A Scandal So Sweet

Four

Manhattan

Summer loved Central Park, especially on a sparkling September day when the leaves had begun to turn and a cool front had put a chill in the air.

“Hugh, I’m so sorry I can’t fly out to L.A. this weekend.”

Hunched over her smartphone on a bench near the fountain at Bethesda Terrace during a rare break, Summer chose her words carefully.

Guiltily, she pushed a blond strand of hair out of her eyes. “My brother’s in trouble, so I have to go back to Bonne Terre.”

“But…”

“Truly, there’s nothing I’d rather do next weekend than be with you at the premiere of Kill-Hard.”

“My agent swears it’s my breakout role.”

“I’m so sorry. Truly. I’ll be there Sunday…late.”

After Zach.

When Hugh hung up, seething, she was a little surprised that her guilt was overwhelmed by relief.

At least Hugh’s premiere was one thing she could scratch off her to-do list.

Summer began to flip through her calendar, deleting or canceling other engagements. For the next few weekends she would be doing her own script work, so she could juggle the commute to Louisiana. Later, when rehearsals began in earnest, getting away from New York would be trickier, maybe downright impossible.

She would worry about that later. Zach would probably be tired of her by then anyway.

Daily, hourly, all through the week, she’d resented Zach for causing such immense upheaval in her life. His demand was outrageous, medieval, and she told herself she was furious with him and with herself for going along with him.

And yet, if that were true, why did her breath catch every time she remembered the avid desire in his eyes? Why did she dream of him holding her close every night? Or awaken hot and sweaty from the image of writhing in his arms like a wanton? She would toss her sheets aside, go to the window and stare out at the stars, imagining spending two days and nights with Zach.

Being a man, no matter what he’d said, all he wanted from her was sex.

But what did she want?

She didn’t know. And she didn’t know what she could tell Gram. Summer didn’t want her grandmother to get her hopes up for no reason. Since she couldn’t figure that one out and didn’t want to lie, she wouldn’t call Gram or take her calls until Summer saw her again in Bonne Terre. Until then, Summer would concentrate on her career goals, on developing and playing her roles. It wasn’t healthy to obsess over a man whose sole goal was to punish her.

On Friday, at three o’clock sharp, she met Zach’s pilot. Once aboard the jet, she pulled out her script, intending to figure out her character for the scenes with Hugh scheduled to be shot in L.A. next week.

Normally, Summer chose roles because she felt affection for the character, but in this case, her reasons had been more pragmatic. When she’d complained that she didn’t think she could do a dark, unlikeable sex addict, her agent had pointed out that the money was simply too good to pass up.

So, Summer needed to study her lines and determine how her edgy sex scenes fit into the emotional context of the movie.

But her mind drifted to Zach, making it impossible for her to concentrate on the femme fatale she was to play in Hugh’s film.

Staring out the windows of his Houston office as he held his phone, Zach frowned as his pilot brought him up to date.

“Yeah. She was right on time. Weather looks good until we hit Louisiana. Looks like you’re going to have a nasty drive.” He gave Zach the plane’s arrival time, and the two men ended the call.

Outside, dark purple clouds hung over the city to the northeast. It was only three, but the freeways were already jammed with cars. Impatient, because he’d wanted to leave the city well before rush hour, especially if there was bad weather, Zach thrust his hands into his pockets and prowled his office like a caged cat.

Leroy McEver, the newly hired contractor on Zach’s biggest project downtown, was late as usual. Although Zach was sorely tempted to leave, no way was Zach driving to Bonne Terre without making Leroy understand once and for all that the reason he’d fired Anderson and hired him was that he expected Leroy to stop the constant cost overruns.

But even with pressing business to deal with, Zach was anxious to be on his way to Bonne Terre. To her. As always, his inexplicable need to bed her, even after what she’d put him through, annoyed the hell out of him.

After their love affair had been exposed and made to look ugly in the newspapers, he’d zealously guarded his personal life. He kept his private life private. She was a movie star, who probably courted media attention.

There were multiple reasons not to go through with the bargain he’d made with her. But he wouldn’t put a stop to it. He couldn’t.

Thus, his impatience to see her again infuriated him. He hated himself for stooping to blackmail.

But he wanted her, and she owed him-big-time.

One minute the road was darkly veiled in mist. In the next the brightly lit Thibodeaux house loomed out of the shadowy cypress and oak grove. Summer got out, grabbed her bag and thanked Zach’s pilot, Bob, for the lift.

“I’ve got orders to wait until I’m sure you’re safely inside.”

Summer’s footsteps sounded hollow as she marched up the path, crossed the porch and rang the doorbell.

Setting her bag and briefcase down, she turned the key Bob had given her in the lock, jiggling it until the door opened.

“Zach?”

Again, as her shy, uncertain voice echoed through the empty rooms, she marveled that a man like him, with a house like this, had no staff. As she felt blindly for the light switches on the wall, she heard a man’s heavier tread approaching. When she saw a tall, angular shadow splash across the floor between the stacked boxes, her heart began to pound as unwanted, craven excitement coursed through her. All week, she’d waited for this and had been too ashamed to admit it.

“Zach?”

“It’s just me, Summer,” Tuck said as he ambled through the door at the far end of the room. He had earbuds in his ears and was bouncing to some soundless beat. His hands were jammed into jeans that rode so low on his skinny hips she marveled that he didn’t worry about them falling off.

She couldn’t see much of his skinny face for the thick golden hair hanging over his eyes.

“You doing okay…since the hospital?” she asked.

“Ever since Zach told me he’s not going to press charges, or even fire me, I’ve been fine. Can you believe he gave me a second chance?”

“Big of him.”

“Course, he locked his liquor up and set some pretty strict ground rules,” he muttered more resentfully. “Oh, he said I’m supposed to tell you that you can have the bedroom down the hall on the first floor. He made me stock the fridge and get the room ready for you. And he told me to carry your suitcase inside for you.”

Tuck came to an abrupt stop in front of her. When she reached for him, he allowed a quick hug.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispered, ruffling his hair. “Next time, think.”

He leaned down and grabbed her suitcase. “Zach told me to tell you about the security system.” He told her the code and asked her if she wanted him to write it down or show her how to set it.

She shook her head.

When he showed her the room, she was pleasantly surprised to find antique furniture, curtains and rugs that went together. A silver mirror and comb and brush set lay on a low, polished bureau.

“It’s pretty,” she said.

“Because Zach sent a dumb decorator and lots of other people over to boss me around and make sure it was.”

“Where is Zach?”

“On the road. His meetings ran a lot later than he expected.”

“Oh.”

“So, why are you here tonight if you hate him so much?”

“I-I don’t hate him. It’s…it’s complicated.”

“You’re not here because of what I did, are you?”

“Oh, no. It has nothing to do with you.” She felt her cheeks heat. “We just…er…reconnected. That’s what happens sometimes…with old flames.”

He stared at her as if he didn’t quite buy it. “So…okay…everything’s cool, then. Can I go? I was gonna play some pool tonight before I found out about you and Zach.”

She gritted her teeth, not liking that he’d accepted them as a couple so easily. He’d talk, and everybody would believe him.

He stared at her through the greasy strings of his blond hair. “You sure you’re okay about this?”

“I’m great! Never better!” She gave him a bright smile.

“You’ve sure got the whole town talking.”

She winced. “You know how people in Bonne Terre talk.”

“Yeah. When I shopped for stuff, people kept asking me questions about you.”

“So, who are you playing pool with?” she asked, anxious to change the subject.

“Some guys. Good guys.”

“Hope so. Hey, did Zach say when he’ll get here?”

“Maybe. I don’t remember. So-can I go now?”

“Give me another minute.”

She had work. Lots of it. Since she was a trained stage actress, movie roles did not come naturally to her. Scenes would be shot out of order, and she wouldn’t be able to fall back on the rhythm of the play to carry her character into her scene.

Since she needed to study the before moments that preceded every scene, she should be happy Zach was running late, but, for some reason, the thought of being alone here in his house with her script depressed her.

Making her way into the kitchen, she opened the fridge and found it full of her favorite cheeses, eggs, fresh vegetables and sparkling water. Zach must have talked to Gram to find out things she liked before sending Tuck to get them.

Closing the fridge door, she realized she wasn’t going to work tonight when she felt so empty and strange being in Zach’s house without him.

“Can I go now?” her brother repeated.

“If you’ll give me a ride to Gram’s first.”

“If I were you I wouldn’t go over there. The local gossips really have her and her friends all stirred up about you. She’s been hounding me for details. Says you won’t return her calls.”

She knew Tuck was right, but she’d rather be at Gram’s facing hard questions than stay in this house alone, waiting for Zach. On the drive to Gram’s, she switched the conversation back to Tuck. “So, how come you agreed to work for Zach again after you got in trouble? Is it the job you like? Or him?”

“The work’s boring, but he’s okay. Funny, he’s almost like a friend.”

Her stomach tightened with alarm. Zach was far from a friend. Tuck should have better sense than to trust that man. But there was no way she could tell Tuck that without giving herself away.

“I wish you’d go back to school and find something that interests you. Then you wouldn’t have to do boring work. Or work for Zach.”

“School’s even more boring. And like I said, I sort of like working for Zach.”

“Maybe if you tried to be interested, you’d become interested.”

“That’s what Zach said the other day when he drove me over to the junior college.”

“He what?”

“Drove me to the tech campus. In his Lamborghini. Boy, was everybody impressed.”

“I can’t believe he took the time… He’s a very busy man.” She couldn’t hold back now. “You know, Tuck, he’s not really your friend.”

“Hey, where do you get off criticizing him? You’re never here. He is.” His tone was low as his sad eyes whipped around to regard her. “You’re this big famous actress. Until Zach came back to Bonne Terre, Gram and me didn’t interest you much. With your glam job, how could you understand what it’s like for someone like me, somebody who’s ordinary and stuck here? I can’t help if it’s hard for me to get excited about my life. It’s not much to get excited about.”

“Then you’ve got to do something with your life, Tuck.”

“I’ve heard it before.”

“If you don’t do something, nobody else is going to do it for you. Life is what you make it.”

“Easy for a big shot like you to say. Why don’t you stay out of my business, and I’ll stay out of yours? Deal?”

“No, it’s not a deal!”

Damn. Because of Zach, she was losing precious ground with her brother.

Refusing to come in, Tuck dropped her off at Gram’s. As Summer got out of the car, he sped away in an angry whirl of dust and gravel.

Dreading being grilled by Gram, especially after not taking her calls all week, Summer squared her shoulders before marching up to the house.

Summer was barely inside before Gram switched off the television and plopped Silas down on the floor.

“Why didn’t you return any of my phone calls?”

Because I was too ashamed of what I was doing.

“That was…unforgiveable of me,” Summer whispered. “I did listen to every single message though…if that counts.”

“So, when were you going to tell me you’ve started seeing Zach Torr?” Gram asked excitedly.

“It’s not what you think,” Summer hedged, feeling acutely uncomfortable that her grandmother was hoping for a true romance.

“What is it, then?”

“Look, it was a long flight. I’m thirsty. Do you have some tea?”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to hear this from all the gossips?” Gram asked rather gloomily as she and Silas followed Summer into the kitchen.

Summer didn’t say anything as Gram splashed tea from a pitcher in the fridge into a tall glass.

“Well, if you won’t talk, I’ll say my peace. I think it’s great that you’re reconnecting with Zach.”

“We’re not…”

“It’s high time you two sorted out the past.”

“Gram-”

“It will do you both a world of good…to talk it out.”

“There’s nothing to talk out.”

“Oh, no?” After stirring in lemon and mint Gram handed Summer the tall glass of iced tea. “You could talk about New Orleans. And the baby.”

Summer’s chest felt hollow and tight.

“You looked like death when you came home from New Orleans. I used to wonder if you’d ever get over it. Maybe if you told Zach, let him share that grief with you, maybe then both of you could move on. He’s just as stuck in the past as you are.”

Summer shook her head. “That was fifteen years ago. It’s way too late for us.”

Losing his baby after he’d rejected her had hurt so much, Summer had locked her sorrow inside. She’d never wanted to suffer because of it again.

Tears burned behind the back of her eyelids. “I can’t talk about it, not even like this, to you, Gram.”

Gram’s arms slid slowly around her, and Summer, fighting tears, stayed in them for quite a while.

“Spending time with him is the brave thing to do. I think it’s a start in finding yourself. I, for one, am going to pray for a miracle.”

“You do that,” Summer whispered, not wanting to repeat that, for her and Zach, it was hopeless.

“In the meantime, we could play Hearts,” Gram said more cheerfully.

“Gram…I…”

“I just love it when Zach stops by to play Hearts… A man with as much as he has to do taking time for a little old lady… And he’s not even my grandson.”

Zach again…besting her. Was there no competing with him? No escaping him?

Feeling cornered, Summer sat down with Gram to play Hearts.

Except for the lights she’d left on, the Thibodeaux mansion was still dark several hours later when Summer drove up in Gram’s borrowed Ford sedan, after having lost too many games of Hearts. She hadn’t bothered to set the security system, so she simply unlocked the door and let herself in.

Feeling restless because Zach still wasn’t there, she showered and dressed for bed in a thin T-shirt and a pair of comfortable long cotton pants. Intending to mull over her scenes for a little while, she pulled back her covers and slid into bed with her script.

But just reading through the sex scene made her squirm, so when she saw the remote, she flicked on the television, surfing until she found the weather channel.

There was a big storm over east Texas that Zach would have to drive through. Video of downed trees, traffic signs and power lines made her more apprehensive, so she turned the television off.

Was he okay? If he’d been in an accident, would anyone even think to call her?

He’s fine. Just fine. And why should you care if he isn’t?

Even more restless now, she got up and padded into the kitchen where she poured herself a glass of sparkling water. She was pacing when her cell phone rang. Hoping it might be Zach, she sprinted back down the hall to answer it.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Thurman demanded without bothering to greet her. “How can you move in with that bastard? You should be ashamed of yourself.”

She was ashamed, and furious at Thurman for punching that hot button.

Headlights flashed across the front of the house as her stepfather lambasted her. Stiffening her spine, she stood up straighter. She wasn’t some teenage girl her stepfather could blackmail or control.

“How did you get this number?” Summer said. “I’ve told you never to call me.”

“What are you doing over there? I demand to know.”

“It’s none of your business. And it hasn’t been for a very long time. Mother’s dead. I’m an adult. Goodbye.”

“You’re dragging the family down into the dirt all over again!” He swore viciously.

She turned her phone off just as Zach’s key turned in the lock.

Thinking she should give him a piece of her mind for putting her through all this, she stomped toward the front door. Then he stepped wearily across the threshold. She registered the slump of his broad shoulders, which looked soaked in the gray light.

“Hi,” she said, feeling an unwanted mixture of relief and sympathy for him.

“Sorry.” He seemed as tense and wary as she was. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“You didn’t.” No way would she admit she’d been worrying about him. “Thirsty.” She waved her glass of water. “Thanks for getting all my favorite stuff. For the fridge, I mean.”

“All I did was have Rhonda make a phone call to your grandmother. Rhonda’s my secretary.” When he smiled crookedly, he was incredibly handsome despite the dark circles of fatigue shadowing his eyes.

“Long day?” she whispered, feeling slightly breathless, already having fallen under the spell of his lean, sculpted beauty.

He nodded. “Even before the drive. Long week, too. When it rains…it pours. Literally.”

“Oh, and the storm. Was it bad?”

“It slowed me down.”

From the late hour and his tight features, she was almost sure that was an understatement.

“Do you have any more bags? Could I help you carry something inside?”

“You’re being awfully nice. Too nice,” he accused, his dark eyes flashing dangerously. “Why?”

“Yes-and I don’t know why. I don’t trust myself, either.”

When he smiled and seemed to relax, she felt her own tension ease a little. But just a little. After all, their shared weekend loomed in her imagination. She wasn’t sure what he expected of her tonight.

“No,” he said. “I don’t need help. This is all I brought.” He paused. “If you hadn’t spent your night here waiting on me, what glamorous place would you have been?”

“In L.A., at Hugh’s premiere.”

At the mention of Hugh, Zach’s eyes darkened.

“I was going out there this weekend because we start shooting together next week.”

“Are you two doing a love scene?” His voice was hard now.

More than one.

Annoyed because he’d nailed her and because, like most people, he so obviously attached undue significance to anything of a sexual nature on film, she ignored his question.

“I don’t want to talk about Hugh with you.”

“Good. Because neither the hell do I.”

She hesitated, wondering why he sounded jealous and not knowing where to go from here. “Are you hungry?”

“Look, there’s no need for you to worry about me. It’s late… And I’ve screwed up your schedule enough today as it is.”

Of course he was right, but he looked so bone weary, as if it had taken everything out of him to get here while she’d rested on his plane and had been pampered at Gram’s.

“I’ll just put some cheese and ham out,” she said. “You bought it, after all.”

“Not so that you would stay up and wait on me. I can take care of myself.”

“It won’t take a minute,” she insisted, stubbornly refusing to let him boss her around.

“Okay. I’ll be back down after I freshen up.” He left her and carried his bag and briefcase upstairs.

By the time he strode into the kitchen, she’d opened a bottle of wine and set a single place for him at the kitchen table.

When he sat down, she noted that his black hair was still gleaming wet.

“You’re not eating?” he said, sipping wine, when she hovered but didn’t sit.

“I ate at Gram’s earlier.”

“Not those chocolate-chip cookies she baked just for me, I hope?” he teased.

“She bakes them for me, too-even though I tell her not to.” Summer grinned back at him. As she pulled out a chair, she couldn’t stop staring into his utterly gorgeous eyes. Was there a man alive with longer lashes? A tiny pulse had begun to throb much too fast at the base of her throat, causing her breath to catch.

What was going on? How could she actually be so thrilled he was here, safe and sound, when he’d forced her to come to him, when he intended to deliberately humiliate her? When Thurman and the rest of the town were judging and accusing her? When Hugh was sulking in L.A. and her agent and director were apoplectic? When she’d disappointed poor, darling Gram, who was hoping for a happy ending to this farce?

“I had a few cookies after a chicken sandwich,” she replied, striving to sound nonchalant. “Dessert is allowed sometimes, you know.”

“Even for an actress who has to keep her perfect figure…so she’ll look mouth-wateringly sexy in those love scenes…with Hugh?”

His angry black gaze flicked over her breasts in her thin T-shirt. His male assessment accused her even as it made her blood heat.

“Love scenes in movies aren’t the least bit sexy. They’re all about creating an illusion for the viewer.”

“Is that so? You always were good at creating illusions.”

He glanced away abruptly, trying to hide his obvious interest in her body and his fury at the thought of her with Hugh, but it was too late. Suddenly the walls of his kitchen felt as if they were closing in on her, and she couldn’t breathe. How could he charge the air between them with a mere question and a hot, proprietary glance?

“You have no right to attack me or to look at me like that. No right at all.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t dress the way you do,” he muttered in a tone so savage she knew he was as provoked as she.

“I’m wearing an ordinary T-shirt.”

His hard eyes burned her breasts again. “Right. I guess it’s the fact the material’s so thin and you’re braless underneath that’s getting to me.”

“Sorry!”

When she felt her nipples tighten and poke at the cotton fabric, she clenched her hands. He was impossible. Since he’d come back to Bonne Terre, he’d been turning everything into some sort of sex game.

“Why you’re determined to put us both through a weekend like this, I can’t imagine.”

He stared at her for a long time. “You know why. Just as you know you have it coming.” He stabbed a piece of cheese.

“I think I’d better go back to bed,” she said abruptly, not trusting herself, or him, or the intimacy of their cozy little situation. “We’re obviously not a couple who can cohabitate easily and naturally.”

At her rejection, his dark face was suddenly blank and cold. “Good idea. Go ahead. I’ll clean up-alone.”

“You’re supposed to be a billionaire. Why don’t you have staff to do all that?”

“Because they’re people, and I’d have to deal with them and their problems. Because I want to live informally here and not be bothered by too many prying eyes. Because I couldn’t be here…like this…with you, if I had a staff. Not that I don’t have a cleaning lady. And my secretary just hired a gardener. So, do you have more questions about how I live my life before you leave me in peace?”

He wanted her gone! She was getting on his nerves! His attitude infuriated her. He’d blackmailed her into coming here, hadn’t he? He’d launched the blatant sexual attack.

What had she expected-wine and roses?

Her heart pounding, she turned stiffly. Marching to her bedroom, she locked herself in and threw herself on the bed where she lay wide-awake, tossing and turning and staring up at the ceiling for what felt like an endless time.

Her mood was ridiculous. She should be thrilled he didn’t want her tonight.

She heard the savage clink of dishes and silver in the kitchen, of a garbage lid being slammed, of the disposal grinding violently. His heavy tread resounded in the hall outside her door and on the stairs. Then he stomped about in the room above hers. Something crashed to his floor so hard she sprang to a sitting position. Fisting her sheets, she stared at the ceiling listening, but after that bit of violence, he quieted.

When he turned on the water, the sound of it hummed in her blood. She imagined him naked in his shower with hot suds washing over his warm, sleek muscles. And despite what he’d said to anger her, she wanted to go up and join him.

Slowly, she got out of bed and went to her bathroom. Stripping, she turned on her own shower. When the water was warm, she stepped into the steam, threw her head back and let the pulsing flow drench her. She cupped her breasts and imagined him seizing her, thrusting inside her. She imagined her hands circling his hard waist. She imagined pressing herself against him even tighter as she begged for more.

The water ran down her limbs and circled in the drain. Sighing in frustration, she fell back against the tile wall while the spray streamed over her. A strange sensation of loss and a fierce longing to move beyond their past and their present darkness possessed her.

She clenched her fists, beat the tiles, but it did no good.

He disliked her, yet he would force her to stay with him.

Did he intend to hook her on his lovemaking and then laugh at her and leave her? Would he flaunt their relationship to everybody in Bonne Terre and beyond to prove she and her stepfather had wronged him?

She closed her eyes and pushed her wet hair out of her face. Because of her own shameless desire, she was on emotionally unsafe ground.

How would she make it through the weekend without falling more deeply under his spell?