Blaine, Destiny - Breakfast by the Sea (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)
Page 1
Breakfast by the Sea
A beautiful woman with a checkered past runs a legitimate bed and breakfast on Jekyll Island. Several young men posing as cowboys move in Breakfast by the Sea and things become chaotic right from the start when the oceanfront B&B turns into a command center for a very determined group of special Super-Op Forces.
Pursuing a man known as the King of Hearts, five tough operatives fall fast for a woman they’re supposed to eliminate. When the team discovers Paige Lambert is in fact the Queen of Hearts, they can’t ignore their handler’s orders. Is the bed and breakfast owner destined to die for her past crimes or will she end up under the protective custody of the men hired to kill her?
Genre: Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Suspense, Western/Cowboys
Length: 77,410 words
BREAKFAST BY THE SEA
Destiny Blaine
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
BREAKFAST BY THE SEA
Copyright © 2010 by Destiny Blaine
E-book ISBN: 1-61034-052-3
First E-book Publication: November 2010
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2010 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
If you have purchased this copy of Breakfast by the Sea by Destiny Blaine from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.
Regarding E-book Piracy
This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.
The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.
This is Destiny Blaine’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Blaine’s right to earn a living from her work.
Amanda Hilton, Publisher
www.SirenPublishing.com
www.BookStrand.com
DEDICATION
For so many reasons, I dedicate Breakfast by the Sea to my friends
in Jekyll Island, Georgia.
BREAKFAST BY THE SEA
DESTINY BLAINE
Copyright © 2010
Part I
Chapter One
Paige practically danced across the balcony. She pulled a heavy lounge chair behind her, positioning the chaise close to the timber banister. The autumn wind danced under her silk gown, catching the hem with a sudden breeze. Before she caught the material, the garment covered her face.
Laughing, she sat down and eyed the deserted beach. She looked to the left and then to her right. A few seagulls scattered, and she sighed. She couldn’t think of anything she loved more than a sunny fall morning, except maybe the tranquility of enjoying the new day without anyone in sight.
Drawing her knees to her chest, she fell against the uncomfortable patio furniture. While she savored the privacy, she often found loneliness existed in the most serene settings. Paige always had the feeling someone was watching her. JekyllIsland’s off-season meant days, if not weeks, of vacancies. Sometimes, when she went to bed at night, she became aware of a harrowing fact—no one would hear her if she ever had a reason to scream.
Rather than revisit her haunted past, Paige closed her eyes and listened to the waves crashing against one another in turbulent competition to reach the sandy shore. The peaceful swooshing sound became louder and louder with the rising high tide. Maybe the ocean supplied a sign of things to come. She’d experienced similar mornings and discovered nature often had a way of providing warning signs.
She glanced at her watch. At eight o’clock, she still had time to go for a run, but she wouldn’t take the opportunity. She wanted everything in perfect order by the time her new guests arrived.
The day before, Paige confirmed reservations for five, but her visitors bought out the place, renting all ten bedrooms. Adam Bales, the man who booked her bed and breakfast, took time to explain his reasons. Adam and his friends were a team of professional ropers taking a hiatus from the rodeo. They needed a place to rest and relax away from the limelight. Apparently, Mr. Bales had a thick wallet and a huge ego.
When Mr. Bales secured their reservation, Paige reluctantly accepted the booking. The past had a way of rearing its ugly head when too many men occupied her rooms. Plus, Paige was a little suspicious.
The cowboy securing the reservation made his expectations clear. He booked her B&B for three months. He wanted confidentiality, for whatever reason, and promised to pay double her rate upon check-in, pointing out he would pay for her silence as much as her hospitality.
The locals, he reminded her, would talk if they discovered she was all alone with five young cowboys. What an assumptive fellow. Paige couldn’t care less what the island residents thought. Like her, most of them were transplants, and Paige had few friends there.
Adam Bales acted like he knew a lot about her, but when she asked him simple questions, such as a request for his mailing address or phone number, he told her that information was classified. For all Paige knew, she was expecting the arrival of several assassins.
Her doorbell buzzed in the master suite, and she hurried inside. She picked up the bedside clock and read the burgundy numbers. The timekeeper kept right on ticking, clicking off another digit. Thank God she still had a few hours. She wasn’t quite ready for her new arrivals and needed every minute in order to properly prepare.
The doorbell rang once more, followed by a loud knock. Someone grew quite impatient.
“Coming!” she screamed, snatching a pale pink robe from her walk-in closet. She rushed down the steps and opened the front door without peering outside first.
She expected to find Sylvia, the o
lder lady she often hired as the only outsource she trusted for baked goods. Instead, she discovered a quite early surprise.
“Paige Lambert?”
“Yes, that’s me,” she replied, quickly tying together the satin sash around her waist.
A man with bedroom eyes and fashionable facial stubble extended his hand. “I’m Adam Bales. We spoke on the phone. I believe you’re expecting us?”
“No, not this early,” she stated flatly. She didn’t like guests who checked in before three. She stared at one handsome man and then another, working her gaze among four fellows dressed in cowboy boots and worn jeans. “I mean, yes, yes, of course.”
What difference did a few hours make? A lot could happen in between eight and three, not that she thought in terms of seducing a cowboy, but good Lord, the men standing on her porch made a woman pay attention.
“Miss Lambert?” Adam said her name again. “May we come in?”
She gulped. “Please do,” she said, stepping out of their way. “I wasn’t expecting you this early.” So she’d said once already. Forcing a smile, she quickly added, “Follow me to the study, I need to get some information.”
“That won’t be necessary,” one of them said. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to keep this as simple as possible.” The tall cowboy turned around and reached for something. The young man in the back passed forward a briefcase. “We’d like to pay for your services in cash, if you don’t mind.”
She blinked. “You mean the rooms?”
A flash of mischief inched its way across the young man’s face. “And everything that goes along with those rooms.”
“Excuse me?”
“Knock it off, Connor,” the guy in the middle spoke up. “Ma’am, you’ll have to look over him. We’re typically on missions in desolate areas. He’s not used to seeing pretty women dressed in…” His gaze worked over her, and he quietly finished with, “such sexy lingerie.” He cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “As a matter of fact, none of us are.”
“I see,” she said, suddenly embarrassed and quite aware of his slip. Did he say “mission”? What happened to the rodeo? “Well, if you don’t mind giving me a few seconds, I’ll run upstairs and find something more appropriate. Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”
“If you don’t mind my saying so, Miss Lambert, you can change the wrapper on the candy, but the sweet temptation will still be there all the same. Besides, if we’re all going to live under the same roof, I’m sure we’ll see you dressed in your robe plenty, and if we’re lucky, maybe even a towel.”
This Connor guy was unbelievable. He hit the ground running and bypassed polite introductions for an unstoppable seduction. He didn’t start with hello. Oh, no, he wanted her to bend over and take everything he had to give. Apparently, he wasn’t used to a woman who knew how to buck back.
Paige resisted the urge to cluck in agitation. She might as well let Connor work his swagger in front of his buddies. She’d put him in his place by mid-afternoon.
“If you need some help up there, just give me a whistle.”
The chuckles resonated up the first flight of stairs. Great, she mused, she really needed a bunch of smart-ass bad-boys signing their name on her guest registry and expecting a pat on the booty for the effort.
Once upstairs, she stared outside. What had she been thinking earlier? She was lonely? She wanted company? Bah! She marched across her bedroom and slammed the terrace doors. Securing her room, she turned the lock and lost the robe.
What the hell had she been thinking?
A new realization slapped her in the face. She quickly replayed the phone conversation she’d had with Adam when he’d called to book their reservation. He’d said words like “confidentiality expected” and “privacy required.” He’d told her to keep their arrival low profile, implying they were some kind of big deal or something.
Paige had limited knowledge of the rodeo, but she imagined, especially after seeing the cowboys downstairs, some of the guys probably had a female following. No, she mused. She knew better. She’d lived a classified life, and the word “mission” had been thrown out there, too. She didn’t know much about the rodeo, but she was pretty sure those guys on the circuit didn’t refer to their jobs as missions.
Paige had been on the run before, and that life wasn’t what it was cracked up to be. Being the one chased didn’t offer any appeal whatsoever. It fact, it was frightening. Her guests didn’t look like they were easily spooked. No, indeed, they weren’t running from anything. If she had to guess, they were pursuing someone, and since they wanted anonymity, was it possible they chose to hide under a cowboy cover?
Great. How in the hell had she lucked up and gotten their business?
Paige walked over to her nightstand and retrieved her Bible. She’d bookmarked a place with a long business envelope. With trembling fingers, she retrieved the contents and read the warning she’d received from Cairo the year before—You’ll never escape me, Jillian. I’ll always be watching, and when I’m ready for you, I’ll send for you. We’ll be together again.
Had that day finally come?
She replaced the note inside the small Bible and returned both to the long, narrow drawer. She’d known Ramone wouldn’t forget about her but often thought he might die before he took the opportunity to reenter her life.
Ramone had a lot of enemies. She’d always hoped one of them would get the best of him.
Paige heard a few footsteps right outside her door. Gone were the days of privacy. Peace and quiet only existed in the past.
A light knock made her head jerk. Persistent and impatient—that’s exactly what she needed in houseguests.
“Yes? May I help you” she asked politely, opening the door.
Holding onto the doorjamb, Connor occupied the entire space in front of her. Good Lord, talk about a doll! His large, hard body must’ve been rolled in muscles right before it was dipped into his tight black T-shirt.
“Thought I’d get settled in.”
“This is my private room,” she told him.
“Good. Then I guessed about right,” he said, reaching for his bags and tossing two large duffels inside her spacious owner’s suite.
The young gun evidently thought of her as a woman who could be pushed around. Had she played the part of ordinary civilian to the point of overkill or what? If Connor had any idea who she’d once been, he’d pack up his team of lasso-twirling cowboys and head on back to the LonghornState.
“Do I need to translate the word ‘private’ for you, cowboy?” she asked, grating back the need to curse the arrogant male invading her space, never mind the sudden urge to drop him to his knees just for being straight up assumptive and cocky.
“Connor Corbin,” he said, taking her hand in his. A bolt of electricity shot up her right arm, alerting her to the obvious—she had some kind of instant chemistry with this guy. “I’m your new roommate.”
“Like hell!”
They made eye contact, which was a good thing given the fact her gown brushed against her nipples and barely concealed her chest. The black spider lace dipped low, accentuating the valley between her breasts. Paige’s ex had paid a pretty price to ensure she possessed the best boobs money could buy, and most men took notice of what he’d purchased.
“Wait and see. It’s you and me, sweet cheeks. Adam wants me to protect you.”
“And why would I need security in my own home, Mr. Corbin?”
Connor’s grip on her hand changed all at once. He snatched her wrist and tugged her against him. Paige landed against his steely body with nothing left to do but glare into his dark blue eyes.
“Are you trying to scare me, Mr. Corbin? Or are you trying to seduce me?” Either way, he’d provoked her, and that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
“No,” Connor replied. “But since we obviously hit it off from the very beginning, the boys sent me to establish a few ground rules.”
Paige shivered when his free hand wo
rked up and down her back in one brisk motion. Her nipples tightened. How could she react this way in the arms of a complete stranger? Had she been treated like trash so many times that she’d forgotten how to behave like a lady?
Connor smirked, apparently wise to the way she responded to him. “Good, I have your attention,” he said. “One—you will not be left unattended while we’re here. Two—you must rely on us for your security. And three—you won’t go anywhere without permission and an escort, understood?”
Now she was pissed.
How many years had she lived with a crazed lunatic? How many months had she endured life as Ramone’s pawn? How often had she followed what someone else told her, reacting like she’d been programmed just so she could stay alive?
Too damn long, she decided, curling her arm around Connor’s neck and grabbing him in a chokehold. She could twist his neck and bring about a violent, sudden end if he further provoked her.
Ramone and his men had taught Paige to fight. This man was no match for her speed.
Instant shock washed across Connor’s face, and she delivered a swift kick to the genital area, sparing him death but giving him a taste of true pain all the same. Rolling three times, she hurried out of his strike zone, anticipating retaliation.
“Damn you, woman!” he cried out in agony. Stooped in the expected position of a man suddenly disarmed, he growled when he stood. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Don’t move,” she warned him, drawing her weapon of choice from under her mattress.
“Dear God,” Connor breathed, eyeing the longest blade he’d ever seen in his life. “What are you, some kind of fucking psycho maniac?”