by Ivy Layne
"You knew Maxwell was alive, didn't you?" I was getting tired of his protests of innocence. Maybe I wasn't entirely sure of Evers, but I knew my dad wasn't on the level.
"Hell, they already know he's not dead. It isn't exactly news," he said, dismissing Maxwell's return to life as if it were no big deal.
"It was news to them," I snapped. "Having it confirmed would be helpful. Anything would be helpful. Anything other than sitting out here drinking and chain-smoking."
"Summer, you're wasting your time. I can't help you. I can't help your boy. The longer you hang around thinking he's going to come through for you, the harder the fall will be when he walks away. Trust me. I'm your dad. I'm looking out for you."
I pushed myself out of the chair and walked down the steps of the terrace to pick up the cigarette butt he'd flipped in the flower bed. He hadn't changed, and he never would. If I could have thought of a better place to stash him than Rycroft Castle, I would have taken it.
Instead, I said, "I have to find Cynthia and see what she needs. Dinner is at seven. Try to stay out of trouble."
Chapter Twenty-Six
Summer
Smokey staying out of trouble wasn't likely, but I could hope. Cynthia kept me busy for the rest of the afternoon, going over social media accounts, approving scheduled posts, editing video showing her training for the upcoming movie. Her phone rang repeatedly, but she didn't answer.
Usually, when she had a call she didn't want to deal with she passed the phone off to me, but she didn't do that either. I was curious, but I couldn't think of a good reason to take a look at her phone.
I kept my curiosity buttoned-down and focused on work. When we were done, I said, "Are you sure it's okay if my dad stays here? We can make other arrangements. It's totally inappropriate—"
"Summer, it's fine. Evers is making up for any inconvenience, and I know if your father goes somewhere else, so will Evers. I don't know the details, and I'm not asking you to tell me, but whatever's going on has his attention. I feel better if he's running security here, so if that means your father stays, your father stays. If he were dangerous, Evers wouldn't have let him through the door."
"He's not dangerous," I said immediately. Reconsidering, I added, "Unless you have a bag of weed somewhere in the house, because if you do, I guarantee he will sniff it out."
Cynthia laughed, the sound light and clear as a bell, reminding me how little I'd heard it from her lately. "No weed for me. Smoking is hell on the skin, and I haven't been a stupid young starlet for a lot of years. But don't remind me how many."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said with a smile. "You were an ingénue yesterday."
"You're a good friend, Summer," Cynthia said, suddenly serious, "so I'm going to give you some advice. Keep an eye out for your father. I know guys like him."
"Stoners?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood. Cynthia wouldn't be diverted.
"He's the guy who's always working an angle. The guy who causes trouble and leaves everyone else holding the bag."
I sighed.
"Am I wrong?" she asked. I shook my head. Cynthia went on, "You have a good thing going with Evers."
I glanced at her in surprise. I knew she'd set up their kiss, but we hadn't talked about it. Evers and I had left not long after to look for my father, and it hadn't come up since I'd been back.
"Evers is a good man, Summer. A really good man. And he's got it bad for you. He's hooked. I threw myself at him, and he wasn't even tempted. You and I both know that does not happen often."
She wasn't being arrogant. It was a fact.
Cynthia Stevens did not get turned down.
What man would say no to a screen goddess who was perfection from head to toe?
Only a man in love.
I didn't say anything, thinking about my father and Evers. About loyalty and love and stupid mistakes.
Cynthia said, "I don't mind if your dad stays here for now until you and Evers sort out what to do with him. But stay sharp. There are two men in this house who claim to have your best interests at heart, and only one of them really does."
"You barely know my dad," I protested, feeling like I had to stick up for my family.
"Honey, I know better than anyone how family can mess you up. You're loyal and you have a big heart. You want to see the good in the people you care about. It's one of your best qualities. Don't let it blind you. Be smart."
I let out a short sigh. I didn't want to admit she might be right. It was a hard thing to accept about my own dad.
Her phone rang again. Trying to change the subject, I said, "Is Clint trying to set up a meeting?"
"I'm putting him off," Cynthia said, pushing the phone across the table. "I promised I'd talk to him, and I will, but I need a few more days."
"He isn't taking it well?"
She looked at her phone wistfully. "Not exactly."
I couldn't think of anything to say except, "I'm sorry."
I was dreading dinner, sitting around the table with my father, Cynthia, Angie, Viggo, Evers, and Griffen. It wasn't the nightmare I anticipated. My dad managed to behave himself, telling only slightly off-color stories, mainly keeping the attention on me by recounting all of my embarrassing memories from childhood.
Thanks, Dad. I really needed my boss and my boyfriend to hear about the time I threw up backstage at the second grade spelling bee.
After dinner, Cynthia announced she was watching a movie in the theater and going to bed early. She claimed to be exhausted from training with Viggo, but the way she clutched her phone in her hand had me suspicious.
She'd said Clint was calling. She hadn't said if she'd answered. If they were talking. I looked between Evers and my dad. I knew who I wanted to spend the evening with, I just didn't know if I could.
"I want to check out this theater," Smokey said, making my decision easy. Cynthia smiled at him, an open, friendly smile that gave no hint of her reservations about my dad. Then again, Cynthia was an excellent actress. The best.
Sending me a quick look that told me I owed her one, she hooked her arm through Smokey's and led him from the dining room saying, "Why don't we order up some popcorn and snacks, make a night of it?"
Angie disappeared upstairs and Viggo trailed behind, an annoyed expression on his face. I could sympathize. I didn't know what he had going on with Cynthia, if anything, but I was pretty sure I knew what he'd hoped he'd have going on.
Smokey was in his way. Smokey was in everyone's way.
I sighed. Evers came up behind me and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me against him, resting his chin on the top of my head.
"You sure you don't want me to lock him in the safe room?"
"Am I a horrible person if I say I kinda do?"
"No. You're really not. One phone call and—"
"I can't lock my father up in your safe room, Evers," I said, hearing the edge in my voice and hating it. Evers’ arm tightened around my waist and he let out a short sigh of his own.
"Let's not think about your dad right now. Let's go swimming."
I turned in his arms and wound my arms around his neck. "Swimming? I could go swimming."
"I need to check in with the control room, make sure the shift change went well and everything's quiet. I'll meet you there."
We walked together down the hall to our rooms, my hand closed in his. I could almost pretend things were normal. Evers left me at the door to my room with a kiss and a promise to see me soon.
I stood in front of my dresser, thinking. I'd packed three bathing suits for my stay in Rycroft Castle. I liked to swim and had known the pool would be spectacular.
One suit was utilitarian, a racerback designed for swimming laps. The pool wasn't quite long enough for laps but almost. Close enough. The second suit was a striped tankini. Cute, but modest. Appropriate for swimming around my employer and her staff.
And the third… The third was that bathing suit every woman has that she buys on impulse and
then wonders what the hell she was thinking. The deep raspberry-pink bikini had a lot less fabric than any other bathing suit I'd ever worn. I'd bought it on a shopping trip with Julie after a two-margarita lunch at the mall.
Julie talked me into it, telling me I'd get every guy at the beach. We never found out because by the time we'd hit the beach later that summer, I'd taken one look at that bikini and shut it away in the drawer.
I'd never had the nerve to wear it. Rycroft Castle was probably the only place I'd ever swim in privacy. I didn't have my own pool. This was as close as I'd get. I'd thrown it in my bag thinking maybe I'd finally use it and justify buying it in the first place.
I snatched the bikini out of the drawer and told myself to stop thinking so much. Twisting my hair in a knot on the top of my head, I threw on the bikini and grabbed a short robe I'd packed exactly for this purpose. I wasn't shy, but I wasn't strolling through the castle in a bathing suit either.
I pushed open the doors to the pool to find the lights on but the room empty. Dropping my robe on a nearby lounge chair, I stuck a toe in the water. I hadn't had a chance to swim yet between the chaos of putting together the party, the break-in, and then going after my dad. For what was supposed to be a leisurely few months pampering Cynthia, this job was turning out to be anything but.
The pool was heated to the perfect temperature. I waded in and swam the length breaststroke, looking around. If I ignored the lounge chairs and the kitchen against the far wall, it wasn't hard to imagine I was in an ancient Roman spa.
The spacious room was fashioned from the same limestone as the exterior of Rycroft castle, the pool a long, cerulean rectangle, the blue of the water vibrant against all that creamy stone.
Wide, round pillars held up the ceiling which curved into a dome above the pool, painted with a mural of the night sky. I floated on my back and looked up into the stars, some of which were lit with tiny LED lights, sparkling against the deep midnight mural of the sky.
The pool was saltwater, filling the spa with the faint, fresh scent of the sea. Forget the rest of Rycroft Castle, I could live right here.
The door pushed open. Evers walked in wearing dark green swim trunks and nothing else. My heart beat faster as I took in all that smooth, tanned skin, the sprinkle of dark hairs on his chest, the ridges along his abdomen, the swell of his biceps.
I wanted to slide out of the pool and bite one of those firm calves, to work my way up every inch of that strong body until he was begging for more.
He came to a stop at the edge of the pool and said, "My own personal mermaid. Where the fuck has that bikini been my entire life?"
"In the back of my sock drawer, hidden away because I was too shy to wear it," I admitted.
Evers executed a perfect shallow dive off the side of the pool, skimming along the surface and coming to stop right in front of me.
I set my feet on the bottom and stood, reaching up to smooth his wet hair off his face, lost in the sparkle of water droplets on his thick dark eyelashes, the way his icy eyes picked up the blue of the pool.
He was so beautiful it was almost unreal. I traced a thumb along his cheekbone, the lush curve of his lower lip.
"Hi," I said, a little breathless.
Evers ran two fingers along my collarbone, reaching the hollow of my throat and dropping straight down between my breasts, tracing the curves almost spilling out of the raspberry bikini top.
"It's a good thing I have my own pool," he said, "because I could see you in this bathing suit every day, but if anyone else sees you in it I'll have to kill them."
"What about the security cameras?" I asked, suddenly remembering that every public space in Rycroft was monitored.
Evers shook his head. "Turned off in here. Just for now."
"Oh," was all I could say. Then his words registered. "You have a pool?"
Regret shadowed his eyes. "I should have brought you to my place before. Yeah, I have a pool. I like to swim. I think you'll like my house. It's no Rycroft Castle, but it's not bad. It's private." His hand dropped to cup one breast. I shifted closer. His erection brushed the front of my thigh. Heat spiked through my body.
"Private?" I breathed, my head swirling with all the things we could do with privacy and a pool.
Evers dipped his head, his lips on the curve of my ear. "Private," he promised. "Not too far from here. Set back in the woods. The house needs a little work."
He skimmed his lips along my jaw. I tilted my head to the side, giving him access to that spot below my ear that only Evers knew about. His mouth found its target, sending shivers rippling across my skin, the brush of his lips almost unbearably sweet as he repeated, "The house needs work, but the pool is fantastic."
"Sounds nice," I breathed.
He moved his mouth to the other side of my neck, nibbling, sucking lightly. I melted in his arms, my hand stroking over all of that smooth, warm, water-slick skin.
"When this is over, when we have time, I want you there. I want you in my pool in this bathing suit." He slid a finger under one of the narrow straps and tugged, sliding it off my shoulder. His lips on my neck, he mouthed, "In the suit and then in nothing at all."
"Skinny dipping?" I asked, intrigued. I'd never been skinny-dipping.
Evers smiled, his lips curving against my skin, and confirmed, "Definitely skinny-dipping."
He kissed me, and I forgot all about swimming.
Evers had me wound up with just a few words.
A few touches.
That, and all of his bare, water-slick skin.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Summer
Dizzy from his mouth on mine, the fantasies swirling in my head, I slipped my hand through the waistband of his trunks and gripped his cock. The hard length flexed in my grip. His kiss turned hungry.
My hand slid from his cock as he lifted me, backing me into the side of the pool. My legs twining around his hips, I braced my elbows on the edge, the arch of my back pressing my breasts into my bikini top, straining the thin fabric. Evers lifted one finger and hooked it in the narrow string between the cups. With a tug, my breasts spilled free.
Cool air rushed against my suddenly-hot skin. Evers' mouth dropped to my nipple, feasting with liquid, sucking pulls, drawing every bit of tension and pleasure to a tight, hot point, the echo pulsing in my clit.
My hips rolled, only two scraps of fabric between us. All he had to do was shove his trunks down, tug my bikini bottom to the side and—
I couldn't think. My fingers sank into his shoulders. He moved from one breast to the other, playing. Tasting. It felt so good. It all felt so fucking good. Slick heat built between my legs. I'd heard pool sex could be uncomfortable, but I was willing to give it a shot.
The idea of waiting one second longer to have Evers inside me was not going to work. I ground my pussy against the length of his cock, trying to reach his trunks so I could drag them down and free him.
He must have gotten the message. Without moving his mouth from my breast, he shoved his trunks down just enough, yanked the gusset of my bikini to the side, and nudged the head of his cock against my pussy, sliding and pressing, making sure I was ready before he drove himself home.
He thrust once hard, pushing me back, my elbow scraping the edge of the pool. At my quick intake of breath, Evers went still.
Lifting his head, the fog of lust clearing from his eyes, he muttered "Fuck."
"I'm okay. Don't stop."
To my grave disappointment, Evers withdrew from my body, sliding his trunks and my bathing suit back into place.
I felt the pout form on my face. I would happily take a few scrapes if it meant Evers would never stop fucking me.
"You look like someone just took her favorite toy," he said before sucking on my lower lip. I didn't have to see my face to know I looked sulky. I felt sulky.
"Someone did take my favorite toy."
"The doors are unlocked. I lost my head there for a second, but the doors are unlocked."
&
nbsp; How could I have forgotten that the doors were unlocked?
The doors to the spa didn't have locks, probably for safety reasons. Short of shoving the pool skimmer through the handles, there was no way to secure them closed.
Well, crap. That put a damper on my plans.
I was wrong.
Evers scooped me up into his arms and pushed through the water until we reached the stairs. Once we were out of the water, he headed straight for the changing room.
Such a smart man. The changing rooms did have locks.
Locks and a nicely padded divan. Why anyone would put a couch in a glorified bathroom was beyond me, but I wasn't going to complain. Somewhere between turning the locks and setting me on the divan, Evers lost his trunks. I was reaching for my bottoms when he dragged them down my legs, tossing them on the floor.
A heartbeat later he was filling me again, and I was whole. Nothing in my life had ever felt as good as Evers inside me. His long, strong body against mine. Surrounding me. A part of me.
That morning in the honeymoon cottage might have been a million years ago. My body was desperate for his. Evers rocked against me, my breasts pressed to his chest, the scratch of hair against my nipples sending fireworks sparking through my body, building the heat between my legs until my head was spinning.
I clutched Evers, my fingers wrapped around his biceps, my mouth on his neck, kissing, sucking, needing to taste him. To feel him everywhere.
There was so much I wasn't sure of, so much about him that scared the hell out of me, but not this. My heart wavered, afraid to trust, but my body had no such reservations. My most basic instincts shouted that Evers was mine.
I bit down on the cord of his neck as I came, sharp-edged bliss shattering, a keening wail torn from my chest, my thighs tight around him, trembling. It was all too much.
Pleasure, love, need. Such need I couldn't contain it. I embraced it and feared it, holding tight to everything I wanted, my forehead pressed to Evers' damp skin, my body pulsing around him.