"Yes, that should give everyone enough notice, but you don’t have to send out invitations. I’ll have my secretary, Marie, do it, and she can see to everything else."
"I don’t mind."
"I know." His hand traveled to the heart he had bought her, which constantly hung around her neck. "But I’m so happy that you actually want to do something like this, I’d rather you let Marie take care of the details, so that you’ll be able to relax and enjoy it."
Her golden eyes softened. "Have I told you how wonderful I think you are?"
"Tell me again," he coaxed.
Sami took his glasses off and tossed them unconcernedly across the table, where they landed with a plunk in the footed sterling-silver bowl that contained the peas. "You’re wonderful."
She brushed her lips across his to the side of his mouth. There she placed a gentle little kiss before drifting back across his mouth to the other side, where she did the same thing. Then, light, soft touches of her lips were feathered over every pore of his face and neck, until he threaded his hands through her hair to hold her still, and he captured her mouth fully with his. An indescribable excitement cartwheeled through her at his urgency.
"I want to make love to you," Daniel muttered against her lips.
"Here? Now?"
"Why not?" he asked huskily as he lowered them both to the dining room floor.
"Why not?" she agreed quickly.
#
Mr. Bogart Caruthers, Jr., Sami’s lawyer, usually dignified and very much in control, paced agitatedly around her loft.
"Mr. Caruthers, please sit down." She waved a hand with amused tolerance toward a chair. "You’re going to wear yourself out."
"Samuelina, you don’t understand. I brought a fortune in jewels with me, and they have to be guarded."
"I do understand. Contrary to what a lot of people think, I’m really quite smart." Smart in some ways, she reflected, but really quite dumb in others. And just that quickly, her old fears suddenly threatened. She shouldn’t have asked Daniel for this party. She didn’t even know if she was going to have enough courage to go. "As for the jewelry, you did your job. You had armed guards with you all the way from Boston, and you delivered them safely to me. Your responsibility for the jewelry is over."
"Supposing we just put them in the bank until you’re ready to decide which pieces you want to wear?" he suggested hopefully.
"Nope." Sami shook her head. "I want them here with me. I haven’t seen any of the jewelry in years, and I need to refamiliarize myself with all the pieces."
"But the insurance company—"
"I can assure you and the insurance company that I live in a very safe neighborhood."
"Insurance companies aren’t that easily assured, Samuelina. I don’t know why you needed them all here so quickly, anyway. Maybe if you could have chosen one or two pieces to be brought—"
"I told you. I haven’t decided what dress I’m going to wear yet. Therefore, I don’t know which pieces of jewelry I’ll need. Who knows? I may decide to wear all of them."
Mr. Caruthers turned a horrified gaze on Sami. "You wouldn’t! No, no," he hastened to assure himself, "of course, you wouldn’t. It would be physically impossible."
She was rapidly becoming bored with this conversation. "Maybe."
"Do you have any idea what your jewelry is worth exactly?"
"Sure." Sami threw an uninterested look at the many and varied large velvet cases Mr. Caruthers stood by so protectively. "I read your reports. They’re very thorough."
"Then, you know—"
"Enough!" Sami held up one imperative hand. "If I can guarantee the jewelry’s safety, will you agree to dismiss those two guards you have outside my door and drop the subject?"
"Can you do that?"
Without answering him, Sami strode to the window and threw it open. Looking up and down the street for a minute, she finally saw who she was looking for. Leaning out of the window, she shouted, "Eugene! Can you tell Edward that I need to see him right away?" The burly bodyguard nodded once. "Thanks," Sami called, but she wasn’t sure whether he had heard her or not, because he had already started down the street.
A commotion at the door to her studio brought her head back inside the large room. "What in the world . . .?" Rapidly covering the distance to the door, she opened it to find Jerome in a heated argument with the two guards.
"What in the hell is going on, Sami? What have you done now that they have you under armed guard?"
"Very funny, Jerome." She grabbed his hand and pulled him in, then turned her attention to the two uniformed men outside her door. "Gentlemen, very shortly a Mr. Edward Thorsson and several of his men will be arriving. I strongly suggest that you allow them to enter."
Slamming the door, she turned to find Jerome standing with his hands on his hips, looking very concerned. "You’ve got Thorsson coming? Sami, what’s happened? What is all this about?"
"Jerome, you remember Mr. Caruthers, don’t you?"
Glancing over his shoulder, he said, "Oh, sure. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you."
Caruthers held out his hand. "Hello, Mailer."
Jerome shook his hand, then turned back to Sami. "Well?"
"It’s really very simple, nothing to get excited about at all."
Jerome looked up at the ceiling, seemingly seeking strength. "I hate it when you start out conversations like that."
"You see, Mr. Caruthers has kindly brought me my jewelry." She gestured toward the stacks of velvet boxes on a nearby table. "Since it’s all been locked up in a bank vault in Boston all these years, he’s a little worried about the safety of it."
"More than a little worried," Mr. Caruthers inserted. "Some of the pieces are rather famous."
Jerome looked at Sami. "Hence, the two guards outside your door?"
"Hence," Sami agreed. "But I can’t stand them out there. Those guns they carry make me very nervous."
"Thus, you called for Edward Thorsson."
"Right." She nodded. Thus."
Jerome’s mouth quirked into a wry grin. "Sami, don’t you think his men carry guns?"
"Well, if they do, at least they have the good manners not to carry them where they show. Plus, I know them. I don’t know those men out there."
Caruthers spoke up. "Who’s Edward Thorsson?"
"Don’t ask," Jerome advised.
There was a muffled sound outside the door, and then it opened. Edward Thorsson walked in, trailed by Eugene and two other men, whom Sami knew as Bruce and Rick.
"Edward"—she took his hand in hers—"thank you for coming so quickly."
"Eugene said you needed me."
"That’s right, I need a favor."
"It’s yours."
Still holding his hand, she led him over to a thoroughly bewildered Caruthers. "Edward, this is Mr. Bogart Caruthers. He’s a senior member of my Boston law firm. Mr. Caruthers, this is Edward Thorsson."
"How do you do?" Caruthers held out his hand, but when Edward didn’t reciprocate, he quickly withdrew it.
Edward fixed the man with a hard, dark stare. "Is he giving you problems, Sami?"
"No, no," she hurriedly assured him. "At least, not in the way you mean, but we do have a problem. At my request, Mr. Caruthers has brought all of my jewelry to me. Now he’s worried about its safety, and insists that I have those two guards guarding me and the jewelry at all times."
Without taking his eyes off of Caruthers, Edward asked her, "And you don’t want them?"
"They make me nervous. Having them there makes me feel like a prisoner in my own home. And they’re complete strangers."
"Sami doesn’t want the guards," Edward explained very softly to Caruthers.
"But the worth of her jewelry is almost incalculable. Most of them are museum quality." It was a mark of how upset Caruthers was that he had made such an indiscreet statement to a man he didn’t know. A man, if he but knew it, was reputedly one of the most dangerous men in the country. A man Sami could see
mingly summon at her will. "She can’t just have all of them here in this warehouse without some form of security, and she refuses to put them into a bank."
Edward’s voice hardened. "Sami doesn’t need outside security. She’s completely safe, and all of her possessions are safe. There’s not a person in this country who would dare harm a hair on her head or take so much as a toothpick from her. Do I make myself clear?"
"But—’"
Edward made a slight motion, and instantly Rick and Eugene were on either side of Mr. Caruthers, grasping his arms.
"Why don’t you go back to the hotel and get some rest?" Sami proposed, in an attempt to soothe the alarmed expression off his face. "You’ve had a long trip. In a day or two we’ll get together and discuss that other business."
To give him credit, and Sami did, Caruthers maintained his dignity. "If you are quite sure you know what you’re doing, Samuelina."
"She is," Edward told him.
"I am. And take those two guards with you."
"They’re already gone," Edward said softly.
Shaking loose from the two men, Caruthers cast one last curious look at Edward Thorsson and left.
Sami turned to the man beside her and took his hand again. "Thank you, Edward. Those men outside my door were really upsetting me. Having them there, it reminded me of . . ." She repressed a shudder as her thoughts flew back to a closet in her house in Boston. A slight pressure on her hand brought her back, and she gratefully refocused on the hard man in front of her. "Well, never mind. Let’s just say I owe you."
"You owe nothing to nobody, Sami, and don’t ever forget it. Anything else you need?"
Sami shook her head, and then Edward bent over and kissed her on the cheek.
"One of us will be around if you need us. Okay?"
"Okay," she agreed.
Edward looked around the room and saw Jerome standing casually to one side. "Jerome," he said, to acknowledge the young man’s presence.
"Mr. Thorsson." Jerome inclined his head.
And then Edward and his men were gone, and there was silence in the big room.
Jerome cleared his throat. "I think I’ll be going, too."
"But why?"
"Sometimes a few minutes with you can seem like days with anyone else, my love. And by the way," he said over his shoulder as he opened the door, "that’s a wonderful teapot you’ve made."
"Teapot?" Sami frowned at the now-empty doorway and then looked back at the clay she had been working on. A teapot! Crossing her legs, she sank to the floor. With her hands supporting her chin, she stared in amazement at the clay shape on her work table. She had actually made a teapot!
#
The lights had been lowered in the den, and the fire crackled with a warming affability. Sami lay in Daniel’s arms, listening to the gentle fall of rain outside. Snuggling her face against the fine cloth of his shirt, she sighed in utter contentment.
Daniel pressed a kiss against her hair. "Marie says the R.S.V.P.’s are coming in fast and furious."
"Well, of course. What people in their right minds would turn down an invitation to a party at the Very Honorable Daniel Parker-St. James’s home?"
"Who indeed?" Daniel laughed good-humoredly.
"You’re going to love Jerome, by the way."
"Who’s Jerome?"
"Jerome is the man who will be bringing me."
"Bringing you!" He pushed her up so that he could see her face. "What do you mean, bringing you?"
"You know"—Sami tried to interpret for him—"bringing me."
"No one else is going to be escorting you," Daniel declared emphatically. "You will be here, in my home, with me, and you will stay with me all evening."
"Well, sure, once I get here. But I want what I wear to be a surprise for you."
"Sami, I don’t care what you wear. You could wear a gunny sack and you would still look beautiful. You could wear jeans and one of my shirts, like you have on now, and you would still outshine any other woman in the room."
"Still"—Sami sank back into his arms—"I want to surprise you, so I’ll get dressed at the warehouse."
For a minute, Daniel was quiet, and then he said, "Who’s Jerome?"
Sami heard the troubled tone of his voice and sought to ease his mind. "Jerome is a very dear friend of mine."
"Friend?"
"He’s like a brother to me. I’ve known him for years." Sami’s ear was against his chest, or she wouldn’t have realized that Daniel had been holding his breath. He let it out, and she went on. "He’ll be through with law school soon, and I think you should hire him for your firm."
"You do, huh?" His laugh was once more relaxed and indulgent.
"Oh, yes. He’s going to be a brilliant lawyer. At times, he can be a little too serious and conservative for such a young man, and I do worry about that, but in spite of it, he would be a great asset to any law firm."
"In spite of it?" He chuckled. "Well, bring him around, and we’ll see what we can do."
"Thank you, Daniel."
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being you."
#
"Mademoiselle! You must stand still if you expect me to get this hem taken up in time for you to make your party."
"I’m sorry, Henry."
"It’s Henri, mademoiselle," the little man sitting on the floor at her feet announced in a tone of long-suffering. "Please call me Henri."
Sami rolled her eyes toward Jerome, who was lounging on one of her lavishly carved medallion-back Victorian sofas, watching the proceedings with quiet amusement. They both knew Henry was from Brooklyn, and even with a mouth full of pins, his accent could not be mistaken for French.
Henry, or Henri, was from an exclusive fashion house in New York that Morgan had recommended, and Sami had to admit that he was very good at what he did. He had brought an entire rack of originals with him for her selection and had patiently stood by while she had discarded first one and then another.
Or maybe, Sami decided wrly, ‘patient’ was not the correct word to use to describe Henry’s temperament. Sami glanced around the room and spied Eugene. She gave him a sweetly gentle smile. "Would you like something to drink?"
"No. ma’am. I’m just fine." The big man’s voice was deep and gruff, but a faint stain of a blush crept up his face as he answered her.
She had looked out the window about an hour earlier and had seen him on the street corner. It was such a cold night, she had decided to invite him in, since she was obviously the reason he was on the street corner anyway.
Her eyes went back to Jerome, who was already dressed and looking very handsome in the evening clothes she had insisted on buying for him. "What do you think?" she asked, indicating the dress she had on. "Do you like this one?"
"Mademoiselle Sami! You can not be thinking of putting on another dress at this late date." Henry sat back on his heels, horrified at the very thought.
Jerome ignored him. "To tell you the truth, Sami, I didn’t think it was possible, but that black actually makes you look sort of drab."
"Really?" She walked a few feet to the standing mirror, unmindful of Henry who had to follow her on his knees, holding the needle that was still attached to the hem of the dress.
Peering at her image, she wrinkled her nose. "I think you’re right. Snerts! I was hoping the black would create a more sophisticated image for me, and the diamonds would have looked rather interesting against it." With Henry again crawling after her, she walked back to the rack and went through the dresses. "I wish Morgan were here." She glanced over her shoulder at Jerome with a vaguely worried expression. "Where is she, anyway? She and Jason were supposed to be here by now."
"I don’t know. Do you want me to give her a call?"
"Call?"
"Telephone. You remember. Alexander Graham Bell. AT&T."
"Oh, well. . . uh . . ." A knock on the door saved her from having to make a decision regarding the dreaded telephone. "Oh, good, tha
t’s her." Sami practically raced to the door, and in the process jerked the needle out of Henry’s hand. Flinging open the door, Sami found Coretta, the hairdresser she had arranged to have come to the loft and do her hair. "Oh, great, Coretta, you’re here. And not a minute too soon. I’m about to change my dress, and then you can get started."
"No! You can’t!" The anguished wail came from Henry. "I don’t have time to make any more alterations."
"Sure you do. Henry," Sami soothed. "We’ve got plenty of time. All of these clothes are my size anyway. I’m sure all you’ll have to do is take a nip here and a tuck there."
Henry put his hands on his head and moaned. "Nip here and tuck there, you don’t understand—"
"You don’t understand!" The booming voice came from Eugene, who had suddenly risen and was advancing on Henry with menacing intent. "Miss Adkinson wants to put on another dress."
"It’s all right, Eugene. Henry’s from New York." She imparted the information as if it explained everything. "Coretta, this is Eugene, Jerome, and Henry." Sami introduced each person as he came into her line of vision.
Jerome and Eugene nodded to Coretta, but Henry sniffed. "How do you do, and my name is Henri."
"Sorry, Henry, I forgot," Sami apologized absently, already back at the dress rack. "Here’s one I didn’t see before, and I really like it, don’t you, Jerome?" She held up a satin sheath in a dull gold color. It had a high neckline that would show off her jewels to perfection, and the back dipped provocatively to the waist.
"I think that’s the one," Jerome declared decisively.
"Me, too. While I’m changing, Jerome, move a table over there in the center where Coretta can set up, then Henry—or rather, Henri"—she corrected as she heard a snort of impatience from the man—"can do whatever alterations he needs to do while I’m standing there."
Retiring behind her dressing screen, she peeled off the black dress and replaced it with the gold. The satin slid fluidly down her body, narrowly hugging and positively accentuating as it went, and with a slit up the side, it had a leg-revealing allure.
Jerome’s whistle when she walked out from behind the screen reaffirmed her decision. "You’ll knock them dead, honey. And that color looks great with your hair."
For the Love of Sami Page 12