Harlequin Kimani Romance September 2014 Bundle: Seduced by the Heir\Secret Silver Nights\Someone Like You\Indulge Me Tonight (28 page)

Chapter 16

T
he weekend was over. It was Monday morning, and Monique was in bed. She felt horrible, and a low-grade fever, sore throat and pounding headache were only part of the reason. The other ailment was Rob and the fight they'd had that had sent him packing—literally.

For his birthday on Saturday, they'd spent the day hiking, then had a catered dinner with Margo and some of her friends. Everyone had laughed and had a good time. Yesterday, the morning had started off great, as well. They'd gone for a power walk and then to the Cove Café for breakfast. She'd taken him to her office and shown him around town, driven him over to the burned-out school. But while sitting on the couch and watching a movie, Rob had once again tried to get romantic.

She'd opened her mouth before thinking. Truth spilled out. “Will you please stop? We've been through this a dozen times. I don't want to be intimate with you, ever, okay?”

The hurt in his eyes brought instant regret. “I didn't mean to say it that way. I—”

“It's him, isn't it?” Rob had sneered. “I bet you find Niko attractive.”

“Rob, I don't want to hurt you.”

“Too late for that.”

“You're a good man...”

“But I'm not Niko Drake.”

“He has nothing to do with this conversation.”

“He has everything to do with it!” When she didn't respond, he said, “Look me in the eye and tell me that you don't have feelings for him. Don't lie. Be honest.”

Five seconds went by. And then five more.

He crossed his arms. “I'm waiting.”

She sighed. “It doesn't matter how I feel about him, Rob. He and I are opponents in a political race. Nothing can happen between us.”

“But you want it to.”

“It doesn't matter what I want.”

“I have my answer.”

He'd swept by her then, snatched his carry-on from the closet, slammed it on the bed and began throwing his clothes inside.

She'd followed him. “Please, Rob. Don't leave angry. We've been friends for so many years.”

“I thought I could handle it. But the truth of the matter is I don't want to be just another friend.” He stomped into the bathroom and removed his toiletry bag. Tossing it on top of the clothes, he shut the case, zipped it and placed it on the ground. “I wanted to be your husband. I wanted to see your eyes light up when you saw me the way they did when you saw Niko.” She would have objected but he put up his hand. “Don't deny it,” he said, his voice soft, all fight gone. “I know what I saw. Men like him are always the ones desired. And women like you who desire them always get hurt.”

“What does that mean?” He left the room. She trailed after him as he walked to the door.

When he reached it he turned to her. “You'll find out.”

She'd called and left messages. They weren't returned. In hurt and anger was not how she'd wanted Rob to leave her life.

Her phone rang. She pushed the speakerphone button. “Good morning.”

“Is it really?” Lance asked. “You sound horrible.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“We don't have any appearances or meetings today. Why don't you take advantage of the light schedule and get some rest?”

“I think I will. Send over any emails that are important. I'm going to work from home.”

Monique pulled herself out of bed, grabbed her robe and the laptop and headed downstairs. She put on water for tea and fired up her computer. There was only one problem. She didn't feel like working.

“What do people do when stuck at home?” she mumbled to the empty room. Eyeing the remote, she picked it up and turned on the TV. She flipped past a couple of major networks before settling on the community station, which featured news of Paradise Cove. After less than two minutes, a familiar face came on the screen: Niko's. A voiceover spoke while various images of him flashed: handling business, talking to farmers, laughing with a group of women, riding a horse.

Geez, he makes as good a cowboy as he does a businessman.

Turning up the volume, she listened. “...along with his family at Drake Realty Plus, has created over fifty new jobs in the construction industry. And every holiday season their turkey-and-trimmings giveaway helps families in need. For over fifty years, in Paradise Cove the Drake name has been synonymous with helping people and making progress. As your mayor, Niko Drake plans to continue this legacy.”

The image dissolved from one of the rolling hills of Paradise Valley, to an area of farmland bordering Paradise Cove, to one of Niko perched casually on his desk. He wore a black suit with matching tie and a smile.

“Hello. I'm Niko Drake. And I approve this message.”

Monique didn't even realize that she'd leaned forward until she had to sit back.
He's extremely photogenic. That ad for him works perfectly.
She had no doubt that more female votes were garnered every time it ran.

“That's what I need, a public service announcement.”

Reaching for her phone, she quickly tapped the screen showing his number. As always, simply hearing his voice did things to her body and mind. “Hello, beautiful.”

“Good morning, Niko.”

“Whoa! Is it? You sound horrible.”

“My campaign manager just said the same thing.”

“Do you need for me to bring you anything? Orange juice maybe, or soup?”

“That's nice of you, but no, I'll be all right.”

“What do you have over there for that cold, or flu, or whatever it is?”

“I took the last of my Alka-Seltzer Plus last night. I'll get some more when I go out later this afternoon.”

“No, you won't. Give me an hour and I'll be over.”

“You don't know my address.”

“You're going to tell me.”

“Niko, why do we keep having this conversation? This is a small town. You know how I feel about our being linked socially.”

“I'll disguise myself as a deliveryman and be there in an hour.”

Her laugh turned into a coughing fit.

“I won't take no for an answer.”

Begrudingly, she gave her address. “But, Niko, wait.”

He didn't. She called his name again and was answered by dead air.

“Just great,” she moaned, dragging herself off the couch. With company coming over, the least she could do was jump in the shower and put on some clothes.

On second thought, given who was getting ready to darken her doorstep and donning attire...maybe not.

Chapter 17

J
ust a little over an hour later, her doorbell rang. She threw back the knitted afghan that covered her and padded over to the door. Her eyes narrowed as she looked out of her peephole. After another look, she opened the door.

“You're crazy,” she said by way of greeting. She stepped aside to let him in.

“How'd I do?”

Niko stood in front of her wearing a tan workman's shirt, tan slacks, tennis shoes and a baseball cap. For him he was dressed down, but nothing could mask the tall, lean body and, now that he'd taken off his sunglasses, those sexy, dark eyes.

“I guess you could pass for a repairman if one didn't get too close.” They stepped inside her living room. “How'd you get here? That fancy sports car that was parked in your garage?”

“No, a man on a worker's salary couldn't afford that. I borrowed one of my employee's vehicles.”

“What does he drive?”

“A '94 Jeep.”

Monique stood there shaking her head. She looked at the bag he held. “What's all in there?”

“Stuff to make you feel better.” He walked into her kitchen as if he owned it, setting down the bag and pulling out its contents. “This is the best chicken noodle soup in town.”

“Where'd you get it?”

“My mama's kitchen.”

Monique stepped over and pulled off the lid. She was immediately assailed by the smell of spices, and steam wafting up from the still-warm broth. “Yum,” she said as she sniffed. “Your mother made this?”

“Her chef did.” He continued pulling out products. “Here we have orange juice, fresh lemons, honey, cayenne pepper—”

“Seriously?”

“Not familiar with home remedies, I see. We're about to change all that.”

“With cayenne pepper? Don't bet on it.”

“Then I probably shouldn't bet on this, either, huh?” He pulled out a small bottle of liquor along with a bottle of maple syrup.

“Now you've totally lost me.”

“Never heard of a hot toddy?”

“Yes.”

“Ever had one?”

“No.”

“I'll make you one. It will help you feel better.”

“Being as I'm not much of a drinker, I'll probably feel worse.”

“You won't even taste the liquor. I promise you.” He adopted a Southern accent. “It's good for what ails you.”

“Ha! Don't even try it. Cowboy boots and your love of fishing aside, I don't think there's a country bone in your body.”

“You'd be wrong.” He pulled out the rest of what he'd brought over, including over-the-counter medical aids for cold and flu, then folded the paper bag and sat on the bar stool at the counter separating the kitchen and living space. “On summers, when we visited the grandparents in New Orleans, my grandfather would have us doing all sorts of things that would get us thrown out of the cool club with our friends back here. He made sure we could shoot, fish, ride horses...”

“And make hot toddies?”

“No, that comes courtesy of the family patriarch, Papa Dee.”

“Another grandfather?”

“He's my great-grandfather. Still alive and happily kicking at one hundred and one.”

“Wow! That's amazing.”

“It really is. We had a scare on his one hundredth birthday. The Southern Cal cousins threw him a big party. We all were there along with about a hundred others. I think he got overly excited. Thankfully there was a doctor among us. He's fully recovered.”

“Thank goodness.”

“No doubt. That doctor, she—”

He was interrupted by Monique's rumbling stomach, evidence that she'd done nothing but drink tea all morning.

“Someone's hungry.”

“Thanks to smelling that soup, I might finally have an appetite.” She walked over to the cabinet and pulled down a bowl. “Want some?” she asked over her shoulder.

“No, I've already eaten, thank you. That's all yours.”

“What about something to drink?”

“Orange juice sounds good.”

While pouring his orange juice and then heating the soup, Monique couldn't help but think about Rob's recent visit and how much different it felt to have Niko here. There was no tension, at least none of the negative kind. Conversation flowed, and it felt, well, comfortable. As though his being in her home was the most natural thing in the world.

“Are you sure you don't want anything?” Monique asked, as she prepared to join him at the counter.

He looked at her pointedly. “Not right now.”

Instead of responding, Monique set down the bowl before walking over to a box of tissues on a living-room table. She took one out, blew her nose and returned to the counter, immediately digging into the steaming bowl of soup. “This is delicious,” she said after several spoonfuls.

“I'm glad you're enjoying it.” He stood and looked around the room. “I like your place.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey, how's Devante, and what is he doing for work with the school burned down?”

“He went back to L.A.”

“He can move around like that?”

“He wasn't supposed to. He got mad and left.”

“Why?”

“They questioned him about the fire.”

“According to Lawrence, they questioned several people.”

“Not the same as him.” She recounted what had happened. “I think someone genuinely believed he did it. I hate that he went back to the city. So many temptations. I hope he'll be all right.”

She finished the bowl and turned it up to drain the broth. He smiled and walked over for his juice. She slid off the stool, placed the bowl in the sink, poured a glass of water and walked into the living room. He followed. She sat on the couch and pulled the afghan over her, feeling cold even though she was dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans. Niko sat on the love seat nearby.

“I saw your commercial,” she said after once again blowing her nose. “It's good.”

“Thank you.”

“I know it's not kosher to share secrets with the enemy, but I was wondering who did it for you and how much it cost.”

“Is that why you called me?”

“Yes, but I wasn't sure you'd want to provide that information.”

“Sure I will. But I'm going to fix that hot toddy while I do.” He fixed the tealike potion, then spent the next half hour talking about the media in general and producing commercials in particular, finishing up by giving her the name of his producer contact. “He's pretty cool,” Niko finished, “and will probably work with you on pricing. Just tell him your budget and he'll come up with something within those boundaries.”

“Thank you, Niko. This is very kind.” She held up the near-empty mug. “And this is very good. It's spicy-hot, but my nose is clearing. I'm actually feeling a little better overall. Sleepy, though.”

“My great-grandfather, Papa Dee, says that sleep is a healer.” He stood. “So perhaps I should go and leave you to it.”

Her eyes drooping, Monique prepared to rise.

“No, don't get up. I can let myself out. Lie there and get your rest.” He walked over and positioned the afghan around her, taking the extra pillow that had been thrown on a nearby chair and propping it under her head. “There. All warm and cozy?”

“Yes,” she said, sinking deeper into her plush couch and pulling up the afghan. Her eyes fluttered closed. “I think I'll just sleep...for...a little while.”

Niko stared down at her for several long seconds. “You do that,” he finally whispered, bending to place a kiss on her brow. And then again, on her lips. And another.

She opened her eyes. “Thank you, Niko. You're a good man.”

He left shortly after, making sure the door locked behind him. She drifted off into dreamland, believing that she could stand being tucked in by that man for, oh, say, the rest of her life.