“Desdune,” he said answering after the second ring.
“Hi, I hope you remember me. This is Karena Lake-field.”
The red ball fell out of Sam’s hand as Romeo with his large, sometimes awkward body danced around Sam demanding attention.
Of course he remembered her. The petite, brown-skinned beauty with intriguing eyes and tight body he’d met while in Maryland helping Trent with a family problem. How could he forget her?
“Hi, Karena,” he said cheerfully. “It’s nice to hear from you.”
They’d exchanged phone numbers on the plane ride back from Maryland in August and then saw each other again briefly at the opening of the Gramercy II in early September.
No. Sam hadn’t forgotten. She’d felt like sunshine in his arms, then dripped like molten lava when he’d kissed her. He’d wanted to take her up to one of the rooms at the Gramercy II, thought she wanted the same. Then she’d pulled away, left him standing, getting wet in front of the water show, and he hadn’t spoken to her again.
Until now.
“I need your help,” she said, her voice sounding less like the sexy timbre he remembered and just on this side of desperate.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m in trouble,” she sighed. “Big trouble.”
Chapter Two
Sam couldn’t say he was happy about driving into Manhattan on a day he’d planned to spend rolling around in the yard with Romeo.
And he couldn’t say that he liked the tone of Karena’s voice as she asked for help.
What he could say was that he was looking forward to seeing her again. As his body heated thinking about her in the tight jeans and even tighter T-shirt she’d worn on the plane ride they’d shared, he admitted he was really looking forward to seeing her.
Talking to her on the two occasions he’d seen her had been like a breath of fresh air. While she tended to talk too much about her job, as if there was nothing more interesting in the world to her, Sam got the impression she was witty and adventurous, even if she didn’t know it herself. From Noelle he’d learned that she was the middle child of three daughters, born into a very wealthy family now making their name in the art world. Upon returning from his first trip to Maryland he’d run a check on Karena’s father, Paul Lakefield, and came up with a brief family history.
The Lakefields’ wealth stemmed all the way back to California’s historic Gold Rush in 1848, when a slave named Celia Smith was taken by her master’s cousin from Virginia across the country. George Lakefield had instantly fallen for his cousin’s housemaid on a visit to Virginia, and before he’d left he’d had Celia in his bed. Upon agreement with his cousin, George took ownership of Celia and headed west to take up with the other panhandlers in search of gold.
That search led to George Lakefield’s first taste of fortune. In 1863, when President Lincoln declared the freedom of all slaves, Celia Smith had stayed by George’s side, and in the years ahead gave birth to four sons and one daughter. Two of the Lakefield sons moved on to Texas, where they struck oil, while the other two ventured into the steel business. The daughter married and stayed in California, where her descendents now ran the successful Genoa Winery.
It was Paul’s great-grandfather, Mathias Lakefield, who took Lakefield Steel to its victorious holdings, leaving a legacy for Paul and his two brothers to follow.
A very impressive history, Sam remembered thinking as he read, leading to more intrigue about Karena. The first time he’d met her, she’d seemed worried about Noelle and the idiotic ex-boyfriend of Noelle’s Sam had helped Trent and the other Donovan brothers capture. But once that situation was settled and Sam talked to her on the plane, he’d noticed something else about her: she was totally dedicated to her job and her family.
Did that sound familiar?
Of course it did. There was nothing—and Sam readily emphasized the word nothing—that he wouldn’t do for his family. Born and raised in Louisiana, Lucien and Marie Desdune were Creole. That was the name given to persons of various racial mixes who were descended from the colonial French and Spanish settlers of Louisiana and from African-Americans and Native Americans.
The Desdunes were a cultivated mixture of French and African-American ancestry. As such, twenty years ago Lucien had opened his self-named Creole-and-Cajun restaurant in New Orleans. Since that time, Lucien’s had expanded to four popular restaurants along the eastern seaboard. Unfortunately, Lucien’s children hadn’t all gone into the same line of work. Sam’s oldest sister, Lynn, was a domestic law attorney, while Bree had gone the military route before settling into security and now private investigation with Sam. Cole, the second oldest, was the only one who’d taken to his father’s love of cooking, now working as an executive chef and manager of Lucien’s in New York. To be closer to their children, who all seemed to move from Louisiana once they’d graduated high school, Lucien and Marie also lived in Connecticut.
So yes, Sam knew a little bit about being loyal to his family, to a certain extent. In talking with Karena on those previous occasions, Sam had immediately sensed she had problems drawing the line between her family’s expectations and her own desires.
The sound of blaring horns and the stop and go of traffic reminded Sam of how much he hated coming into the city. Still, he’d kept his composure even when one of those notorious cab drivers cut him off. It was that control that had gained him his reputation of being levelheaded and the best person to have around in high-pressure situations.
He’d almost smiled as he remembered finding out that Bree had been assaulted. At that point, Sam recalled, he lost that reputed composure, wanted to lace his fingers around the neck of Harold Richmond, the now-jailed former colonel from the United States Marine Corps. The only other time Sam had lost his cool was when his older sister Lynn’s ex-husband had been stupid enough to slash her tires and kick her door in before packing and leaving his wife and young son for good.
He sighed, realizing he definitely knew about loving one’s family.
The address Karena had given him was coming up just ahead, and Sam made one last maneuver through busy Manhattan traffic before pulling into the narrow garage opening. Stopping again, he retrieved the parking ticket, tucked it into his windshield and proceeded through the rounding maze until he found a spot.
Ten minutes later he watched as the elevator doors opened to the seventh floor. Stepping off the elevator onto the dark marble floor, he walked the few steps to the glass doors with Lakefield Galleries in wide gold letters hanging above.
Inside those doors the floor was carpeted, a dusky gray color with cool black furniture and an even paler gray paint on the walls. Behind the reception area sat an Asian woman, her long hair dark as onyx, her eyes friendly as she turned to him.
“Good afternoon, welcome to Lakefield Galleries. How may I help you?”
Her voice echoed in the large space.
“Sam Desdune, here to see Karena Lakefield,” he replied easily.
“Of course,” she stood, coming around the desk to stand beside him. “Ms. Lakefield’s expecting you. Follow me, please.”
Sam surveyed more of his surroundings while walking behind the courteous receptionist.
No money had been spared in the building and maintaining of this gallery. As they’d rounded the corner to a long hallway, the walls turned to a crisp white. Pictures were hung at carefully measured intervals. Not a real fan of art that went beyond green pastures and lakes, he found himself pleasantly surprised by the abstract designs that carried a theme throughout the office space. He was wondering what the rest of the gallery looked like when the receptionist stopped in front of double black-lacquer doors, opening one and waving him inside.
“Thanks,”