Read Online A Touch of Minx by Suzanne Enoch - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Suzanne Enoch
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for weeks, and Samantha had told him to go enjoy himself. This wasn't what she would have had in mind, but now that the idea had occurred to him, it seemed like a bloody fine plan.
"Katie's here. Mike's at his friend David's, Livia went to her friend Tiffany's house, and Chris is at Yale. Anything else?"
"Might I speak to your wife?" Reminding himself that Tom was his closest friend and that as an attorney he was obsessed with minute details, he took a breath and counted to five.
"Okay, but now I have to go back into the house. Hold on."
"Good God," Rick muttered.
"I heard that," came back to him. "Here she is."
"Who am I talking to?" Katie Donner's voice came in her charming Southern accent. "Rick? Hi, Rick."
"Katie. I was wondering if you had a few hours this afternoon to help me out with something."
"Sure. What do you need?"
"I need you to come with me."
Silence. "With Sam?"
"She's busy elsewhere. Might I pick you up in twenty minutes?"
"Urn, okay. What should I tell Tom?"
"That we're going somewhere I won't disclose to you until you get in the car with me."
"Hold on a sec." Even with her hand over the speaker he could make out "secret" and "sex" and "rendezvous" as she translated the conversation to her husband. If the Donners hadn't been high school sweethearts, and if he hadn't known the two of them for a little over ten years, even the joking implication would have made him uncomfortable. As it was, he grinned and shook his head.
"Tom wants to know if he can come," Katie finally said, her voice amused.
Bloody wonderful. "Only if he swears to keep his opinion on any and all related subjects to himself."
She relayed the information again. "He agrees. Am I supposed to abide by the same demands?"
Rick popped open the lockbox on the garage wall and pulled out the keys to his green Jaguar. "Absolutely not. I want your opinion. See you in twenty."
"We'll be ready. And don't worry, I'll make Tom change his shirt first."
He didn't want to know what Donner might have been wearing to prompt that comment. Instead he debated whether he should change his destination now that Tom had invited himself along. Turning him down would have been simple, but however much he publicly disagreed with his friend's assessment of Samantha and her character, Donner's was the only voice of reason he had where she was concerned.
"Do you want me to drive you, sir?" his driver, Ben, said from the near corner of the garage where he was stacking clean rags in a cabinet.
That would definitely be more convenient, but it would also mean a witness in the household—another member of the staff who'd been charmed by Samantha almost from the moment she'd arrived at Solano Dorado. "I'll manage, Ben. Thank you."
Twenty minutes later he pulled into the Donners' driveway in front of their nice two-story house in the West Palm Beach suburbs. Middle-to upper-class families lived everywhere here, with their two or three children and pets. They even had block parties at least twice a year. Domesticity. He hadn't used to think much of the condition, until recently. Until Samantha. Now, though, seeing the trio of helmeted children riding their bikes up the street actually made him feel warm and fuzzy. Odd, that.
A few seconds later Katie and Tom emerged, and Tom squeezed his long legs into the back seat so his wife could sit up front.
"Okay, do we get to know where we're going now?" Tom asked as they headed toward 1-95 south and Bal Harbour.
"Yes. We're going to Harry Winston."
He felt the seat jolt as Tom straightened. "Harry Winston?" the attorney repeated, his voice squeaking. "The jewelers?"
"Yes. To look at rings."
Samantha sat at Stoney's Formica-topped kitchen table, her head propped in her arms, and watched his sliding-eyes cat clock tick off the minutes. In front of the counter a few feet away Stoney paced, his phone to his ear and his expression, well… stony.
"You're a real piece of work, Merrado," he grumbled. "I told you I'd
"Katie's here. Mike's at his friend David's, Livia went to her friend Tiffany's house, and Chris is at Yale. Anything else?"
"Might I speak to your wife?" Reminding himself that Tom was his closest friend and that as an attorney he was obsessed with minute details, he took a breath and counted to five.
"Okay, but now I have to go back into the house. Hold on."
"Good God," Rick muttered.
"I heard that," came back to him. "Here she is."
"Who am I talking to?" Katie Donner's voice came in her charming Southern accent. "Rick? Hi, Rick."
"Katie. I was wondering if you had a few hours this afternoon to help me out with something."
"Sure. What do you need?"
"I need you to come with me."
Silence. "With Sam?"
"She's busy elsewhere. Might I pick you up in twenty minutes?"
"Urn, okay. What should I tell Tom?"
"That we're going somewhere I won't disclose to you until you get in the car with me."
"Hold on a sec." Even with her hand over the speaker he could make out "secret" and "sex" and "rendezvous" as she translated the conversation to her husband. If the Donners hadn't been high school sweethearts, and if he hadn't known the two of them for a little over ten years, even the joking implication would have made him uncomfortable. As it was, he grinned and shook his head.
"Tom wants to know if he can come," Katie finally said, her voice amused.
Bloody wonderful. "Only if he swears to keep his opinion on any and all related subjects to himself."
She relayed the information again. "He agrees. Am I supposed to abide by the same demands?"
Rick popped open the lockbox on the garage wall and pulled out the keys to his green Jaguar. "Absolutely not. I want your opinion. See you in twenty."
"We'll be ready. And don't worry, I'll make Tom change his shirt first."
He didn't want to know what Donner might have been wearing to prompt that comment. Instead he debated whether he should change his destination now that Tom had invited himself along. Turning him down would have been simple, but however much he publicly disagreed with his friend's assessment of Samantha and her character, Donner's was the only voice of reason he had where she was concerned.
"Do you want me to drive you, sir?" his driver, Ben, said from the near corner of the garage where he was stacking clean rags in a cabinet.
That would definitely be more convenient, but it would also mean a witness in the household—another member of the staff who'd been charmed by Samantha almost from the moment she'd arrived at Solano Dorado. "I'll manage, Ben. Thank you."
Twenty minutes later he pulled into the Donners' driveway in front of their nice two-story house in the West Palm Beach suburbs. Middle-to upper-class families lived everywhere here, with their two or three children and pets. They even had block parties at least twice a year. Domesticity. He hadn't used to think much of the condition, until recently. Until Samantha. Now, though, seeing the trio of helmeted children riding their bikes up the street actually made him feel warm and fuzzy. Odd, that.
A few seconds later Katie and Tom emerged, and Tom squeezed his long legs into the back seat so his wife could sit up front.
"Okay, do we get to know where we're going now?" Tom asked as they headed toward 1-95 south and Bal Harbour.
"Yes. We're going to Harry Winston."
He felt the seat jolt as Tom straightened. "Harry Winston?" the attorney repeated, his voice squeaking. "The jewelers?"
"Yes. To look at rings."
Samantha sat at Stoney's Formica-topped kitchen table, her head propped in her arms, and watched his sliding-eyes cat clock tick off the minutes. In front of the counter a few feet away Stoney paced, his phone to his ear and his expression, well… stony.
"You're a real piece of work, Merrado," he grumbled. "I told you I'd
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