Harlequin Kimani Romance June 2017 Box Set

by Arthur, A. C.

  He threw on his slacks, not bothering with any other article of his strewn clothing, and jogged outside. He retrieved the bag holding his stage clothes and brought it inside.

  Back in Nona’s bedroom, he stuck his head into the closet. “Mind if I take a shower?”

  She shook her head. “No. Go ahead.”

  What followed was the quickest shower of his life, and she entered the bathroom as he stepped out. She took her shower while he threw on his underwear, slacks and shirt. Checking the time, he saw that he’d have to put the rest of it on at the club.

  Soon, they were both in Nona’s driveway, getting into their respective vehicles.

  “Ken?” She was standing in the space between her open car door and the cabin of her sedan.

  Seated in the driver seat of his car, he looked toward her. “What is it?”

  “What’s happening between us? What are we doing?”

  He shrugged, not knowing if she was ready to hear that he loved her. “Seeing each other, enjoying each other’s company. I don’t really care what we call it.”

  She nodded, but she didn’t look terribly reassured.

  He started his engine, because if he didn’t leave in the next five minutes, he’d be late for sound check. “My father once told me that a man can never be sure he loves a woman until she hurts him.”

  A crooked smile crossed her face. “But I would never hurt you, Ken.”

  He winked at her. “I know. I’ll see you at the club.”

  Putting the car in Reverse, he backed out of the driveway.

  CHAPTER 16

  Jogging to her seat at a table near the stage, Nona slid into it. Three other women were already seated there, and she remembered Ken telling her she’d be sitting with the wives of his bandmates. Feeling somewhat giddy to get a seat at the table of honor, she smiled at her tablemates. “Hi, ladies. I’m Nona.”

  The woman closest to her, brown skinned with a sleek bob, extended her hand. “Hello, there. I’m Eve, Darius’s wife.” She gestured to the slightly darker-skinned woman with the cute short do sitting to her right. “This is Rashad’s wife, Lina, and next to her is Joi, Marco’s wife.”

  Lina smiled. “Hey, girl.”

  Joi raised her hand, wiggling French-manicured fingertips in her direction. “Welcome to our little crew.”

  “It’s nice to meet all of you.” Nona settled into the leather cushion of the chair, hanging the strap of her small handbag on the backrest. Now that she was finally seated after the mad dash to make it there on time, she took deep breaths and tried to slow her racing heartbeat.

  A giggle sounded next to her, and she looked over at Eve.

  “I’m not trying to get in your business, but are you okay? You seem a little…out of breath.” Eve’s eyes held a mixture of concern and curiosity.

  Sucking in her bottom lip, Nona blinked a few times. Am I that obvious? “Don’t mind me. I’ll be fine. Really.”

  Lina, taking a sip from the bright red mixed drink in front of her, said sagely, “Oh, honey, trust me. We get it. No judgment from us.”

  Joi added, “You know what they say about birds of a feather. All of our husbands are a lot to handle, so we can only assume the same is true of Ken.”

  An outdone Nona could only smile. Even though she’d just met the ladies, she could tell they would get along fine. “I appreciate that. Now, who do I talk to about getting one of those fruity drinks?”

  “I got you, girl.” Lina raised her hand into the air. “Pierre, can you come here for a minute, boo?”

  Shortly a fair-skinned man of average height, wearing black slacks, a white shirt and a blue vest, appeared next to their table. “What can I get you?”

  Lina gestured toward Nona. “Can you hook our sista up with something sweet?”

  Nona looked toward the waiter. “I’d love a Harvey Wallbanger, light on the liquor.”

  “You got it.” The smiling Pierre disappeared through the maze of crowded tables.

  “They should be raising the curtain any minute.” Joi ran a hand through the dark waves of her hair. “Does anybody know what they’re playing tonight?”

  Eve shrugged. “Darius didn’t say anything to me about it.”

  Stirring her drink, Lina crinkled her brow. “I think Rashad said something about them playing a tribute to Lena Horne. It’s her birthday.”

  Nona turned toward the stage, eager to hear the set. Not only did she love Lena Horne, but she loved the idea that the Gents, as an all-male jazz quartet, would decide to pay tribute to her.

  Eve raised her glass. Turning Lina’s way, she quipped, “Here’s hoping your husband can hit the notes, girl.”

  Lina answered with a playful punch to Eve’s upper arm, but everyone at the table giggled.

  Pierre placed Nona’s drink on the table and slipped away quickly.

  The house lights were lowered then, and a hush fell over the room as the emcee came out to announce the band. Once he’d made his introduction, the blue velvet curtain was raised. Nona took in the sight of the band and was immediately impressed. Their stage costumes for the night consisted of navy blue suits tailored to fit each man’s body. Beneath the suits, each man wore a coal-black shirt and a metallic silver tie. Black dress shoes and black fedoras with silver bands completed their look.

  Naturally, Nona’s eyes went right to Ken, who was seated near the rear of the stage behind his drum set. She licked her lips as her eyes feasted on her tasty morsel of a man. He looked so fine, it was all she could do to remain in her seat. She wanted to climb up on the lip of the stage, stroll over to that stool he was sitting on and peel that sexy suit off him one article at a time.

  In the darkness, she heard Eve say, “Yes, Lord. I love it when they clean up for a show.”

  Every woman at the table made a sound of agreement in response. If there were four better-looking men on Earth, Nona would be surprised.

  Ken raised his sticks into the air, tapping them together. “One and a two and a…”

  On cue, the men began playing their instruments. A few notes later, Nona recognized the tune.

  Rashad, his hands on the keys, leaned forward to sing into the microphone set up next to the piano.

  For the next several minutes, Nona and everyone else in the lounge were graced with Rashad’s rendition of “Stormy Weather.” While he modified the vocals and lyrics slightly to fit the pitch and timbre of his voice, he remained true to the mood of the tune. Tapping her toe beneath the table, Nona could tell that Rashad was a fantastic vocalist. Despite Eve’s cheeky comment, Rashad wasn’t having any trouble hitting the notes.

  After they finished the song and waited for the thunderous applause to go down, the band segued into “Wives and Lovers,” another song Ms. Horne had recorded. Next came “Singing in the Rain,” and by the time the Gents started “Moon River,” they’d won Nona over as a new fan.

  She was so busy enjoying the music that she barely noticed her phone buzzing. Taking it from her handbag, she unlocked it and checked the screen. An email awaited her from Huff, and while she generally wouldn’t check work email at a moment like this, something told her it was important.

  She opened the email, while still bopping her head. Her eyes scanned the message from her boss.

  Nona, thanks for revising the article, and for adding in the missing piece! The drama with Ken’s family makes for a very compelling read and I’m sure…

  Nona’s eyes grew large. What the hell is he talking about? She read on, hoping to find the answer to that question.

  When Porter brought me your notebook with the revised pages, I didn’t understand at first. But since you provided the information, I took the liberty of adding it to your article…

  Holy. Shit. The notebook in question had to be her journal. She hadn�
��t seen it in a few days, and now she surmised that she must have brought it to work by mistake. Porter probably hadn’t realized he’d picked it up with her article and delivered it to her boss. And knowing Huff, he probably felt very proud of himself right now. After all, he’d gotten the scoop, and that was his top priority.

  She panicked. Looking toward Ken, who was still onstage behind the drum set, she knew she needed to warn him. Feature articles normally appeared on the newspaper’s website at one minute past midnight on the day of publication. It was now twenty minutes after eleven. Based on the way the boys were jamming, she didn’t think the show would end any time soon.

  She tapped Eve’s shoulder, and asked, “How long do the shows usually last?”

  “Oh, they go on until midnight, twelve thirty most of the time.” Eve shimmied in her seat, obviously enjoying the music.

  Closing her eyes, Nona cursed under her breath.

  Leaving her untouched drink and her purse, she got up from the table and dashed toward the backstage corridor.

  * * *

  Ken lifted his sticks above his head, twirling them like two miniature batons before returning to the ride cymbal and the snare. Throwing a little flair into his performances kept him from getting bored and kept the audience engaged during transitions.

  Rashad said into the microphone, “Y’all give it up for Ken Yamada, the drum man with the plan!”

  The crowd ate it up, giving a rousing cheer. Ken smiled as he kept playing, enjoying his moment in the spotlight. Not only was Rashad the vocalist and the pianist, he also served as the band’s hype man. His personality lent itself to the job, and Ken couldn’t imagine anyone else doing it.

  He could feel the perspiration gathering beneath the band of his fedora. Being under the stage lights usually led to him overheating about halfway through a set. With a quick motion of his right hand, he used the tip of one of his sticks to knock the hat off. It landed on the floor to the right of his stool and he kept playing without missing a beat.

  A rustle of movement in the wings caught his attention. Keeping his focus on the drums, he gave a sidelong glance to his far right. He thought he saw Nona there, waving and gesturing wildly. Unable to stop at this point in the song, he turned his attention back to his fast-flying sticks.

  During the applause break when the song ended, he turned his head. Confusion knit his brow as he caught sight of Nona, waving her arms like an air traffic controller on the flight line. What is she doing?

  Her eyes were large, and she was mouthing something, but he couldn’t hear her over the applause or make out what she was trying to say. Gesturing to let her know he couldn’t hear her, he positioned his sticks for the start of the next song.

  A security guard appeared behind Nona, and she quit flailing. As the guard led her away, Ken scratched his head. What was that all about? He could tell she wanted something, and he hated to put her off. But whatever it was, it would have to wait until the show ended. As he often reminded his bandmates, his drumming provided the foundation for everything they played. Without him, they’d be completely lost.

  He got his head back in the game, concentrating fully on the music. He got into a groove, and as the last song of the night’s set ended, he leaned into his drum set and kept playing. As Rashad, Darius and Marco set their instruments aside, Ken played an epic drum solo that went on a good three or four minutes. For that brief period, he felt weightless, blissful, as if the drum gods were smiling on him and lending him their collective powers. When he threw his sticks to the stage floor, the entire room full of people jumped to their feet for a thunderous ovation. When Ken looked around, even his bandmates were applauding.

  As the excitement died down, Ken got up from his stool and retrieved the hat he’d tossed earlier. When he stood up with the hat in his hand, Nona was there again, standing in the wings at stage right.

  This time, as he got a good look at her, he could see the fat puddles of water standing in her eyes. Her face was wet, streaked with tears she’d already shed, and her eyes held profound sadness.

  Concern gripped him, and he grabbed his sticks and rushed to her side. “Nona. Baby, you’ve been crying. What’s wrong?”

  Her answering sob tugged at his heart.

  He gathered her in his arms. “Come on. Let’s go backstage where we can talk.” With his arm draped around her trembling shoulders, he led her through the performers’ area of the lounge to one of the empty dressing rooms. He closed the door behind them as they entered.

  The room was sparsely furnished. A lighted vanity and matching bench occupied one wall, while a tan leather love seat occupied the opposite wall. A short-legged wooden coffee table centered the space.

  She flopped down on the love seat, and he sat next to her.

  Looking into her watery eyes, he gave her hand a squeeze. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

  She shifted her gaze away from him, as if unable to meet his eyes.

  He persisted. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the problem is.”

  “It’s too late. It’s just too late.” She shook her head back and forth as she whispered the words.

  “Too late? What are you talking about?”

  A deep sigh.

  “Nona.”

  “I don’t know how to tell you this, but…” Her hands were in her lap, and she wrung them.

  He’d never seen her act this way, and it dawned on him that whatever she was about to say must be pretty bad. Rather than press her any further, he waited.

  A few long, silent minutes ticked by before she spoke. “What you told me about your family. Your mother’s affair. Your sister. Your father’s efforts to hide it all. I made a mistake and now it’s in my feature article.”

  His heart stopped. He blinked a few times. “You’re not serious.”

  “I wish it weren’t true, but it is.” She was staring at her hands now where they rested in her lap.

  He moved away from her, as far as he could until he bumped into the arm of the love seat. “But the newspaper isn’t out yet. You can stop…”

  She shook her head. “The online version goes live at midnight.”

  He didn’t need to check the time to know that midnight had come and gone. He guessed it was around one o’clock in the morning by now.

  “Listen, I write in a personal journal. Sort of like a diary. I think it must have gotten mixed up with my work papers and…”

  He wasn’t interested in her meandering explanation. “Stop.” A wave of emotion came over him, strong and all consuming. It was probably the worst feeling he’d ever experienced. “So this is how it feels.”

  “What?” She appeared confused.

  “This is how it feels to be betrayed by the woman you love. I would say it’s like a knife in my heart, but it’s worse than that. Much worse.” His words were honest and edged with the bitterness he felt. He would much rather have been slapped across the face than to be standing here with her now, knowing she’d sold him out this way.

  Her eyes grew wide, filling again with tears. “Did you just say you love me?”

  He stood, his hands curled tightly at his sides. “I did. But that was when I thought I could trust you.” Turning, he started to walk away. He needed to get out of this tiny room and away from this woman who’d stolen his heart, learned his secrets and then used them against him.

  “Ken, wait. This was all a mistake.”

  He didn’t stop, didn’t respond. Grabbing the doorknob, he yanked the door open.

  “Please, Ken! Please. I love you, too.” Her voice was thick with tears.

  He heard her words coming from behind him, heard the emotion. Without turning around, he spoke. “If we don’t have trust, we don’t have anything.”

  And with that, he walked out, not bothering to look back.
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  CHAPTER 17

  Nona strode into the newspaper building Thursday morning, bypassing her office and heading straight for Wendell’s. Instead of taking the time and care she usually did before coming into work, she’d rolled out of bed, thrown on a white tee and a pair of cutoff shorts, and made her way to work.

  The door to her boss’s office was already open, and he looked up the minute she stepped inside. His brow furrowed with confusion and concern when he saw her. “Nona? I’d say good morning, but you look like hell. What’s wrong?”

  Walking over to his desk, she rested her palms on the edge. “Huff, why did you publish the things in my journal as part of my feature?”

  “What?”

  She frowned, waited.

  He leaned back in his chair, his expression changing. “Porter turned in a stack of papers that was supposed to be your article. The notebook was in between the pages, so…” He shrugged.

  “So you used information from my private journal, without my permission.”

  “Obviously it’s not all that private, because you brought it to work.” He gestured to the corner of his desk. “It’s over there if you want it.”

  She snatched the notebook and tucked it into her purse. “I can’t believe you, Huff. Reading my journal is pretty low, but including that information in the story, with my name on it? Outrageous.”

  He tented his fingers. “It’s like I told you, the story wasn’t compelling. I knew you were holding back when I read your first draft. You should thank me, really. I made your first front-page feature unforgettable. Do you realize what an amazing scoop this was?”

  She could feel the excitement rolling off him, and in another time and place, she might have felt that way, too. He was right: the article was unforgettable. But if she couldn’t convince Ken that she’d made a mistake, that she hadn’t set out to purposefully betray him, it would be unforgettable for all the wrong reasons. “You know, I’ve waited a long time for a front-page feature. But now that I have it, it doesn’t even matter. The cost was too high.”

  His face changed, and for the first time since she’d entered, she saw a modicum of sympathy. “I’m assuming this had put you on bad terms with Mr. Yamada.”