Authors: Delaney Diamond
Samirah shrugged. “I like to have fun.”
“Have you ever won?”
“If I win tonight”—she held up three fingers—“it’ll be three weeks running.”
“After such enthusiastic applause, I can’t imagine anyone else robbing you of the title.”
“Neither can I.”
Samirah knew her singing sucked, as did most people who sang karaoke. To differentiate herself from the rest, she put on a big performance, and the audience loved it.
No one could really understand how much “I Will Survive” resonated with her after the rough six months she’d had back in
Miami
. After the embarrassment of getting fired from a job she loved, for months she hadn’t been able to find employment, and the tiny balance in her bank account had dwindled to zero. Her refrigerator had been so empty, if she’d yelled into it she would have heard an echo.
Ecuador
’s currency was the U.S. dollar. If she managed to make as much tonight as she had the other nights, she would have over a thousand dollars to put in her savings. Not bad for five minutes a week.
“You’re very confident.”
Samirah laughed. “If I don’t believe in myself, who will?”
“True.” He picked up his bottle of beer and took a sip. “So where are you from, Samirah?”
“I like to think of myself as a citizen of the world.”
“Are you always so evasive?”
She smirked. “Daddy taught me never to talk to strangers. Consider yourself lucky I’ve carried on a conversation with you for the last few minutes.”
She took a good look at him, letting her eyes travel over his
longish
hair, swept back from his face to fall against the collar of his long-sleeved shirt. The white color emphasized the tan hue of his complexion. Her eyes settled below the open button where a necklace made of black cord rested against his chest. The cord supported a few colorful beads, in the middle of which hung the sharp white tooth of some predator.
His eyes narrowed to pale blue slits. “How can I get to know you better?”
“You can’t. Don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily. “You’re an attractive man, but I don’t feel like being bothered.”
One thick brow jumped in surprise. He probably wasn’t used to being turned down. She couldn’t believe she’d managed to do it herself, considering how attractive she found him.
“So you think I’m a bother?”
“Like I said, don’t take it the wrong way, but I’m not in
Ecuador
for long.”
“All the more reason why we should get to know each other quickly.”
She cocked a brow at him. “Do you ever give up?”
“Not when I see something I want,” he drawled.
Samirah had fallen for enough bad boys to know when she met one. Underneath the unassuming white shirt and jeans and the clean-shaven face lurked danger. She was certain of it.
“I’m flattered, but I’ll have to pass.” She feigned disinterest, even though her pulse fluttered at the thought of getting to know him better. But with the drama she’d left behind in
Miami
, she’d made a promise to enjoy her short stay and treat it as an extended vacation. She would remain focused, which meant no men allowed.
“Pity,” he murmured.
Samirah flipped her hair over one shoulder and cast a sidelong glance in his direction. She wasn’t opposed to having a fling. In fact, the number of men she’d slept with would have her pastor father dropping to his knees to pray for her soul. However, with less than two months left in her Ecuador assignment, and a vow she’d made to herself and her older sister, she didn’t want to get involved with anyone at the moment—though he certainly threatened the durability of her resolve.
“It’s a matter of using good common sense,” she said, as if she lived by those rules every day.
“And there is nothing I can do to change your mind?”
“Nope.”
“Even if I get Seth to vouch for me?”
He was nothing if not persistent. “It seems like your English is not so good. Let me spell it out for you so you can understand. N-O.”
A young man, a regular who looked barely old enough to be in a bar, walked up. With an awkward glance at the Ecuadorian, he asked, “Samirah, you want to come sit with us?”
“Sure, John.” She flashed the young man her best smile and picked up her glass. “Nice to meet you,” she said to the stranger.
With a wave of her fingers, she followed behind the younger man. After a few steps, she turned to find the hunk at the bar now on his feet, watching her intently with a half-smile on his face. He eyed her backside like he wanted to bend her over right then and there, and her breath stopped somewhere in her throat.
Their eyes locked, and a shiver passed down her spine. For the space of a few seconds, she toyed with the idea of giving in. He met her standard criteria: tall, unusually so for an Ecuadorian—about six-three—and male. What her sister didn’t know…no,
no
. A promise was a promise. Her impulsive nature had gotten her into several jams over the years, and this time she would err on the side of safe and boring.
With an exaggerated sway of her hips, Samirah headed over to one of the tables to sit with the group of young men and wait for the results of the karaoke competition.
Chapter Two
The bus squealed to a stop, and Samirah reached for the bag at her feet. The colorful silk scarf on her head corralled her thick hair and kept the strands from falling into her face as she bent to pick up the tote. After she slung it over her shoulder, she stepped down off the bus to walk the few blocks to the house.
Her trip into town had netted some good deals. The tote contained enough fruits and vegetables to last for the next few days, and peeking out the top of the bag was a colorful arrangement of fresh flowers purchased at the flower market.
One and two-story homes lined the neighborhood street she traveled down, painted in a palette of bright colors like rose, turquoise, and mustard yellow. In the mixed neighborhood, foreign transplants lived among natives, and bachelors mingled with families.
Cumbia
music, a popular Colombian import, poured from the open window of one of the houses.
“
Buenas tardes
,
Senorita
Samirah!”
She waved and smiled at the young boys playing soccer in the street. She waved again at the old matron sitting in the second floor window, keeping an eye on the goings on in the neighborhood. Nearby, a group of girls jumped rope and sang a song in Spanish. Normally, Samirah would stop and jump with them for a few minutes, but her time was short today because she’d idled over lunch and browsed some of the shops looking for souvenirs to send to her family. She always mailed the souvenirs so she wouldn’t have the hassle of carrying extra baggage on the return trip home.
She couldn’t believe three weeks had passed since she arrived. For the past ten years, she’d traveled all over the world, but
Cuenca
was turning out to be one of her favorite places by far. UNESCO had declared
Cuenca
’s historic center a World Heritage Site, and rightly so. The charming city’s cobblestone streets held an old-world charm with their plazas and ancient churches. Colonial-era buildings housed hotels, restaurants, and shops.
She also felt at home here. The food was exceptional with fresh ingredients readily available at the local markets. Getting around in
Ecuador
’s third largest city was as simple as catching the bus or walking, so most expats didn’t even own cars. The friendly, easy-going people made her stay enjoyable, including the British couple who had hired her,
Geneva
and Thomas Hill. They treated her more like family than a live-in housekeeper.
Samirah cringed inwardly.
She hated the word “housekeeper,” but in truth, they didn’t need only a personal chef. They didn’t care if she had a certificate in the culinary arts from Le Cordon Bleu. They also didn’t care she’d been traveling the world mastering her craft in various establishments and homes of the wealthy across the globe since the age of nineteen. They were paying an obscene amount of money—money she could put to good use in the pursuit of her dream of opening her own restaurant—so she wasn’t complaining.
“Good afternoon, Samirah.” The slowly-spoken greeting came from a middle-aged man walking his dog. He liked to practice his English whenever he saw her.
She spoke slowly, too, to make it easier for him to understand. “Hello. How are you today?”
“I am fine. And you?”
“I’m doing well. Where are you going?” Samirah patted the dog’s head.
“I am bringing the dog for a walk. Later, I will bringing the dog back home and then I am going to the store.” He looked pleased with himself for tackling such a long sentence.
“Good,” Samirah said. “But remember, it’s I am
taking
the dog for a walk, and I will
bring
the dog back home.”
“
Ay
! I forget again.” He shook his head in disgust.
“It’s okay.” She winked at him and patted his shoulder. “You’re getting better.”
“
Gracias
.” With a shy smile, he moved on.
Samirah opened the wrought iron gate and walked through the yard to let herself into the house. At the threshold, she removed her sandals and entered the modern kitchen, which flowed into an open great room. When she’d first seen the kitchen, she’d practically drooled over the Professional Series stainless steel Viking appliances. They were a testament to
Geneva
’s love of cooking, something the older woman would temporarily have to forego until the hip therapy enabled her to move around like she used to.
Samirah smiled to herself. No hangovers here. The Hills didn’t drink, and with her low tolerance for alcohol, she seldom did either. Humming to herself, she reached for a tomato, but she paused as a thought came into her head.
A glance at the clock told her she had time for a quick dip in the pool.
She loved to swim.
Forty-five minutes, tops,
she promised herself. She would have to be out of the pool and have dinner ready by the time the Hills arrived, but she could do it.
After only a few seconds more hesitation, Samirah placed the soup ingredients in the fridge and went into her private quarters on the first floor. The three-room suite consisted of a bathroom, a combined living room and kitchen, and her bedroom. The living room contained a sofa, recliner, and a couple of accent tables. A two-burner stove and small refrigerator made up the kitchen. The best part of the bedroom was the French doors that led out onto a small patio in the backyard. She changed into a white halter-top string bikini and grabbed a towel.
Shortly after her arrival, she’d discovered a loose fence board while watering the plants. She made her way across the yard to it now. With the panel pushed aside, she turned sideways and slipped into the yard next door. The owner was out of the country and a pool cleaning service came in twice per week to clean and make sure the chemicals remained at an acceptable level.