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“Well, as you can see, my plan backfired quickly.”
“Why were you trying to get in my room?”
“Guess.” She tilts her head, smiling. Her sass eggs me on. I step closer until I can smell her perfume. A delicious floral combo that makes me want to lick each morsel of her skin. I’d start with her mouth, make my way down her neck, then lower to her breasts.
Almost unconsciously, I dip my gaze to her cleavage, and fuck me. Her nipples press against the fabric of her dress. I imagine they’re hard as pebbles, begging for a lick.
Summer clears her throat again, opening her purse and taking out a small brochure before I have a chance to join in on her guessing game, as if she’s afraid of my answer. Good. She should be.
“I printed out the schedule of the lessons. I know we all have it electronically, but it’s nice to have it printed out.”
“It is! I’m a big fan of print. I read all my scripts printed out.”
“Aww, you tree killer.”
I point to the schedule she places on the table. “Pot, kettle. Thank you for getting me this bungalow. And for placing rules to keep unwanted guests out. You seem to have experience with this kind of things.”
“My family has had a fair share of run-ins with the press. Bennett Enterprises has brought us a lot of attention.”
I believe that considering half of Hollywood wears their jewelry, and there have been enough articles written about the company.
“I’ll leave you to settle in. The others will arrive in a few hours,” she says.
“I don’t need to settle in. Do you want to grab lunch?”
She pats her stomach, quirking her lips. “Okay. D’you want to go to the main restaurant? It’ll be full of people, though. For the rest of the meals, I’ve asked them to set us all up in a separate room at the back of the restaurant. We’re a large enough group to warrant the effort. But since it’s just the two of us now... we could order room service. Eat it here on the deck?
Ooh, or we could spread a towel right in front of the water.”
“Room service it is.” I don’t want the attention in the restaurant, and I want Summer to myself for a while longer.
Ten minutes later, we’re sitting on the grass, a towel spread out in front of us. I ordered a burger and fries from the menu, Summer a burrito with avocado dip.
“Why are you in charge of the schedule?” I ask.
“I organized the camp. Thought the kids could do with a change of scenery.”
“Who’s paying for the gig?” I paid my own room, but a two-weeks stay in a four-star resort for so many people amounts to a pretty sum.
“I am. I mean, the money I donate isn’t mine technically. Sebastian gave all of us siblings shares in Bennett Enterprises. But I don’t need the money, so....”
She shrugs, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let her downplay it. This is incredible. She is incredible.
“I haven’t seen you on the list of donors,” I say.
“Like you, I don’t want to make a fuss out of it.”
Ah, a woman after my own heart. In Hollywood circles, donations are mostly a form of PR. I shift closer to her, touching her arm, resting my hand on her shoulder. Summer expels a sharp breath, her skin breaking out in goose bumps where I touch her. Her reaction to me is intoxicating. But when our gazes lock, I know that this thing between us runs deeper. I feel wired to her, and I don’t want to break this connection, even if it would be the smart thing to do. I can’t pull Summer into my messy life.
I move even closer to her until our hips are touching. We’re half turned to one another, and I cup one of her cheeks, tilting her head up.
“You’re doing a very good thing, Summer. Be proud of it.”
“I am.”
Nodding, she looks away, stretching her legs, kicking off her sandals. “I think I’ll book myself a foot massage.”
She has a ring on her left middle toe, and it looks sexy as fuck. I eye her ankles, remembering how she reacted when I held them during our stunt exercise at St. Anne’s.
