Текст книги "A Taste of Summer"

Автор книги: Beverly Preston

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“Hello?” Tommy called out quietly as the door creaked open.

Entering the office, he shot Summer a look. A straight forward, cautionary look of unsaid mandatory advice. Summer met his gaze squarely. To her surprise, he acknowledged Tommy with some sort of reverent code-of-ethics. Neither man without respect.

“Press is looking for you.” Wisdom streaked his tone and his temples.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Maybe it’d be a good idea if you handled this… situation somewhere else.”

“It’s okay, Tommy. We’re all done here.” Carrie Ann brushed past Summer, making for the door. He was at her back before she could finish her sentence.

“Not hardly.” The surety delivered in his low baiting tone, drew chill bumps to her flesh and molten heat to her center.

Tommy moved inconspicuously, gliding between them as they entered the hall. He’d been in the industry long enough to know better and he wasn’t about to let his star player jeopardize the evening’s event.

Weaving through the crowd, Carrie Ann’s heel-digging strides quickened to a brisk march. Nearing the table, she spotted Jason, straightening his tie…again. Taking notice of her escorts, the creases near his smiling eyes deepened, warranting question. She dragged her attention to the concerned faces flanking each side of him. Shayla looked beyond her shoulder, shooting silent daggers at Summer as they approached.

“Thank you, Jason,” Carrie Ann said, grasping the tall glass of ice water.

Jason buttoned his suit jacket, before reaching out to introducing himself. “Jason Calver. Nice to meet you. Loved the movie.”

“Ryan. Glad you enjoyed it.” His tone flat. “Great of Carrie Ann to bring a date. Do you work for the HAHF too?”

Fuck. Fuckity-fuck! This can not be happening. Her lips pressed into a thin line. The moisture from her sweaty hands fogged the tumbler. Ice sloshed over the rim bringing the cup to her lips. Conversations carried on around the table, however everyone kept one ear on the nightmare unfolding. Shayla and John seemingly waiting to join in while analyzing the discussion.

“No. I don’t work for the foundation. I’m a broker for Prestige Exclusives. We’ve been doing some work together.” A short but uncomfortable fissure of stillness followed. “I’ve known Carrie Ann’s father for years. We share interests in a few projects.”

Dear God.I should’ve asked for vodka.

Jason tossed that little nugget of information out fully expecting to make an impression. Any ambitious business man would’ve. However, the only thing Summer shared with her father was a large taste of loathing. Her father never approved of him or their relationship. Mr. Lowell constantly tried to impede in them, which was pointless and unjustified, bashing Summer every chance he could. He vowed Summer would never be good enough and never amount to anything but trouble. He expected better for his daughter. And by better…he meant better blood line. Jason’s grandfather was the largest land developer in California in the seventies.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Summer stiffen. Tension between the two men simmered. She could practically feel the steam coming off him. “Well, you be sure and give my regards to Mr. Lowell the next time you see him.”

“I’ll do that. I’m golfing with him tomorrow.”

Jason raised his rock glass to his lips. Curiosity tucked neatly between his manicured brows as he took a long draw of what appeared to be scotch. “How do the two of you know each other?”

“We went to college together.” Carrie Ann replied hastily.

“Yeah, the three of us attended USC,” Shayla exclaimed. “We were—”

“Carrie Ann and I dated for two years.” Summer slid his wide hand over hers as it rested on the table in a clenched fist. Giving it a squeeze, he added, “We had a lot of good times together.”

Shayla attempted to intervene, but fumbled, letting out a poorly executed, pathetic imitation of a laugh that sounded like a yelp. “Yeah, we sure did.”

A rush of blood flooded her cheeks. The underside of the tablecloth was becoming more appealing by the second. She wanted to say a hundred different things, most included some choice, not so pleasant words. She considered stepping on his toe, or kicking him in the shin, or reaming him a new asshole right there in front of everyone. Unfortunately, there also seemed to be a little white flag flying at half-staff inside her panties. Plus, the stinging of her nose indicated tears might be a possibility as well. Not gonna happen! Not ever again.

Pulling her hand free, she shot Summer a stone-faced look of contempt. She held her gaze long enough to make her point. A crystal clear definitive screw you. Turning her attention to Jason, she said, “I’ve changed my mind. I think I’ll have that drink now.”

Chapter Four

‡

“What are you doing?” Shayla asked.

“I’m on the verge of disowning my vagina. What are you doing?”

Hearing a smothered laugh at the other end of the phone brought a needed smile. Carrie Ann had spent the last hour daydreaming. No matter how hard she tried to forget, the same snippet of Summer kissing his beautiful co-star, both topless, played through her mind, adding a bitter taste to her morning coffee.

Carrie Ann closed her laptop and eased back in her luxurious office chair. Turning away from her desk, she stretched out her legs, crossing them at the ankles.

“And why is your hooha being disgruntled this morning? You didn’t…”

“No! I didn’t sleep with Jason.” A soft naughty giggle filtered through her office. “Nah, it’s just being a little temperamental. Damn thing has a mind of its own lately.”

“Maybe you need new batteries. Booya! Oh, yeah! I just went there!”

She burst into laughter, hearing Shayla snap her fingers three times. Carrie Ann imagined her straight-laced friend throwing down her best sassy attitude in a quick three snaps up and circle. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Aren’t you funny this morning? Rub it in why don’t ya. I’m sure you had an orgasmic evening.”

There was no need to answer. Shayla’s tsk of empathy said it all. “How’d your night end up?”

“He’s a tie straightener.”

“Oh, dear. Not another TS.”

“I know, right? Since when have men become more consumed with their looks than women? He kept unbuttoning and buttoning his suit jacket too. By the seventh or eighth time I just wanted to rip the button off and throw it in the trash.”

Shayla scoffed, “Must’ve been bad if you started counting.”

“Eleven buttons and who fucking knows how many TS’s. I lost track after fifteen.” Carrie Ann shook her head in disbelief and disappointment. In a trance, the tips of her fingers traced mindlessly over the cold metal circles of the nail head trim outlining the cream-colored upholstered armrest.

“Was he a good kisser at least?”

The hum of Shayla’s voice trailed off remembering Jason’s attempt at a kiss the night before…and it wasn’t pretty. Playing the part of the perfect gentleman, he walked her to the door. He lifted the back of her hand to his mouth, but as he bowed to place a kiss on her knuckles, she didn’t even notice his hopeful sapphire eyes. All she could see was a pair of amber eyes from her past haunting her subconscious. There were no tingles, no butterflies, no sensual lure, just a cloudy hallucination of motherfucking Summer staring down at her subliminally.

Caution overrode any enjoyment when he leaned in stealing a kiss. His lips were warm and gentle as they moved from the edge of her mouth. Her heart fluttered, searching for something, any spark of interest to erase the memories burned into her brain. But there was nothing. He eased closer waiting for her response, but she stood rigid against his frame, unable to return the kiss.

Ahem! Shayla cleared her throat. “Earth to Carrie Ann.”

She shook her head rapidly from side-to-side, bringing her focus back to the discussion. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Did you let him kiss you?”

“Who? Summer?” Shrills of confusion saturated her voice.

“Wait…you kissed Summer?”

“No! No, sorry. What did you ask?”

“I asked you if you kissed Jason?”

“Yeah, kind of. I’m not sure I’d really call it a kiss, but he tried.” Carrie Ann’s nose wrinkled. Her face scrunched in a tight scowl of defeat. “This is all Summer’s fault. I expected him to have some…some gorgeous bimbo on his arm. Jerk shows up empty handed. I felt guilty inviting Jason in the first place and now I’m gonna have this shit hanging over my head all week.”

“Since you brought him up…what happened with Summer?” Whimsy floated through Shayla’s inquiry, intentionally keeping it light and fluffy.

Rising from her chair, she tucked the phone between her cheek and shoulder grabbing her purse. “He said he wants another shot. Whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.”

“Oh.” She drew out the silent h.

Carrie Ann halted in her haste to get out the door. “You don’t sound very surprised. Please don’t tell me you that you knew about this?”

“No. Not really. I mean, he and I haven’t talked about it.” Shayla managed through a cluster of stumbles and pauses.

“I feel a very big but coming on.” She snarled, snatching her keys off the top of her desk.

“Summer’s had dinner with Tommy and Tess a few times. He…he talks about you. A lot.”

“Oh. My. God. You know what? I don’t have time for this shit right now.” She flung her office door open. “I’ve got three fires to put out and it’s not even ten o’clock in the morning. The bartenders I hired turned out to be Not so fully-certified as they claimed, so I’m on my way to the villa to meet with Take Your Best Shot Bartending Service.”

“Hey, don’t get upset with me. I’m Switzerland remember. Tess was curious and asked me a few things.”

“Yeah, well, I hope you enlightened her.”

“I did.”

Shayla’s reply was weak at best.

“You’re still on for noon tomorrow, right? We need to practice the introduction and our emceeing.”

Since she started working with the charitable organization, Carrie Ann included Shayla in every event. In the beginning, she assisted with organizing and planning. Another year she announced the recipient of the Humanitarian Award. Once, she even posed nude for the Have a Heart ~ Bare Your Soul Calendar when an infamous blonde bombshell bailed out at the last minute, putting Carrie Ann in a bind. Having Shayla by her side made the events more fun, but in truth, she offered Carrie Ann a sense of comfort and security, calming her nerves during the behemoth undertaking.

“Yep! I’ve been working on my one-liners.”

“Should I be scared?” Carrie Ann snickered.

“Yes, you should be afraid. Very afraid. I’m just kidding. John was very impressed. He thought they were funny.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure he’s impressed every time you open your mouth.” She giggled wickedly walking out the door. “Booya yourself! Now that was funny.”

*

In Beverly Hills, parties were serious business. California’s elite expected three things when attending any event; a phenomenal DJ, a bad ass bartender, and a guest list dressed to impress. Torrential downpours could flood the streets, hurricane winds might blow the tents down to the ground, but if she failed to entertain by any consensus, the blowback would leave a blemish on her reputation as well as the Have a Heart Foundation.

Take Your Best Shot touted world class mixologists with unlimited flair. Carrie Ann met with the owner and his crew of very attractive bartenders. Trevor was a tall, dark and handsome late-twenties-something entrepreneur with a smile that would make women go weak at the knees. He offered premium beverage services coupled with some serious showmanship of bottle flipping frenzy.

While watching a six minute demonstration of tossing, spinning, mixing and pouring, she fought to reign in the sexual pressure, fearing she’d be paying double for services rendered merely due to good looks. Especially the one with vivid green eyes, a bright wide smile, and dark curly hair.

She insisted, “I really don’t need them to steal the show as much as I need them to be completely professional. Arrive early, don’t be too chatty with the guests, and no excessive serving.”

“No worries. Each of my mixologists are very specialized and required to go through an alcohol safety training course. You mentioned that you wanted two bars with three men at each station, but considering the size of the event, I would suggest having three bars spread out over the property.” Trevor pointed out a few prime locations. “That way you keep a smooth flow with no bottleneck areas.”

She nodded. “Same cost?”

Trevor’s eyes narrowed into a flirtatious twinkle. “For you, yes. Same cost. If you’d like, I’d be happy to create a couple signature drinks designed around the parties theme.”

A vision of penis straws and breast umbrellas brought a timid smirk to the corner of her mouth. “That sounds great. Let’s stick to a heart theme versus bachelor/bachelorette theme.”

Trevor extended a hand, locking it around hers. His glance drifted over her inquisitively, taking in her neutral lightweight sweater, cream slacks, and stacked heels. “How about this? I’ll throw in two more bartenders and as long as you’re satisfied with our performance, you keep me in mind for future events.”

“That sounds like a deal.” A whiff of tobacco invaded her senses. She sniffed inconspicuously, searching out the distinct nuance of leather mixed with cedar and cocoa. She glimpsed a man wearing a vibrant red polo shirt wandering near the terrace. Retrieving her hand, she said, “Excuse me for a minute.”

“No problem. We’ll go ahead and take off. If you have any questions call me. I’ll email you over a contract. If you think of any other questions just shoot me a text or feel free to call me.”

“Perfect. Let me know the drink names by tomorrow and I’ll have my assistant make up a little menu to have at each bar.”

She strolled toward the squat heavy man leaning against a stone pillar. His grey hair barely noticeable at the root of his dark hair. A small assuming smile wove into the creases near his temple.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hello, Carrie Ann,” he said in a gravelly voice.

“What’s going on? What are you doing here?” she asked skeptically, forcing a grin to mask her shock.

Cigar in hand, he gently clutched the back of her arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Looks like I caught you in the middle of a meeting? I was in the neighborhood and stopped by just to say hello.”

The austerity emanating from his voice led her to believe otherwise. Robert Lowell never simply dropped by to say hi. There was always an ulterior motive.

“My day is slammed, but I’ve got a few minutes.”

“We can visit later if you’re too busy. Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”

He’s definitely prying. “No, I don’t have plans for dinner, but I’ll have to pass. It’s one of my most hectic weeks of the year and I’ll be exhausted by the time I get home.”

“I golfed with Jason this morning.” His no-nonsense interjection…absolutely intentional. “It’s my understanding you went on a date last night. A silly movie premier of some sort.” He wafted the cigar in the air adding emphasis to the triviality.

“Wow.” She nipped. “The day’s barely even begun and you’ve played a round of golf and taken a swing at interfering in my life.”

“We shot a round of Early Bird at the club. And there’s no need for you to take that tone.”

“Cut to the chase, Dad. What is it you want to know?”

Her father had a difficult time leaving his legendary direct questioning and pre-calculated arguments in the courtroom.

“I simply stopped in to wish you luck this weekend. I’m thrilled you finally took my advice and decided to see Jason. He has a good head on his shoulders. A real future with that one…” A brief, but premeditated hesitation. “More than those other men you date.”

“I hate to break it to you, Dad, but Jason and I went to the silly movie premier as friends.” Though the film was certain to be a box office hit, her father would never give Summer one ounce of credit. Not even if it was well deserved. “And I hate to crush your ridiculous dream of Jason being your perfect son-in-law…but it’s not going to happen. There won’t be another date.”

“Now, Carrie Ann, why do you always have to be so stubborn? I was merely…”

“Probably because I have your genes.” She interrupted, hoping to stifle the impossible examination of her personal life that would surely ensue if she didn’t put a halt to him. “You know how much I love a good debate and stubborn doesn’t quite cover our disposition, now does it, Dad?”

“Thankfully you take after your mother as well. You’re blessed with her logic which always outwitted my tenacity. And you have her unmistakable beauty.” The authority in his voice faded. Sounds of outdoors absorbed their silence. The show of sentiment was a rare, but touching occurrence, one that only happened when he spoke of her mother. She’d been the love of his life. A love he was never able to quite replace. “I’m sorry I can’t make the Auction this year. There’s simply too much at stake in the case I’m working on. I can’t risk trusting anyone else to get it done right. I’ll send a substantial donation.”

Avoiding an argument, she overlooked the fact that he could indeed show up. It’s not like he was leaving the country and he’d known about it for months. Her father supported her cause, generously. However, she suspected it was too much for him emotionally due to the painful reminders of the loss of her mother.

Or at least that’s how Carrie Ann chose to see it.

“Thank you.”

“Your sister will be there to represent the family.”

“Represent the family? Is that what you’re going to call it?”

“I’ll send part of my donation in lieu of your sister and let her bid on a bachelor.”

“Please, don’t do me any favors. She’ll just show up to crash my party.” Carrie Ann’s half-sister, put the social in socialite. Tanya was ten years younger and the daughter of her father’s second wife. They were complete opposites, each mimicking their mothers. “I fully expect to see Tanya. There’ll be too many prominent single men with means all congregated in one room for her not to show up.”

“Your sister’s tastes differ from yours. Her interests gravitate more towards men who come from good stock.”

“Good stock? You’re kidding right? Her last boyfriend got arrested for drugs.”

“The charges were dropped and his parents sent him to the best rehab facility in—”

“Don’t encourage her, dad. The last thing I need is Tanya showing up with an unlimited amount of funds. She’ll bid on every bachelor and I really need to save some for the other hundreds of charitable contributors.”

“Choosing the right person is like investing. You have to diversify your portfolio while thinking long term.”

“If you ask me, I think she prefers penny stocks,” she grumbled, sauntering beneath the patio to shade herself from the sun. “You make things too easy for her, Dad.”

“I try to make life easier for both of you, Carrie Ann. You each get the same amount allocated every month. Don’t forget she’s ten years younger than you.”

At the age of thirteen, each daughter gained access to a limited amount of money their father set aside for them. An allowance of sorts…a ridiculous sum of money that could make the smartest most mild-mannered child lose control and run wild on Rodeo Drive. The pre-inheritance, as her father called it, increased at the ages of sixteen, eighteen and again at twenty five.

Tanya constantly got a free pass when it came to her bad behavior simply because she came from different stock, as he called it. Growing up, Tanya’s mother boasted of her “Open Parenting” theory. Meaning Tanya was allowed to do and act however she wanted with whomever she wanted as long as she could explain why she thought it was a good idea. In other words, she did whatever the hell she wanted starting at birth.

“If I remember correctly, I wasn’t a train wreck ten years ago. You should really stop making excuses for her. She’s spoiled and out of control.”

“You were never a train wreck.”

“Look, Dad. I don’t want to re-hash this shit again. Not today. This isn’t the All About Tanya Show. This is my gig. My work. My passion. If you could—”

“Maybe your sister would enjoy a quick trip to Las Vegas this weekend with a few friends?”

Her shoulders slumped forward as a deep sigh filled with gratitude seeped from her lips. She glanced to the side witnessing an unusual site of mute benevolence masking the hard lines of his face.

Carrie Ann smiled appreciatively. “I think she would love a quick trip to Vegas.”

The subject was settled with a small nod from each. Making their way toward the grand foyer, he lifted his palm to the blade of her shoulder, curling his stubby fingers over the top. “I have no doubt the evening will be a success. Proud of you, Carrie Ann. Your mother would be too.”

Growing up, her father passed out compliments sparingly, making each one all that more significant. She wrapped her arm behind his waist, tilting her head against his shoulder. “That means a lot to me.”