| |
A WEEK LATER, SUMMER was carrying an armful of her clothes up the side stairs in the Wilson mansion to the east wing where her bedroom suite was located.
As long as she’d known them, the Wilson family had lived in an over-the-top Edwardian-style mansion on the lakefront in one of the two large gated communities in town, not far from the marina and country club. It was prime property in Green Valley, and Mr. and Mrs. Wilson had refused to sell it, even after the financial downturn of their company. Carter had moved out to go to college and grad school, but when he returned to town to work for the company, he’d moved back in with his folks.
Lincoln had been renting a loft apartment above his bar ever since he’d broken ties with his family, but he’d moved into the mansion a few days ago after they’d decided no one was going to believe their marriage was legitimate if he and Summer weren’t living under the same roof.
Summer wasn’t going to do a full move-in. She was only going to be married to Lincoln for a few months—for as short a time as possible, as far as she was concerned—so there was no reason to move more than the clothes she would need and her personal items. But she didn’t want to give her trustee any grounds for doubting the nature of her marriage, so both she and Lincoln would live in the mansion with Carter and his mother for the (short) duration of their marriage.
She still couldn’t really believe this was happening. She was going to marry Lincoln Wilson, whom she’d slapped just last week. Who’d made her so angry she’d actually thrown up. Who’d spent years exasperating and infuriating her. Who was as obnoxious as a man could be.
What the hell was she thinking?
She’d had more than her share of sleepless nights since she’d agreed to Carter’s proposition in which she’d reasoned herself out of the stupid decision. It made no sense. She was letting Carter take advantage of her love and loyalty. She was going to live to regret it.
But every morning when she woke up and prepared to tell Carter she’d changed her mind, she remembered all the years he’d spent working for his father, struggling futilely to earn his respect and prove he was worthwhile.
His father had died before Carter had ever gotten any kind of affirmation that his father had even loved him. This acquisition—saving his family business—was the only thing he had left. The last remaining gesture.
She wasn’t going to take it away from him.
It would be fine. Lincoln had been less annoying than usual for the past week. He’d kept mostly to himself, and Summer had only talked to him in the company of other people as they made plans for the marriage. It was all set. They had the marriage license. They would get married at the courthouse tomorrow. They’d announce to Green Valley that they fell madly in love and married on a whim. A few months from now, they’d fulfill every expectation of their friends and acquaintances when they fell out of love and got divorced as all the gossip would predict.
It was all good.
There was no problem.
She didn’t need to like Lincoln. They wouldn’t be forced into any sort of intimate situation or even have to hang out much together.
All they needed to do was get married on paper and make a few public appearances together to confirm their cover.
She could give Carter this gift before she moved on with her life.
Her bedroom was large with high ceilings, polished floors, and beautifully carved crown moldings. One wall was covered with gorgeous dark red embossed wallpaper, setting off the dark wood of the antique bed. She’d always loved this room, and she was happy that Carter had given it to her.
At the moment, every surface was covered by piles of clothes and shoes and accessories dumped out of the baskets and boxes she’d loosely packed them in.
Carter had offered to hire professional movers, but she’d thought that was a ridiculous waste for a few loads of clothes.
Between her, Carter, and Lincoln, they’d carried everything up in ten minutes.
“This is the last of it.” Lincoln’s voice came from behind her. She turned to see him coming into the room with a laundry basket full of her nightgowns and pajamas. “Carter’s parking your car in the garage.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She smiled at him politely. She’d been making an effort to act friendly and natural so this arrangement would be easier for both of them.
Lincoln raised his dark eyebrows in a skeptical expression. He looked ridiculously sexy today in a black V-neck shirt and a pair of jeans that fit him exactly right. His hair needed trimming. He hadn’t shaved this morning.
“What?” she demanded, her civil smile turning down into a frown.
“I didn’t say anything.” He pushed over a pile of coats so he could set the basket down on a corner of the bed.
“You didn’t have to say anything. You were giving me that look.”
The corners of his mouth twitched irrepressibly. “What look?”
“You know what look. That smug, I-know-better-than-you look. In case you weren’t aware, it’s one of the most obnoxious expressions I’ve ever seen on a human face.”
“Really? That is a claim to fame. Lucky me.”
She rolled her eyes and stifled a groan. He obviously wasn’t going to tell her what he was thinking, and her asking him would only give him an advantage. To distract herself, she started sorting through the coats he’d pushed aside, hooking a couple of them back on their hangers.
“Have big plans for this little number, do you?”
She turned back at his voice and gasped when she saw he was holding up a pretty black chemise with lace on the straps and neckline. She snatched it out of his hands and shook it out.
“Trying to get the cooties off now?” There was laughter in Lincoln’s voice.
She snarled. “I thought you were trying to be good.”
“Why did you think that? When have you ever known me to be good?”
“Well, you’ve been acting a little better than normal for the past week, so I was hoping...” She was still holding the chemise, staring down at it idly.
He reached over to lift her chin and make her meet his eyes. “Never put your hopes in me, Summer. I’ll do nothing but disappoint you.”
Her breath hitched at the intensity of his held gaze. She clenched her fingers into the silky fabric she held. “I know that,” she replied in nothing more than a whisper.
His eyes flickered, and his face transformed back into his typical mocking expression. “But if you ever want to give that lingerie a whirl, I’m your man.”
She stepped back and scowled again, the sudden shift in mood disorienting her. “You can’t possibly think I’d ever wear this for you.”
“Well, no. Obviously not. I’m sure you packed that with visions of wandering the halls in it at night to get a book or a drink of water and accidently running into my brother, who will be so blown away by unleashed desire that he carries you to his room for a night of passion.”
“Bastard,” Summer hissed. She wanted to take a few steps backward since he was invading her personal space again, but as always, that felt like a defeat. She held her position and glared up at him. “Clearly it never occurred to you that I might wear pretty things for myself.”
“Oh yeah? So you like to give yourself a real good time?”
Her first instinct was to yell at him. To whirl around and get away. But she must be getting better at holding her own with him because she managed to keep her voice cool as she replied, “Of course I do. It’s better than making do with the dubious skills of a man like you.”
She’d surprised him. She could see it on his face. But if she’d hoped he would be annoyed or subdued, she was doomed to disappointment. He gave a soft huff of dry amusement, his green eyes softening into something akin to appreciation. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For that image.” He leaned forward and murmured into her ear in a thick voice that made her shiver with pleasure. “Now I can give myself a real good time by imagining you.”
She flushed hot and turned back to her coats. “What you do in the privacy of your room is your own business. As long as you know it’s never going to happen in real life.”
“You say that now, but one day you might realize the truth.”
She turned back toward him with a jerk of her head. “What truth?”
He gave her an almost wicked smile. “That there’s nothing in the world hotter than hate sex. And there’s no one in the world you hate more than me.”
***
SUMMER MARRIED LINCOLN Wilson the following day on her lunch break.
It was a quick, no-nonsense ceremony. Carter was present, as was Summer’s best female friend, Nona. Summer went back to work afterward, feeling strange and unsettled and oddly incomplete.
But it was done. She was married. And they were a step closer to being done with this ridiculous scheme so she could start her real life again.
That evening after work, she returned to the Wilson mansion, which was going to be her home for the next few months.
Lincoln wasn’t home. Since he was a bartender, his shifts were in the evenings. It worked out well because it meant she wouldn’t have to see him very often. Things would be better that way.
She’d had heated, restless daydreams all last night prompted by that one sexy conversation she’d had with him in the bedroom while she’d unpacked. The less time she spent with him, the better.
Carter was getting home at the same time she did, and she found him at the bar in the living room, pouring himself a glass of bourbon.
“Drinking already?” she asked, smiling at him as she approached.
He looked tired. He’d taken off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. “One of those days.”
“Is everything all right?” She wasn’t a big drinker, so she shook her head as he gestured toward the bar as a wordless offer to pour her a drink.
“It’s fine. It’s just been a long week. And I’m starting to feel kind of bad.”
“Bad about what?”
He met her eyes with his sober brown ones. “About bullying you into this thing.”
“No! You didn’t bully me into it, Carter. I knew what I was doing, and I agreed.”
“I know you did. But you agreed because you felt sorry for me. Right? I guilted you into it.”
“Not on purpose. I mean, yeah, I felt bad for you. But I also knew this would help. And it’s not really that big a deal. I was going to marry you for the same reasons. Why shouldn’t I do it with Lincoln?”
“Because Lincoln’s an ass. He’s always teasing you and flirting with you. I know it makes you uncomfortable.”
Summer licked her lips, trying to find the best words to respond. “Well, yeah, he is kind of an ass. But I’m getting used to him, and the teasing isn’t a big deal. It’s just his way. I don’t take it personally. It’s hardly a marriage at all. I won’t have to see him very much.”
“He’ll be living right next door to you.”
To protect their cover, Lincoln took the bedroom that connected to Summer’s by a private door, just in case anyone wandered through the house and questioned the legitimacy of their marriage. “Who cares about that? I’m never going to unlock that door. It won’t be any different than if he lived on the other side of the house next to you. It’s fine, Carter. It really is. I can put up with a jerk for a few months. I want to do this. I want to help you.”
He held her gaze. His expression softened. “Thank you, Summer. I’ll never be able to repay you.”
She gave him a soft hug. “You won’t have to. That’s what it means to be friends.”
“Mom wants to have a brunch for the two of you. As a sort of wedding announcement and celebration combined. She’s thinking two weeks from Sunday. Is that okay? She’s got a trip planned for the south of France after that, so she needs to get the brunch in quickly.”
Summer nodded. “That’s fine. As long as you think we can get Lincoln to behave himself for a few hours.”
“I can. He will.”
Something about his expression prompted Summer’s curiosity. “Why does he owe you?”
“What?”
“Lincoln. Why does he owe you? It must be something big for him to agree to this. What did he do? Why does he owe you?”
Carter shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me. I care about you, and I’m involved in this. What did he do?” She was almost holding her breath. She had no idea why the answer to this question mattered to her so much.
Lincoln must have done something truly terrible to owe such a huge debt to his brother.
“I promised him I wouldn’t tell you. I’m sorry, Summer. I can’t.”
Her shoulders slumped slightly, but she didn’t argue anymore. After all, a promise was a promise. And Carter would never go back on his word.
She wouldn’t even want him to.
“All right. I won’t pester you about it.”
“I’m going to owe you big at the end of this thing,” Carter said, raising a hand to touch her hair. “You know that, right?”
Summer flashed a smile. “Yes, I know that. But I doubt I’ll ever ask you to collect. I’m doing it because I want to. Because you’ve been family to me when I didn’t have anyone else.”
This time Carter was the one who hugged her. He held her in his arms for a long time.
***
SUMMER HAD A QUIET evening with Carter, eating sandwiches in front of the television and then going to bed early. She slept deeply and woke up disoriented in the middle of the night.
She knew vaguely where she was, but it was dark in the room and she needed to pee, so she rolled out of bed and stumbled in the general direction of the bathroom attached to her room.
She’d mostly finished unpacking, but she’d left a box of books and a laundry basket full of purses in the middle of the floor to put up the next day. Unfortunately, she’d left them directly on her route to the bathroom.
She tripped on the laundry basket. Since it wasn’t heavy, it moved when her foot connected, so it wasn’t enough to make her completely lose her balance. But it tripped her up enough for her to take a few awkward steps. One of those steps was right into the box of books.
Her foot got caught in the box and she lost it. Her ankle twisted. Her body collapsed. She fell hard. She grabbed for the edge of the dresser, catching herself before she hit her head but wrenching her shoulder as she did. The corner of the dresser jammed into her upper left arm, slicing down a few inches before she caught herself. And her knee slammed one of the drawer pulls.
She let go and allowed herself to slide slowly to the floor, her mind momentarily numbed by the shock and pain. After a minute, she tried to assess her situation.
She was okay. She could move. Nothing was broken. She’d cut up the soft flesh on the upper part of her left arm. Her ankle was twisted, so it hurt but not enough for even a sprain. And she’d bruised her knee.
She stood up slowly, relaxing as the adrenaline subsided. She was in some pain and she was bleeding at her knee and upper arm, but there was no crisis here. She could walk. She wouldn’t need to ask for help.
It was upsetting to fall and hurt herself like this, but since she could have knocked herself unconscious on the edge of the dresser, she wasn’t about to complain about a few minor injuries.
She limped into her bathroom and checked the medicine cabinet and under the sink. There was extra toilet paper there and a couple of spare boxes of tissues but nothing else. They’d obviously cleared everything out for her before she moved in.
She needed bandages for her cuts. And she hadn’t thought to bring first aid supplies with her. She peed and wiped away some of the blood with tissues. Then she went out to the hall, looking in both directions.
It was mostly dark—with just a faint cast of light from the stairwell at the end of the hall. She knew there were bandages in the bathrooms downstairs. She’d seen them there. But blood was dripping down her arm, and her ankle hurt, and she was still kind of shaky from the fall. She didn’t want to walk all the way down there if she didn’t have to.
She turned on the hall light and saw that Lincoln’s bedroom door was wide open. She walked over to peer inside and saw it was dark.
He wasn’t there. He was still working. She had no idea what time it was, but he always worked really late. He wasn’t home yet.
Maybe he had first aid stuff in his bathroom.
Deciding it was worth checking, she walked into his room. It was beautifully furnished like hers was, and he hadn’t yet unpacked. A suitcase was open on the floor, overflowing with clothes. There was a pile of books on his nightstand and a laptop on the small desk in the corner.
She was tempted to snoop, but she wasn’t foolish enough to do so. His shift at the bar might have ended, and he could appear at any time. Instead, she hurried to his attached bathroom and searched for bandages.
Nothing. The shelves and drawers were just as empty as hers.
With a frustrated sigh, she got out of there and limped downstairs to the big bathroom near the kitchen.
She turned on the light and bent over to check one of the drawers under the sink, where she remembered seeing first aid supplies in the past. She was reaching for a box of bandages when a familiar male voice sounded from behind her.
“Well, it was a good plan. I’ll give you that. It’s just your bad luck that the wrong brother happened to find you all rumpled and sexy in the middle of the night. I’m a little disappointed that you’re not wearing that hot little black number, but your ass does look very fine in those pajamas.”
Summer was so surprised by the voice that she gasped and jerked up to a standing position. Given the way her life was going lately, it was no surprise that her abrupt motion caused her head to slam against the granite edge of the sink surround.
“Damn it!” She held on to her head as she managed to stand up, her vision momentarily blurred by the pain.
She was wearing pink cotton pajama shorts and a little white tank top. She wasn’t dressed for an encounter with Lincoln Wilson. Especially with blood running down her arm and leg.
When she turned around, she saw he was giving her a smug little smile, his eyes running up and down her body. But then he must have gotten a better look at her condition. His expression changed. “Shit. What the hell happened?”
“I fell.” Her voice cracked. Her head and her ankle and her arm and her knee all hurt. “I was looking for Band-Aids.”
“Did you fall down the fucking stairs?” Lincoln was dressed in black trousers and an untucked charcoal gray button-up. He looked sleek and modern and wide-awake and sexy as hell, and he was the last thing she wanted to see right now. “You’re a mess. Sit down. I’ll fix you up.”
“I don’t need you to fix me up.” She swiped a stray tear away, hoping he didn’t see it.
He saw it. Of course he did. He shook his head and gave her a faintly annoyed eye roll. “Sit your ass down. You’re about to get bloodstains on a thousand-dollar rug.”
Summer gasped and looked down at the bathmat under her feet. It was thick and pure white. Blood was slowly trickling down her shin. She sat on the closed toilet and used her hand to wipe the stream of blood from her skin before it dripped to the floor. “Does that rug really cost a thousand dollars?”
“I haven’t a clue. Knowing my mom, it’s possible. But I mostly just wanted to get you to stop arguing.” He was smirking again as he pulled supplies out of the first aid drawer. He set them on the floor near her feet and then grabbed a soft white washcloth from beside the sink, getting it wet.
Because she was still kind of blurry, it took her a minute to realize what he was doing. “Wait! Don’t use that to—” She broke off because it was too late.
Lincoln had leaned over and was mopping the blood off her left arm with the expensive white washcloth. He knelt down on the floor as he worked, bringing him far too close to her.
She was silent as he wiped the blood off her upper arm and then cleaned up her knee. His eyes were focused on his task. His body was big and firm and fit and solid. He smelled like liquor and night air and maybe the slightest hint of spicy aftershave. She held herself very still.
“Doesn’t look too bad,” he murmured, inspecting the cut on her arm. “You don’t need stitches or anything. It’s bruised though.”
“It’s fine.” She was relieved that her voice was low and even since she was feeling shakier than ever.
She really wanted to touch his face. His thick, dark hair. The fabric of his shirt.
He spread antibiotic salve on her cut before he pulled a couple of bandages out of the box. “Let me guess. You were out on your midnight vigil, hoping to run into Carter for an accidental seduction, and you were so wrapped up in daydreams about him that you missed a stair.” He unwrapped the bandages and then leaned closer to apply them to her arm.
She narrowed her eyes with a familiar surge of anger. The stupidest thing was that she still wanted to touch him.
When she didn’t reply, he looked up at her face. They were only inches away from each other. “I guessed it right, didn’t I?”
“No,” she gritted out. “You did not.”
He was silent for a moment. He lowered himself on his knees when he finished with her arm and turned his attention to her leg. He wiped up a little more blood and then gently rubbed on the salve.
She gazed down at him as he worked. She couldn’t help it. It was so strange for him to tend to her in this way. His fingers were touching her bare skin. It felt intimate.
Far too intimate.
He flashed her a quick, searching look. “So what did happen?”
She chewed on her upper lip for a few seconds before she relented. “I was going to the bathroom, and I tripped on a stupid box of books. I fell against the dresser.”
His arched his eyebrows. “Are you in a habit of taking such disastrous tumbles?”
“No. It was dark, and I’m not used to the room yet.”
Lincoln nodded and used two bandages to cover the cut on her knee. “Did you hurt anything else?”
“I twisted my ankle a little, but it’s not bad.” She wriggled her foot slightly to confirm that her words were true.
He reached for her foot, gently turning it in different directions, watching her face as he did.
“I told you it’s not bad. It’s not sprained.”
Both his warm hands were holding her bare foot. He was on his knees on the floor in front of her. Their eyes met and held. She couldn’t look away. She twisted her trembling hands in her lap and resisted the urge to touch him.
He swallowed. She saw it in his throat. Then he let go of her foot with a strange, slow caution.
He rose to his feet and offered her a hand. She took it, letting him help her to her feet.
They stared at each other some more, standing together in the middle of the silent bathroom. She could hear herself breathing. Too quickly. Almost raggedly.
What the hell was wrong with her? She didn’t even like this man.
She jerked her gaze away, staring instead at the floor.
“Well, I’ve done my good deed for the night,” Lincoln said lightly, taking a step back from her. “I can now sleep the sleep of the righteous.”
She snorted, his wry tone dragging her out of the shaky intensity of the moment before. “You’ve never slept the sleep of the righteous in your life.”
“That is sadly true. My brother inherited any shred of righteousness that exists in our genes. He’s the saint. I’m the sinner.”
She gave him an impatient look.
“What’s that look for?” He was once more brimming with his dry, almost playful arrogance. “Do you deny that I’m the sinner of the family?”
“Of course I don’t deny it. Just like it’s impossible to deny how good a man Carter is.”
“Exactly. He’s a good man. And I’m a bad one. We’re in full agreement on this issue. Why do you insist on arguing with everything I say?”
“Because everything you say is either wrong or obnoxious or completely inappropriate. If you’d change what you say, I wouldn’t argue with you all the time.”
He laughed, low and soft and irresistible. His vivid eyes were oddly soft.
She was so deeply drawn to him in that moment that Summer decided it was well past time for her to make an escape. “Okay. Thanks for your help. I’m going to bed now.”
“Next time, you should do your midnight wanderings in the west wing. You’ll have better luck encountering Carter there.”
“I wasn’t trying to run into Carter.” She pushed past him to leave the bathroom.
“Sure you weren’t.” His smug voice followed her down the hall, but she didn’t turn around.