Читать книгу A Scandal So Sweet - Ann Major, Ann Major - Страница 9

One month later

Once back in New York, Zach’s kiss lingered on the edges of Summer’s consciousness almost all the time, despite the fact that she’d willed herself to forget him. Despite the fact that she’d decided it was best not to obsess over things she couldn’t control, like Tuck’s refusal to quit his job and Gram’s support of his decision.

And because the memory of Zach’s kiss lingered, she drove herself to work harder than ever.

Summer read every script her agent gave her. She auditioned tirelessly for any part that was halfway right for her. When she was home alone she compulsively cleaned and dusted every item in her already immaculate apartment in a vain attempt to shove Zach Torr and his stupid kiss and his ridiculous threats back into the past where they belonged.

Not that she could stop herself from calling certain gossips in Bonne Terre to get a picture of what he was up to back home or stop herself from reading her hometown’s newspaper online to get the latest news about his riverboat gambling project. Everything she read was annoyingly favorable. People were more impressed by him every day. He was the town’s favorite son. Rumors abounded about the lavishness of the riverboat he was building and the luxurious amenities and hotels he was constructing onshore.

On impulse, maybe to prove to those blockheads back home how little she cared for Zach, she let Hugh Jones join one of her interviews.

Naturally, the young, bright-eyed journalist went gaga over beautiful, golden Hugh, whose immense ego was hugely gratified at being fawned over.

At first, the young woman’s eager questions had been standard fare. Summer tossed off her ritual answers.

Her favorite role was the one she was creating. She was always nervous opening nights. And, yes, the play she was workshopping today was ever-so exciting.

Naturally, when the journalist wasn’t entirely focused on Hugh, he grew bored.

Hugh shuffled from one foot to the other and yawned, and the reporter laughed and leaned into him so her breast brushed his elbow.

“Okay, let’s talk about this hot new man in your life. Every woman in America is dying to be you, Summer.” The woman was staring into Hugh’s baby-blues as if she’d been hypnotized.

Idiotically, the phrase hot new man put Summer back on Gram’s screened porch, in the arms of that certain individual she would give anything to forget.

Again she tasted the sweet, blistering warmth of Zach’s mouth and felt his muscular length pressing her close. At the memory of his big hands closing over her breast and butt, the dark, musty corner she shared with Hugh and the reporter felt airless.

“So, what’s the latest with you and Hugh?” the reporter asked. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you two are the most exciting couple these days.”

“I’m a pretty lucky guy.” Hugh squeezed Summer closer before launching into a monologue about himself.

Summer was wondering if she and Hugh had ever once had a real conversation about anything else.

“I don’t think Summer’s got any complaints,” the reporter said when Hugh finally ended the everybody-loves-me monologue.

Hugh laughed, pulled Summer closer and planted his mouth on hers just as a flash blinded her.

Infuriated at his brashness, Summer thumped her fists on his chest. Luckily, her cell phone vibrated and blasted rap music from her pocket.

“Excuse me,” she whispered, desperate for an excuse to be done with the reporter and Hugh.

Sliding her phone open, she read the name, Viola Guidry. “Sorry, guys, it’s my grandmother. I have to take this.”

“So—that kiss makes me wonder how serious you and Hugh are?” the reporter asked.

“We’re just good friends,” Summer snapped in a flat, cool tone.

“That’s all you’re going to give me—”

Nodding, Summer smiled brightly as she shook the woman’s hand. “Thanks so much.” Cupping the phone to her ear, Summer walked away.

“Hey, girls, much as I loved doing this interview, I’ve got a meeting before I catch my plane to L.A.,” Hugh said carelessly, blowing Summer an air kiss. “See you, angel.”

Summer waved absently and fought to concentrate on her grandmother’s frantic words.

“You have to come home! Tuck’s in the hospital. He’s going to be okay, but Sheriff Arcenaux says he may have to arrest him!”

“For what?”

“Tuck invited some friends over to Zach’s and they got into his liquor. When Zach came home, Tuck was so drunk he’d passed out. Two of Zach’s cars were missing, and Tuck’s friends were busily looting the place.”

“Oh, my God! Did I warn you or not?”

“Zach’s threatening to press charges. So—you’ve got to come home.”

Fear was a cold fist squeezing Summer’s heart so tightly she could barely breathe. Practically speaking, she didn’t have time for this. Her calendar was jam-packed with work commitments. Emotionally, she knew her family needed her.

“Zach wants to meet with you. He gave me his attorney’s number and told me to have you call him. He said maybe he’d be willing to work something out with you, instead of pressing charges, if you meet with him. But he’ll only meet with you.”

Summer felt so frustrated and panic-stricken it was all she could do not to throw the phone.

Zach had her right where he wanted her—cornered.

In a soft voice, she said, “I’m on my way, Gram.”

She was late.

Zach hated wasting time, and that was exactly what he was doing as he waited for Summer, a woman he’d spent years trying to forget. His empire should be his focus, not some woman from his past.

Hell, he’d wasted too much time worrying about her ever since he’d seen her on Viola’s porch. She’d looked so sad and fragile before they’d spoken. He was almost sure she’d been crying. The pain in her eyes had been so profound he still wanted to know what she’d been thinking.

Then, like a fool, he’d kissed her.

Her mouth had been hot and yielding, almost desperate with pent-up passion. But tender, too. Ever since that kiss, it was as if her lips and her taste and her softness and her sweet vulnerability had relit the passion he’d once felt for her. It seemed nothing, not all the ugliness or news coverage or even reason, had been able to destroy his desire for her.

The woman’s kiss had made him remember the girl he’d loved and trusted.

She didn’t matter; she couldn’t ever matter again.

Summer had been a virgin when she’d given herself to him. His one and only. Never would he forget how lush, lovely and shyly innocent she’d been, nor how her shy blue eyes had shone. He’d been deeply touched that such a beautiful girl with such a radiant soul had chosen him.

For the first two years they’d known each other, his focus had been their friendship and protecting her from her controlling stepfather. Then they’d fallen in love during her senior year, so he’d stayed in Bonne Terre to wait for her to graduate. He hadn’t pushed for sex, but somehow, after they’d run away together, she’d gotten through his defenses.

One night when they’d been alone in that remote cabin, she’d cried, asking him what she should do about her stepfather. What would happen if they didn’t go back, if she didn’t finish school? Would he come to New York with her?

He’d realized then that Summer saw him as part of her future; saw her stepfather and Bonne Terre as something she was finished with forever.

Intending to comfort her, to reassure her that he wanted her in his future as well, he’d gone to the bed, taken her in his arms and held her close. Her hair had smelled of jasmine, so he’d nuzzled it. Then she’d kissed him, her soft mouth open, her body pressing against his eagerly. She probably hadn’t understood how she’d tempted him.

He’d stroked her hair, caressing her, and she’d moaned. Her tears had stopped, but she’d clung anyway. Then they’d come together as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Their union had been both sexual and spiritual. He’d believed they’d marry after she graduated, that they would be together forever.

Never again had he felt like that about a woman.

Forget it.

Zach forced his mind to the present. He couldn’t afford to reminisce. Time was more precious than money. His uncle’s death had taught him that.

Zach had his briefcase stuffed with foreclosure cases he’d intended to review as he sat in his attorney’s sumptuous conference room. Waiting for her. Plate-glass windows afforded him an excellent view of the bayou four stories below. Not that he was enjoying the scene of cypress and dogwood trees. No, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Why was she late? Was she remembering their last encounter and his promise to make her pay?

When he heard the desperate click of her high heels in the hall, he glanced up, tense with expectation. Even as he steeled himself to feel nothing, his heart began to race.

The door opened, framing her slim, elegant body before she entered. Her delicate, classical features and radiant complexion were too lovely for words.

He wanted her so much he couldn’t breathe.

They looked at each other and then away while the silent tension between them crackled. On some deep level, she drew him. Her incredible blond beauty alone made her unforgettable. Then there was her fame. Hell, how could he forget her when her face was plastered on the covers of gossip magazines and cheap, weekly newspapers?

She was everywhere.

Only a few days ago he hadn’t been able to resist reading the latest about her budding romance with Hugh Jones in one of those sensational newspapers he despised. He’d grabbed it off a wire shelf in a drugstore and jammed it into his briefcase. He’d carried it up to his office and pored over the story that went with the front-page photo of the famous couple sharing a kiss. Summer had claimed they were just friends, but Jones had expounded about how crazy they were about each other. Which one of them was lying?

Probably her.

Zach had wadded the newspaper and thrown it in the trash. In his penthouse suite, staring out at the city of Houston, which was littered with the skyscrapers he’d built and owned, he’d never felt more isolated.

She had a life—perhaps she even loved that famous, egotistical movie star—while he had only his fierce ambition and immense wealth. He’d gone through his contact list on his smart phone, called a beautiful blonde who resembled Summer and asked her out. But that night, after dinner, when she’d invited him up to her loft, he’d said he had to work. Driving home, feeling empty and more alone than ever, he’d burned for Summer.

So, he’d seized his opportunity. He’d used her brother to get her here.

“Coffee?” His attorney’s pretty secretary offered from the doorway.

“No,” Zach thundered without even bothering to ask Summer, for whom he felt irrational fury because she wouldn’t stop consuming his thoughts.

He wasn’t in the mood for niceties. When the secretary left and Summer’s long-lashed, legendary violet-blue eyes flicked in alarm, he felt as if she’d sucker punched him in the gut. Damn her, for having this much power over him.

His heart hardened against her knockout beauty even as other parts of his body hardened because of it. He wished he could forget the softness of her breast and the firmness of her butt and the sweet taste of her lips. He wished he didn’t ache to hold her and touch her again. He wanted to kiss her and force her to forget all about Jones.

How many others had there been in her bed since Zach? Legions, he imagined with a rush of bitterness. A Broadway star with a face and figure like hers, not to mention a budding movie career, could have anybody—directors, producers, actors, fans.

Hell, she had Hugh Jones, didn’t she? But was she as responsive when Jones touched her? Had Zach only imagined she’d been pushing against Jones, trying to free herself, when that picture had been taken?

None of it mattered. Zach wanted her in his bed with an all-consuming hunger. And he was determined to have her.

As if she read his thoughts, she flushed and glanced down, staring at her white, ice-pick heels rather than at him. Still, her sultry voice made him burn when she whispered, almost shyly, “Sorry I’m late. Traffic. I had to go by Gram’s first … to check on Tuck.”

“How’s he doing?” Zach asked, standing up and placing his hand on the back of the chair he intended to offer her.

He’d found Tuck drunk and unconscious on the living-room floor of Zach’s new house. The garage doors had been open, and Zach’s Lamborghini and second Mercedes had been missing.

Fortunately, Zach had come home unexpectedly and had caught two of Tuck’s friends, also drunk, ransacking his house, or he might have suffered worse losses. Since then, the automobiles had been found abandoned in New Orleans.

Zach blamed himself, in part, for not having hired an appropriate staff for the house.

“Tuck’s doing okay.” Summer answered his question as she stepped farther into the room, her legs as light and graceful as a dancer’s, her silky white dress flowing against her hips. He remembered how sexy she’d looked when she’d bent over in her short shorts on her grandmother’s porch.

And why shouldn’t she be graceful and sexy? She was a performer, a highly paid one. Everything she did was part of a deliberate, well-rehearsed act. Maybe the kiss they’d shared when she’d seemed to quiver so breathlessly had been a performance, as well.

She sat down in the chair he’d indicated and crossed her legs prettily. He stayed on his feet because staring down at her gave him the advantage.

Even though he knew what she was, and what she was capable of, the years slid away. Again he was sixteen, the bad new homeless kid in school with the sullen, bruised face. Everybody had been scared of him. Summer had been the popular, pampered high-school freshman, a princess who’d had every reason to feel superior to him.

People talked in a town the size of Bonne Terre. Everybody knew everybody. Nobody approved of Nick dragging such a rough kid home and foisting him upon the school. Thurman Wallace had even demanded Zach be thrown out.

Only Summer, who’d been a precocious thirteen and two years ahead of her age in school, hadn’t looked down on Zach. Not even when all the other kids and her step-daddy thought she should. No, even on that first day, when Roger Nelson, a football star, had demanded to know what Zach had done to make a guy hate him so much he’d beaten him nearly to death, she’d butted in and defended him.

“Maybe that’s not what happened,” she’d said. “Maybe Zach was in the right, defending himself, and the other guy was in the wrong. We don’t know.”

“So what happened, Torr?” Nelson had demanded.

“Why should I tell you?”

“See, he’s trash, Pollyanna,” Nelson had jeered. “Anybody can see that!”

“Well, then maybe I’m blind, because I can’t,” she’d insisted. “I see a person who needs a friend.”

Not long after that Summer had become his secret best friend.

The memories slipped away, and Zach was heatedly aware of the woman seated before him.

As if she couldn’t resist using her power on him, Summer tipped her head his way, sending that thick curtain of blond hair over her shoulders as her blue eyes burned into the center of his soul.

“Zach, thanks for getting Tuck medical attention so fast. They said you had specialists flown in from Houston.” Her face was soft, beguilingly grateful.

Clenching a fist, he jammed it in a pocket. He wasn’t buying into her gratitude. Not when he knew she’d do anything to keep her brother from being arrested.

“The doctors are personal friends of mine in Houston. It was either fly them here or airlift him to New Orleans. He was out cold. He had a bump the size of a hen’s egg on his head and a gash that needed stitches, so I wanted to make sure he was just drunk and that there was no serious head injury involved.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“I don’t see any need for us to make a big deal about something anyone would have done.”

“You paid for everything, too. We have insurance. If you’ll invoice me, I’ll—”

“You’ll pay me. Fine,” he growled.

He was blown away by his feelings. He wanted her so badly he could think of nothing else, and she was coldly talking money.

“You said you wanted to see me. I’ve talked to Tuck, and he feels terrible about everything that happened. He had no idea those boys were going to steal anything or tear up your house. The last thing he remembers is hearing a noise in the garage and stumbling across the living room to check it out. Then he must have tripped.”

“Oh, really? What about the money that went missing when he was fired from his last job? Your brother’s been running pretty wild all summer. He’s nineteen. Old enough to know what the guys he runs around with are capable of.”

“He was just showing off. They said they’d never seen a billionaire’s place. He wanted to impress them.”

“He shouldn’t have invited them over or given them my whiskey.”

“I agree, and so does he … now. He just didn’t think.”

“Your Tuck’s had too many run-ins with the law for me to buy into his innocence. He’s been indulged in Bonne Terre. Maybe because he’s a Wallace.”

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it—his last name? You were hoping something like this would happen. You deliberately hired my trouble-prone brother, set him up, so you could get back at me.”

He tensed at her accusation. “Since you’re so quick to blame others for his actions, I’m beginning to see why he’s so irresponsible.”

Heat flared in her eyes. He noted that she was breathing irregularly, that her breasts were trembling.

“You have no right to use him this way. He’s practically an orphan. I was twelve when he was born. He was two when our father ran off, four when Mother married Thurman and he adopted us. If my stepfather was hard on me by pushing me in school, demanding I excel and graduate two years ahead of my class, he constantly browbeat Tuck, calling him a wimp and a sissy who’d never amount to anything. I was the favorite. Tuck could never measure up.

“After our mother died, he was raised by a stepfather who disliked him and then by aunts who cared more for their own children, and later by his grandmother, who’s become too old and lenient. And I admit, I don’t come home often enough.”

Zach had figured all that out for himself. The kid had no direction. She and Viola were protective of Tuck, but didn’t demand enough responsibility from the boy.

“And what do you do—you put him in temptation’s way so you can get at me,” she repeated in a shaky tone. “Since he’s been in trouble before, if you press charges and he’s tried and convicted, he could be locked up for a long time. You knew that when you hired him. If this gets out to the media, there will be a frenzy.”

Zach paced to the window. “If you believe I deliberately used Tuck to hurt you, you wouldn’t believe anything I told you to defend myself. So, I won’t bother.”

“Oh, please. You threatened me the last time I saw you. I think you’ve ordered me here because you intend to make good on that threat!”

Yes, he wanted to yell.

I want to sleep with you so badly I’d do almost anything to accomplish that!

But then the intensity of her pleading look made him jerk his gaze from hers.

She was afraid of him.

He didn’t want her fear. He wanted her warm and passionate and wild, as she’d been the first time.

He strode back to the table and picked up the legal documents in which he’d accused her younger brother of a felony.

When he saw his grip on the papers made his tendons stand out, Zach knew he was dangerously close to losing control. What was her hold over him?

By all rights he should have the upper hand in this situation. Her brother had brought thugs to his home to rip him off. He had every right to demand justice. But Tuck, who’d trusted him, needed help. He needed direction. Zach remembered how he himself had been derailed as a kid due to vengeful adult agendas.

Feeling torn between his ruthless desire and his personal code of ethics, Zach threw the documents onto the table. Then he glared at Summer fiercely, willing revulsion into his gaze.

But she was wide-eyed, vulnerable. Her perfect face was tight-lipped and pale; her shoulders slumped. She’d said she never wanted to see him again, but she’d come today. With a career like hers, she’d probably been busy as hell, but she’d come because she was genuinely worried about her brother and wanted to help him.

When she’d thanked Zach for getting the right doctors, he’d seen real gratitude in her eyes. And he’d liked pleasing her. Too much. In that white dress, which clung in all the right places, she looked young and innocent—not to mention breathtakingly sexy.

He wanted her in his bed. He wanted revenge for all that she’d done to him.

Do what she’s accused you of. Use Tuck. Make your demands.

Yet something held him back.

For years, he’d told himself he hated her, had willed himself to hate her. But when he’d held her and kissed her at her grandmother’s house, his hate had been tempered by softer, more dangerous emotions.

He’d once believed that if he had enough money and power, he would never be vulnerable to the pull of love again.

But now here she was, with her golden hair smelling of perfume and shimmering with coppery highlights so bright they dazzled him, with her lips full and moist, with her long-lashed eyes smoldering with repressed need.

Was she lonely, too? He wanted to hold her against his body and find out.

But more than that, fool that he was, he wanted to protect her. And her idiot brother.

He had to get out of here, go somewhere where he could think this through.

To her, he snarled, “This meeting’s canceled.” Then he punched the intercom and spoke to his lawyer’s secretary. “Tell Davis to take over.”

“I don’t understand,” Summer whispered. “What about Tuck?”

“I’ll deal with you two later.”

She let out a frightened sigh that cut him to the quick. “Zach, please …”

He wanted to turn to make sure she was all right.

Instead, he shrugged his broad shoulders and sucked in a breath.

To hell with her.

Without a backward glance, he strode out of the room.