Pleasure In His Kiss

Karma raised an eyebrow. “You play rugby?”

“And lacrosse, football and golf. What can I say? I’m a sports fanatic.”

“Not me. I hate sports, and I can’t imagine anything more boring than golf.”

Clutching her cell phone with one hand, she tapped the screen with the other.

“How do you know Sergeant Garver?”

Shifting in her seat, Karma raked a hand through her hair, then flipped it over her shoulders. Morrison frowned. She was nervous. Why? What was she hiding?

“It’s the Hamptons. Everyone knows everyone.”

“That’s not true,” he countered. “Before today I had no idea who you were.”

Karma shrugged. “That’s because you’re a bookworm who never goes out.”

“I go out all the time. I enjoy eating out, hip hop concerts and sporting events—”

Hearing voices behind him, Morrison broke off speaking and glanced over his shoulder. Reagan! Relief flooded his body. Overcome with emotion, he pulled her into his arms for a hug. For the first time that morning, Morrison smiled. But when he remembered what his niece had done, how she’d scared him half to death, he released her. One minute. That’s how much time Reagan had to explain herself, and if she lied to him she’d lose her privileges for three months. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“I was at Zainab’s house.”

“Zainab? Who?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“Zainab Qureshi. We met a few weeks ago at the mall, and hit it off.”

Morrison slowly nodded his head, could feel the tension in his body recede as he listened to his niece. “I know her parents. Her father, Ibrahim, is an investment baron, and her mother is a jewelry designer. Her late grandfather was not only a former prime minister of Lebanon, but also one of the most influential businessmen in the world.”

“Really? I knew her family was stupid rich, but I had no idea they were famous too.”

“Where did you girls go last night, and why didn’t you come home?”

“We fell asleep watching Scream Queens, and when I woke up this morning my cell was dead and I didn’t have my charger with me.”

“Then why didn’t you use Zainab’s cell to call me? Was it dead too?”

“Unfortunately it was.”

“How convenient,” Morrison drawled, wearing a skeptical expression on his face. “They don’t have a landline at their house?”

“House? They don’t have a house. They have a gigantic, twelve-bedroom mansion dripping in gold, and it’s so fly and flashy I want to move in—”

“Reagan, stop cracking jokes and answer my question.”

“Uncle Morrison, no one has a landline anymore. That’s so ’80s. We’re probably the only family in the state who still has one!”

“This is not funny. This is serious,” he scolded. “I thought you were in danger.”

“I was going to call you when I got here. I swear.”

“Were Zainab’s parents’ home last night?” he asked, unsure of what to make of Reagan’s story. “Can they confirm that you were there?”

“No, they’re at the Monaco Yacht Show and won’t be back until tomorrow. That’s why I was at Zainab’s estate last night. To keep her company.”

Scrutinizing his niece’s appearance, he searched for anything amiss. Her short hair was styled in tight, curls, her floral romper was clean and ironed, and her open-toe sandals added height to her petite frame. “I want Zainab’s cell number, and Mr. Qureshi’s number, as well.”

“Why? That’s so unnecessary, and embarrassing.”

“Because I need to know the truth, and if I find out you lied to me you’ll lose your car, your cell and your allowance for the next three months.”

A gasp filled the room. “Ouch, don’t you think that’s a little harsh?”

“See,” Reagan said in a self-righteous voice, propping her hands on her hips. “Ms. Karma thinks you’re being unreasonable too.”

Morrison glared at Karma, and to his surprise she glared back at him. Stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Made him feel guilty, even though he’d done nothing wrong. What was her problem? Why was she scowling? Morrison wanted to ask her to leave, so he could talk to Reagan in private, then remembered they were in Karma’s office and dismissed the thought.

“Is your cell charged now?”

Reagan shook her head. “No, but I can use one of the chargers in the staff room and text you their cell numbers later.”

“Later? No. I want the information now.”

“I can’t. I’m at work, and since Ms. Karma doesn’t like staff using their cell phones on the salon floor I’ll message you when I take my lunch break.”

“I don’t want you working here. You should be at home studying for your midterm exams.”

Her face fell, and panic flashed in her light brown eyes. “I—I—I can’t quit. Ms. Karma needs me. Weekends are insane around here, and the staff can use all the help they can get.”

Karma came around her desk, and stood beside Reagan. “She’s right. We need her.”

“Fine, you can stay, but today’s your last shift. A beauty shop is no place for a kid—”

“I’m not a kid,” she argued. “I’m a mature, young woman who’s capable of making her own decisions, and I’m not quitting the best job I’ve ever had.”

“It’s the only job you’ve ever had,” Morrison pointed out, surprised by his niece’s tone. Conflicted, he took a moment to consider his options. He didn’t want to make a scene by dragging Reagan out of the salon, so he decided to let her stay. “We’ll discuss this later.”

“There’s nothing to discuss. I’m staying at the salon, and there’s nothing you can say to change my mind. I’m learning a lot, the staff is incredible and Ms. Karma is a terrific mentor.”

Karma gave Reagan a one-arm hug, but Morrison wasn’t moved. More convinced than ever that the hair and makeup artist was a negative influence on his niece he made a mental note to speak to his family about Karma Sullivan. His mom would know what to do, she always did. Morrison stuck out his hand. “I don’t want you disappearing again, so give me your car keys.”

“But, I didn’t do anything wrong!” she argued. “It was an honest mistake.”

“It’s not open for discussion, Reagan. Hand them over, or you’ll lose your cell too.”

Reagan unzipped her shoulder bag and rummaged around inside for several seconds. Wearing a long face, she pulled out her key chain and dropped it in his palm. “I finish at six.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Morrison said, addressing Karma. “Why would you give my niece such a long shift? She’s just a kid. Did you work eight-hour shifts when you were a teenager?”