The sound of gravel being kicked up from a car met her ears. “That was pleasant.” Sam pushed away from the door and reached for her purse. Not wanting to talk, she opened up her text messaging and pressed Blake’s cell number.
Do I win a prize for being right? She text her husband.
While waiting for his reply, she locked the door and made her way up the stairs to the shower.
Her phone buzzed on the top step.
Right about what?
Just met your blonde viper. Not sure what you saw in her past the obvious. And because she really didn’t trust herself to speak, she added. Getting in the shower, talk later.
Sam tossed her phone on her bed and strode to the bathroom. Her nerves started to settle, slowly. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. The morning mist played havoc with her hair, her face held a hint of chapped-red on her cheeks. “What a mess.”
In the other room, her phone rang.
She ignored it.
Samantha tugged her shirt from her body and tossed it in the hamper. Her high-school friend’s words rang in her ears. “Full arsenal.”
“You know something, Blake. I think I’ll take you up on your open credit card.” With women like Vanessa showing up, she might as well suit for battle. Having been born with a proverbial silver spoon in her mouth, she knew how to play. She’d just chosen not to.
Until now.
Chapter Five
Blake rubbed his hands over his face for the umpteenth time that day. Samantha’s text message shook him and he hadn’t been able to speak with her since.
What the hell was Vanessa thinking? What did she say to his wife? Married less than a week and already Blake found himself trying to find ways of keeping his lover and wife separate. Blake hadn’t even spoke with Vanessa since he put the ring on Samantha’s finger. He’d tried to call her, once. But when her housekeeper said she wasn’t taking his calls, he didn’t think they had anything more to say to each other.
Jacqueline had sent him a cold “call when you’re tired of her” retort.
What did the word viper mean? It couldn’t be good.
Dammit. If it would take something other than a full day flight, he’d be on his plane now. Making rash decisions wasn’t his style. His plan was to return to the States Sunday evening when he could retrieve his wife and escort her to Europe.
Unless Samantha needed him sooner, he’d stick to his original plan. Still, the thought of seeing her held an appeal that rivaled breathing. Their conversations on the phone brightened his day in ways he didn’t expect. Their flirting would prove troublesome if they were in the same county. An ocean apart felt safe. Maybe that’s why Blake found himself opening up to her. Women had always been a game to be played. First in attracting them, which wasn’t hard, and then seducing them. Although he didn’t set a time limit with the previous women in his life, he never encouraged relationships to last longer than six months to a year. His attraction usually waivered much sooner than that. Monogamy and Blake were strangers. He inherited that one trait from his father.
Samantha didn’t need to be played. For the first time in his adult life, honesty with the opposite sex felt safe.
His phone beeped as a text message arrived.
“Sam,” he breathed her name. Hoping.
It wasn’t her.
He read the message from his bank informing him of activity on the credit card he’d given to his bride.
Maybe Vanessa’s visit wasn’t a complete waste, he mused. He noticed the amount charged and smiled. Samantha’s comment about women being emotional creatures swam in his mind. Apparently, his wife wasn’t immune.
****
Traumatic times in one’s life often led to a sixth sense about things. At least that’s what Samantha believed. Lord knew she’d shouldered enough drama to last two lifetimes in her short handful of years.
The camera-toting rejects moved on to the latest imploding starlet whose drug addiction and reckless behavior landed her in jail. Thankfully, they forgot all about the new duchess living in the lowlands of Tarzana. Yet still the heavy weight of being watched, the eyes of someone followed Samantha around.
And it was starting to piss her off.
The last year of her father’s freedom was anything but. Samantha had noticed new students on campus who never seemed to go to class, but always managed to cross her path. Dark cars followed her convertible and parked across the street from her hangouts. The phones in her home made a clicking noise whenever she picked up the line. It got to the point where Samantha dressed in her bathroom or the huge walk in closet to ensure some measure of privacy.
Blake hadn’t revealed all the particulars on who would be watching their marriage over the next year, only that someone would. Their time together would need to be convincing, their time apart seem difficult for both of them. She supposed the daily phone calls from Blake were a way of measuring their affection. At least the phone records would reveal a daily conversation.
Samantha convinced Blake that Vanessa’s visit hadn’t affected her. This was probably the only half-truth Sam had given to her husband to date. No need for him to know how tilted she’d become. Of course, her credit card bill spoke for itself. Julia Roberts’ movie character held nothing on Samantha. Designer suits, dresses, shoes, and handbags. She sat in a salon for a half day of manicures, pedicures, facials, and a haircut. A couple of large brimmed hats and dark sunglasses helped cover her appearance yet still the creepy sensation of eyes picked her out of a crowd.
“You’re being paranoid,” Samantha told herself as she pulled the shades down early in the afternoon on Friday.