Summer was barely inside before Gram switched off the television and plopped Silas down on the floor.

“Why didn’t you return any of my phone calls?”

Because I was too ashamed of what I was doing.

“That was…unforgiveable of me,” Summer whispered. “I did listen to every single message though…if that counts.”

“So, when were you going to tell me you’ve started seeing Zach Torr?” Gram asked excitedly.

“It’s not what you think,” Summer hedged, feeling acutely uncomfortable that her grandmother was hoping for a true romance.

“What is it, then?”

“Look, it was a long flight. I’m thirsty. Do you have some tea?”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to hear this from all the gossips?” Gram asked rather gloomily as she and Silas followed Summer into the kitchen.

Summer didn’t say anything as Gram splashed tea from a pitcher in the fridge into a tall glass.

“Well, if you won’t talk, I’ll say my peace. I think it’s great that you’re reconnecting with Zach.”

“We’re not…”

“It’s high time you two sorted out the past.”

“Gram-”

“It will do you both a world of good…to talk it out.”

“There’s nothing to talk out.”

“Oh, no?” After stirring in lemon and mint Gram handed Summer the tall glass of iced tea. “You could talk about New Orleans. And the baby.”

Summer’s chest felt hollow and tight.

“You looked like death when you came home from New Orleans. I used to wonder if you’d ever get over it. Maybe if you told Zach, let him share that grief with you, maybe then both of you could move on. He’s just as stuck in the past as you are.”

Summer shook her head. “That was fifteen years ago. It’s way too late for us.”

Losing his baby after he’d rejected her had hurt so much, Summer had locked her sorrow inside. She’d never wanted to suffer because of it again.

Tears burned behind the back of her eyelids. “I can’t talk about it, not even like this, to you, Gram.”

Gram’s arms slid slowly around her, and Summer, fighting tears, stayed in them for quite a while.

“Spending time with him is the brave thing to do. I think it’s a start in finding yourself. I, for one, am going to pray for a miracle.”

“You do that,” Summer whispered, not wanting to repeat that, for her and Zach, it was hopeless.

“In the meantime, we could play Hearts,” Gram said more cheerfully.

“Gram…I…”

“I just love it when Zach stops by to play Hearts… A man with as much as he has to do taking time for a little old lady… And he’s not even my grandson.”

Zach again…besting her. Was there no competing with him? No escaping him?

Feeling cornered, Summer sat down with Gram to play Hearts.


* * *

Except for the lights she’d left on, the Thibodeaux mansion was still dark several hours later when Summer drove up in Gram’s borrowed Ford sedan, after having lost too many games of Hearts. She hadn’t bothered to set the security system, so she simply unlocked the door and let herself in.

Feeling restless because Zach still wasn’t there, she showered and dressed for bed in a thin T-shirt and a pair of comfortable long cotton pants. Intending to mull over her scenes for a little while, she pulled back her covers and slid into bed with her script.

But just reading through the sex scene made her squirm, so when she saw the remote, she flicked on the television, surfing until she found the weather channel.

There was a big storm over east Texas that Zach would have to drive through. Video of downed trees, traffic signs and power lines made her more apprehensive, so she turned the television off.

Was he okay? If he’d been in an accident, would anyone even think to call her?

He’s fine. Just fine. And why should you care if he isn’t?

Even more restless now, she got up and padded into the kitchen where she poured herself a glass of sparkling water. She was pacing when her cell phone rang. Hoping it might be Zach, she sprinted back down the hall to answer it.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Thurman demanded without bothering to greet her. “How can you move in with that bastard? You should be ashamed of yourself.”

She was ashamed, and furious at Thurman for punching that hot button.

Headlights flashed across the front of the house as her stepfather lambasted her. Stiffening her spine, she stood up straighter. She wasn’t some teenage girl her stepfather could blackmail or control.

“How did you get this number?” Summer said. “I’ve told you never to call me.”

“What are you doing over there? I demand to know.”

“It’s none of your business. And it hasn’t been for a very long time. Mother’s dead. I’m an adult. Goodbye.”

“You’re dragging the family down into the dirt all over again!” He swore viciously.

She turned her phone off just as Zach’s key turned in the lock.

Thinking she should give him a piece of her mind for putting her through all this, she stomped toward the front door. Then he stepped wearily across the threshold. She registered the slump of his broad shoulders, which looked soaked in the gray light.

“Hi,” she said, feeling an unwanted mixture of relief and sympathy for him.

“Sorry.” He seemed as tense and wary as she was. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“You didn’t.” No way would she admit she’d been worrying about him. “Thirsty.” She waved her glass of water. “Thanks for getting all my favorite stuff. For the fridge, I mean.”

“All I did was have Rhonda make a phone call to your grandmother. Rhonda’s my secretary.” When he smiled crookedly, he was incredibly handsome despite the dark circles of fatigue shadowing his eyes.

“Long day?” she whispered, feeling slightly breathless, already having fallen under the spell of his lean, sculpted beauty.

He nodded. “Even before the drive. Long week, too. When it rains…it pours. Literally.”

“Oh, and the storm. Was it bad?”

“It slowed me down.”

From the late hour and his tight features, she was almost sure that was an understatement.

“Do you have any more bags? Could I help you carry something inside?”

“You’re being awfully nice. Too nice,” he accused, his dark eyes flashing dangerously. “Why?”

“Yes-and I don’t know why. I don’t trust myself, either.”

When he smiled and seemed to relax, she felt her own tension ease a little. But just a little. After all, their shared weekend loomed in her imagination. She wasn’t sure what he expected of her tonight.

“No,” he said. “I don’t need help. This is all I brought.” He paused. “If you hadn’t spent your night here waiting on me, what glamorous place would you have been?”

“In L.A., at Hugh’s premiere.”

At the mention of Hugh, Zach’s eyes darkened.

“I was going out there this weekend because we start shooting together next week.”

“Are you two doing a love scene?” His voice was hard now.

More than one.

Annoyed because he’d nailed her and because, like most people, he so obviously attached undue significance to anything of a sexual nature on film, she ignored his question.

“I don’t want to talk about Hugh with you.”

“Good. Because neither the hell do I.”

She hesitated, wondering why he sounded jealous and not knowing where to go from here. “Are you hungry?”

“Look, there’s no need for you to worry about me. It’s late… And I’ve screwed up your schedule enough today as it is.”

Of course he was right, but he looked so bone weary, as if it had taken everything out of him to get here while she’d rested on his plane and had been pampered at Gram’s.

“I’ll just put some cheese and ham out,” she said. “You bought it, after all.”

“Not so that you would stay up and wait on me. I can take care of myself.”

“It won’t take a minute,” she insisted, stubbornly refusing to let him boss her around.

“Okay. I’ll be back down after I freshen up.” He left her and carried his bag and briefcase upstairs.

By the time he strode into the kitchen, she’d opened a bottle of wine and set a single place for him at the kitchen table.

When he sat down, she noted that his black hair was still gleaming wet.

“You’re not eating?” he said, sipping wine, when she hovered but didn’t sit.

“I ate at Gram’s earlier.”

“Not those chocolate-chip cookies she baked just for me, I hope?” he teased.

“She bakes them for me, too-even though I tell her not to.” Summer grinned back at him. As she pulled out a chair, she couldn’t stop staring into his utterly gorgeous eyes. Was there a man alive with longer lashes? A tiny pulse had begun to throb much too fast at the base of her throat, causing her breath to catch.

What was going on? How could she actually be so thrilled he was here, safe and sound, when he’d forced her to come to him, when he intended to deliberately humiliate her? When Thurman and the rest of the town were judging and accusing her? When Hugh was sulking in L.A. and her agent and director were apoplectic? When she’d disappointed poor, darling Gram, who was hoping for a happy ending to this farce?

“I had a few cookies after a chicken sandwich,” she replied, striving to sound nonchalant. “Dessert is allowed sometimes, you know.”

“Even for an actress who has to keep her perfect figure…so she’ll look mouth-wateringly sexy in those love scenes…with Hugh?”

His angry black gaze flicked over her breasts in her thin T-shirt. His male assessment accused her even as it made her blood heat.

“Love scenes in movies aren’t the least bit sexy. They’re all about creating an illusion for the viewer.”

“Is that so? You always were good at creating illusions.”

He glanced away abruptly, trying to hide his obvious interest in her body and his fury at the thought of her with Hugh, but it was too late. Suddenly the walls of his kitchen felt as if they were closing in on her, and she couldn’t breathe. How could he charge the air between them with a mere question and a hot, proprietary glance?