"In you get."
"I'm s-so c-cold," she quaked as she struggled on to the seat. "I c-can't f-feel m-my hands or f-feet."
"I have a blanket in the back. Just hold on."
Slamming the door shut he hurried to open his tail gate, and grabbing the thick thermal rug he moved swiftly to the driver's side and climbed inside.
"I c-can't b-believe how b-bad it is."
"Here, put this over you," he said, handing her the blanket, "and the heater will soon warm you up."
He started up the powerful engine, hit the button to heat the seats, then sat for moment to catch his breath.
"L-Liam, I was s-so s-scared," she stammered, fresh tears spilling down her face.
"Of course you were, but you're safe now, and I think we should go back to my place. I'm not sure about drivin' all the way through town to your neck of the woods."
Rolling forward, he turned his car around, and worried that tree limbs might be littering the road he drove cautiously forward. His concern was justified. As they neared the tall gates fronting his driveway he had to maneuver around several branches blocking his path. The short drive had felt like forever, and when he finally pulled to a stop in his garage and the door closed behind him, he leaned back in his seat and let out a long breath.
"I still can't believe you found me," Summer said softly. The powerful heater and hot seats had worked their magic. Her teeth had stopped chattering and her voice, though thin, sounded almost normal. "You saved my life."
"I'm sure your parents would have sent someone to look for you."
"But not until tonight. I'm supposed to be here all day, remember? They would have assumed I was with you hunkering down. You did, Liam, you saved my life," she sniffled, fresh tears dribbling down her face.
"We'll get inside and you can take a hot bath," he said warmly, and pulling off his gloves he reached across the console and wiped away her tears.
"Liam, how will I ever be able to thank you?"
"Don't even think about that. I'm just glad you're safe."
CHAPTER THREE
Closing her eyes Summer sank into the warm foamy water. Even though she was safe and out of the wretched cold she could still feel the threat of tears. She was in a guest room, the one Liam's sister used when she visited, and Liam had told her to help herself to whatever she needed. There were clean clothes in the large chest of drawers and hanging in the closet, and there were plenty of creams and cosmetics in the bathroom cabinets. He'd also told her to slowly add hot water as her body thawed. Thawed! It had been an appropriate word. She'd felt as if she was a block of ice when she'd climbed into the tub.
She dunked her head back, then rising up she wiped her face and turned the hot faucet. Liam was her hero, and she hated herself for having deceived him. Would she ever be able to win back his trust? She doubted it. He'd been absolutely furious, and on top of that she'd slapped him!
She groaned as the memory washed over her. How could she have done such a thing? She'd never been spanked in her life, and she'd been stunned when he'd bent her over and smacked her, but in retrospect she knew she'd deserved every single swat.
"Liam," she mumbled, "if only you knew how much I care about you. I'm such an idiot, such a total fucking idiot."
She'd been in crush with Liam Taylor even before they'd met. He was as famous as his celebrity clients. He'd been labeled country music's answer to Simon Cowell. It was a fitting title. He had an uncanny ability to spot talented artists and develop them, and he also possessed Simon Cowell's unnerving penchant for stating the obvious, both good and bad.
When the rumor had spread that Liam Taylor had purchased a vacation home in the small town, Summer had been ecstatic. She knew he'd spent time there growing up but she'd never dreamed he'd return, and she simply had to find a way to sing for him. She'd had the vision. She was going to be a star.
Her visions were rare, but they were frighteningly accurate, and though they would float through her head during sleep, she knew what separated her precognitions from dreams. She'd inherited the gift from her father. She loved him deeply, and was immensely proud of him, but she hated that he would have to leave for months at a time. He was a Marine, a patriot with the need to fight for his country. When he was home they would sit on the tiny balcony he'd built for her off her bedroom window, and it was there she'd asked his advice.
"How do I meet Liam Taylor, dad? How can I sing for him?"
"Just knock on his door. What's the worst than can happen?"
"Knock on his door!" she'd exclaimed, completely aghast at the suggestion. "But that's impossible. First of all, there is no door, just a huge gate, and second of all, even if I did get lucky enough to see him what would I say?"
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Taylor. My name is Summer Brown. Everyone says I have a voice as strong as Adele's and as sweet as Taylor Swift's. Please may I sing for you? I think that's how you do it. Straightforward and honest."
"I couldn't…could I?"
"Hey, kitten, the man's always lookin' for talent, and you've got it! You've got it in spades. He sure isn't gonna hear you if you stay stuck in your bedroom wishin' and hopin'."
"You're right about that."
"Sometimes in life you gotta take a deep breath and go for it."
As she recalled the conversation she wanted to kick herself. Why hadn't she told Liam the reason behind her visit? The brave, determined, nothing's-going-to-stop-me Summer Brown had choked.
When he, personally, him, the amazing, talented, handsome Liam Taylor had been the one to answer the gate intercom, she'd been so shocked she'd heard herself say something she'd not even thought of.
"Hi, I wondered, since you just moved in, if you needed any help, like, a personal assistant kind of help."
She'd stammered her way through the lie. There'd been no response, but the gates had opened. She'd driven nervously up the sweeping driveway stopping beneath the portico, and when she'd stepped from her car he'd been standing at the open door. Seeing him in the flesh with his dazzling smile, looking ridiculously gorgeous, she had totally and completely lost her nerve.
The water was growing tepid but Summer didn't notice as she swallowed back the threat of fresh tears. She was crazy about a man who would probably fire her, she'd smashed up her car, but even worse, her dreams of singing for Liam, then the world, felt further away than ever. She'd wouldn't be singing anywhere except in the church choir for the rest of her days.
"I suppose I should be counting my blessings," she mumbled. "If he hadn't come along I'd still be in that car and frozen to death by now. I need to apologize profusely, thank him again for saving me, and when the storm's over I'll promise to never to bother him again."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
At the end of the hall, behind the double-doors that led into the master bedroom, Liam had stepped from a long hot shower and was toweling off. He was the king of long hot showers. It was where he did his best thinking. The water seemed to wash away the fog and crystalize his ideas. Even his office at his Nashville headquarters had a shower. If his secretary walked in and his desk chair was empty, she knew he'd be in the adjacent bathroom standing under a stream of steaming water.
The shower had done its job. He knew exactly what he needed to do and exactly how to do it, and he also understood why Summer had lied to him when she'd first arrived at his door. She'd been courageous enough to pull up to his gate, but once standing in front of him she'd lost her nerve.
Donning a comfortable pair of black slacks and a dark green sweater, he slipped his feet into moccasin slippers, then heading quickly down the stairs and into his den he checked his landline phone. It was dead. Though he'd assumed it would be it was still annoying. Moving behind his desk he powered up his computer, and fully expecting to find no internet he was pleasantly surprised to discover it was still working.
Sitting down he immediately sent an email to both Frank and Wally letting them know he was safe and at home, and that neither his cell nor h
is landline was functional. Disappointed he wouldn't be with his family for Christmas, he walked into the large living room and turned on the fire, then ambling into the kitchen he placed his mug under the built-in coffee maker and selected his brew of choice; French Dark Roast. Remembering Summer liked the mild Colombian he made a mug for her, dropped some whiskey in both, and topped them with fresh whipped cream. That was another of his indulgences. Heavy whipping cream. The real stuff. His favorite was from King Island in the South Pacific.
"I feel almost human again."
Summer's voice caught his attention, and turning around he saw her walking slowly towards him. She was dressed in a pale pink velvet sweat suit and thick, white woolly socks. Her hair, still wet from her bath, was falling in careless tendrils around her shoulders, and there was not a stitch of makeup on her face. She looked innocent and vulnerable, and absolutely gorgeous.
"You look a whole lot more than almost human," he said with a warm smile. "How do you feel?"
"Considering I almost froze to death I can't complain. My body is aching a bit, but otherwise I'm fine."
"I just made some coffee and there's a splash of whiskey in it. That should take the last of the chill from your bones."
"That sounds perfect, thank you," she said gratefully, picking up the mug and taking a sip. "A splash?"
"Okay, maybe a hair more than a splash."
"Are the phones working? I need to call home and let mom and dad know what happened."
"Sadly no, but the internet's still up. You can shoot him an email."
"Really? That's a surprise. Thank you, but I think I'll drink this first."
"Let's sit by the fire in the livin' room. There somethin' I need to talk with you about."
"Sure," she replied, but her heart began to sink. Was this going to be the, I'm sorry, Summer, I'll make sure you get home safe but your days here are over speech?
Walking through the elegant dining room and down the hall, they moved under the arch that led into the living room. It offered a cozy conversation pit around a large fireplace, and settling into the comfortable couch, Summer took a sip of dutch courage before placing her mug on the coffee table. She was ready. If he fired her, which she expected, she'd do her best not to cry, and make sure he knew she was deeply ashamed and very sorry.
"Have you made up your mind," she asked tentatively, "about me working here I mean?"
"I have, and I am gonna fire you."
CHAPTER FOUR
Though she'd been expecting it, the impact of his words left her feeling as if a fist had just landed in her gut, and in spite of promising herself she wouldn't cry, a burning brick of lava had sprung to life at the back of her throat.
"You have no idea how much I regret what I did," she managed, "and not just because I'm losing a job I love, but because I'm not a deceitful person and now you think I am. That's the worst thing of all. I could give you a bunch of excuses, but like my dad says, excuses can't change anything."
"Your dad sounds like a smart guy, but I'm not firin' you 'cos you lied to me. Everyone's entitled to get cold feet. That's what happened, right?"
"Yes, that's exactly what happened. So you understand?"
"Sure, for the first couple of weeks, but Summer, three months? Anyway, that's not why I'm lettin' you go."
"Why then? Did I do something else wrong? Is it because I hit you? I'm sorry about that too, really sorry."
"If you just stop talkin' for a minute I'll tell you."
"Sorry, good grief I'm saying that a lot, but I am, about everything."
"That's good, that's a start," he said soberly.
"A start?"
"I'm gonna make you a proposition."
"You are? What kind of proposition"
"First we gotta get real. Let's talk about the slap. You didn't slap me because you were offended, but because you weren't. You wanted me to kiss you and I did, and sure, maybe it took both of us by surprise, but the fact remains you couldn't deal with it so you took your frustration and guilt out on me."
"Maybe," she said softly, dropping her eyes.
"Maybe? Coy doesn't wear well on you, sugar."
"Okay, yes, I did want you to, very much."
"Just for the record, Summer, I don't go around kissin' women willy nilly."
"Good to know," she said facetiously, raising her eyes and shooting him a sassy look.
"What happened to the sorry I messed up and please don't fire me? You're sure gettin' cocky all of a sudden."
Summer bit her lower lip. He was right. She was always pushing the envelope. She just didn't know why.
"I do that," she admitted, deciding to come clean. "I feel remorseful and guilty, but then I do or say something that just makes things worse, something I don't even mean. It's as if I have an evil twin living inside me."
He smiled. He'd seen glimpses of the challenging, difficult side of her personality, but it wasn't a turn-off, not for a minute. On the contrary, he found it intriguing.
"Is that right? Hmm, I'm not sure I'd call her evil. Naughty, even bratty, but not evil."
"Thank you for saying that," she said gratefully, "and I'd love to hear whatever it is you have in mind. What's this proposition you're talking about?"
"No more smart-ass remarks?"
"No more smart-ass remarks, I promise."
"You're fired because I don't become involved with my employees, and I wanna get to know you better."
"Really? You do? I can't believe it. Liam, I would love that."
"I wouldn't get too happy just yet. There are conditions."
"What sort of conditions?"
"Don't get it into your head this is attached to a record contract. This is strictly personal. I don't want you havin' any grandiose illusions. Got it?"
"Does that mean you never want to hear me sing?"
"Never's an awful long time, but that's not a part of this, and if I'm not enough—"
"Sorry, sorry," she said quickly. "It's just…"
"Disappointin'? Hey, I get it, and if it's gonna be too hard bein' around me doin' what I do, it's best we not even get started. You need to think about that."
"I don't need to do think about anything," she said firmly, gazing at his gorgeous face and wondering what it would be like to curl up in his arms.
"There's still the second condition, and you haven't heard it yet."
"I don't care what it is. I won't change my mind. I would love to spend time with you. Absolutely."
"It's not quite that simple."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm gonna start things off with layin' you over my knee and givin' you a proper spankin'."
Summer inwardly groaned, but not because of any fear of this threat. His words had made her blush, and she didn't want him to see her scarlet face.
"I don't understand," she muttered sending her eyes to the floor.
"Isn't it obvious? Can't you guess?"
"Because I wasn't straight with you?"
"You got it! Don't you think you deserve a spankin' for connivin' the whole time you've been here. That's not cool, sugar. Besides that, if we're gonna move forward you've gotta get rid of all the guilt you're feelin', and don't deny it, it's written all over your bright red cheeks."
"I can't stand this," she mumbled raising her hands and covering her face. "I can't. It's so difficult."
"Hey, it's good you're embarrassed, you should be. It shows you've got a conscience."
"I guess, but you've already spanked me. What was that about if it wasn't for lying to you?"
"That was for the slap!"
"Shit."
"This is how I roll, Summer. You've gotta know I don't take kindly to someone tryin' to pull the wool over my eyes. I'm not gonna let it go unpunished."
"This is crazy!" she declared, finally dropping her hands and staring at him.
"Nope. You wanna know what's crazy? It's obvious no-one has ever called you on your crap."
"I don't know what you mean?"<
br />
"Tell me if this sounds familiar. You do somethin' you shouldn't, and when your fella gets mad you roll your big blue eyes at him, press up against him and beg his forgiveness. You have great make-up sex and things go back to normal, but for some reason you find it all just a bit frustratin'. How am I doin'? Is that about how things usually go with you?"
Summer was speechless. Everything about Liam Taylor was confounding.
What he'd just said was true, but how could he possibly know that? And how could he be so warm and yet so—what? Strict? Was that the word? Strong? No, it was more than strong. His kiss had made her knees weak and her stomach flip, and when she'd slapped him he hadn't gotten mad, or walked away, or any of the other reactions she'd expected. What he'd done was absolutely unbelievable. He'd spanked her, and he'd done it quickly and calmly, and now he was threatening to do it again. No. He wasn't threatening, he was telling her. He'd made it crystal clear if she wanted to spend time with him, personal, special time, he'd wallop her butt as the starting point.
"Am I right?" he pressed. "Is that how things have gone in the past?"
"I guess, but why are you telling me all this? I mean, what is it exactly you're trying to say? This is all totally confusing."
"Come here," he sighed, reaching across and engulfing her in a bear hug.
She was as grateful as she was surprised, and sinking against the soft cashmere of his sweater she let out a long, heavy sigh. Being in his arms was more divine than she'd even imagined, and she never, ever, wanted to leave them.
"I didn't mean to confuse you," he said softly, "I'm just different. I'm not like most other men."
"No kidding!"
Her quip brought a smile to his face. She was different too. She was the other side of his coin, he was sure of it.
A Country Music Christmas (Country & Western Suspense) Page 2