The Unsung Hero

  THE UNSUNG HERO

  Samantha James

  Published by Sandra Kleinschmit at Smashwords

  Copyright 2012 by Sandra Kleinschmit

  All rights reserved. No part of this text may be used

  or reproduced, downloaded, or any other means

  without written permission by the author, except in the case of

  brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The

  scanning, uploading and distribution of this book is illegal. The

  author requests that you purchase only authorized electronic editions,

  and that you do not participate in or encourage the electronic

  piracy of copyrighted material. Thank you for your support of

  authors' rights.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents

  are products of the author's imagination or are used

  fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance

  to actual events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  IN THE BOOK OF LOVE

  Samantha Monroe planned to spend the summer swept away in a world of fantasy created by her favorite romance author. Then one day a real live fantasy man appeared before her on the beach.

  Jason Armstrong seemed to have stepped from the pages of Love's Sweet Bondage. When he revealed himself as her beloved romance writer "Cathryn James", Samantha knew she was in trouble. Jason's cavalier attitude toward love was nothing like what she expected from a writer of romances. Samantha believed in love. Was it possible that even though Jason could capture a woman's most intimate fantasies on paper, he himself had no heart to lose?

  Dear Readers,

  It is with very great joy that I present to you, in e-book format, one of my earliest contemporary books The Unsung Hero. When I originally wrote it as Sandra Kleinschmit, I called it Heaven on Earth. The one thing that I always wished I could change was the title, so when I had the chance to do it, of course I did it! The Unsung Hero also has a beautiful new cover, and I'm tremendously excited to share this story with you. I had a great time rediscovering my lead characters, Jason and Samantha, and leading them into their journey together in love. Samantha and Jason have such fiery chemistry, and I'm so glad to be able to share them with you.

  As a writer, my goal is to entertain you. To make you laugh and cry and feel every emotion that comes with the magic of falling in love. They came alive in my heart . . . as I hope they will in yours.

  All my best,

  Samantha J.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title

  Copyright

  Synopsis

  Letter to My Readers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  More from Samantha James

  Chapter 1

  Samantha Monroe cast a furtive glance in both directions before leaning down to rummage through the yellow canvas bag at her side. Sunglasses, sun block, a neatly folded beach towel... oh, yes, there it was. A smile of anticipation creased her lips as she lifted the thick paperback from her bag and placed it on her upraised knees. The beach was nearly deserted, but Samantha was taking no chances. Her own eyes had widened considerably when she had spotted the two figures so intimately entwined on the book's cover, but she couldn't resist. Another romance by Cathryn James. It had been on the bestseller list for weeks already, and it was bound to be heaven.

  Half an hour later Samantha was oblivious to anything and everything around her, her thoughts swept away to another time, another place. Moonlight illuminated the star-studded sky. A midnight breeze rippled through the branches of a palm tree. No longer was she Samantha, but Sabrina, alone on a lush tropical isle, alone with the man of her dreams. And he was all that she wanted... and more. Her eyes swept longingly upward to Marshall's face, lingering on the naked lines of his bronzed body. His eyes, those strange golden eyes, mirrored the hot naked desire scalding her veins. Soon... soon she would be carried away to a place she had never been before.

  With a sigh born of envy, Samantha Monroe rested the paperback novel on slim bare thighs and gazed dreamily toward the sapphire-blue waters of the Pacific. Foam-flecked waves lapped gently on the sandy shoreline.

  She could ask for little more on this beautiful June day. Today was the beginning of a well-deserved summer vacation from her teaching job at Neskowin Elementary School. It was warm and sunny, she had the beach to herself, and, as usual in her rare and precious spare time, she was totally engrossed in the latest historical romance by her favorite author.

  A slim hand reached up to smooth a few glossy brown hairs that escaped her ponytail, woven into a loose knot on the back of her head. What would it be like, Samantha reflected musingly in a half serious, half jesting mood, to be Sabrina, the heroine of Love's Sweet Bondage--to be swept off her feet by a man like Marshall, to eagerly experience all the wondrous pleasures of love.

  Her eyes became reflective at the thought. She had been swept off her feet once, and it might indeed have been a woman's ultimate fantasy--had it lasted. Yes, she and Alan had eyes only for each other, and just as it was in her favorite romance, nothing existed save their love. But unfortunately, juggling life and love was something to which neither one of them had given any thought. She and Alan had been barely twenty, maybe too young to cope with the added pressure that love and marriage had put on their lives. She smiled rather wistfully. No, she would never again be quite so innocent or quite so blind, but it was still nice to pretend, and to hope... although it really was a shame that a man like Marshall Devereau existed only in a woman's imagination. Eagerly she turned her attention to the book again.

  ... Marshall reached out to draw Sabrina's soft curves to his own lean hardness, his breath warm upon her cheeks as he sought her mouth with gentle hunger. She trembled against him—afraid, excited, somehow aware that no other man would ever exist for her after this night, but above all, longing desperately to learn the hidden secrets only he could teach her...

  "Has the lady lost her virtue yet?" So deeply absorbed was Samantha in envisioning the book's rapidly unfolding love scene that she nearly leaped toward the sky at the intrusive sound of the deep male voice. Unfortunately, her old and rather rickety chaise lounge took exception to the jarring motion. The next instant Samantha found herself deposited on her bottom in the sand, long legs atangle and her chair in a heap beside her.

  Propping herself on one hand, she focused her startled gaze on a set of bare toes that paved the way to a pair of long muscular legs sprinkled with a fine sheen of masculine dark hairs. And what a pair of legs they were! She swallowed, vaguely aware of how ridiculous she must look, but conscious of a strange curling sensation in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes traveled slowly upward over a strongly muscled chest liberally covered with a mat of dark wiry curls to the man's face.

  "I've had a few women fall for me—" the soft laughter in the gentle tone completely slipped by Samantha, whose eyes were huge as saucers "—but never quite so hard." When this brought no response from her, the man gave a distinctly audible sigh. "Here, let me help you up."

  A hand much larger than her own effortlessly raised her from the sand, but once on her feet, Samantha still couldn't take her eyes off the man. Again her eyes roamed over the stranger's features with a look of stunned surprise.

  It was Marshall Devereau, the hero of Love's Sweet Bondage, come to life. Except, unlike Marshall in the scene still vivid in her mind's eye,
he wasn't naked--at least not quite. This man wore a pair of swim trunks, but they rode so low that the creases of his lips scarcely hid his . . .

  Rats. What the evil was wrong with her? This man bore little resemblance to the man depicted on the paperback's evocative cover, but he looked exactly as she, Samantha Monroe, had conjured him up in her mind—-the same dark unruly brown hair, long straight nose and firmly chiseled lips.

  Compelling, that's what he was, exactly the way the hero was so often described in her novels. And for the first time she knew exactly what the word meant. She caught her breath in mingled wonder and amazement.

  "Hey, are you okay?"

  At the glimmer of concern reflected both in his warm cocoa-brown eyes and smooth low voice, Samantha snapped out of her trance--a little.

  She still couldn't take her eyes from his face. How many times had she seen those ruggedly sculpted features in her mind? Was he real? Or--heaven forbid!--an illusion? All she could manage was a shaky, "No, I—I'm fine."

  "You're sure?" Warm hands skimmed the smooth bare skin of her upper arms in concerned exploration, sending a torrent of electricity vibrating through her. The man's eyes lowered to take in her skimpily clothed body. Suddenly she was acutely aware that, clad in a tiny black knit bikini, she was attired no more decently than he was.

  "Yes." Her tone was breathless, but somehow she couldn't help herself. "Really, I'm fine."

  "Good." He smiled, displaying a row of even white teeth, and Samantha felt as if a thousand tiny lights had exploded inside her. "Now," he said, his tone light, "since that's settled, will you tell me something?"

  "S-sure." She wanted desperately to tear her eyes away from his, but there was something almost mesmerizing in those deep brown depths.

  "Am I all right?"

  Slender arched brows drew together over Samantha's deep blue eyes as she searched his face. "I think so." Her eyes were confused as they again met his. "Why do you ask?"

  One corner of his mouth tipped upward in an amused smile and one dark eyebrow arched . . . well, she couldn't help it. It arched roguishly. "The way you were looking at me I was beginning to wonder if I'd suddenly sprouted a nose like Pinocchio or a third eye in the middle of my forehead—or maybe even both."

  An answering yet tentative smile touched Samantha's lips, but she dropped her lashes for a moment, realizing she was still staring. Then she answered lightly, "No, you look—" perfect was the word that immediately came to mind, but she could hardly say that "--fine," she finished hastily. This behavior was a far cry from her usual calm demeanor, and for some reason she felt compelled to explain. "You just... startled me. This beach is rather secluded and I wasn't really expecting anyone."

  Even to her own ears this sounded inadequate and not entirely believable, but the man did a creditable job of hiding his reaction. He dropped his hands from her bare shoulders and his gaze sharpened for a moment.

  "Have we met before?"

  Samantha shook her head. "No, I'm sure we haven't." But a voice inside reminded her that she'd dreamed of a man like him, exactly like him, each and every time she picked up one of her beloved romances.

  Their eyes met and she felt a sudden wave of heat burn through her veins as he added softly, "I didn't think so. I wouldn't have forgotten you if we had."

  He turned away and righted her chaise, then picked up her paperback from the sand, brushing a few tiny grains off the cover before handing it back to her. Samantha accepted it gingerly, wondering a little at the sudden gleam in his eyes. Was he laughing at her? Rather uneasily she seated herself once again.

  "You don't mind a little company, do you?"

  At the sound of his voice she turned her head to find him already laying out a large beach towel on the sand, not more than a yard away from her. His shadow fell across her as she regarded him for a moment, wondering what he would say if she told him to get lost. But that was the last thing she wanted at the moment.

  For two long weeks she had looked forward to this day, a day spent sunbathing and reading, reading and sunbathing, and now it seemed her well-laid plans were about to go sadly awry--though if she were honest with herself, she'd admit she didn't mind in the least. But how could she think, much less concentrate on reading, with this... this half-naked fantasy man lying beside her?

  Willpower. That's what she needed. Determinedly she opened Love's Sweet Bondage to discover the outcome of Marshall's seduction of Sabrina. But it couldn't have been more than a few seconds before her gaze lifted and fixed on the male form stretched out beside her. The man was lying on his back, eyes closed, bristly dark lashes resting on his high cheekbones. Unable to resist, her eyes traveled slowly down his muscular chest and long well-shaped legs, returning upward to linger with breathless intensity on the place where the wiry curls on his abdomen disappeared beneath that damnably low waistband of his swimsuit. He was so close that all she had to do was reach out a hand to touch the burnished skin of his shoulder, knowing instinctively that his flesh would be warm and smooth, the muscles vibrant and flowing beneath her fingertips.

  Shocked by the urge to do exactly that, Samantha jerked her eyes away from the stranger and focused her attention elsewhere--to her book, since it happened to be handy. But this time the words blurred together and all she could really see was the image of the man's rugged features and tough athletic body. She blinked and swallowed, but the harder she tried to shoo away the disturbing image, the more the black print on the pages seemed to swim and float away from her.

  "That must be quite a book. It seems to have you spellbound."

  Spellbound. That's what she was. For once, Samantha realized it wasn't her book that held her spellbound, but a man. A man who existed not only in her mind, but in the flesh. This man. A deep breath and she felt her senses returning to normal.

  Closing the paperback, she replaced it in the small canvas bag beside her. Looping her fingers around her knee, she smiled at the stranger rather shyly. "It is rather . . . captivating." She smiled to herself. Oh, if he only knew . . .

  "Is that why you've been staring at the same word for the last five minutes?"

  The question, combined with the realization that he'd been watching her all that time, sent a sudden rush of color into her cheeks. What could she say? That she was dazzled by the sun's rays glinting off the ocean? She was dazzled all right, but not by the sun.

  Luckily there was no need for a response as he suddenly reached out and caught her hand in a light grasp. "I've embarrassed you, haven't I?"

  "Maybe a little." With her free hand, she pushed at a few more wispy strands of hair feathering across her cheek, returning his smile as she caught his eye. The glimmer of humor she saw there seemed to dissipate some of her natural reserve. When he smiled, which he seemed to do quite often, his face lost some of its harshness, though perhaps that wasn't quite the right description. Strong . . .yes, that was it. He was strong, but with a gentleness in his eyes that seemed to reach out and enfold her in its warmth.

  This man was straight from the pages of a Cathryn James novel, and since Samantha was hopelessly devoted to romances, finding such a man in the flesh was almost too good to be true. Further, that it seemed Cathryn James was one of the few authors who had yet to put a vampire between the pages.

  "In that case, maybe I'd better not press you for an answer to my original question." Samantha was increasingly conscious of his avid gaze roving over her features as he spoke. Did he like what he saw? She hoped so. Lord, but she hoped so!

  She turned slightly to look at him. She felt silly, but she couldn't seem to stop smiling, even when he relinquished possession of her hand. "What was the question?"

  "Whether or not the lady had lost her virtue yet." As her eyes widened slightly, he laughed, a low mellow sound that sent a flood of pure pleasure radiating through her body. "The lady in your book," he elaborated dryly in answer to the question in her eyes. "Definitely not you. Believe me, I wouldn't dream of being so personal. At least, not on our
first meeting," he added with a twinkle in his eyes.

  Will there be a second? The question flitted through her mind, even as she laughed nervously. "Oh, that." She bit her lip and glanced over at him. "Actually, the answer is no, although I think in just a few more pages it would have been a very emphatic yes." A sudden thought struck her. "How did you know it was . . . well, that kind of book?"

  "A steamy romance, you mean?" One corner of his mouth turned up in a lazy smile of amusement. When she nodded, he shifted his position on the towel so that he was facing her directly, his back to the gently lapping waves of the sea. "They're easy to spot," he offered in explanation. "What other book cover has a bare-chested man with his hands all over..." He stopped, his smile widening slightly as he took in Samantha's reddening cheeks. "Well, let's just say with a man touching a woman who isn't wearing a whole lot more than he is."

  Samantha wasn't about to argue the point, since it was often true. Roses and leaves were . . . well, they got a little boring. Just like they'd gotten boring when that muscle-bound Italian oaf Fabio seemed to appear on every cover.

  She turned her eyes seaward for a moment, watching the white-crested silvery waves against the blue horizon. Several children scampered through the rolling surf, their cries of laughter echoing through the air. Her eyes drifted back to the stranger. "Do you do much reading yourself?" she asked curiously.

  There was a slight twitch to the man's lips as if he was trying very hard to hold back a grin, but Samantha was much more involved in watching the play of muscles in his bare shoulders as he shrugged to really notice. "I've been known to frequent a few bookstores."

  "Do you live around here?" There, it was out, the question she'd been wanting to ask since she'd first seen him. She held her breath, waiting almost painfully for his answer. Neskowin was a small town on the central Oregon coast; most tourists thronged to the larger towns north or south of the community, although a number of vacation homes nestled along this stretch of beach. Her own small house was bordered by one, though she'd never met the owner.