Harlequin Kimani Romance June 2017 Box Set

by Arthur, A. C.

  “Probably nothing,” Gary replied. “A bluff, most likely, designed to frighten her.”

  He didn’t tell Kris the truth.

  “He’s going to be fired regardless,” Kris stated evenly. “His contact with Sam today was out of order and harassing. Along with whatever else we find on him, that alone is enough.”

  “I’m going down there to make sure he leaves the palace for good and that he knows he’s not to say anything against her or this family,” Gary said and headed for the door.

  “Wait a minute.” Kris spoke. “I’ve got some news, also.”

  Gary wasn’t in the mood for any more news today. He wanted to get this situation with Morty taken care of so that Samantha could have some peace in that regard. Still, he turned slowly and looked at Kris because there was something in his tone. Something that Gary knew wasn’t going to be good.

  “What news?”

  Kris didn’t hesitate to reply. “Amari Taylor escaped from prison.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “This is kidnapping,” Sam said when Gary slid in beside her on the backseat of the car.

  “No,” he replied in that cool and aloof manner of his. “It’s a dinner date.”

  Sam looked out the window and tried not to frown. “A person would have to be asked to go somewhere for this to be considered a date. You jumping into my car and directing my driver to go someplace else? That’s kidnapping.”

  “You’ve been dodging me for the past week, so there was no time to ask you” was his stiff reply.

  She sensed he was doing the same thing she was, staring out the window to avoid looking at her. That made this scenario all the more annoying.

  “Your claim of ‘dodging’ is false. I’ve seen you every day in the past week,” she said after a few seconds of silence. Why she didn’t want him to have the last word, Sam couldn’t say. She picked up her purse, opened it and pushed things around. What was she looking for? She didn’t know; it was only imperative that she did something with her hands. Or she might just strangle him. Or would she let her hands fall to his strong shoulders and glide slowly down his arms?

  How many times this week had she thought about touching him? How many times had those thoughts had her on the brink of going to his room? Too many to count and too many to be comfortable with.

  “That was business,” he told her simply.

  “And what’s this?” she asked and then—because she couldn’t help it, his words had surprised her—she looked at him. “If this isn’t business, what is it?”

  He moved slowly, turning his head and using his fingers to smooth down the dark hair of his mustache. It didn’t need smoothing, neither did the wavy hair on top of his head or the thick brows that would make any woman jealous. Gary was a soldier with a distinct male-model look about him. There was the gruffness of his tone, the preference for casual attire and those damn boots that were more than out of place as he walked around sunny and humid Grand Serenity. Then there was the swagger that announced his presence the moment he entered a room. It didn’t matter that his cargo pants and T-shirts were the exact opposite of what every other male in the palace wore, those garments suited him perfectly and kept anyone in proximity staring at him.

  “This is a date,” he answered finally. “I’m taking you on a dinner date. Is that okay with you, Samantha? Or should I have Phillipe turn the car around and take us both back to the palace?”

  The stubborn and irritated part of her wanted to say yes. She wanted to lift her chin and demand that she be taken home because of the high-handed way he’d dealt with her, for the second time in a week’s span. But she did not.

  “Dinner is fine with me. Just as asking a person something usually goes over much better than demanding they do as you wish,” she said.

  When he only continued to stare, she figured she’d have to not only lead him to the water but dunk his head so he’d drink, as well.

  “I do not like being ordered around. That day in the atrium you told me to go to my room like I was an insolent child. I did not appreciate that. Just as I do not appreciate you hijacking my car and telling me we’re going to dinner,” she said as she closed her purse with a definite snap and set it beside her on the leather seat.

  “Understood,” he replied.

  Simple as that? No argument, no discussion? Sam wasn’t used to conversations where she’d had to stand her ground or assert her position going that smoothly. Anytime she did that with her father or brothers, there was always a debate that followed.

  She didn’t reply because she didn’t know what else to say. The argument or debate would have been easier. Immediate acquiescence required a little more thought.

  More time passed and she realized they were driving north, heading toward the parts of the island tourists frequented at that time of evening. That was because there was an array of nice restaurants in this direction, along with a few nightlife entertainment venues. She prayed they weren’t going to the latter.

  “Phillipe recommended the View. He said it was a great restaurant featuring American and Caribbean cuisine. I made our reservation for seven thirty. Is that all right with you?”

  “That’s fine with me,” she replied. “I’ve been there a couple of times and I like their chef.”

  She’d planned to visit with Detali to see what the woman was working on for the fashion show. Last week Sam and Landry had been to the dressmaker to pick up their outfits for the Founder’s Day celebration taking place on Saturday. So there was really no need for Sam to return there so quickly, but she’d discovered that was the only place where neither reporters nor civilians really bothered her. Especially at Detali’s new place. She could go in through the shop and then out the back door and across the alleyway to Detali’s new house. That’s where she, Detali and Landry had shared coffee and black fruitcake. Detali made the Caribbean favorite better than even the pastry chef at the palace. Chef Murray would not like hearing that and so Sam was sure not to ever tell him.

  “Good, because we’re here,” he told her just as the car came to a stop.

  Sam knew not to make any move to get out of the car. Before the shooting, Gary had given new protocols for when they arrived at a location other than the palace. After the shooting, he’d taken those protocols to a whole other level. It would be at least fifteen minutes before he came back to the car to help her out. Sam did not argue. Memories of lying on the ground while bullets zoomed through the crowd would not let her. She did pull out her cell phone while she was waiting, a habit she had of checking her emails several times a day.

  Nothing, she thought absently as she scrolled down the list, and then there was one from a name she hadn’t seen in three years. A name she hadn’t ever wanted to see again. She was just about to read it when the door opened and she looked up to see Gary standing there.

  “It’s all clear.”

  She looked back at the phone again and decided that he could wait. He could also go to hell, but waiting would have to do. Sam switched her phone setting to vibrate and dropped it into her purse before taking Gary’s offered hand and stepping out.

  He wore jeans tonight, dark navy, with a gray, button-down shirt that fit almost as snug as his T-shirts normally did. His impressive biceps were showing and when he laced his fingers through hers as they walked toward the steps of the restaurant, Sam felt a wave of something new and warm soar through her body.

  It was just dinner, she reminded herself.

  But it was a date. His words. Not hers.

  So she left her hand in his, loving how comfortable that simple act seemed. Her dress was short, the bottom flaring out to barely skim her knees. Had she known she would be going into a restaurant she would have worn something a little more royal. She’d even foregone the heels and had simply slipped on nude-colored flats. As they approached the stairs
on the side of the building, she decided not to let her attire bother her because this was just dinner.

  As she also presumed, Gary’s reservation had told them who she was and thus their table was toward the back of the restaurant in a private room. There were several tables in this room but only one was covered in a white-linen cloth with candles lit and wineglasses sparkling. It was closest to the window, which afforded them a glorious view of palm trees and the lights from a golf course. To be fair, all of the tables in the restaurant boasted a view thanks to the panoramic windows. Yet there was still something about what she could see, once Gary had stood behind her and helped her into her seat.

  Water was poured into their glasses, menus put into their hands, smiles offered from the waiter who’d introduced himself as Henri.

  “Chef Michael makes a wonderful balsamic dressing,” Sam began as soon as she opened the menu. “It’s fantastic with the tomato Caprese.”

  At his grumbling reply, Sam lowered her menu and gazed at him. “You don’t like tomatoes, or you don’t like balsamic dressing?” she asked.

  “I like meat and potatoes” was his quick reply.

  His brow had furrowed and his lips turned up in the corner as he looked at his menu. Sam almost smiled as she quickly imagined him as a surly child with that same face whenever something didn’t go his way.

  “He also prepares a red snapper, Grand Serenity style,” she told him.

  “I can do seafood,” he replied and flipped a page in his menu.

  She wasn’t sure he saw what he was looking for as he continued to frown, so Sam stood to lean over the table to show him. The top of her dress was loose and the material immediately draped as she moved. Deciding this date would go along much better if she didn’t set her dress on fire with the candles, she moved to the chair beside him. Leaning over then, she flipped another page in his menu and pointed.

  “There’s red snapper, mahi and shrimp. They make the linguini fresh on the premises, too. And they have a cocktail called the Sunset that’s dynamite. I’m going to order one of those as soon as Henri returns.”

  “That’s what you smell like.”

  His words were strange and she looked up to see that Gary was no longer staring at his menu, but at her instead.

  “What?” she asked and cleared her throat as she backed away from him. She’d been too close, she thought now. Way too close if he was commenting on how she smelled.

  “The first time I stood close to you was at Kris and Landry’s wedding. You were wearing white. You had your hair pulled back tight and there was a bright pink flower, right here.” He pointed to the spot just above her right ear.

  Self-conscious now, she lifted her hands and tucked her hair back behind both ears.

  “I stood behind you while you talked to guests and thanked them for coming on such short notice. It was windy that day and each time there was a breeze I caught this scent. At first I thought it was the flower, but it wasn’t a floral aroma at all. I couldn’t figure out what it was but I knew, when I stepped closer to you, where it was coming from.”

  He appeared to think for a moment, during which time Sam cleared her throat and struggled for what she should say.

  “Sunset,” he continued. “It used to be my mother’s favorite time of day. She would sit on the front porch and watch the sun setting over the river.”

  Henri returned at that moment to take their orders.

  “To start, the princess will have the tomato Caprese and the Sunset,” Gary told Henri.

  Sam nodded her agreement to Gary and then looked up at Henri to tell him that she would also have the grilled salmon for her entrée.

  “French onion soup and the sea bass for me,” Gary continued. “And whatever beer you have on tap.”

  When Henri walked away again, Sam took a sip of her water as she sat back in her chair trying not to stare at Gary. He was a complex guy. A soldier. A loner. A man who loved his mother to no end.

  “Your mother lived near a river,” she said. “Was that your childhood home?”

  He’d been unfolding his napkin and had just placed it in his lap when he looked up to answer.

  “I grew up in a Cape Cod–style home in Cambridge, Maryland,” he said. “Three bedrooms and a fenced-in yard for our Labrador retriever named Junebug. There was a front porch with two rocker chairs, one for my dad and one for my mom. Across the street from us was a church with a huge yard. The river ran behind the church. My parents used to sit on that porch for a while each evening and look through the side yard of the church to where the sun rested over the river.”

  “Sounds nice,” she replied.

  He nodded. “It was. Especially in the summer when it was too hot to do anything but sit still. Junebug and I would cut through the churchyard and head straight to the river after breakfast. My mom would pack a picnic lunch that all the guys ragged me about. They used to call me a spoiled mama’s boy.”

  And there was that tentative grin again. It didn’t come often, but when it did—each and every time—Sam’s heart did a little pitter-patter in her chest.

  “And what did you do when they called you that?”

  She had a sinking suspicion calling Gary names didn’t go over too well.

  “No words. I’ve never been much of a talker, so I showed them how a spoiled mama’s boy handled his business.”

  “I can totally see that in you. All action, less words.”

  “I was an only child, so I didn’t usually have anyone to talk to. Besides, action always seemed to work much better, anyway.”

  “And that’s why you left college to join the…which branch of the military were you in again?”

  “The army,” he replied and then nodded his thanks to the new waiter who had come to the table to deliver their drinks.

  Sam immediately sipped from hers and relished the peachy flavor of her cocktail. Gary had lifted his glass as well, taking a gulp of his beer before continuing with his reply.

  “I went to college because my parents worked really hard to save money to send me there. I didn’t use the money they saved. Instead I worked damn hard to get a full scholarship to college. Nobody in the town could believe it. The Bruiser. That’s what some of the parents used to call me. The ones with the sons that didn’t know when to shut their mouths around me, but at the same time couldn’t fight their way out of a paper bag.”

  “Wow, were you like the neighborhood bully?” Sam asked.

  “Nah,” he said with a shake of his head. “More like the enforcer. Kids liked to try to take advantage of other kids they thought had less than them. I didn’t care about the ones who had bigger and prettier houses, or that took the trips to Disney World during the summer, while I spent most of the sultry days at the local rec center. But I didn’t tolerate trash-talking and bullying, as you put it. Not from anybody.”

  And that sounded exactly like him, she thought. He was the protector, even as a child.

  “I can certainly see how college wasn’t for you,” she said. “It’s not for everyone.”

  “You went to college,” he replied.

  Sam took another sip of her cocktail. “Only because it took me away from the palace. I felt like I was choking there.”

  That hadn’t really been what she’d meant to say, but it was out and she couldn’t take it back.

  “That’s how I felt in college.”

  “So we do have something in common,” she said.

  “Are you surprised about that? A princess having something in common with an army vet. That would probably shock a lot of people.”

  “I’m just a woman, Gary. And you’re a man. We’re both people. That’s the first thing we have in common.”

  He’d been lifting his glass but before he sipped he leaned it in her direction for a toast. Sam picked up her
cocktail, tapping her glass against his.

  “To the man and the woman with something in common,” he said, his lips spreading slowly into a smile.

  Sam liked his words. She liked his smile even more. “Hear, Hear!” she replied and watched him over the rim of her glass as she sipped.

  * * *

  He was talking too damn much.

  They’d finished their delicious meal and the dessert that followed forty minutes ago and he had talked the entire time. Conversation had continued during the ride back to the palace and, when he’d walked her to her rooms, she’d surprised him by inviting him inside. Now it was nearing ten o’clock at night and they were sitting on the balcony just off her living room. She kept a mini-refrigerator in her office and had brought them both bottled water.

  “Did you love her?” she asked again, probably because he’d taken such a long time to answer.

  Gary dragged a hand down his face. It was a nice night. There was a gentle breeze that cooled the air of the stifling heat from earlier in the day. The sky was clear, the moon at its half phase, palm trees swaying gently in the distance. So why were his temples throbbing at the thought of talking about his marriage and its ultimate failure?

  “It wasn’t meant to be,” he replied.

  “That really didn’t answer my question” was her reply.

  Instead of taking one of the chairs, she’d opted to lay back on the cushioned lounge, her long legs crossed at the ankles, feet bare after she’d slipped off her shoes when she’d gone to retrieve the water. At least, that’s how she’d been positioned when he’d last glanced at her. Something about the crisp evening air and her very short dress and all the skin of her bare legs and arms was making him edgy. He’d decided it made more sense not to look at her too much.

  He’d done a lot of that at dinner. Looked at her, that is. Seemed like he’d been looking at her for weeks now. Watching and taking note of every little thing about her. If he weren’t such a disciplined and restrained man, he would think he was obsessing over her.