Wild for him, she sat up in the darkness and pushed her damp hair back from her hot face. “It was just a stupid kiss. It doesn’t matter! Zach can’t stand me any more than I can stand him.”
So, why are you dreaming about him, aching for him, even when you know he despises you?
Two
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