Summer Heat

by Carly Phillips

  Now here he was.

  And all the work she’d put into walling up her heart was soon going to be tested.

  “Hi, Connor.”

  Talk about failing with flying colors.

  She was right back where she started weeks ago, losing herself in his intense blue gaze.

  “You look gorgeous, Abby.”

  “Thanks. So do you.” It occurred to her that in all their time together, they hadn’t once gone out on a date.

  Now she saw why.

  They stood there awkwardly for a moment before he reached out and dragged her into his arms. “God, I’ve missed you.”

  The last bit of her ineffectual wall came crumbling down. “I’m sorry I moved our dinner to tonight,” she blurted out then as she slid her arms around his waist.

  He leaned back and brushed a thumb against her cheekbone. “Feeling bad about that are we?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” His lips came down on hers swiftly. The kiss was frantic, hungry. Just this side of angry.

  By the time he pulled back, the room was spinning. “Don’t ever shut me out like that again, Abby. Not unless you mean it.”

  No. She wouldn’t push him away anymore. Couldn’t. “Do you want to cancel our dinner reservations and eat here instead?” she asked softly, hopefully.

  He slid his hand through her hair. “Actually, I’m kind of looking forward to having a night out with you.”

  “But—”

  “Let’s go out tonight, Abby. Let me prove to you that we can do this.”

  How was it that he knew exactly what she was worried about? “You sound so sure.”

  “I am.” He put his arm around her and tugged her over to the driveway.

  To his beautiful powder black car.

  With the bench seats she loved so much.

  She smiled up at him. “Is your Lexus in the shop?”

  He grinned back. “Nope. I told you, I’m going to prove to you that we can do this. You and I can be together and be ourselves out there in the big bad world.”

  “So you’re going to a fancy establishment where you’ll likely run into clients and colleagues?” With me. “In an old muscle car. Just to prove a point?”

  “Abby, I’d pull up riding on the handlebars of Skylar’s pink bicycle...hell, I’d drive up in your car to prove this particular point.”

  She burst out laughing.

  “You don’t believe me?” He reached for her purse. “Hand over the keys.”

  “No!” She giggled and ran the rest of the way to his car. “We can’t go to a five-star restaurant in my car!”

  Connor pinned her against the passenger door, capturing her lips in a deep, soul-searing kiss.

  It wasn’t until about five seconds after the kiss ended that she realized he’d gone and pickpocketed her purse.

  A half hour later, Abby was still whacking him on the arm.

  “That valet kid thought we were punking him.” Another whack. “I swear, he kept looking around like a bunch of TV cameras were going to come rushing out.”

  “I know.” He chuckled. “Did you see his expression when I slipped him a twenty and told him to make sure to park it somewhere safe?”

  “Stop.” Whack. “Making fun of.” Whack. “My car!”

  “Yes, this is far less embarrassing. Quick, sucker punch me in the gut. I think I see a lawyer from a competing law firm I’m facing in court on Monday.”

  She instantly dropped her hands back to her sides. “This isn’t over,” she hissed.

  “Oh, I know. And I’m counting the minutes till we get home to see just what you’ll do next.”

  Home.

  She had no idea whose home he was referring to, but at least they’d be there together.

  As the maître de led them to a corner table with a stunning view of the city, Abby couldn’t help but sigh with pleasure. Not because they were in the most elegant restaurant she could ever imagine.

  But because she was starting to believe.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For proving your point.”

  Connor smiled back. “I think I’d much prefer a ‘you were right.’”

  She flicked open her menu. “I’ll keep that in mind if one day you ever are.”

  His soft, tickled laughter died a quick death when a slick as silk voice rang out from the next table over.

  “Why look Lynn, it’s Connor.”

  They both turned to watch a tall, distinguished looking man stand up and come over with his ‘date’—Abby would’ve guessed daughter at first but seeing his hand on the woman/girl’s ass quickly dispelled that theory.

  “Connor, did you get that paperwork I left on your desk today?”

  So, a colleague, then. One that, from the looks of it, Connor didn’t like very much.

  “Yes, I did. I’ll look over it in the morning,” he answered brusquely, his eyes as hard and cold as she’d ever seen them.

  The stranger didn’t budge. “Well? Aren’t you going to introduce me to your beautiful date, Connor?”

  Abby watched a muscle tick in Connor’s cheek as his entire posture turned rigid with anger.

  Alarmed, and thoroughly lost, she stuck her hand out to the man to try and defuse the situation. “I’m Abby. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “I’m delighted to meet you, Abby. I’m Marcus, and this is Lynn my personal assistant.”

  Riiight.

  “So, are you two here on a date?” inquired Marcus.

  Abby could see why Connor didn’t like him.

  Connor’s glare went from angry to furious.

  “What?” asked Marcus innocently. “Can’t I be just a little curious about my son’s love life?”

  Son. The rude man was Connor’s father.

  “Lynn,” Connor shot a withering glance at the woman fidgeting beside Marcus, “I hope you remembered to order my mother’s anniversary flowers. You know how hard it is to get those lilies that she loves so much.”

  Lynn blanched and mumbled, “No, I forgot.”

  Marcus raised an eyebrow in a silent touché, before conceding, “Fine, keep your secrets, Connor. I guess I’ll just have to get to know Abby better on my own.” He turned to face her. “Perhaps at this weekend’s charity ball?”

  Abby froze, and did her best to keep her smile plastered to her face.

  “That’s enough!” barked Connor.

  “People are starting to stare, Marcus,” whispered Lynn.

  Marcus gave Connor a triumphant look and then took a step back. “Well, I see the two lovebirds just want to be alone. Have a good evening. Sorry to have interrupted your date.”

  Abby kept her eyes glued to the menu until he was gone. Really? Did he have to put such a scornful emphasis on the word ‘date?’

  “I’m sorry you got sucked into that.” Connor’s voice was literally vibrating with rage.

  She dropped her menu. Connor shouldn’t be apologizing for his socially corrupt father. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”

  He covered her hands with his. “That charity ball he mentioned—”

  Oh. Well, there was that. “You don’t need to explain.”

  “It’s just an annual gala we all go to because the firm is one of the main sponsors. I forgot about it completely. Usually, I just take Victoria to these sort of things but if you want to go, I’d love to take you.” He turned a shade uncomfortable. “It’s a black tie affair. I, uh, could take you shopping for a gown. And I’d buy it for you, of course, since you’re doing me the honor of being my date.”

  A little part of her died on the inside at the offer…and then rose from the dead out of sheer annoyance when she saw Marcus watching them with that same aggravating smile.

  This was a vicious, vicious world Connor lived in. Surviving here took a whole skillset she lacked entirely.

  “What night is this ball?”

  “Saturday.”

  “I actually have plans for that night,” she lied, giving him
a wan smile. “So I guess I won’t get to have my Pretty Woman shopping moment with you.”

  His hand closed tighter around hers. “I’ll stay home if you want.”

  She shook her head vigorously. “No, don’t do that. You should go have a good time.” Wanting desperately to get some air, she stood up abruptly and looked around for a restroom.

  He caught her by the elbow. “Talk to me.”

  “There’s nothing to say. I just can’t go. But I really, truly want you to have fun. Charities are important.” She patted his arm reassuringly. “And despite her kissing you and offering you a member massage in front of me, Victoria does seem kind of nice.”

  “You’re not upset?”

  “No,” she replied with complete honesty. “Just uncomfortable. Give me a few minutes to collect myself and I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll give you five.” He gazed at her worriedly. “If you’re not back by then, I’m coming after you and we’ll leave. We can go to that little Chinese restaurant you love so much.” A genuine smile lit his face then.

  Alright, now she was upset. But not at him. At his world. At his father. At everything that kept Connor tethered to the toxic things that were poisoning his life.

  She rushed off to the restroom, knowing Connor would make good on his offer to whisk her out of there if she showed him even a hint of the anger she was feeling. But she didn’t want to give his father the satisfaction. Even now, from where he sat across the room, Marcus Sullivan was visibly laughing at her discomfort in the most mocking, condescending way possible.

  How a man like that managed to father two of the best men she’d ever known was a complete paradox.

  Pulling open the ornate door to what was the most extravagant restroom she’d ever seen, Abby flipped on the water at the marble sink and stuck her wrists under the cold stream. Slowly, eventually, she felt some of her tension wash down the drain. She could do this. She wasn’t going to let Marcus win. She was going to go out there with her head high and have a great night.

  And if she accidentally keyed his car enroute to her own, oh well.

  She smiled wryly at her reflection, knowing she’d never in a million years ever do anything like that.

  “You’re way too nice,” she accused her reflection.

  Before her reflection had a chance to reply, the sound of small commotion outside had her scrambling to the door. Had her five minutes lapsed already?

  “HEY!” she yelled, when she opened the door and saw that the racket out in the hall had nothing to do Connor at all, but rather, a very large man shoving around a very small woman.

  The second she saw the man start to rear back his arm, Abby set off on a dead sprint.

  “Leave her alone!” She rammed herself right into the man’s side, effectively budging him about two inches. He was a big man.

  “What the hell?” The man swayed on his feet and glared at Abby. “Who the hell are you?”

  She ignored him but kept one eye trained his way as she checked on the woman—good lord, she was tiny. The man could’ve snapped her like a twig. “Are you okay?”

  The woman spewed out a long hysterical sentence.

  In a foreign language.

  Okay, that helped Abby not at all.

  Sausage like fingers clamped onto her arm. “Hey, nosy bitch.” He spun her around like a top and Abby went flying against the wall. “Mind your own f—”

  The loud crack of a fist connecting with his face stopped that f-bomb from landing.

  Connor.

  The man went down. But Connor wasn’t done. He laid in two more punches before Abby realized he was planning on beating the man to a pulp.

  “Connor! Stop!”

  He didn’t. And then all hell broke loose.

  Two managerial types and a security guard came charging past to yank Connor off the man. Marcus swept in soon after spouting some legal jargon to a stricken restaurant employee while his ‘personal assistant’ started anxiously talking on two cell phones at the same time.

  Nearby, the tiny woman was still screeching something in her own language and throwing her sleek stiletto heels at the sausage-fingered asshole, who’d begun puking all over his designer suit. And throughout it all, Abby saw that half the patrons in the dining area were still eating and carrying on like it was beneath them to even bother to look their way.

  Abby shook her head. She so did not belong in this world.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CONNOR HAD NEVER BEEN more terrified in his entire life.

  When he saw that drunken man throw Abby like a ragdoll, Connor had just plain lost it.

  Even now, he could barely piece together what had happened immediately after. If not for the half-dozen or so witnesses who’d managed to fill in his rage-filled blanks for the police report, there was a good chance he would’ve been arrested for lack of cooperation during the follow-up interrogation alone. Because honestly, he’d been unable to answer most of the police questions definitively, save one: Abby had bum-rushed a man easily twice her size to protect a woman she didn’t even know.

  Who does that? Who is that good of a person?

  Abby.

  After he’d taken her home, he’d simply held her the entire night, not sleeping a wink. Over and over in his head, he replayed the sight of Abby being slammed into that wall, imagined what would’ve happened had he not gotten there in time.

  It could’ve been so much worse.

  As it was, Abby was sporting a bruise covering half her arm, outlined in the shape of each of the sonofabitch’s fingers.

  Connor fisted his hands in reflex and winced—his right fist was scabbed ragged all across the knuckles, while the left was the one that was still swollen and bruised.

  A charming look with his tuxedo.

  Flexing his fingers to ease the ache, he looked around the ballroom, still in disbelief that Abby had convinced him to attend the charity ball. He hadn’t wanted to leave her side all week; tonight was no exception. But she’d reminded him about her prior commitments for the evening and urged him to go.

  So far, he was having a lousy time.

  And reason number one was sitting right beside him.

  “Poor baby, do you want me to ask the waiters to bring some ice for your hands?”

  He rolled his eyes. Had Gabriella’s voice always been this annoying?

  “No thanks, I’m fine.”

  He couldn’t for the life of him remember why he’d slept with her, let alone dated her for an entire month. She was fake, vapid, and dull as dirt.

  The anti-Abby.

  “Do you want me to kiss it and make it all better?”

  Ugh. Baby talk? Really? “I’m going to go get a drink.”

  He stalked off, glad that she finally caught the hint and chose not to follow.

  Seeing Victoria at the other end of the bar, he beelined it over and cornered her with a scowl. “I can’t believe you abandoned me tonight.”

  “Can you blame me?” She pointed out her date, aka the manchild at her table who probably modeled underwear for a living. “That is one fine specimen of a man.”

  “The guy’s half your age, Victoria.”

  “I know.” She beamed. “Thank Marcus again for me, will you?”

  Wait, what? He grabbed her elbow. “My father arranged this date of yours?”

  Her brows snapped together. “He told me you were fine with it.”

  At Connor’s exasperated sigh, she thunked her drink on the counter. “Oh shit, you didn’t know, did you? I thought it was weird you and Gabriella both showed up dateless.” Now she looked genuinely apologetic. “Connor, you know I’d never knowingly play a part in one of your father’s schemes, right?”

  No, Victoria was many things, but a backstabber of the people she cared about wasn’t one of them. “Don’t sweat it. My father’s up to something. There’s no way you could’ve known.”

  “Still. I can’t believe that asshole used me. Me.” Victoria’s eyes narrowed on the assho
le in question at the other end of the room.

  Connor smiled. If he weren’t already planning his own confrontation with the man, he’d be more than happy to sic Victoria on him. That was one woman you did not want to mess with.

  He took his drink over and sat down in the empty seat beside his father, shoving Lynn’s personal assistant necessities—aka the purse with all the condoms and the little blue pills—to the side. “Why are you trying to surgically attach Gabriella to me?”

  Marcus nodded approvingly like a—gag—proud father. “She’s a lovely woman isn’t she?”

  “Cut the crap. I asked you a question.”

  “I’m doing you a favor, Connor. Embrace it. Gabriella is much more suited for you than that…girl you were with the other night.” He shot a reproachful glance at Connor’s injured fists.

  Connor officially lost what little patience he had at that point. “I’m going to ask you one more time. What the hell are you up to? You tell me this instant or I’m going right over to Gabriella to cause a scene that will make the fight at the restaurant last week look like a frickin’ party.”

  Ice cold irritation flitted across his father’s face. “Well, if you must know, the announcement hasn’t been made yet but I’m going to be retiring at the end of this month.”

  “Congratulations. Now what’s that got to do with me?”

  “It’s a forced retirement,” he bit out through his teeth. “And it’s all your mother’s fault.”

  Connor stilled. “How is she a part of any of this?”

  “The woman’s lost her mind. First she kicks me out of my own house and files for divorce. Now, she’s coming after my throat, threatening to expose all the married women I’ve had affairs with if I don’t give her everything she wants in the settlement.” He gave a disbelieving grunt, but Connor could hear the film of fear behind it.

  “What are we talking here? Clients? Judges? Politicians?”

  It had to be one or all of the above for the firm to be forcing him to retire.

  “It doesn’t matter. I have all our best lawyers on it. Thankfully, your mother’s legal counsel is subpar at best. We’re handling it.”