Before the Storm by Leslie Tentler

Author:Leslie Tentler [Tentler, Leslie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Suspense, Adult
ISBN: 2940152329094
Amazon: B015BTKLEO
Barnesnoble: B015BTKLEO
Goodreads: 26544274
Publisher: Left Field Press
Published: 2015-10-19T16:00:00+00:00

The Camry idled near the entrance to the St. Clair. Samantha slumped behind the steering wheel, feeling ill as she stared at its graceful front. Uniformed bellmen bustled about, unloading luggage from luxury cars as guests passed through revolving glass doors that were flanked by massive ferns in ornate pots. The beautiful weather and bright blue afternoon sky contradicted the bleak darkness inside her. I don’t want to do this. But she had no other ideas, and she was running out of time.

When she’d left her apartment, she had glimpsed Lenny’s Crown Victoria in her rearview mirror, tailing her from a distance, although it had dropped off once she reached the peninsula road.

Steeling herself, she rolled the Camry forward, coming to a stop under the hotel’s black awning. A parking attendant opened the door so she could exit the car.

“Do you have any luggage, ma’am?” the slim-faced young man asked.

“No.” Samantha smoothed her skirt and handed him the keys. “Just something in the backseat.”

He helped her extract the large gift basket adorned with a blue satin bow. Numerous Café Bella food items were artfully arranged inside it.

“Do you need help carrying this inside?”

“I can take it from here. Thank you.” Lugging the basket, Samantha navigated the revolving door, butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she traveled across the lobby’s marble floor. She had tried desperately to find another way. But using both her credit cards, she’d been able to get an advance of only twelve thousand dollars. Resigned, Samantha walked up to the concierge desk. An attractive blond woman stood behind it, wearing a navy jacket bearing the St. Clair crest.

“I’d like to see Mr. St. Clair. My name’s Samantha Marsh.”

“Do you have an appointment, Miss Marsh?”

“No. But please ask if he has time for me.”

Balancing the cumbersome basket on the desk’s edge, she waited as the concierge called Mark’s office. Hanging up the phone, she smiled. “Mr. St. Clair will see you now. He’s just down the hall to the left.”

Samantha went down the richly appointed corridor. An oriental carpet runner covered the polished hardwood floor, and brass wall sconces illuminated tasteful wallpaper and a series of oil paintings in gilded frames. Mark met her outside his office, dressed in dark suit pants, a cream-colored shirt and silk tie.

“Samantha,” he said. His soft-blue eyes reflected concern, causing her heart to constrict. “Is everything all right?”

She nodded.

“Did the shop return your car?”

“It’s how I got here. I can’t thank you enough.”

“That looks heavy. Here, let me help you.” Mark took the basket from her.

“It’s for you, actually. It’s a prototype of the baskets I’m designing for the gift shop.” Samantha followed him into his office. It was spacious and decorated with masculine accents, including a barrister’s bookcase and fine leather upholstery. Near the desk, a large picture window encased in teal silk curtains offered a view of the hotel swimming pool and, beyond it, the ocean.

Mark set the basket on the desk, studying its contents.

“This is the deluxe basket,” she explained.

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