by Helen Conrad
How could Charley explain to Reese, the one man whose lips could possess her soul, that she'd chosen to make danger her lover instead of him? Reese felt her torment, and finally understood: only boldness could recapture what they’d had.
Summer
SUMMER
FLIRTING WITH THE BILLIONAIRE
Book 1
By
Tracy Court
PROLOGUE
Yearly Meeting of
Hudson Academy Alumni
The Empire Room
Castle Xanadu
Hong Kong
Attending:
Jack Masters, owner Lelei Plantation, American Samoa
Danny Craig Castalon, attorney at law, owner Seven Seas Inc.,
San Francisco
Michael Black, confidential Wall Street attorney, New York City
Jason Franks, owner Franks Electronics, Los Angeles and Tokyo
Tony Richards, owner Carlton Casino, Las Vegas
Marco Merchado, owner Meztecha Horse Ranch, Mexico
and
Their Hostess, Ms. Olivia Chang
Owner of Castle Xanadu
These attendees of past classes at the Hudson Academy in a mountainous region of Luzon Island in the Philippines are a special group of men. Each is from a prominent family—sons of ranchers, industrialists or diplomats from countries all over the world—and each was molded into the important and successful man he is today by experiences at Hudson, and by loyalty to the school and to each other. The annual dinner is always in Hong Kong and always hosted by Olivia Chang.
#
Dinner had been sumptuous, wine was flowing freely, and the six wealthy and successful men had been talking jovially. Jokes and banter had flown back and forth. And now, as usual, the chat was becoming more pointed, the insults less affectionate and cheerful, the barbs more lethal. Competition was rearing its hoary head.
Olivia Chang surveyed them each in turn with a jaundiced eye and sighed. She’d known them all for years. In fact, she’d been their English Literature professor at the academy. They’d been through a lot together. She’d acted as surrogate mother to many of them over the years, a valued resource of experience for every one of them. She’d encouraged them when they faltered, celebrated their victories, and even led them for a week in the mountains when their school came under terrorist attack one year. In a word, they’d bonded.
But that was years ago. Now she owned and managed one of the most expensive restaurants in Hong Kong—and served as their reunion hostess here at her magnificent home every year.
The arrangement had worked well for a long time, but now she was worried about her charges. Though ridiculously successful--each could probably be called a billionaire--these men were edging toward middle age without growing up, as far as she could see. Once they relaxed enough to behave naturally, they reminded her of a basket full of furry puppies. They argued and snapped at each other and challenged everything as though it were the most important thing in the world. And even worse, they were still acting like greedy alpha males in a candy store where women were concerned.
Losing patience with them, she stood and faced them all, banging her sterling silver spoon against her crystal water glass. The attention she commanded was immediate. Their respect was well-earned and automatic.
She glared as she faced them all, then got right to the point.
“Not one of you is married. Why is that?”
There was a pause, and then each man spoke at once, each with his own transparent excuse. She held up her hand for silence.
“I guess you aren’t aware of the surveys which show that unmarried males tend to go to hell pretty rapidly once they reach a certain age.” She stared at them sternly. “I don’t want that to happen to any of you. You need wives. You need children. You need a reason to invest in the future. Without those ties taking root in your existence, you will risk falling into decadence, debauchery and… madness.”
“Ouch,” Tony said, making a face.
But the others didn’t laugh. They each knew there was a grain of truth in what Ms. Chang was presenting as a possible fate for them all. It was sobering. But they were problem solvers and each immediately began to work on a solution. She watched them for a few minutes, then gasped softly as the pain in her chest attacked her once again. Very carefully, she changed her position and got her breath back. The last thing in the world she wanted was for any of them to know she was ill.
Death wasn’t imminent—or so the doctors told her. But it was inevitable and coming closer. She had a few things that had to be taken care of before she left this world with its charms and dangers. This property was one of them—though not the only one.
Xanadu Castle was ancient and unique. It had been built by one of her ancestors, but through one thing or another, there was no one left of her family to take it over. She couldn’t bear to think of it falling into the hands of strangers. It had to be one of her “boys”. She’d made that decision a long time ago. But whomever she decided to leave the property to had to earn the privilege. And marriage was one of the proofs she would need.
Once again she held up a hand for silence, and once she got it, she began to talk about the Castle, about how important it was to find a caretaker who would love it as much as she had. Without letting on that there was a looming deadline that couldn’t be avoided, she proposed a contest between them, a challenge that each actively work on finding a wife and report back in one year. They seemed puzzled at first, but very soon they all began to realize something important was going on. They listened intently. When she was finished, they sat silent for a long moment, then Jason rose slowly and lifted his glass.
“To the wedding bet,” he toasted. “And to Olivia for caring enough to kick us all in the ass.”
“I’ll second that,” Danny said, rising as well. “Are you in Jack?”
Jack Masters looked up moodily, sighed, and rose as well. “Why not?” he said. “Living my perfect life in Samoa on my own tropic island was getting tedious. Why not bring in a woman to totally destroy my peace of mind?”
Laughter rocked the room, but cries of “Hear hear!” came as well.
The wedding bet was on.
Chapter One
“I’m sorry, pretty lady,” the tall, heavy-set Samoan said in the musical island patois, shrugging his helplessness. The look in his face was truly apologetic. “They just no boats in right now. Not any that could get you to Lelei Islan’, anyways.”
Shapely nails painted crimson tapped impatiently upon the formica countertop until she realized what she was doing and stopped herself. Summer Davis took a deep breath.
“You’ve said that three times now,” she stated carefully. “Look, I don’t want to be a pain, but you and I both know there must be something.”
The broad, good-natured face broke into an unhappy frown. “Miss Davis, lemme send for a taxi take you back to da’ airport. Maybe you could charter a plane.”
“I don’t want to charter a plane.” Suddenly she felt like crying. Damn! If she cried, she was going to have to shoot herself. She never cried. It was just so frustrating! Taking in a deep breath, she steadied herself and tried again.
“I’ve been in a plane since I left Dallas, and that was a long, long time ago.”
The lips were carefully etched in color that exactly matched the nail polish, a color set off perfectly by the creamy mocha of her summer-tanned skin. The eyes were a startling turquoise— wide, penetrating, fearless. They narrowed now, stretching the full fringe of almost-black lashes that surrounded them as she tried to mask just how spent and exhausted she really was—emotionally as well as physically.
“I want a boat.”
She had the air of a woman who usually got what she wanted, and the dock clerk was uncomfortably aware that he was not going to be able to provide her with that satisfaction. He spread his arms out, palms up, a picture of pure regret. But before he could make a new suggestion, they heard a thumping outsid
e the shed that served as the dock office.
“Hey, Jeeter,” came an island voice. “I brought your rowboat back.”
Without looking Summer in the eye, the clerk hurriedly excused himself, promising to return “in no time.”
Summer watched, too tired to be annoyed as he strode away from her, relief wreathing his face in smiles.
What now? she thought to herself, fighting back weary despair. She had to get out to the little island right away. The sense of urgency that had brought her flying half way around the planet to American Samoa hadn’t faded. Every minute that passed seemed to heighten it, setting every nerve jangling. She felt an urgent need to get to Karl quickly. It was as though he were the only friend she had left in the world.
The heat!
It covered her like a soft, slyly crawling vine, pulling at her limbs, and deadening her movements. Everything, including thought, was more of an effort here in the swampy humidity. Even her eyelids felt heavier. Was she going to survive this soggy climate?
Slowly, she lifted a long-fingered, jewel-laden hand to pull her thick, silver-blonde hair away from her warm neck. She leaned back against the counter, eyes closed, and gradually the voices outside came into focus.
The clerk was saying good-bye to the man who had called him out, but at the same time, he was greeting a newcomer.
“Mr. Masters, sir! We haven’t seen you in a while. Are you going to Pago Pago, or . . . ?”
“No, Jeeter. I just dropped in to make a call. I’m on my way back home and my phone died on me.”
The voice intrigued her. There was a deep, resonant quality to it that captured her imagination. Idly, she began to imagine what the speaker might look like. Tall, she thought—dark hair, dark eyes that sparkled with humor.
“You’re the only one who’s stopped by dis afternoon,” the clerk went on, his tone warm and friendly. “I woulda’ thought you’d be at the wedding with all the rest of ‘em.”
She raised her head and opened her eyes at his laugh. It was a rich, low rumble that seemed to roll through the room, pushing aside all in its path.
“I don’t go to weddings, Jeeter,” he said, amusement still rounding his voice. “I try to stick to cheerful affairs. Mourning does not become me.”
Jeeter let loose a short, barking laugh, and the man went on playing to his appreciative audience.
“I look at weddings as skirmishes lost by our side. In the great battle of the sexes, husbands are prisoners of war.”
Strangely, though Summer had been known to say similar things from the female point of view, to hear it said in this arrogant manner sent a stabbing anger through her veins. She pulled her generous lips tight into a thin line as she listened to the guffaws just beyond the doorway, then began to gather herself for a counter attack. Her hand was on the doorknob when Jeeter’s next statement stopped her cold.
“Hey! If you really goin’ home, you could be a lifesaver. I got a lady here who wants to get out to Lelei. What do you say?”
“Oh, Jeeter,” the man groaned. “Spare me from one of your chattering relatives. I was looking forward to a peaceful sail, some time to think ...”
“She’s no relative o’ mine. She’s from the mainland. A real looker too.”
There was a pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was much softer, as though he didn’t want her to hear. “From the mainland?” There was now an evident wariness to his tone. “What’s her name?”
“Summer Davis,” said Summer, stepping out to appear before him in person. “And if you could drop me at the island, I would be most grateful.”
He looked much as she had expected, only more so. The hair was dark and in need of a haircut, but nicely shaped and parted on the side so that a sweep of it fell over his forehead in a carefree, yet slightly sophisticated manner. And he was tall, well over six feet, with a lean, athletic build now barely disguised in white sailing clothes. But the dark eyes held more than humor. They were filled as well with a sharp intelligence, an arrogant confidence that was aggressively insolent, while managing at the same time to be flatteringly approving of what he saw.
She stood in the doorway, hip jutting out, head tilted, as he filled his vision with her beauty. She did it unconsciously, but she knew the power she so often had over men, and sometimes she almost despised them for it. But it was so useful.
As his laughing gaze swept over her trim, firmly rounded form, noting the rise and fall of her full breasts beneath the soft, clinging fabric of her lacy camisole top; the slim waist; the protruding curve of her hip; the incredibly long legs, all nicely displayed beneath the thin material of her skirt as the slight breeze flattened it against her; it was evident he liked what he saw.
She knew she had her ride.
But she gave him another few seconds, just in case. She’d never met a man yet who couldn’t be manipulated by his libido. He was still watching her as she swung down the steps and advanced toward him, holding her hand out in greeting.
“And you are … ?” she asked as she shook his firm, strong hand, gazing straight into his dark eyes with candid interest.
Something strange was going on in his face. For just a moment, he looked shocked and vulnerable, as though he’d been punched in the stomach, taken by surprise. Then a mask came down to veil the eyes, and the look was gone.
“Jack Masters,” he said slowly, keeping her hand a prisoner in his. His dark eyes were staring into her turquoise gaze, but he seemed to be taking in all of her, not just the face.
“What’s your verdict, Mr. Masters?” she asked archly. “May I stow away on your boat?”
He didn’t answer, and his smile was unsettling. There was something a little too knowing there, as though he saw right through her. But he turned to Jeeters.
“Where are Miss Davis’s bags?” he asked as he finally released her hand.
Summer’s smile of thanks glittered in the sunlight. Relieved of the responsibility of carrying her own suitcases, she walked along ahead of the others, her high heeled sandals tapping along the boardwalk that led to the pier, making a lovely picture against the cloud-studded blue sky, her slinky skirt catching at her slim, naked legs, her silver-blonde hair flying in the breeze.
But her beauty never gave her much personal satisfaction. Most of the time it was merely another playing card in her deck; another tool to use in getting things done. The love and admiration it could kindle had never interested her much. From what she’d seen, that sort of thing never went very far anyway.
Jack reached out to help her board the gleaming ketch, but she slipped off her sandals and jumped aboard by herself. Now that she had her transportation, she’d lost interest in making any more effort toward charming him, and she’d probably seen as many nautical miles as he had.
Her father had been generous, and every summer while growing up had been spent at Gulf Coast resorts or in the Bahamas, mostly on or in the water. At sixteen, he’d given her a racing sloop. She wondered now what had ever happened to it. Had it been sold, with all the rest of her more extravagant possessions, when her Daddy had died, two years before?
Hard to remember what had happened to all those things. She’d been too busy trying to control an oil company since then. It did tend to take up all her time and mental energy.
They waved good-bye to Jeeter, and Summer was disappointed when Jack opened up the diesel engine. Forgetting all about her hurry of ten minutes before, she wished they could use the power of the wind to carry them to the tropical island that she was afraid would have to be her home for the next six months.
Looking back, she couldn’t help but be moved by the stunning beauty of the island they were leaving. The little harbor was almost invisible now, and all that she could see was the steep landfall which ended abruptly at the tiny strip of sandy beach. The mountain, covered with lush green jungle, jutted high into the crystal blue, a dark, primeval challenge to the sea and sky.
“Your first trip to the tropics?”
She tu
rned back to her dark companion, surprised by his sudden speech after such a long silence.
“No,” she said shortly. “But it is the first I’ve made to Samoa.”
He didn’t look at her, occupied as he was with the dials and gauges, and his next question was casual. But she had an immediate feeling that the answer was somehow important to him.
“What made you pick Lelei as a place to stay?”
She shot him a sharp glance. “Is it such a strange choice?”
He chuckled. “Frankly, yes. It’s more or less a private island. There are no facilities for tourists.”
She sighed. “I have a friend there.”
“Ah.” And when she didn’t elaborate, “and who might that be?”
She hesitated long enough to let him know she considered it none of his business, but she really saw no reason to keep the answer from him.
“Karl Benson. Do you know him?”
“Yes.”
He was finished with his controls and leaned back to look at her, his head tilted, the dark hair falling over one eyebrow, his eyes half closed. “I must admit that your answer puzzles me. You don’t seem like the Karl Benson type.”
“Oh?” Her tone was brittle. “Why not?”
A mirthless grin spread across his wide mouth. “You can run rings around him, and you know it.”
What an odd thing to say! Not to mention, impolite. She stared at him, wondering why he thought he could talk to her like that when he’d only barely met her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied indignantly. “Anyway, how do you know I’m not his sister, or his cousin?”
His grin was lopsided with confidence. “Are you?”
“No,” she said grudgingly. “But there was no way you could have known that.”
He laughed. “Call it masculine intuition.”