Hamptons Heartbreak: A Sizzling Summer Romance (A New York City Romance Book 4)

by Tara Leigh

  “I did. But I’m not anymore. If I can help someone else build a better life for themselves, for their families, that’s what I want to do.”

  “How sweet. You care so much about people you’ve never met, but the one who was there for you, who loved you for years, you dropped like a hot rock the second you sold your company and became a billionaire.”

  “That’s not why we broke up and you know it.”

  “We? We did not break up. You broke up with me. And now . . . what? You just want to give all your money away to people who have no idea what do with it.”

  “That’s the point. We’re not giving them money, we’re teaching them how to responsibly—”

  “Save your elevator speech for Jacob.” She drags a fingernail down my forearm. “Maybe I can put in a good word for you. Then again, maybe I should put in a bad one.”

  I move just out of reach. “You do whatever you have to do, Missy.”

  “Are you sure about that? Because if word gets out that Jacob Morgan turned you down . . . Well, you know the Hamptons. Gossip shuts more doors around here than wind coming off the ocean, that’s for sure.”

  Chapter 29

  Vivienne

  I almost high-five myself in the bathroom. Lance and I are slaying it out there. And, the crazy thing is, I’m having a great time. Lance has been attentive and charming. And other than a few openly jealous glares from some of the women here, everyone has been lovely.

  I can do this. I can hold my own with this A-list crowd.

  I’m finally realizing how much I allowed Richard to get into my head. Convincing me that I wasn’t good enough for him, that I would never fit in with his friends. That I was only, and always would be, the hired help.

  I take a few extra minutes to wander around the main floor of this gorgeous house, absorbing all the elegant details, the expensive art. It’s a little formal for my taste, showy rather than welcoming. But I appreciate the dramatic color palette and high-end finishes. It’s obvious that no expense was spared.

  Eventually I make my way back outside, accepting a fruity cocktail from a passing waiter before looking around for Lance. I spot him immediately. How can I not? My Viking towers head and shoulders above almost everyone. When I left, he was speaking with a man in a pink polo shirt. But now, he’s bent low in conversation with a blonde in a cobalt-blue dress. A very beautiful blonde with a flawless figure.

  A prickling, entirely unwelcome sensation claws at the base of my spine. I want to grab hold of her sleek bob and send her sprawling. Hands off my man.

  Except that Lance isn’t really mine.

  And acting like a jealous shrew is hardly an appropriate reaction among the Hamptons’ elite.

  Sliding my arm through Lance’s elbow, I press a quick kiss along his jaw, noting the lipstick mark I leave behind with a tug of satisfaction. “I can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I?” I murmur sweetly, then turn my eyes on the blonde.

  Her stare is icy when it meets mine. The flirtatious smile she’d aimed at Lance turning thin and brittle. “That’s probably a good idea. Though I’d be more concerned about him leaving you. Lance Welles is good at just about everything, except commitment. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to find my fiancé.” She reaches out a sculpted arm to squeeze Lance’s shoulder, her eyes locking on mine as she plants a kiss on Lance’s cheek, purposely leaving her own mark behind.

  I rein in my temper as I watch her walk away, then wipe at her lipstick stain with my thumb. “Who was that?”

  He grunts, a vein at his temple pulsing. “No one important.”

  “Ah, we finally meet. You must be Vivienne.” Another beautiful blonde comes toward us, but her smile is genuine. And very familiar.

  “Jolie.” The name emerges from my throat with a hushed kind of reverence. Jolie graced the covers of magazines for the better part of a decade before walking away from it all to start her own business—a line of jewelry I absolutely love.

  I slap a hand over my throat, realizing that the necklace I’m wearing is hers.

  Luckily, she doesn’t assume I’m a stalker. Instead, she tells me she likes my necklace with a wink. As if we have an inside joke.

  I’m not celebrity-obsessed. I never bother famous people for their autographs or a selfie. But inside, I’m having a major fangirl moment. “Thanks,” I manage to squeak. “I would tell you where to get one, but I think that would be pretty redundant.”

  She lets out a warm, throaty laugh that seems almost at odds with her delicate features. “To be honest, that necklace has already sold out. I forgot to have my production manager set one aside for me.”

  Oh. Now I feel awkward. “Do you want—”

  “Don’t be silly,” she rushes to reassure me. “The thrill of seeing my pieces out in the world never gets old.”

  A man I immediately recognize as Jolie’s husband appears at her side, his hand easily sliding around her waist as he drops a kiss on her neck. I know their whole backstory. It was all over the news when he took out a full-page ad in the New York Times a year or so ago. But right now, all of that pales in comparison to the electric buzz of their obvious chemistry.

  “Tripp Montgomery,” he says, extending a hand.

  “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” he says.

  Jolie jumps in. “So, Lance has told us next to nothing about you. I’m not much of a party-goer these days, between the business and the new baby and everything, I’ve been practically a hermit. But please tell me you’ll drag Lance with you over to our place. My friend Eva came out with her twins and she’s watching our two right now. We were just on our way out when I spotted you.”

  I look back and forth between Lance and the dazzling couple. He explains. “Tripp is one of my oldest friends, and my business partner.”

  “Oh.” I can practically feel Savannah digging an elbow into my ribs. See, Viv? This is why you always, always Google. “Um, sure. I mean, yes. Of course. We’d love to.”

  She clinks the rim of her glass against mine and takes a sip. “I just stopped nursing Joey a few weeks ago. I miss it, but the coffee and cocktails are a nice consolation.”

  “How is being a mom again after all this time?”

  Her smile turns dreamy. “Honestly, it’s heaven on earth. Even with the sleepless nights and diaper blowouts and trying to be everything to an infant, a tween, a husband, and a growing company.”

  I’m exhausted just thinking about it. “You certainly have a lot on your plate.”

  “Well, there was a time when I wasn’t even welcome at the table.” She leans her head on her husband’s shoulder, currently engaged in a quiet conversation with Lance. “I’ll take feast over famine any day. How about you, what brought you out East? Besides your boyfriend, of course,” she adds with a grin.

  A flush rises to my cheeks. It feels wrong to lie to Jolie after she’s been so open with me. I decide to keep things vague. “What’s not to love about the sun and the sand, right?”

  She glances at my skin, which tends to burn rather than tan. “I can’t imagine you’re spending all your time just lying on the beach.”

  “No. I’ve been redecorating mostly.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Lance said you were an interior designer. My second passion. When I was starting to think about ideas for a company, I initially considered designing textiles.”

  “Really? That was my area of focus at FIT. I worked for one of the big fabric houses for a year, but it wasn’t nearly as creative as I’d expected.”

  She nods sympathetically. “And that’s when you switched to interiors?”

  “Kind of. I joined a successful design firm, but I spent the first year doing mostly grunt work. Ordering fabric swatches, checking costs and measurements and inventories. Fetching a lot of coffee.” I make a rueful face. “But eventually, it was pretty great.”

  “Are you still with them?”

  “Ah, no. I left my job just before summer.” I peer into my cocktail gla
ss before finishing the last of it. “I guess I’m not quite sure what the future holds right now.”

  As if sensing my unease, Jolie inclines her head toward Lance. “Well, if my roller coaster of a life is any indication, navigating the twists and turns is much better with love in your heart and a supportive man by your side.”

  Lance’s chiseled features soften as we share a glance, his casual grin turning intimate. “Yes,” I breathe softly, unable to look away from him. “I can imagine.”

  My heart pounds as Tripp and Jolie say their goodbyes, refusing to follow the script of the role I’ve agreed to play. What I’m feeling for Lance isn’t fake. It’s all too real.

  And so very wrong.

  Lance has made his intentions quite clear. One house. Two months. Countless lies.

  Love is not part of the equation.

  And forever isn’t even a possibility.

  Chapter 30

  Lance

  38 DAYS UNTIL LABOR DAY

  The ball sails past me, and I chase it into the water, soaking the hem of my khakis. Not that I care.

  This evening has been just about perfect. I have a beer in my hand, a burger in my belly, and Vivienne is just a few feet away.

  Life is good.

  I kick the soccer ball down the beach toward Tripp’s daughter, Romy, and glance up at the deck of the house where Vivienne and Jolie are sitting and watching us. Joey is on Vivienne’s lap, and she waves his chubby baby hands at me.

  Wham! The ball comes out of nowhere and smacks my head.

  Romy comes running. “Mr. Welles, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were looking away.”

  Tripp jogs over, nudging me with his elbow. “Not your fault. Mr. Welles here is a little distracted. With any luck, you’ve knocked some sense into him.”

  A few minutes ago I told him the truth about Vivienne. His disapproval was obvious, but he couldn’t do much more than shake his head. After all, just a few years ago, he was lying to Jolie about his own name.

  I rub my ear, feeling a redness to my face that has nothing to do with the impact of the soccer ball. I grin at Romy. “No harm, no foul.”

  Her laugh is carried away by the ocean breeze as she looks from me to her father. “Can I go over to Zoe’s house? She said I could feed her bearded dragon.”

  “If it’s okay with your m—”

  Tripp hasn’t finished answering Romy’s question before she runs toward the house, shouts something at Jolie, and then takes off down the beach. I stay silent as Tripp’s eyes track his daughter until she meets up with another girl, a couple of houses down and they go inside together.

  He releases a deep exhale. “Of all the things I do every day, watching that little girl run away from me is always the hardest.”

  “I can’t even imagine.” Tripp and I are about the same age, and yet, he has a wife, an almost teenager, and an infant.

  “Maybe you should start. Or that’s what you’ll be doing with Vivienne next month.” At my scowl, he lifts his empty beer. “Want another one?”

  “Sure.”

  I follow him across the sand and up the steps of his deck. He grabs two bottles from the outdoor kitchen, hands one to me, and we join his wife and Vivienne.

  “How’s your head?” Jolie asks, a knowing smile perched on her lips.

  “Exactly how it should be after taking my eye off the ball.”

  “I don’t know about that.” She glances at Vivienne. “Seems to me you had your eyes on something more important.”

  Vivienne’s cheeks flush pink, and she looks down at Joey, tickling his belly. The baby laughs, immediately dissolving the tension that had crept in.

  “Best sound in the world,” Tripp murmurs, planting a lingering kiss on Jolie’s head. There is an easy affection between Tripp and Jolie, but it’s noticeably underscored by their deep connection.

  An unexpected bolt of longing stabs the back of my neck and travels the length of my spine. Envy for what these two have found in each other. Desire for the life they’ve created together.

  And very little hope I’ll ever have it myself.

  “Is he always this happy?” Joey is holding one of Vivienne’s fingers in each of his fists, a gummy grin stretching between his cheeks.

  “No,” Jolie says emphatically, her hand squeezing Tripp’s thigh as she leans against him. “He didn’t sleep more than two hours at a stretch for months, and if he wasn’t nursing or sleeping, he was screaming. That phase of my life is just one long blur.”

  “I bought a treadmill desk, so I could strap him into a baby carrier and get some work done,” Tripp adds. The surprise must show on my face because he laughs. “I think we may be the only dual career parents on the Forbes 400 list who refuse to hire full-time help with their kids, but . . . ”

  “After losing so much of Romy’s childhood, neither one of us is willing to sacrifice any more than we already have. We make it work.”

  “You make it look easy,” Vivienne says.

  Jolie laughs the comment off. “You haven’t spent enough time with us. I’m sure I wasn’t too cute at four a.m. this morning when Joey peed on me while I was changing his diaper.”

  Tripp throws his arm around her. “I beg to differ.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Only because I had to take my top off.”

  “That didn’t hurt.”

  I finish the rest of my beer and put the glass down on the table. My brain is completely scattered right now. Vivienne is right—Tripp and Jolie make their complicated lives seem easy. “On that note, we should probably head out.”

  Jolie looks disappointed. “Oh no, I hope we didn’t scare you off.”

  Vivienne stands up and hands the baby back to Jolie. “Don’t worry. I assure you, it takes more than talk of topless women to scare Lance off.”

  “Good. Because you need to come back. We’re planning to renovate the house over the winter, so I’ve been working with a design team on the plans. They were out here last week taking measurements and things.” Jolie looks appealingly at Vivienne. “We’re still going back and forth with the architectural details, but I’d love to get your impression on the mood boards and fabric swatches they’re sending this week. I still have baby brain, and I’m worried I’ll wind up with a house that looks like a little boy’s nursery.”

  “Are you sure?” Vivienne asks. “I wouldn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. Most designers are very touchy about the opinions of anyone other than their clients.”

  “Don’t worry about that. It will be our secret.”

  Vivienne forces an amenable smile, but I can read her thoughts.

  Just what we need. More secrets.

  Chapter 31

  Lance

  37 DAYS UNTIL LABOR DAY

  As I slow to a walk after a punishing run along the beach, I strip off my sneakers and shorts and make use of the outdoor shower on the side of the house. After rinsing off the sweat I’d worked up, I decide to cool down with a few laps in the pool.

  It’s impossible not to remember the night I spent with Vivienne here. There are a dozen jets of water arranged along the interior walls of the pool, but every time I swim past one in particular, I swear the pressure hits me like a fire hose.

  The benefit of a hard workout is a clear head, but I’ve had little clarity since meeting Vivienne.

  And absolutely no problem getting hard.

  Ten laps, twenty laps. Thirty. Fifty.

  I swim until my lungs are working overtime, my brain consumed with each stroke, each breath, each flip turn.

  When I finally decide I’ve had enough, instead of hitting the wall, my hands slide over something much softer and smoother.

  I open my eyes. Vivienne’s calves are dangling in the water, her knees at eye level. I don’t even think. I’m running on the dregs of adrenaline, and my brain is on autopilot.

  My hands quickly part her legs and then slide back along the sides of her thighs, my palms curving over her ass and shifting her forward. “I
’m fucking starving for you, Red.” I have just enough self-control to dare a glance at her face. Vivienne’s expression is caught somewhere between startled and very, very aroused. “Please, let me taste you.”

  “We shouldn’t,” she whispers.

  “Nothing else. Just this. Just my mouth on your pussy. Tell me you don’t want it as much as I do.”

  “It’s not about what I want, it’s—”

  “Yes, it is. Life is so fucking short, Vivienne. And I’ve never wanted a woman more than I want you.”

  Each word is a spark thrown at the dry kindling of Vivienne’s desire. Hoping it will catch fire and build a blaze hot enough to melt the last of her resistance. I don’t intend to do anything else. But I need to feel her come apart in my arms. Need to hear her sweet little cries of pleasure.

  I need to know that I didn’t completely destroy what we had before turning her into my employee. Before my money landed in her account. Before all our lies.

  I see the heat in her gaze as she gives a shallow nod of assent, then leans back on her palms, her head falling back, hair fluttering around her wrists like henna-colored ink.

  I take a second to appreciate the little sundress she’s wearing. It covers everywhere it’s supposed to and yet manages to have me drooling. I flick the hem toward her waist, revealing a translucent triangle of white lace. Jesus.

  Sexy and sweet woven together into one tiny piece of fabric.

  I slide my chin along the inside of Vivienne’s thighs, her sharp intake of breath like a lightning rod to my balls. Her sweet scent fills my nose, expanding inside my lungs and rushing straight to my dick.

  I give in to the need to taste her, pressing my tongue against the lace and swiping up.

  I licked it, so it’s mine.

  Fuck, yes. Vivienne is mine.