was prepared for it. “You took the job without even telling me about it!”

  Before she could blink, he had her hand in a martial arts grip pressed against his heart. He didn’t care if she felt it pounding. “That’s because you got mad and shut down when I talked about looking outside Merriam Enterprises for a job after the fellowship. Jesus, why couldn’t you see that I wanted to be my own man?”

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel all soft and mushy inside?” Her green eyes glowed like emeralds. “You basically said working with me and my family’s company is emasculating to you, you jackass! How could you think I’d be okay with that?”

  He thought of the jeers about being Michaela’s Boy Toy. Yeah, they’d found their mark, but what man wanted to admit that to his woman, least of all one as powerful as Michaela? “Mickey, this was about me becoming financially independent. You know how important that is to me.”

  He almost cursed when he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. She cried so rarely, it felt like the end of the world whenever it happened. “Money! Always money. It was the only thing that stood between us, and it’s exactly what split us up in the end. When are you going to understand that I don’t care about that?”

  This argument was as familiar as the laundry soap he smelled on her clothes. Well, he knew his lines just as well as he knew hers. “Well, I do, dammit! I don’t come from what you do. I need to be my own man. If you truly loved me, you’d understand. The Hendricks job gave me a signing bonus, a great salary, and respect. My credentials and my work stood on its own.”

  “You’re an idiot!” She stormed over to her car. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Bullshit!” He stormed after her. “But everything is different now. We’ll find that flower in the Valley of Stars, and then we’ll share it with the world. Together. You’ll do it from Merriam Enterprises, like you’ve always wanted, and I’ll make a name for my company. Don’t you see? I’ve thought it all through. This joint venture is the perfect situation.”

  She shook her head. “No, Boyd.”

  Needing to look into her eyes as he said this next bit, he reached out and tipped her chin up. “Mickey, I’m going to win you back. This trip is a full-court press.”

  “You’re wasting your time, Boyd.”

  He gazed into her eyes, taking in the uncertainty. The anger, still so hot. And something else—the passion they’d always shared. “If that’s the case, you won’t mind me testing your theory.”

  His mouth lowered, slow enough that she could back away. When she didn’t, he felt a rush of triumph, quickly chased out by ecstasy and agony, in equal measures, at the first touch of her lips. He traced the curve of her lush lower lip with his tongue. Heard her breath harshen in time with his. Yes, it was still there, the passion, the want, but this God-awful longing was new. She still wanted him, but she didn’t want to. And he still wanted her but was terrified she’d crush him again.

  Sensing her uncertainty, he closed his eyes and let himself fall into the kiss. She gave an answering sigh, and he knew she’d done the same. Savoring the moment, he opened his mouth, giving her access should she want to take it. She did. He groaned and pulled her close. Then closer. Thought about laying her back against the car and simply ravishing her.

  When she raised her hands to push him away, he stepped back without hesitation. “I’ve missed you,” he said simply.

  “I’ve missed you too,” she whispered, “but that doesn’t change anything. I’ll see you in two weeks.” She was already pulling away.

  “That’s what I wanted to tell you,” he said, following her to her car. “I’m going ahead to set up everything with Joseph. I’ll meet you in Nairobi. I didn’t expect the delay with your family.”

  “Connor’s a tough negotiator.”

  He watched as she climbed into the driver’s seat and put on her seat belt. “Do you really want them to come?” he asked through the open window.

  “Yes,” she said. “It will be nice to have Uncle Arthur’s take on things in addition to them chaperoning. Better get used to the fact that you’re not getting any.”

  He snorted. “Honey, you forget the original purpose of chaperones.”

  She turned on her car. “What’s that?”

  “They’re supposed to keep two people who desperately want each other apart until they’re married. I figure that’s where we’ve always been heading.”

  “You’re crazy!”

  She shook her head at him as she sped out of the parking lot.

  He walked back to the cliff and pulled her engagement ring out of his pocket. Clenching it in his hand, he inhaled the fresh air, assuring himself the kiss and her soft sighs were an indication that it was possible to win her back.

  Because he couldn’t embark on this trip without hope.

  Chapter 3

  Arthur Hale was a lot of things, but he sure as hell wasn’t a moron.

  His wife seemed to disagree, however. That was the only explanation for why she was holding out a pith helmet to him as they prepared to board the Merriam corporate jet. “Good God, woman, this isn’t Gunga Din. We’re going on safari, not conquering Africa for the British Empire.”

  Arthur caught their usually inscrutable butler smiling. Clara thrust the hat against his chest. Oof.

  “It’s a safari helmet, Arthur. You’ll need it to protect that hard noggin of yours from the sun. It’s going to be warm, and I don’t want you overheating. You get so grouchy.”

  He snorted, taking the helmet, knowing the wise thing to do would be to quietly put it aside later or outright lose it when she wasn’t looking. He’d enjoyed watching Cary Grant and Douglas Fairbanks Jr. in the production of Kipling’s classic—who cared if Gunga Din was in India and not Africa?—but he wasn’t about to dress like them. “Who are you dressing as? That Karen Blixen woman Meryl Streep played in Out of Africa?”

  She shared an ominous glance with Hargreaves. “While we were waiting for our final medical clearance after our vaccinations, Hargreaves and I have been researching.”

  “What exactly? I’m the one who should be researching, but I can’t find any mention of this flower online. Clara, we don’t know a goddamned thing about this trip. We don’t even know where we’re going. Do you have any idea how big Kenya and Tanzania and Uganda are?”

  Hargreaves cleared his throat. “K
enya is about thirty thousand square miles wide while—”

  “Oh, Good Lord, Hargreaves, if I wanted trivia, I would have brought along Trivial Pursuit.” Privately, he thought the butler would have been a hell of a fact checker for his newspaper, but he wasn’t about to say so. “You know, dear, this is our third international trip since we’ve been married.”

  “I’d like to think of it as our fourth honeymoon, my love,” she said, batting those big blue eyes of hers.

  “Have I told you today how happy I am that we reunited after all these years?”

  She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. Hargreaves looked away like usual, and since he wasn’t watching, Arthur took the opportunity to caress her backside. She still had one hell of a backside.

  “Have I told you how I feel like I’m coming more alive every day?” she asked, taking his arm as they ascended the stairs of the plane. “I never imagined being nearly eighty and feeling like I’m finally starting my life. This is why we’re living to one hundred, Arthur. I won’t hear any different from you.”

  “To be with you, my dear, and in good health, I’d live to two hundred,” he said, casting a wink over his shoulder at Hargreaves, who’d started wrangling bags out of their trunk. He always insisted on carrying their bags, even if someone younger offered to do it for him. “Think your butler could make it that long?”

  “He’s doing yoga now too, Arthur, and teaching me tai chi. You should join us. They’re renowned health boosters.”

  He snorted, then waved his hand when he saw his niece appear at the top of the airplane steps. “Michaela, come save me from your aunt. She’s threatening me with more of her New Age ideas.”

  Michaela laughed, putting away her phone. “Nothing wrong with that. Sorry, I was talking to Flynn. Didn’t hear you arrive.”

  “How is your brother?” Arthur asked. “Did he fix Boyd’s cable? I laughed myself silly for days thinking about that. Downright diabolical of him.”

  The girl’s mouth was twitching. “Yes, it was. To think, he’d kept it a secret this whole time.”

  “Hate to break your bubble, kid,” Arthur said, stopping when they stepped on board the plane. “Your brother, J.T., spilled the beans that he and Trevor knew.”

  “It’s the twin thing. If one knows, it’s guaranteed the other does.” Michaela pointed to his hand. “Ah…Uncle Arthur, why do you have a pith helmet? No one wears those anymore.”

  “Finally, someone with sense.” He cut Clara a glance. “Talk to your aunt. She thinks Hollywood is a good place for information on how one conducts him or herself in the field. Of course, most of the characters who wore pith helmets in those movies ended up dead.”

  “Arthur. Hello, dear,” Clara said, kissing Michaela’s cheeks. “Don’t mind him. He’s too crusty for his own good. Really, the number of times he’s complained about getting a few shots in his backside.”

  Arthur rubbed his posterior for Michaela’s benefit. “I’ve barely been able to sit down. And we haven’t even started rough riding in a Land Rover yet.”

  “Enough,” Clara said. “Hargreaves has our luggage. We weren’t sure how long we’d be gone, so we packed enough for four weeks.”

  Four weeks? “You didn’t tell me that, Clara. I could have told you it was too much.”

  “Darling, we raided your drawers. I don’t know how you didn’t notice. Besides, Hargreaves and I have packed what we need.”

  “We’ll see what Boyd has planned, Aunt,” Michaela said, trying not to laugh.

  He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Don’t try and tell her, Michaela. She’s an expert. You know, if it weren’t for the chance to flex my journalistic muscles again, I’m not sure I would have agreed to this trip. Chaperones. I’m supposed to be the Matchmaker Jedi, not a mere chaperone.” A nickname he thought he’d earned after helping Caitlyn Merriam, Michaela’s sister, find happiness with her suitor and now-fiancé.

  “You can’t give yourself a nickname, Arthur.” Clara plopped into one of the white leather seats. “Someone else has to do that for you. And there’s nothing ‘mere’ about being a chaperone for two people clearly as combustible as Michaela and Boyd.”

  “Oh brother,” Michaela said.

  Arthur couldn’t help but smile. Oh, he did love to get Clara’s goat. “She’s just put out that she’s in the intermediate matchmaking class,” he told their niece as he sat next to his wife.

  “You never know what might happen,” she said mysteriously. She’d talked to her brother, Shawn, last week, and ever since, she’d been making cryptic comments about Boyd, and how there were two sides to every story. Like he didn’t know that as a journalist. Flynn had said something similar, but Arthur planned to make up his own mind. Always had, always would.

  Michaela took the seat across from them. “Aunt, trust me when I say, your only task here is chaperoning.”

  And yet she hadn’t denied Connor’s assertion that she still loved the man. He’d bet the farm she had the hots for him too. Clara was right about the combustible part, not that he’d tell her yet. He couldn’t give her too many points this early in the trip.

  Yet he took her hand, and she squeezed his fingers, communicating she thought Michaela doth protest too much. Well, whatever Clara’s goal, Arthur had his own: he’d do whatever it took to keep Michaela from getting hurt by Boyd McClellan, and in the meantime, he’d look out for his own lady. All the better if he wrote a kick-ass story along the way. As for donning his Matchmaking Jedi outfit, which certainly didn’t include a pith helmet?

  Well, they’d have to see…

  * * *

  When they landed at Nairobi’s international airport, Michaela was happy to see Joseph waiting for them in the shade of one of the hangars.

  Oddly, she was deflated Boyd wasn’t anywhere in sight. Her tummy had started doing excited somersaults as the plane landed, her traitorous mind conjuring up memories from previous trips and fantasies about what might happen on this one.

  “Joseph!”

  She waved and he strode forward, smiling, dressed in a cream long-sleeved shirt and brown trousers. At forty-five, the only wrinkles he had were laugh lines around his mouth and eyes, he liked to say, with a touch of gray in his black hair for the wisdom he’d acquired.

  “Dr. Michaela,” he said, shaking her hand, the customary greeting. Although she’d told him multiple times to call her Michaela, he considered it improper. She counted it as a victory that he’d shifted from Dr. Merriam to Dr. Michaela.

  “Hello, my friend,” she said warmly. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

  “You as well. I hope you had a pleasant flight.”

  “We did,” she said, turning to the others who were making their way down the stairs. When they were fully deplaned, she gestured to the party. “Joseph, please meet my uncle, Arthur Hale.” And so began the round of handshaking. “My aunt, Clara Merriam Hale. Their friend, Clifton Hargreaves.”

  Hargreaves extended his hand and said, “I’m their butler. Please call me Hargreaves.”

  Joseph nodded. “Dr. Boyd told me you would be joining our party.”

  “And this is Dr. Ignatius Vajra,” she said, trying not to frown at the way the man was already lifting his straight nose in the air, something he did to establish his authority. Some of the people at work giggled about it, but she found it too obnoxious to laugh about. The next words—“my boss”—were even harder to spit out. She wanted to kill Connor for insisting Iggie come along.

  “A pleasure, Dr. Vajra,” Joseph said in his ever-cheerful way, extending his hand.

  “Indeed,” Iggie said, ignoring it, making Michaela want to smack him. “God, it’s hot here, isn’t it? I don’t know how any of you stand it.” He pulled out a battery-operated fan from his starched khaki safari togs—clearly, he’d shopped at the same store as Aunt Clara.

  “It’s the hot season, so we acclimate,” Joseph said companionably, God bless him. “You will as well. The bush will be a bit cooler. Nairobi swelt
ers with all the cars. Traffic was terrible, but the minivan is waiting.”

  “Is Boyd with the minivan?” she asked finally, not wanting to sound too eager.

  “He’s meeting us at Wilson Airport,” Joseph said. “Had some last-minute details to see to for our trip.” Turning to Iggie, he added, “Can I take your case for you, Dr. Vajra?”

  Iggie clutched it close after hefting his laptop case higher on his shoulder, peering at Joseph suspiciously. “No, I plan to keep my possessions with me at all times.”

  If he weren’t her boss, she’d have sent him right back on the plane. He’d delayed their departure in Denver by arriving late from a phone call with the office. To make matters worse, he’d promptly asked Hargreaves to hang up his jacket. Uncle Arthur had set him straight on Hargreaves’ role, tapping Iggie on the shoulder and pointing to Clara, saying, “Hargreaves is her butler, not yours, good man.”

  Michaela had almost kissed him. If Iggie continued to act so superior and entitled, they weren’t likely to get very far. Their success depended on the goodwill of the tribe entrusted with the flower’s protection. Iggie hadn’t gotten the memo, it seemed, and since he was her boss, it wasn’t like she could point it out. She was hoping Boyd would do it, and she planned on doing some silent cheering when he did.

  “I’m so happy you’re here to take us to Wilson then, Joseph,” Michaela said. “We’ll meet you after we go through Customs.”

  “Boyd has already expedited your party, Dr. Michaela,” Joseph said. “Come with me. The official is waiting to process your party.”

  It wasn’t an uncommon arrangement for business trips, and she was grateful Boyd had thought to take care of it. They followed Joseph into one of the Customs offices, painted a strange shade of mauve that would have been more fitting for a bathroom. The official asked for all of their passports and started stamping them. She noted he hadn’t asked for their yellow card vaccination records. When he got to Iggie, he thumbed through every page of his passport, his mouth dropping into a scowl.