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.”