Harlequin Kimani Romance June 2017 Box Set

by Arthur, A. C.

  He was right, so Sam said nothing else. This entire situation was just too weird. They were pretending to be lovers for the sake of the press and that sleazy Morty. It was all a ruse. Yet here they were, sitting on the side of her bed, while she was naked beneath her robe, her body still humming contentedly from the fantastic orgasm he’d given her.

  “So what do we do now?” she asked.

  After a moment or so he stood. A quick glance, which she probably shouldn’t have taken, told her his arousal had abated. Why did that not make her happy?

  Sam sighed and ran her fingers over her hair. What the hell was she doing? None of this was going the way it should, and for the first time she realized she wasn’t actually in control of the situation.

  “I’m going to head back to my room. Even though we’re having an affair, I shouldn’t be seen coming in and out of your bedroom.”

  “We’re in the palace,” she told him.

  Why? Because she wanted him to stay? No, she definitely did not want him to spend the night. But talking to him hadn’t been so bad. It had actually been the first time she’d been able to address—even if only in her mind—what Miguel had put her through and how it had eventually affected her entire life.

  “House staff are the next likely suspects when any type of conspiracy or intrigue is going on with a family. Prostitutes are the first,” he said in that tone he used often.

  It was aloof and noncommittal. She didn’t like it, but who was she to complain? Hadn’t she built her entire life on a façade? The smile, the pleasantries, the goodwill—all at the supreme cost of ever hoping to have a real personal life. Sure, it was her duty, but it wasn’t her choice.

  Sam stood, too, and nodded her agreement to what he’d said. Pulling her robe tighter around her body, she looked up at him.

  “I’m glad this—” she motioned between them and the bed “—isn’t awkward for either of us.”

  “We’re adults who are capable of making our own decisions. That’s what we did.”

  “And tomorrow things will be business as usual.” She’d said it as a statement but in her mind she was asking a question. She was wondering if this had all happened for a reason. If Gary Montgomery so simply walking into her life and through the shield she’d long ago erected around herself was some act of fate. Her mother had believed wholeheartedly in fate, and, up until this very moment, so had Sam. Now she wasn’t sure what the hell was going on.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll find out who the hell was shooting at you,” Gary told her simply.

  Sam once again nodded. She dismissed her personal thoughts and returned to the present issues surrounding her family. The real reason Gary was there.

  “My schedule is clear tomorrow, so you don’t have to worry about following me around. I’ll be staying in the palace,” she told him, even though she knew he had access to the calendar and could see that for himself. He likely already had.

  It was his turn to nod.

  They still stood in her room, neither of them taking any steps toward the door. Did he not want to leave?

  Sam moved first, walking past him and out the door of her bedroom. Her bare feet trekked over the plush carpet, through the sitting area, and next she was turning the knob and opening the door. As she stepped back, her arms behind her, she knew he would be standing right behind her, even though she hadn’t heard a sound from him as he’d moved.

  “Get some sleep,” he told her as he was about to move past her.

  She’d already nodded and had just opened her mouth to say something when he stopped. He moved quickly, turning to her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He pulled her up fast and close, so close she came up on her tiptoes to stare into his face.

  “What happened in there isn’t over,” he whispered.

  Then his lips were on hers, taking her on a quick and fierce ride through a pleasure-filled haze. Her entire body reacted, so that when he finally let her go, she stumbled back against the door. That damn door again.

  Gary left and Sam hurriedly closed and locked it behind her, seconds before falling back against it and sliding to the floor. She sat there thinking about what crazy and pleasurable hell she’d walked herself into this time.

  CHAPTER 9

  Sam’s heart had broken into a million pieces late last night when her father had showed up at her door, grabbing her into a quick and tight hug that lasted for endless moments.

  “Whatever I’ve done, whatever I need to do to keep you safe, I will. Never did I imagine them coming after you. I couldn’t stand if anything happened to you because of something I did.”

  Sam could only hold on to her dad as his long arms wrapped tightly around her. He smelled of his favorite cigars and the cologne he always wore. It was an old and familiar scent that always made her feel comforted and loved. In the years immediately following her mother’s death, at least an hour a day was spent in her father’s arms. Sam had loved every minute of his attention. As an adult, there never seemed to be enough time for the cuddling with him, as they both led busy lives. And now he was about to get married…she’d shook her head and closed her eyes, inhaling her father’s scent once more.

  When Rafe finally released her he’d stepped inside her sitting room and they sat on her couch, side-by-side. Sam had already taken a shower and had just finished blow-drying her hair when her father knocked at her door. For an instant she’d thought it might be Gary again. There’d been a spark of excitement in the pit of her stomach, one she wasn’t sure she should be nursing.

  “How are you feeling?” Rafe asked, his thick fingers entwined with hers. “I hear you didn’t come down for dinner.”

  Sam sighed and shrugged her shoulders. Being with her father never failed to make her feel just like a little girl again. She loved that feeling, even though she knew it would be short-lived.

  “I’m okay. Just wanted some quiet for a while.”

  Rafe nodded. “I can understand that. Did Lucie bring you a tray?”

  “Yes,” Sam answered.

  Lucie had brought her a bowl of Caribbean Pepper Pot with chicken and shrimp about half an hour before Gary had come to her room. While this was one of Sam’s absolute favorite comfort foods, she had only managed to eat a few spoonfuls before giving up. She hadn’t been in the mood to eat. Now, however, as she thought about the soup again, she wondered if she could go down to the kitchen to get another bowl.

  “I know it was scary, Sammy-Girl, but I gotta tell you I’m glad that army guy was there with you. Kris told me how he shielded you with his own body,” Rafe said.

  Yes, she recalled Gary’s body being on top of hers, on more than one occasion now.

  “And I’m thankful to Dante for personally sticking closer to Malayka now,” her father continued.

  Sam did not reply.

  Rafe looked over at her and smiled.

  “You don’t have to say it. I know that there is tension between you two. Between all of you, I should say,” Rafe told her.

  He looked tired, Sam noted. His deep brown eyes didn’t have the light she was used to seeing in them. Even though he’d still called her Sammy-Girl as he often did when they were alone or around family, he hadn’t tweaked her nose or winked at her, which had also been part of their private ritual. He still wore the charcoal-gray suit he’d donned this morning, but the yellow tie at his neck was now loosened and the top button of his shirt was undone.

  “We just don’t know her that well, Dad. And we’re trying to give her the benefit of the doubt,” she told him.

  “I know and I’m working on that. I want us all to spend more time together, but it is difficult with our schedules,” he told her. “I know that she’s not at all like your mother.”

  “No,” Sam replied immediately. “She’s not.”

  When her father only nodde
d and stared off toward the fireplace and the mantel where Sam kept an 8x10 photo of her mother, Sam felt bad. It had been twenty years since Vivienne had been killed in that tragic accident. All those years, while Sam mourned her mother, Rafe had been mourning his wife. He’d never been with a woman in that time. At least, he’d never brought a woman to the palace or even introduced another woman to his children. Malayka was the first.

  That meant something.

  “I’ll try harder,” she told her father as the guilt rested in her gut. “Maybe I’ll go through our schedules and plan a weekend at the villa in Greece. You love it there with those breathtaking views of the Aegean Sea. We could go out on the yacht for a day or two and bond.”

  The words sounded hollow to her but Sam hoped they didn’t to her father. She would try, for him, but she wasn’t so certain any amount of trying was going to work. Malayka didn’t really want to get to know her stepchildren, she wanted to control them and this palace. That was it. However, Sam was certain her father wasn’t in the mood to hear that.

  “That sounds like a great idea. Maybe for the new year, once we return from our honeymoon. Check the calendars and clear the time for us all. I love that idea,” Rafe told her.

  He’d cheered up substantially then and, as they continued to sit, their conversation turned to his business this morning at the mills and an invitation from an American hospital to join forces in a project including teenage girls. One of Sam’s most cherished causes. They did not speak of the shooting again or of Malayka. Both of which were fine with Sam.

  Yet, still, the next morning, both were prominently on her mind. It was a rare Friday that she had nothing on her schedule and she intended to see to some things around the palace that had been neglected in the past few months. As Sam sat at her desk, drinking her morning tea and reading over the supply lists and meal plans that Lucie had also delivered to her room last night, Sam thought she might just have to add in a meeting with Kris and Roland.

  They weren’t telling her everything, Sam was certain of that fact. Why would someone try to shoot her? Why the explosion? Why tamper with the car they’d presumed her father would be riding in? There had to be a reason for all of this and, as much as she disliked Malayka, Sam couldn’t figure out what the woman would have to gain if they were all killed before the wedding.

  She wore simple black capri pants and a yellow top. With comfortable sandals on her feet, Sam finished her tea and then gathered all her paperwork into a folder and set out to take care of palace business. As she walked around her desk and was about to head for the door she stopped and looked over at the corner by the window. There was a highboy table there with four cherry-oak chairs. The cushions in the chairs were a darker shade of purple than the drapes at the floor-to-ceiling windows in her office. A lacy, white tablecloth covered the glass-topped table and there was a tea set waiting for the next official tea party.

  Sam walked over to that table and ran her finger over the rim of a teacup, a smile easily forming at her mouth. She loved this set and loved the memory that accompanied it even more.

  “It’s beautiful, Mama,” four-year-old Sam had said to the beautiful and vivacious Vivienne.

  They’d been sitting on a soft-as-the-clouds white blanket and Vivienne had pulled each piece of the tea set carefully from a brown wicker basket.

  “It’s very delicate and requires great care,” Vivienne had told her.

  “Can I touch it?” At that age Sam had been willing to touch almost anything. That’s how Roland had gotten her to touch that hideous whistling frog that eventually jumped away, frightening Sam and sending her flailing back into the pond where they weren’t supposed to be playing.

  “Yes, but be very careful, darling. Remember we must take great care of the things that are most important to us,” her mother had said.

  “Like Daddy and Kris and Roland,” Sam had replied.

  Vivienne had nodded, her glossy black curls dancing at her shoulders. “Yes, baby, just like them.”

  Her mother had taught her so much that afternoon. How to properly hold a teacup, how much sugar was too much and when it was time to say she was finished, even if she really wasn’t. Then, her mother had told her something else.

  “One day when you have pretty little girls of your own, you’ll show them all these same things. It will be our tradition, Samantha. You will carry on with your family, all the things that your father and I have taught you.”

  Sam shook her head now, staring down at the empty teacup, her finger shaking on its rim. How would her mother feel if she knew that there would be no family for Sam? There would be no little girls for Sam to share the tea sets with, or to tell how to hold their cup and to not take too many lumps of sugar. Sadness engulfed her and Sam almost didn’t hear the knock at her door.

  Clearing her throat, she rolled her neck and turned away from the table.

  Sam walked out of the office without looking back and when she finally made it to the door, pulled it open with a smile already affixed to her face. It didn’t falter when she saw Landry standing there instead of who she’d thought it would be.

  “Well, good morning to you, too,” Landry said, a fake frown and almost-grin on her face.

  “Good morning. Sorry,” Sam said. “I was just trying to leave and get started with my day. Kept getting sidetracked.”

  “Oh, then that’s good. I was coming to get you to talk about where we want to have the fashion show,” Landry said.

  Sam nodded and checked to make sure she had slipped her cell phone into her back pocket. “That’s fine. We can talk about that while I do a site check of the palace.”

  She’d headed toward the hallway, pulling her door closed behind her. Landry was now standing beside her.

  “You do site checks of your house?” Landry asked her.

  “Yes. When your house and property is larger than ten city blocks, you tend to view it more like a business than a home when it comes down to keeping it running smoothly.”

  “Which you do awesomely by the way,” Landry told her as they headed down the long hallway.

  “You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to pass any of my duties along to you,” Sam added with a chuckle. “But you do know that you’re now married to the Crown Prince of Grand Serenity, which means that one day you will be doing exactly what I’m doing.”

  That was a grim prospect, Sam thought, not only for Landry, but also for herself. She’d trained for this job all her life, only to have to pass it along to the next highest-ranking princess that came along. In this case, Landry, as Kris’s wife, would be a higher rank than Sam. Once Malayka married her dad, then she would outrank Landry for as long as Rafe lived.

  “You know, when Kris asked me to marry him, that was my only reservation,” Landry told her.

  “Really?”

  Her sister-in-law nodded. “Yes. I did not want to be a princess. Hell, it was hard enough being a preacher’s kid. I knew there was no way I could deal with a whole other set of rules to follow.”

  They both laughed. Sam had met Landry’s father, Heinz Sr., and thought he was a great guy. When Landry’s family had come to Grand Serenity for the wedding, they’d all stayed at the palace.

  “Your family is great and you do much better than you give yourself credit for with rules and structure. You’ve adapted to island life while still running your business in the States. And now you’re starting the magazine and organizing this fashion show. It’s like you were meant to be here.”

  “Like destiny,” Landry said with a nod as they approached the staircase. “I’ve thought about that a lot in the last few months. I mean, I didn’t even really want to take on Malayka as a client, but what if I hadn’t? I would have never met and married Kris, and I truly cannot think of my life without him now.”

  “You two are adorable,” Sam
said, thinking of how Kris had been so uptight and reserved before Landry had come to the palace.

  Theirs hadn’t been a whirlwind romance, but a slow burn, from what Landry had shared with her. So slow that it had almost fizzled out when Landry returned to the States and Kris took his time getting his butt in gear to go get her. That was the kind of love that Sam used to believe in. The kind that stood the test and came out the victor. Kris hadn’t thought he would find love, hadn’t wanted to do anything but his job, but then he’d fallen.

  Sam was different, she thought. Her circumstances were much stickier than her brother’s and, for that reason, she knew that the happiness she clearly saw on Landry’s face would never be mimicked on hers.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it would be like if Malayka hadn’t come here,” Sam disclosed when they came to the bottom of the stairs. “Let’s check out the atrium. There’s great light in there and it’s the one place where I don’t think Malayka has any of the wedding planners camped out.”

  “This is going to be one spectacular wedding,” Landry said as they turned and walked toward the east wing of the house.

  “Yeah, spectacular. Complete with ballroom dancing and everything.”

  “Oh, yes. I heard about those training classes yesterday. How did they turn out?”

  Sam groaned. “They were too good to be true. I mean, it felt too real to be… I mean, it was invigorating or rather—”

  Landry turned, taking Sam by the shoulders. “Stop. Take a breath.”

  Sam did as she was told.

  “Was Gary there?”

  Sam nodded.

  Landry narrowed her gaze at her.

  “Was he close by at that time, too? I know he was thankfully right there when the shooting took place, but we’re talking about at the dance rehearsal.”

  Sam nodded again.

  “Oookay,” Landry said, exaggerating the word, her smile spreading. “He was close like dancing with you?”

  “Uh-huh.” Sam finally made a sound.