Hot Summer Fling

by Parker, Ali

“You weren’t busy?”

  “Just finishing up when you called.” We kept walking along the pier, and it was somehow more comfortable than I’d have imagined it would be. My legs were longer than hers, but we managed to match our gait and strolled arm in arm like we’d done it a thousand times before.

  It was almost unnerving, but luckily, I didn’t lose my nerves easily. “How about you? No big plans today?”

  “Not really. Heidi’s busy with Will, Olive’s at work, and I no longer have work.” Slowing down when we reached the end of the pier, she turned to look up at me. “How do you know so much about art? You said it was your passion, but it seems like it’s more than that.”

  Ah. “I went to school for it. Would have made a life out of it if I could have. I love the banking industry, too, though. So it’s not too much of a disappointment to be making a living out of that instead.”

  “Art and banking, huh?” Smiling as she released my arm, she planted her elbows on the railing and trained her gaze at the gentle swells of the ocean. “How did banking come out on top? Why are you in that business instead of art?”

  I sighed, following her lead by leaning on the railing. We were standing so close together that our arms were still touching, and yet I still felt the need to be closer to her; to tuck her against my side and hold her tight.

  It was no secret why I’d gone into banking, but I had a feeling Valerie wouldn’t simply accept the short version of the story. And the longer version, well, that wasn’t what today was about.

  “It a long story, and not one for today.” Sliding my eyes to the side, I saw her nod. Angling my body toward hers, I resisted the urge to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. Instead, I smiled and motioned back to the boardwalk. “Do you want to go get a cup of coffee?”

  “Actually.” She mirrored the positioning of my body, standing so our fronts were only just not touching. “I’d love if you would show me some art.”

  “I’d love that too.” More than she could possibly imagine. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 12

  Valerie

  “Why did you decide to move to Florida?” Fulton asked. We were standing off to one side of an art exhibit in a different museum than we had been to the other day.

  The exhibit showcased Egyptian art, and we were waiting for a large group of tourists to get a head start before Fulton began showing me around. He looked down at me, blue eyes somehow softer than I’d seen them before.

  There was no judgment there, only genuine curiosity. He motioned through the large windows we were standing next to, the bustle of downtown during the beginning of lunch visible on the other side.

  “Out of all the places in the world, why did you choose Tampa, Florida?”

  I watched the crowds moving outside, people meeting up to go grab some food in their breaks and others hustling past with their noses buried in their phones. The sidewalk they were on was lined by tall green palm trees, the sky above them bright blue without a cloud in sight.

  “It’s a beautiful city.” I released a contented sigh, smiling as I considered the place we had left to come here. “New York was great, but so is change.”

  “Sure, but why Tampa?”

  “Heidi, Olive, and I were just sitting at the diner back in New York where Olive used to work. We were all having a shitty day and somehow we stumbled onto the topic of Olive’s mom having a beach house here. Olive inherited it, so we knew it was standing empty. It was cheap and it gave us an out.”

  “So you packed up and left?”

  I nodded. “The very next day. Heidi didn’t even quit her job before we left. She kind of forgot with all the excitement going around.”

  Fulton laughed, giving his head a small shake. “That’s quite a decision to make so spontaneously. What was wrong with New York that you couldn’t stay one more day?”

  “It was too busy.” I tore my gaze away from the sidewalk, shrugging my shoulders. “I wanted something quiet and relaxing, and so did the other girls. There was nothing keeping us there, so we decided to take a chance.”

  Noticing that the tourists had finished about half of the Egyptian exhibit, I gestured toward the first piece. “Shall we? We shouldn’t catch up to them again for a while.”

  “Sure.” Fulton led me to the sculpture that kicked off the exhibit, explaining in detail about how all the pieces in the exhibit should be viewed from the standpoint of the ancient Egyptians and providing bits of information on their beliefs as we moved through the exhibit.

  We spent the next two hours slowly making our way first through the exhibit, then the rest of the museum. Once I felt like I was getting a good grasp on what he was saying, I started offering my own insights on the art.

  It was exhilarating, like I was breaking free of some kind of mental cage I hadn’t even realized I was stuck in. Fulton prodded and prompted, asking me to elaborate or explain why I said what I did. The more he did it, the more it felt like blinders were coming off my eyes.

  Bursts of color on canvas suddenly started telling a story, filling me with emotions that weren’t my own but were so raw and potent that it felt like they were. Photographs and drawings suddenly offered so much more than what the naked eye could see. They were filled with symbolism and a view of the world as seen through the eyes of the person who created each piece.

  My cheeks were flushed by the time we neared the exit again, my heart racing. Fulton either sensed or saw my excitement, grinning a wide, radiant grin that kicked my heartbeat into overdrive. “I’m assuming you had fun this afternoon?”

  “I can’t believe I used to think museums were boring.” I felt like the world had shifted on its axis in the last few hours, shifted to allow me a glimpse of an entire part of it I hadn’t ever been privy to before. “What kinds of careers are there in the arts? If I were to decide to pursue this, would I have to go to school for it like you did?”

  The thought killed all the butterflies that had been fluttering in my stomach, replacing them with cold dread. School had never been my thing. I barely scraped through, I doubted I’d be any good at it at a higher level.

  There was also the tiny problem of not being able to afford to go to school. Scholarships probably wouldn’t be an option for someone like me, who didn’t have good grades or any experience to fall back on. I supposed I could try to get a loan, but I wasn’t exactly the most creditworthy.

  Dread spread from my stomach, icing my veins and sending a tremble to my fingers. What if I’d just found something I could be passionate about, and there was nothing I could do with it or about it?

  For the first time in my life, I’d found something I might really like to actually make a career of. The possibility that I might have to remain unfulfilled, to know this world existed and not being able to be a part of it, would be pure torture.

  Fulton took my hand, the gentle press of his fingers against my skin pulling me out of the house of horrors my imagination was getting me stuck in. “No, Valerie. You wouldn’t necessarily have to go to school to make a career out of this. It’s not law or medicine. A degree isn’t always a strict requirement.”

  “Really?” A surge of hope flared in my chest. “You think I might be able to make a career out of this?”

  “Absolutely. If you could see yourself working in a place like this.”

  “I can.” I felt a smile spreading on my lips, so wide it made my cheeks hurt a little. “I totally can. It would be a dream I didn’t even know I had come true.”

  “Well then.” Fulton seemed to realize he was still holding my hand, his eyes trailing down to where our fingers were intertwined. He released me slowly, almost like he was reluctant to do it. When he was free, he jerked his thumb toward a watercolor painting on the wall behind us. “Why don’t you try to sell me that painting? I think you’d be great at it.”

  Immediately, my mind started spinning with ideas. I’d never felt so inspired before. I’d been in sales before—briefly. I was selling cleaning supplies, which I ob
viously had zero interest in. I remembered the basics, however. And one of them was knowing your audience. I had just the trick to use on Fulton.

  Lowering my lids to give me a more flirty, sultry look, I pouted a little and started flirting with him. He laughed at first, but before I knew it, I had him eating from the palm of my hand.

  “Done. I’ll take it,” he said eventually, taking a deep breath and blinking as if freeing himself from a stupor before he laughed again. “Just as I expected, you’d be excellent at this.”

  “Thanks.” I beamed at him, and I wasn’t a beamer. I never beamed, but I couldn’t help it now. “Really. I wouldn’t ever have discovered any this if it hadn’t been for you.”

  “You would have found your way to it eventually. I have no doubt about that.” Fulton smiled, lifting his hand like he was about to reach for me before suddenly jerking it back. “You know, if you don’t have any plans for tonight, I have a dinner to cook and no one to cook it for. Would you like to join me?”

  Surprised that he’d asked, I arched a brow. His face started to fall before I reached out, grabbing his hand this time. “Yes. I’d love that.”

  Chapter 13

  Fulton

  “This place is so huge.” Valerie climbed out of my car and stopped dead, arching an eyebrow as she stared up at my house. “Are you sure this is yours? As in, actually yours? You aren’t renting it or anything?”

  “It’s mine.” I rounded the car, closed Valerie’s door behind her, and offered her my arm. “Would you like to come inside?”

  “Well, unless you’re planning on cooking dinner in the driveway, I guess I’d better.” She glanced at my arm, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips before she took it.

  We were actually standing under my porte cochere at the end of the driveway, not just in the driveway, but correcting felt like too much of a dick move. Even for me, especially since I wasn’t planning on cooking dinner in the porte cochere or in the driveway.

  “Are you allergic to anything?” I asked, leading her up the five steps to my front door. The double doors were open, latched to hooks I couldn’t see but knew were there.

  “Bees and assholes, why?” Valerie said absently, following me inside. I glanced over my shoulder as she swiveled her head, taking in the expansive entrance hall and the sweeping staircase leading off of it. She tipped her head back, her eyes growing wide at the sight of the chandelier hanging above us. “Seriously, this is your house?”

  “It is.” I led her through the entrance hall, past the dining room and into my modern farmhouse-style kitchen. “And I was asking what you were allergic to because I’m trying to decide what to cook for dinner. Wine?”

  “Yes, please.” She swallowed, her pink tongue darting out to lick her lips. “Unless you were planning on using either bees or assholes in your food, we should be fine. I’m not a picky eater.”

  “Excellent.” I was a bit of a picky eater, but I had just the thing in mind. “Would you like a tour?”

  Leaving Valerie at the marble-top island, I walked to the wine fridge and got out a bottle of crisp, dry white wine. After I uncorked it, I reached for two glasses and filled them, carrying one to her and then handing it over.

  She took it, smiling as she nodded. “I’d love a tour. I thought Olive’s mom’s house was impressive, but this is next level.”

  “It used to belong to an architect. She renovated right before I bought it off her.” I lifted my glass to my lips, taking a sip of wine before I inclined my head toward the dining room we’d passed on our way in. “She had that table custom built for the space.”

  Valerie followed me out of the kitchen, eyeing the table in question with a look of awe. “Why would anyone need a table that seats sixteen people?”

  “She had a big family.” The solid wood table with intricate gold inlays was a bit much for me, but it looked good in the room. The previous owner had left it behind because it was specially built for the room. “I use it as a conference table when I need to, but other than that, I don’t really use it.”

  “I guess it would be a little depressing to eat alone at a table like this.” She motioned toward it as she walked past, heading to the wall of windows behind it. “But for that view, I might just have risked the depression if I lived here.”

  “Most of the rooms on this side of the house were designed with the view in mind. I have the same view from my TV as I do from here, so I mostly just eat there.”

  Valerie turned away from the window to face me, holding her glass in both hands. “We usually eat in the living room too. Funny to think billionaires have some of the same habits as us mere mortals.”

  I laughed and nodded. “It’s not all fancy charity dinners and silverware.”

  “Pity.” She pressed her hand to her heart, tilting her head. “I can’t imagine how you get by without constant balls and silver spoons.”

  “I do constantly have balls, I’ll have you know.” I winked at her, motioning for her to follow me. “Those are attached, can’t really leave them behind.”

  Before I’d even realized she had closed the distance between us, she slugged me on the shoulder. “I wasn’t talking about those kinds of balls, but you already knew that.”

  “I did, but I thought I should mention it anyway.”

  Valerie rolled her eyes but couldn’t completely hide her smile. “Thanks for the information, I’ll be sure to keep it in mind.”

  “You do that.” And now you’ve told her to keep your balls on her mind. Smooth move, Yates. Deciding that I had to stop dwelling on the possibility that she was thinking about my package, I launched into the most detailed tour of the house I’d ever given anyone.

  I showed her the media room, the bar, the patio with the infinity pool, and finally, the bedrooms. Having her in my bedroom wasn’t a good idea, though. It had my earlier thoughts flying back into my mind, closely followed by a sudden awareness of our proximity to my bed.

  “We should go get started with dinner,” I told her, but Valerie didn’t seem to be listening to me. She was staring at my bed, a light flush spreading along the tops of her cheeks.

  Shit. It was painfully obvious that she was having the same racy thoughts I was, but I hadn’t brought her to my house to fuck her. I wanted to, of course—had wanted to since the moment I’d laid eyes on her—but I didn’t want her to think that had been my motivation and intention all along, which meant we had to get the fuck out of there.

  Walking up to her, I laid my hand gently on her elbow. “Let’s go get started with dinner.”

  She started and blinked rapidly, apparently having forgotten I was in the room with her. By the time she turned to me again, she’d recovered and had a devilish smile spreading across her lips. “Is that bed another relic from the previous owner with the big family? Or did you simply have to have a bed big enough to fit a small nation?”

  I shrugged, but Valerie wasn’t breaking eye contact with me. Her smile was fixed on her lips, but her gaze was heating the longer we looked at each other. The air around us was practically crackling and buzzing with tension.

  It took everything I had in me to walk away from her without at least trying to kiss her, but I managed to take a small step away from her, then walked backward to the door. “I like big beds. I sleep like a starfish, so I need one.”

  “What does that mean? You sleep naked and spread out?” she deadpanned, but there was a flash of glassiness in her eyes that told me where her mind had gone to. So far, I’d managed to keep my cock under control. She wasn’t making it easy, though, and knowing that she was picturing me naked wasn’t helping things.

  The front of my pants was growing tighter, and I was inching ever closer to marching back to her, slamming my lips down on hers, and not stopping until I’d heard her screaming my name three times.

  Since I was resolute in my decision not to do that, I turned away from her so I could adjust myself and walked out into the hall. “I’m going to get started on dinne
r. Meet me in the kitchen when you’re done fantasizing.”

  There was a beat of silence, then loud laughter ringing out from my bedroom. A second later, hurried footsteps were catching up to me. “I wasn’t fantasizing. Just wondering why you needed a bed that size. Also, who still has a headboard?”

  “Everybody?”

  She shook her head. She’d caught up and was walking beside me now. “Nope, they don’t. I wouldn’t have taken you for a gray upholstery man either. Maybe black leather or something.”

  “It’s my bedroom, not a sex dungeon.” I shot her a sidelong glance, noticing that her cheeks were heating again.

  Fuck. I kept getting sucked into the insane chemistry I had with this girl, amplified a hundred times since we were totally alone for the first time. And in my house. With my bedroom right behind us.

  Focus, Fulton. She’s here for dinner, not orgasms. “How do you feel about parmesan-crusted pork chops, mashed potatoes, and a spinach salad with roasted fennel and grapefruit?”

  “That sounds amazing.” Her voice had a breathy quality to it that had me in serious danger of getting hard again, but then the danger fell away, and it just happened when she spoke next. “So if that’s your bedroom, where’s your sex dungeon? Can I see it? I’d really like to see it.”

  I nearly choked on my own fucking spit, managing to compose myself in the nick of time. “I don’t have a sex dungeon.”

  “Why not? Don’t all billionaires have rooms full of kinky sex toys and stuff? You know, because you have issues and need to take them out on submissive woman.” She was trying to keep her tone nonchalant, but I caught the hint of amusement creeping in.

  Relieved that she’d broken the tension, I frowned and waggled my brows. “Where would you get that idea? Do you know many billionaires with issues?”

  “Nah.” She shrugged, fighting a smile. “But I do read erotic romance novels sometimes.”

  And we’re back in dangerous territory. Thankfully, we’d made it to the kitchen and I could focus on getting dinner prepared instead of grilling her on the explicit details of the novels she’d mentioned.