He’d just looked at her and sighed. “Ah, Summer,” he said. “You’re the last Elliott that I’d have expected to even think about doing something like this.”
“I know,” she’d said somewhat guiltily. She knew that, no matter how lightheartedly Shane had taken Granddad’s challenge up to now, he probably wouldn’t mind winning, and she’d just announced a potential setback for The Buzz in the race among EPH magazines.
Shane had finally waved her out of his office. “Okay, kid, go get your man, and good luck to you. Never say that I stood in the way of true love.”
“Thanks, Uncle Shane!” she’d said gratefully, then kissed him on the cheek before beating a hasty retreat.
And now, here she was at Zeke’s concert, the moment of truth soon to be upon her.
On stage, Zeke flashed a grin at the audience as he took a break between songs. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
The crowd hooted and hollered.
“Are you ready?”
The audience responded even more loudly.
Zeke slung the strap of his guitar over his neck. “For the grand finale, I’m going to unveil a new song just for you.”
The crowd went wild as the music struck up.
Zeke played some notes experimentally. “It’s called ‘Days of Sunshine and Summer.’”
Summer froze in mid-clap. He didn’t…He hadn’t…The title was just a coincidence, she told herself. Surely, he meant the season, and not the woman. Not her. Surely, he hadn’t written a song about their breakup—a song that he was about to play for the thousands of people around her.
Zeke nodded to the band behind him, then launched into a ballad of heated intensity about unexpected love. The song was a play on the word summer, so that it seemed as if the woman that he sang about was the same as the season: hot, bright and uplifting. “Summer she called to me/Sunny and inviting as a beautiful day,” he sang.
Summer held her breath. The song didn’t contain a word about heartbreak or betrayal or breakup. Its mood was upbeat and inspiring. And, if the words of the song were true, then Zeke loved summer—loved her.
The song brought tears to her eyes. There was no way that Zeke could know she was in the audience. Had he just used their romance—however brief it had been—to fuel his songwriting? Or, as she wanted to believe, were the words of his song true and heartfelt?
When the final notes of the song drifted away, Zeke seemed to look straight at her, and this time Summer could swear she wasn’t wrong.
Moving to the microphone, he said, “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Summer.”
Before she could blink, a spotlight shone on her. Under other circumstances, Summer was sure she would have reacted like a deer caught in headlights. But right now, her gaze was captured and held by the look on Zeke’s face.
Zeke held out his hand to her. “Summer, come on up here.”
Crazy as it was, it seemed that only she and Zeke existed, and her feet impelled her toward him.
She walked up onto the stage, the security guards making way for her. Her gaze was fixed on Zeke, the periphery of her vision a blur.
When she finally reached him, he took hold of her hand. The look on his face stole her breath. It was heated and adoring, and it contained just a touch of mischief.
He cast a sidelong look at the audience. “Sorry to embarrass you like this, sweetheart,” he said, sounding not the least bit apologetic.
The crowd laughed.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
He gazed into her eyes and whispered back, “Do you love me?”
“Yes,” she answered. She didn’t have to think about it.
To the audience, he said, “She loves me.”
In response, there was whooping and laughter and clapping.
“You crazy man,” she said, trying to keep her voice low enough not to be picked up by the mike in front of him. “What are you doing? Your career—”
He silenced her with a passionate kiss that had the crowd clapping and laughing some more.
Summer clung to him. The kiss quickly brought forth the electricity that always crackled between them.
When he lifted his head and let her go, she watched in disbelief as he sank down on one knee and pulled a ring from his pocket, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Summer, I love you. Will you marry me?”
Her hands flew over her mouth, and tears welled in her eyes.
There were several calls from the audience of “Say yes!” And this time Summer knew there wasn’t a doubt in her heart.
Lowering her hands, she cried, “Yes!”
Zeke beamed at her, his face breaking into a grin.
He took her trembling hand and slipped onto her finger an antique band with a diamond flanked by two emeralds. Then he stood up, gathered her into his arms and bent her backward for a deep kiss.
When they broke apart, he flashed her a grin. “I hope you don’t mind the PDAs.”
“The new Summer Elliott likes public displays of affection a lot,” she responded breathlessly.
Minutes later, in the privacy of Zeke’s dressing room, Summer found herself in Zeke’s arms.
“How did you even know I was in the audience?” she asked, resting her hands on his chest.
Zeke nibbled at her lips. “Mmm…Shane told me.”
Her eyes widened. “He did?” Because her voice sounded squeaky, she tried again. “I mean, he did?” She didn’t know whether to thank her uncle or not.
Laughter lurked in Zeke’s eyes. “How else do you think he got his hands on a press pass and a last-minute ticket for one of the better seats in the house? The concert’s been sold out for a while.”
Summer’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What did he say, exactly?”
“Exactly? I don’t remember.”
She swatted him playfully. “Try.”
A smile hovered at the corners of his lips. “He didn’t say too much. He just said you were desperately looking for a ticket and a press pass in order to get backstage to see me.” He added, “Given how things had ended between us, Shane’s call was enough to make me hope you weren’t showing up just to put the final nail in the coffin of our relationship.”
“He used the word desperate?”
Zeke laughed. “You look like you’re not sure whether to give Shane an earful.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I’m sure he was just trying to help, and, you know, everything turned out well in the end.” He gave her a quick kiss. “Just out of curiosity, though, if I hadn’t called you on stage and proposed—”
“Yes, that was a surprise. In front of all those people, Zeke!”
He grinned unapologetically. “But if I hadn’t done it, what were you planning to do?”
“Get backstage, lock you in your dressing room and refuse to let you out until you realized our relationship deserved a real chance.”
“I’ve known that all along.”
“But Marty said—”
“I know what Marty said. Forget it.” For a second, Zeke looked fierce.
“You do? How do you know what he said?”
Zeke relaxed his hold on her. “He stopped by the house on Thursday, and his conversation with you came up.” Zeke shrugged. “Let’s just say Marty and I had a parting of the ways.”
Summer’s eyes widened. “What? Zeke, no. Not because of me.”
“It wasn’t just because of you, Summer, though that brought it to a head. Marty and I have been drifting in different directions. He thought I should concentrate on being a sex-symbol rock star, but songwriting is my real passion.”
Zeke stepped back, letting her go. “After this international tour is over at the end of the year, I’m settling down in one place for a while.” His lips turned up at one side. “I guess New York City is as good a place as any.”
She moved toward him. “Zeke, you don’t have to do that on my account. I know I said I didn’t want to be on the road all the time, but—” sh
e bit her lip “—that’s because I was so hurt when I thought you were just using me to get through your songwriting block.”
His smile widened. “Too late. I’ve signed up to do the songwriting for a musical that’s being put together by one of the biggest producers on Broadway. That’ll be my next big commitment after I fulfill my contract by recording another CD.”
She clapped her hands. “Oh, Zeke! I’m so happy for you!”
He shrugged. “Writing for the Broadway show is an offer that I’ve been toying with for a while. I was approached about it a couple of months ago, but Marty hated the idea, and at the time, I wasn’t prepared to part ways with him.”
His gaze softened as he looked down at her. “Besides, doing Broadway will give me some time closer to my parents. And,” he teased, “I’m assuming you’ll want me in New York for the wedding.”
“Of course!” She gazed down at the ring that he’d given her and said, “The ring is perfect.”
“I’m glad you like it. I thought you’d like something old and unique. The emeralds remind me of your Irish eyes.”
She looked up at him. “I didn’t think you were ready to settle down.”
“I realized I was waiting for the right woman to come along,” he said thoughtfully. “The rest was just a public image carefully cultivated by Marty supposedly for the sake of my career.”
She nodded, her heart catching on the words the right woman.
“It’s true that the photo of Daphne was my songwriting inspiration after a dry spell,” he said. “In fact, the photo inspired ‘Beautiful in My Arms.’”
“I love that song!” she said. She loved it even more now that she knew the song was about Daphne—or, rather, her.
“Yeah, well,” he said, looking amused, “I composed it after a particularly hot dream about Daphne—er, you.”
She laughed.
“Of course, after that,” he went on, “I couldn’t get another song written—until I met you. I’d been dreaming about another song but I couldn’t seem to hold on to it when I woke up. But when I was around you, the song started coming to me, and last weekend I finally wrote ‘Days of Sunshine and Summer.’”
His eyes held hers. “You may have started out as my muse, but you became so much more than that.”
“Oh,” she said, caught by the look on his face.
His hands clasped her loosely around the waist. “Given the way the fans reacted to the marriage proposal tonight, I’ve got to wonder whether Marty was a little narrow-minded about what was good for my career.”
She laughed. “How ironic.”
He looked confused. “What is?”
“That just when you’re ready to settle down, I’m planning to give notice to Shane that I’m taking a leave of absence from The Buzz and EPH—probably in anticipation of my eventual resignation. In fact, I’ve already hinted as much to him.”
A look of surprise crossed his face. “What?”
“How else am I supposed to follow you as you travel the world?”
“Aw, Summer.” He kissed her, and when the kiss threatened to become deeper, he pulled back and looked at her soberly. “I hope you’re not taking the leave just because of me.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s for me, too. I finally decided to give myself permission to pursue what I really want. You…and photography.”
“Good for you.”
“Thanks. I’m going to freelance, which should give me maximum flexibility for planning a wedding and spending time with you.” She shrugged. “Maybe some of my work will end up in EPH’s magazines. I think Shane would be open to acquiring some of my photos.”
“Sure. I know I would.”
“You’re not exactly unbiased,” she joked, then added more somberly, “I wonder how Granddad will take the news.”
“Something tells me, better than you think.”
Summer looked at him in surprise. “What makes you say that?”
“It would be hypocritical of him to do otherwise, don’t you think? After all, he went off and pursued his dream.”
“Mmm.” It was only recently that she’d come to look at matters the same way herself.
“You know,” Zeke continued, “I wondered whether working your way up at EPH was another way of pleasing your family, just like getting engaged to John was.”
“It may have been,” she said. “My grandparents sort of stepped into the shoes of my parents after the plane crash. Instead of trying to please parents, I was trying to please grandparents.”
Zeke nodded. “Maybe your preoccupation with planning stems from the plane crash. You know, it’s an attempt to impose order and predictability on life, which you learned at an early age can be surprising and scary.”
His insightfulness surprised her, though she supposed it shouldn’t anymore.
“Anyway,” he said teasingly, “I guess you wound up sticking to your five-year plan after all.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll be getting married by twenty-six.”
When she realized he was right, she wanted to laugh.
He pulled her closer. “Tell me again that you love me,” he murmured.
“Every day,” she said just before his lips met hers.
Then there was no more talking. Instead, she gave herself up to the happiness that she’d discovered in his arms.
SUSAN CROSBY
The Forbidden Twin
Published by Silhouette Books
America’s Publisher of Contemporary Romance
For Mabel, a woman of grace and humor.
Mom knew best.
Acknowledgment:
Special thanks and acknowledgment are
given to Susan Crosby for her contribution
to THE ELLIOTTS miniseries.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
One
Early March
John Harlan clutched a two-carat, brilliant-cut diamond engagement ring in one hand and a Glenfiddich on the rocks in the other, his third in the past hour. Cold had settled in his bones, his heart, his soul. It probably didn’t help that he hadn’t turned on the heat or even a lamp since night fell hours ago. Only the lights of New York City through his huge picture window illuminated his living room, making a hazy silhouette of the bottle of scotch on the coffee table. What more did he need to see than that, anyway?
A few hours ago his fiancée—former fiancée—had gently placed the diamond ring in his palm. He hadn’t let go since.
John had thought he knew and understood Summer Elliott. She was goal-oriented and orderly, like him, and together they were dynamic, a power couple with great lineage and an amazing future. At twenty-nine, he was at a perfect age for marriage, and at a perfect point in his career at his advertising agency. Everything according to schedule.
She’d ended all possibility of a future together that afternoon.
He hadn’t seen it coming.
They’d dated for months, long enough to know the relationship worked. They’d gotten engaged less than three weeks ago, on Valentine’s Day, appropriately, romantically. And now, while he’d been in Chicago working with a new client this past week, she’d found herself another man—a rock star, of all people. Calm, sedate Summer Elliott, the woman whose personality matched his, had found herself a rock star.
John downed his scotch, relished the burn and was contemplating another when the doorbell rang. He didn’t move. The bell rang again. He picked up the bottle and poured, the ice from the previous drink almost melted. Knuckles rapped on the
door, and a female voice called his name.
Summer? No. She wouldn’t come here.
Curious, however, he set the glass on the table and stood, taking a moment to shove his fingers through his hair and to find his balance. Although it was uncharacteristic of him to have more than a glass or two of wine in an evening, he wasn’t drunk. At least he didn’t think so, maybe just slightly off-kilter.
He opened his door and did a double take at the sight of Summer standing at the elevator ten feet away, her back to him.
“What are you doing?” he asked, squinting against the light and stepping into the hall just as the elevator pinged, indicating its arrival on the fifteenth floor, his floor.
She spun to face him but said nothing. He registered that she looked different in her short red dress, but couldn’t put his finger on exactly why. Her scintillating light auburn air caught the light, the soft, natural curl caressing her shoulders and drifting down her back. Her light green eyes were focused directly on him, her expression open and caring. Caring? Why should she care? She’d dumped him. Unceremoniously. Emotionlessly.
Which pretty much defined their relationship. Emotionless. Sexless. A partnership with a future based on a solid friendship and healthy respect for each other, if without passion. But he’d loved her and believed she’d loved him. He’d always figured the passion part would fall into place at some point, and had respected her wishes to save herself for the marriage bed.
Had she realized her mistake in breaking it off with him? Was that why she was here?
Why wasn’t she talking? She’d come to see him, after all.
“Are you here to apologize?” he asked. Did he want her to apologize?
“Made a mistake,” she said so low he could barely hear her. She walked toward him, her hand outstretched. “A big mistake.” Her fingertips grazed his chest, then she pulled back as if burned, curling her fingers into a fist that she pressed against her heart.
Dynasties: The Elliotts, Books 1-6 Page 39