Harlequin Kimani Romance January 2018 Box Set Read online

  It’s never too early for mimosas.

  She took a sip of the cocktail and felt she could breathe for the first time since she’d laid eyes on Wesley Adams. His six-foot-three frame had filled out the navy jacket and beige pants as if they were made for him.

  Bree checked the time on her phone. It was still early out in California. After a recent shoulder surgery, her best friend and volleyball partner, Rebecca Jacobs wouldn’t be following her usual early morning workout routine. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to text.

  Bree sent a text message with one hand while nursing her drink in the other. Bex, you up?

  Within seconds Bex replied. Uh-oh. How’d your meeting go?

  Bree sighed. Was she really that transparent? Then again, she and Bex had been partners for the last seven years, so there wasn’t much she could put past her friend. Meeting was great. Unfortunately, I would have to work with the devil himself. Don’t know if I can do this.

  The phone rang within seconds of her sending the text.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  Bree laughed. “Good morning to you, too.”

  “Sorry. Good morning. Now, what the hell is going on? Who was at the meeting that would make you want to pass up this opportunity?”

  She sighed, her finger tracing the bar. “Wes Adams.”

  “The guy you met at the bar that night in London?” Bex let out a sigh of relief. “I know you’re bummed he didn’t call, but he’s a guy. Don’t take it personally. In fact, you should be glad you guys didn’t sleep together. That’d be awkward.”

  “Today was awkward.” Bree balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder as she wrestled with the plastic-wrapped gift basket filled with goodies. She could use some chocolate. Stat.

  “Why? Because you guys fooled around a little? You are seriously out of practice, my friend.” She laughed. “I told you not having a life would catch up with you.”

  “Volleyball is my life.” Bree ripped open a chocolate truffle and stuffed it in her mouth.

  “And it’s a great life, but it won’t always be there. We’re approaching thirty. Time to start thinking about life after volleyball.”

  “You aren’t thinking of retiring on me, are you?” Bree mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate.

  “No, but this injury has given me a lot of time to think. I don’t want to wake up one day and feel like I missed out on the things that are really important.”

  “Like?” Her friend was surprisingly philosophical. It made Bree uneasy. She was usually the one reminding Bex to be more frugal and save for the future, when tournament money, appearance fees and endorsements were no longer flowing in, something they’d both been forced to think about more lately.

  “I dunno. Like a husband. Maybe kids.”

  “Wow.” Bree’s mouth curled in a smirk. “So what’s his name?”

  “Shut up.” Bex fell suspiciously quiet before releasing a long sigh. “His name is Nick. He’s my physical therapist, and he is so cute.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But we’re not talking about me right now, Bree. This is about you. Why is running in to this guy again such a big deal? Do you have a serious thing for him or something?”

  “No.” Even to her ears, her response sounded like that of a tween in denial, punctuated by an unladylike snort. Her mother would be so proud.

  Bex paused, which told Bree that she heard her unconvincing denial, but chose to ignore it. “Then no harm, no foul. Certainly nothing worth giving up this opportunity. You could become the face of the hottest new beach volleyball event on the East Coast. Besides, Westbrook International Luxury Resorts is a worldwide organization. This could be the beginning of spreading your brand. Our brand. So don’t wuss out on me.”

  Bree gritted her teeth and stared out onto the water. A huge wave licked the shore, the chilly waters chasing away a toy Pomeranian. “Okay, fine. I’ll figure out how to deal with it. With him.”

  “That a girl. Whatever it takes. Just like on the court. Got it?”

  Bree chucked the truffle she was about to open back into its box and nodded. “Got it. Whatever it takes.”

  She talked to Bex for another half hour, getting an update on her injured shoulder and her hot new physical therapist before finally ending the call. Bree changed into a pair of yoga pants, a T-shirt and a sweater. She stepped out onto the back deck and inhaled the salty ocean breeze. It was sixty-two degrees out. A fairly warm day for early February.

  She flopped onto the chaise and tried to remember her friend’s words. They hadn’t slept together. So why was she still so pissed at him?

  Because she’d wanted to sleep with him. God, she’d wanted to. She’d fantasized about it in the wee hours of the morning, when she couldn’t shake the memory of his kiss from her brain.

  She shuddered, remembering the touch of his hand when she’d been all but obligated to shake it and make up that story about why she was upset with him. There was some truth to the story.

  A slight smile played on Bree’s lips as she remembered their argument about what football team had a chance of winning the Super Bowl. She just left out the part where he’d asked her to come back to his place. Bree had turned him down. He smiled, his eyes filled with understanding. Then he gave her the sweetest kiss. Sweet and innocent, yet filled with the promise of passionate nights ahead. They’d only spent a few hours together, but he’d managed to make the kiss feel meaningful. Real.

  Real enough that she’d stared at her phone for a week afterward, waiting for him to call. Like he’d promised after their kiss.

  Her response that night kept replaying in her head. Sorry, but I’m not that kind of girl. She laughed bitterly. True, she wasn’t the kind of girl who normally believed in one-night stands. In fact, she wasn’t the kind of girl who got laid at all. Not for a very long time. Not since…

  She tried to erase the memory of the scornful mouth and hard, dark eyes she’d once found so intriguing. Sexy even. She’d been wrong about that asshole. Apparently, she’d been just as wrong about Wesley Adams.

  The man was handsome and tall with warm brown skin. An athletic body that had felt incredible pressed against hers on the dance floor. And a killer smile. One worthy of a toothpaste commercial. He had the straightest, most brilliant teeth she’d ever seen.

  And she loved his laugh, which he employed often. Because he was funny. And smart. And he liked sports. Just like she did. But he wasn’t intimidated because she was knowledgeable about sports and full of opinions she readily shared. He was the kind of guy she could see herself spending time with on those lonely nights she actually got to spend in her own bed back in Huntington Beach.

  Wes was the kind of guy she wanted to spend more than one night with, so she’d turned down his offer to go back to his place.

  She’d gone to the pub with Bex that night, determined to crawl out of all the insecurities that rumbled around in her head, barely leaving elbow room for her own thoughts.

  She went to The Alley that night, intending to take someone back to her hotel. Just once she wanted to be a little naughty. To shed the good-girl image she’d worked so hard to perfect over the past two decades.

  She was the scholarship kid who struggled to fit in at a private school, terrified that the kids would find out she lived in the run-down projects. Two of the front stairs missing and not a single blade of grass on their “lawn.”

  She’d spent the past ten years creating her image as the perfect spokesperson. A successful player with a feel-good story and the kind of good-girl image that garnered endorsements and kept them. Not the kind of girl who would stroll into a club and pick up a random guy for the night.

  In the end, she hadn’t turned him down to protect her shiny, good-girl reputation. She politely turned down his offer because she liked him.

&n
bsp; Really liked him.

  So she gambled on there being another night between them. Only there wasn’t. Bree was angry at Wes for not keeping his promise. She was angry with herself for not taking him up on his offer.

  Bree drew her legs against her chest, wrapping her arms around them. If she was going to be working with Wes Adams for the next six months, she’d have to start thinking with her brain, not her libido. And she couldn’t behave like a jilted lover.

  Her heart fluttered, just thinking about how her hand felt in his, even for a moment. A glowing warmth arose through her fingers, making its way to her chest.

  She put her head on her knees and sighed.

  Letting go of her silly crush on Wes would be easier said than done.

  CHAPTER 2

  Wes rang Liam’s cell four times.

  No answer.

  His best friend was definitely dodging him. It was probably best. He had a few choice words for Liam. No way it had just slipped his mind to mention that he’d selected Bree Evans to work on this project, too.

  Not that Bree wasn’t the ideal person to front an annual sports-and-music festival with the potential to be a huge draw for the resort. She was.

  Bree was one of the top beach volleyball players in the world. One of the few players of color to gain endorsements and a huge following. She was genuinely nice. Frequently participated in charity events. And the camera loved her.

  Every single inch of her. A gorgeous smile. A curvy frame anchored by her voluptuous breasts and an ass that would give any red-blooded man reason to adjust his trousers. Long legs. Strong, lean thighs. Undulating hips.

  Wes scrubbed a hand down his face. Sitting there recounting the finer points of Bree’s physique wasn’t a productive use of his time, or a very good way to maintain his sanity. He glanced over at the wall that separated their units. Tried not to wonder what she was doing. If she’d slipped out of the thigh-hugging black dress she wore at the meeting.

  He’d like to think she’d worn it for him. The surprise on her lovely face meant she clearly hadn’t. Wes shook his head and sighed. Liam couldn’t dodge him forever. In the meantime, he had business of his own to handle.

  Wes grabbed the key to the loaner car Liam left for him and headed to the front door. Time to go home.

  * * *

  The gravel crunched in the driveway of the old bungalow his grandmother once owned. His mother had left England five years ago and returned to North Carolina to take care of his grandmother, who had taken a tumble down the narrow stairs and broken a hip. After his grandmother passed, his mother decided to stay in her childhood home. A home that held lots of memories for him, too.

  Wes stepped out of the red Dodge Challenger with black leather. The loaner was another enticement from Liam to take on the project. Perhaps also an apology before the fact for springing Bree Evans on him without warning. He shut the door and headed up the driveway. There was no answer, so he knocked. Twice.

  Finally he heard footsteps inside and the turning of locks. The door swung open, releasing a dark, musty odor that made him wonder if he’d arrived at the wrong house.

  “Wes? Baby, what are you doing here?” Lena Adams looked tired and slightly haggard. She ran her hand down the soiled apron she was wearing and smiled, then pushed open the screen door. “It’s so good to see you.”

  He wrapped his long arms around his mother, her face buried in his chest. “Good to see you, too, Mom.” His gaze traveled around the room. A thick layer of dust had settled on the furniture. Dust bunnies inhabited the corners. Stacks of books and papers were piled on various surfaces around the living room and dining room. If he wasn’t holding his mother in his arms now, he wouldn’t have believed he was in her house.

  Lena had been the house manager for a wealthy family for two decades. She’d administered weekly white-glove tests, making her the bane of the housekeepers’ existence. She would settle for nothing less than absolute cleanliness. Which led to much of her frustration with him, as a boy. Even while caring for his grandmother, she’d managed to keep the place immaculate.

  What’s going on?

  His mother finally released him. She squeezed his hands in hers. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming. I would’ve gotten the place ready and invited your brother up from Atlanta for a few days.” She looked behind him. “Where are your bags?”

  “This is a last-minute business trip. I’m staying at the new resort Liam’s family built at Pleasure Cove.” He tried his best to focus on his mother’s face, and not the chaos surrounding them. “He wants me to work on a project for the resort. I haven’t accepted the job yet, but I’m considering it.”

  “Really?” His mother pulled him into the room and toward the sofa. Shifting a pile of magazines from the couch to the floor, she made a place for him. She sat, then patted the space beside her. “All these years, you wouldn’t take a job from the Westbrooks. Got your daddy’s pride.” Through years of practice she’d managed to make the last statement without malice. In fact, there was almost a hint of a smile.

  Wes wished he could manage even a semblance of a smile at the mention of his father. The man that had up and left them so many years ago.

  All because of him.

  He cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t be an employee. I’d be working with them as a contractor. And nothing is set in stone. We had the preliminary meeting earlier today.”

  “If it would keep you here, I’m all for it.” She patted his hand and smiled. “But you seem worried. Why?”

  Wes drummed the pads of his fingers against his knee. Whatever was going on with his mother, her innate sense of when he was perturbed was still intact. “It would mean working with a girl I met more than a year ago. Things didn’t quite work out between us.”

  “Humph.” She nodded, knowingly. “If you’d settle down and give me some grandchildren, you wouldn’t have to worry about encountering ex-lovers at business meetings.”

  Wes sighed. “She isn’t an ex-lover. We spent one night dancing and hanging out at a club in London. There was nothing to it really.”

  His mother laughed. “I’m guessing the young lady doesn’t agree.”

  “Yeah, well it’s nothing we can’t work through.”

  “If you really believed that, you wouldn’t be considering passing up on this job. And if you’re considering taking money from the Westbrooks, it must be a game-changing opportunity.” Her eyes twinkled. Sometimes he wondered if she didn’t know him better than he knew himself.

  Liam and Nigel Westbrook had been trying to get him to come on board at Westbrook International Luxury Resorts since his days in university. But he’d been a scholarship kid at the private academy he’d attended with Liam and at college after that. He didn’t want a position just because Liam was his best friend. He wanted to earn his way in the world on his terms. Which was why his master’s degree in business was collecting dust on the shelf in his flat back in London. During college, he’d discovered his gift for organizing events. Better still, he’d learned he could make a hell of a lot of money doing something he actually enjoyed. So he’d abandoned his plans to scale the corporate ladder at some conglomerate and struck out on his own.

  As proud as Wes was of how the business had grown in London, he wanted to expand his business to the US. Another way to prove to his father that he was a success. The kind of person he should never have walked away from.

  It was the only reason he’d considered Liam’s offer.

  Wes smiled. “Think you know everything, don’t you?”

  “Not everything. Just you.” She squeezed his hand. “Why don’t I fix us some lunch. You must be hungry.”

  “Don’t go to any trouble on my account. In fact, why don’t I take you out to eat? How about we go and grab an early dinner at the restaurant on the wate
rfront you’re always telling me about?”

  A slow smile spread across her face. “You sure? I could just as easily cook us up something. Won’t take but a minute.”

  “I’m positive.” He stood. “You go on and get ready. When we come back, I’ll help with anything you need around the house.”

  The fair skin on his mother’s cheeks pinked slightly. “I know things have gotten a little out of hand around here. Like I said, if I’d known you were coming—”

  “It’s okay, Mom.” The last thing he’d wanted was to embarrass his mother, but there was something going on. Something she hadn’t mentioned during their frequent calls. He needed to get to the bottom of it. “I haven’t been home in a few years. I just want to help any way I can while I’m here.”

  Her smile slid back into place. “Okay, baby. Give me a few minutes to get myself together.” As she stood, she seemed to lose her balance. He reached for her, but she’d steadied herself on the edge of the couch. “I’m fine.” Her tone was defensive. She cleared her throat, then softened her expression. “Just the trappings of old age, I guess. I’ll be back in a few. Excuse me.”

  He watched his mother cross the room and ascend the stairs. Her gait was unsure, and she gripped the banister as if her very life depended on it. The last time he’d visited she was practically taking the steps two at a time. Like always.

  A sinking feeling settled in his gut and crept up his spine. Wes walked back into the dining room and surveyed the books and magazines cluttering his mother’s table. They were mostly health and nutrition magazines with little sticky notes protruding from them. He picked one up and turned to the marked page. A tightness gripped his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe. He put down the magazine and picked up another and another. Each sticky note marked an article about Parkinson’s disease.

  He shifted his gaze to the pile of books. The title on the top of the pile sent a chill down his spine. Parkinson’s Disease: A Complete Guide for Patients and Families. The orange cover of the second book offered 300 Tips for Making Life with Parkinson’s Disease Easier.