She hoped.
If she didn’t get fired.
If Lydia wasn’t implicated in Nathaniel’s death or the fire set in Morningstar Enterprise’s building.
She gave herself a shake. Stop borrowing trouble. “You’re going to do great.”
“Nice dodge.” Journey sighed. “I guess I should get back to it.” Her tone perked up. “What are you doing right now? Something interesting? You should tell me all about it.”
“Not a chance. Kick ass in your presentation and I’ll share all the illicit details over drinks. My treat.”
“Actually, on second thought, if those illicit details involve my cousin, I don’t think I want to know.”
Samara laughed. “Bye, Journey. Call me if you need anything.”
“Have fun!”
She slipped her phone into her purse and eyed the jewelry display at the back of the store. The dress she’d picked had a plunging neckline that just begged for some kind of adornment. For shoes, her black heels would work perfectly, and she could take her time getting ready.
Beckett wouldn’t know what hit him.
Samara was gone when Beckett got back to the hotel suite. He found a note set out on the table. Meet me at 1898. 7 pm. Don’t be late. It was signed with the imprint of her lipstick in a perfect kiss. He checked the time. Six thirty. 1898 was a ten-minute walk from the hotel, which gave him enough time to take a quick shower and change.
It didn’t explain why Samara wasn’t here, though.
He sent a quick text as he pulled out another suit. You okay?
Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?
The same way she’d responded when they spoke on the phone last. Beckett exhaled his tension. Samara was fine. She wasn’t in any danger just because he couldn’t see her. She’d been alone for a couple hours and she hadn’t come to any harm. He typed out a quick response. See you at 7.
I’ll be there.
He got ready in record time and actually enjoyed the walk. The humidity that plagued Houston was nowhere to be found here, and the ocean breeze actually felt refreshing. Despite his meeting with Elliott Bancroft, he found himself smiling and picking up his pace. As he came up the stairs to the restaurant’s deck, he caught sight of Samara and stopped short.
She leaned against the railing, watching the waves roll toward the beach. Her black heels made her legs look even longer than normal, and he let himself look his fill. The dress was a deep purple that set off her brown skin and it hugged her ass in a way that begged to be touched.
A board creaked under his shoes, and she glanced over and smiled at him. “Beckett.”
The dress was even better from the front. It dipped low between her breasts and she wore a long necklace of several knotted strands of pearls. Her hair drifted in the breeze and he didn’t bother to resist the urge to walk to her and sink his hands into the dark waves. “Hey.”
She ran her hands up his chest. “Hey.”
“I like the dress.”
Samara smiled. “Good.”
“I’ll like it even better when I’m peeling it off you as I kiss every inch of your body.” He brushed his lips against hers. “Let’s get dinner to go.”
“Ah-ah. No way. You can spend all night sexing me up. Right now, I want to eat food that I’ve been assured is amazing and talk with you.”
Beckett considered kissing her again, but she was right—he wanted to talk to her. They’d already proved they matched up in the bedroom. He wanted to know her. “Tell me another secret.”
She laughed. “New Year’s Day is my favorite holiday.”
“I’m going to need an explanation.” He shifted back and slid his arm around her waist. They walked easily toward the front door.
It wasn’t until they were seated at a table overlooking the beach through a large window that Samara spoke again. “I never drink on New Year’s Eve. It’s a silly superstition, but I think what you bring into the new year becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. I get up early on the first and drink my first cup of coffee out on my balcony and try to be mindful about what I want the next year to be. Then I go to my amma’s for breakfast, and around the time I’m finished with dishes, Journey is rolling out of bed, so we spend the rest of the day together.”
“That sounds like a great tradition.” When he’d first met her, he’d assumed Samara was like a pillar—strong as fuck and separated from everyone around her. It comforted Beckett to know that she had a good friend in his cousin. That she had roots as deep as his, if different.
“It is.” She toyed with her water glass. “A secret for a secret?”
He liked this game. It was theirs and theirs alone, another thread linking them together. “What I wanted most in the world when I was in kindergarten was to be a trainer at SeaWorld.”
“Orcas or dolphins?”
He loved that she asked it with a straight face. Beckett answered just as seriously. “Orcas, of course. My mother took me there one weekend and I was convinced that the trainers were magic. It seemed like the most amazing thing in the world for them to work with such massive, majestic creatures.” He made a face. “That was before I grew up enough to realize what a tragedy it is to keep those animals in captivity.”
Samara pressed her lips together. “You donate to PETA, don’t you?”
“I can’t abide by some of their policies.” When she just stared, he huffed out a breath. “I donate to a small group of scientists that are funding research to prove how harmful captivity is for orcas.”
“Oh, Beckett.” She smiled. “You really are a white knight, aren’t you?”
He didn’t
