Their Summer Heat (4 page)

One of the ladies behind her said, “You’ve got that right, bitch.”

Summer didn’t have to turn around to know who had spoken. Margo Swenson was the queen bitch in this herd, and Summer and the rest of the ladies had to put up with the woman’s blaring gushiness about getting the highest bid of $22,000. Really, listening to that bitch over dinner wouldn’t be worth a plugged nickel. Summer had no clue who this Logan dude was she kept complaining about, but he didn’t bid on the Queen B and he was now on the Queen B’s shit list and everybody had to hear about that too.

“Come on, it’s for charity,” coaxed Gary.

The crowd clapped, and Summer couldn’t find a way out of the situation, unless she happened to drop dead from a myocardial infarction—which she prayed for. She did want to know whose idea this was, because she was sure it had something to do with the trial, and if she was right, she would rip someone a new asshole.

She plastered on a smile, reminded herself that this was for charity and croaked, “Okay.”

The whispers behind her caught her attention. She could focus on these bitches instead of focusing on what she couldn’t see because of the lights burning out her retinas.

“She’s going to be humiliated.”

Margo’s voice reminded Summer of fingernails on a chalkboard. She wanted to turn around and tell the bitch she’d been humiliated by the best today; one more humiliation wouldn’t make a damned bit of difference.

“Ten thousand dollars,” a deep voice sounded from the back.

“Twenty thousand,” said someone else.

Margo gasped right along with Summer.

“Thirty.”

“Forty.”

“Fifty.”

Summer could hear the two men getting closer, weaving their way through the crowd as they called out ridiculous numbers. She shielded her eyes from the megawatt lights and tried to see the parties responsible for making all these women behind her lose their minds and want to stab her in the back.

“Sixty.”

“Seventy.”

The crowd murmured, the emcee smiled, the herd sharpened their claws and Summer needed to puke.

Gary shielded his eyes too. “Ah, the Prestons. Should have known.”

“Eighty.”

“Ninety.”

Both men stopped at the edge of the stage. She recognized Max Preston. Then her gaze settled on the man beside him, the one who’d invaded her private alcove. Max was a little taller. The other one a little broader. Brothers? They had to be.

The two men looked at each other, grinned, and Max said, “One hundred, each. Final bid.” The other bidder nodded in agreement.

Gary adjusted his tie. “Well, any other bids out there?”

Chuckles sounded from the crowd.

“Didn’t think so. Miss Summer Heat is sold to Logan and Max Preston for 200 grand—a new record.”

The crowd stood, their clapping like base drums beating against Summer.

Champagne. She needed more champagne. She turned and headed off the stage. Cathy engulfed her in a hug and told her how wonderful it was to have another $200,000. Summer could only nod before she kept walking.

Someone snatched Summer’s arm and spun her around, abruptly halting her escape.

“Why, you bitch. Logan’s mine,” screamed Margo.

Summer glanced at the hand on her arm and then back into the eyes of a maniac. Several women grabbed at Margo and told her not to overreact or cause a scene. Summer thought the
over
part of the woman’s reaction had come and gone.

“Let go of me before I break your nose,” said Summer. If a bully thought they could walk over you, they would, and Summer wasn’t going to let herself be the victim here.

One woman pried Margo’s hand off Summer’s arm and tried to pull Margo away.

“Who the hell are you?” asked Margo.

“I’m nobody.” Summer didn’t believe that, but getting into a catfight would only delay that glass of bubbly that called her name.

“I’m stuck with Harold Baumgartner and you’ve got
the
two most eligible bachelors in New York.”

“She’s the woman who was on the news tonight.”

Margo spun around to face the woman who had spoken. “What?”

“She provides sex-talk for a 900 number.”

Some of the cats gasped, others snickered. Summer figured that would be the only thing the entire population of New York would focus on and not the fact that she’d won a case against the great Max Preston, or that she worked her ass off to pay her way through college and pay off credit cards that her drunk, gambling-addicted father had amassed.

“A whore.” Margo smiled.

Summer understood why these women felt the way they did. She was a stranger encroaching on their territory, and lashing out was a normal response. But maybe she could turn this around.

“Margo, may I speak with you alone?”

Margo arched a perfect brow. “Why?”

“Alone, please.”

Margo hitched her head, and the pack scattered like good little kitties. What power this woman had; Summer would have jumped at the opportunity to study the dynamics at work between Margo and her debutant friends.

“I have a super-fantastic deal for you.”

“A deal,” snarled Margo. “What could you possibly—?”

“Shut up and listen. Your date with Harold is next Saturday, right?”

“Yeah. So?”

“Do you have anything goin’ on tomorrow night?”

“No, but…”

“Good. You can take my place tomorrow with the Prestons. I have to study for a test and won’t be able to make it.”

Suspicion quickly replaced the look of bewilderment on Margo’s face. “Are you insane or something?”

Or somethin’
. “No, far from it. Let’s just say I won’t let myself be manipulated.”

“What does that even mean?”

It means you’re too dumb to understand.
“Does it matter? You get what you want, and I get what I want. But you have to tell the Prestons one thing.”

“Sure. What’s that?”

“Tell them I said, ‘you can’t buy Summer Heat’.”

Margo frowned, clearly not getting it. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

Summer smiled. “Yep. Yep. Yep.”

Summer yawned and clicked off the light in the office. Saturday nights were vacuum nights, which she didn’t mind at all. The hum of the machine soothed her, sometimes too much. The sound drowned out everything, and she’d found she could replay the whole week and figure out what she did right and what she sucked at.

And there had been a whole lot of sucking this past week.

Channel Four had played clips from the trial. Some showed the verbal punches she’d landed and others highlighted Max’s direct hits. They had zoomed in on her face when her tears had leaked along with her sob story. Why had the reporters been there, anyway?

Thank God, she didn’t own a phone in her name; she was sure she would have tossed it out the window, hoping to hit a reporter or two.
Please don’t let them figure out that the landline was in her landlady’s name…
Mrs. Winters didn’t need to know Summer used it for phone sex. That information could easily give the poor old woman a stroke.

Summer even had to sneak from her building when the locust had camped on the street outside the front door, but she wasn’t beneath slipping out a window.
A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

She’d been tempted to go to the Strip Steak and hide in the bushes just to see the looks on the Preston brothers’ faces when Bimbett showed up. Of course, their little “date” might be on the news tomorrow morning. She could only hope. Summer didn’t need the publicity, so sending Margo had been a brilliant idea.

And here she was, cleaning Preston Real Estate offices while the owners were off wining and dining Margo. Score one for Summer…sort of. It would have been nice to dine at the exclusive eatery, but not on their terms. They had embarrassed the hell out of her, and caused a pack of feral cats to attack her in a jealous rage. Everyone at the gala would assume the great Prestons wanted her for her 900 experience, and if the truth were known, they probably did.

She vacuumed her way down the hall and stopped at the office of Logan Preston. She’d cleaned this office many times and probably should avoid it all together tonight, but being smart wasn’t something she worried about much when she was alone in a high-rise, cleaning floors.

Summer pushed open the door and entered. Really? Who has a foyer in their office made entirely of marble? It was beautiful, though, and the artwork on the walls was amazing. She could wander these halls all day and stare at the pictures. Or look out the windows at Central Park, another favorite pastime of hers.

After meticulously cleaning the foyer and receptionist area, she pushed open Mr. Preston’s door and stopped.

* * * * *

Logan watched surprise then anger float across Summer Heat’s face.

“Come join us,” he said.

“We ordered you a filet, medium with mushrooms,” said Max. “We hope that’s all right.”

She turned off the vacuum and moved to stand by the linen-covered table complete with two white candles in silver holders. The chef they had borrowed pulled out the chair for her, but she hesitated, obviously perplexed, before slowly taking a seat.

She swallowed as the chef removed the silver domes from the food.

“That will be all, Ted,” Logan nodded toward the door.

She watched, her expression curious, as Ted bowed and let himself out.

Logan handed her a flute and she sniffed the contents. “I shouldn’t drink while I’m on the clock.”

“That’s the beauty of this plan,” said Max. “We own the cleaning company, and even though we appreciate your work ethic, it would please us greatly if you’d enjoy the champagne.”

“And you realized that when you snooped into my background.”

“Yes,” said Max. “But I waited to use that information for a time when it better suited my needs—like now.”

Summer’s smile was so beautiful, Logan would never get enough of it. And that southern drawl of hers was so delightful.

“Well, at least you’re honest,” she said.

She sipped the sparkling beverage, closed her eyes as she savored the flavor, and all sorts of scenarios concerning her naked and her favorite champagne tripped through his mind.

“What did you do with Margo?”

“Left her sitting at the table,” replied Max.

“That was rude, don’t you think?”

“She’ll get over it,” offered Logan.

Summer pinned him with a stare. “Really? That woman’s out for my blood. She complained that Logan—I assume that’s you—didn’t even bid on her, and then you two bid that outrageous price for me. When I walked off the stage, I had to pull her claws out of my back.”

“There’s a reason my brother didn’t bid on her,” said Max.

Summer cut her steak and slipped a bite into her mouth. “Mmm. That’s delicious. Let me guess. Margo wants a house in the Hamptons and a rock on her finger?”

“She
is
good at reading people,” said Logan.

“I told you so,” said Max.

“Oh, pleezzze. A blind twelve year old could see what motivates that woman.”

Logan sat back and watched her eat. She was hungry, probably hadn’t had time to eat between jobs. Hell, he could almost come, watching her lips move. God, he couldn’t wait to take her to every great restaurant in the world.

He and his brother had decided that Summer Heat was theirs. They’d shared women before, but that was many years ago, before they’d climbed through the ranks to the top of New York’s society. Fuck society. Nothing would keep them from her—well, except
her
. Somehow, he and his brother had to figure out how to maneuver Miss Summer Heat. ‘You can’t buy Summer Heat’ Margo had said, delivering Summer’s message, which could only mean the lady in question didn’t like to be manipulated. Call him vain, but what woman would pass up the opportunity to have dinner with him and his brother? That’s what made Summer refreshing. She wasn’t out to get bedded and wedded.

Her gazed roamed over him and then over Max. “You two dressed up for Margo tonight. You both look amazin’.”

“We didn’t dress for Margo,” said Logan. “We were duped.” He held his glass out to her. “You win that round.”

She raised her glass, tapped the rim against his and then Max’s champagne flute, before taking a sip.

“Logan said you were talking with Tom Werner.”

“Yes. He offered me a job.”

Logan felt his brother stiffen.

“What type of a job?” Max asked.

“Jury selection. Offered me 75 big ones. He wanted to use my talents”—she pointed her fork at Max—“as leverage against you. I figure I could pay off my debts within a year.”

“You accepted?”

She studied his brother, no doubt that brilliant mind of hers working out the right thing to say. Then she smiled. “No. I told him if I
never
see a courtroom again, it would be too soon. He doesn’t like you.”

“I don’t like him either. You could come to work for me.”

She shook her head. “I don’t need another job.”

“Who’s talking about another? You have an uncanny ability to read people, know what they’re thinking. I’m talking about
you
helping
me
with jury selection.”

“No, thanks.”

Logan poured her more champagne, and she immediately raised her glass and took a sip.

“You do like champagne, don’t you?” Logan asked.

“Yes. And chocolate and anything sugary.”

“Hmmm.” Logan filed that tidbit in the back of his mind. Oh, what he and his brother could do with champagne and chocolate, but first they had to break down that barrier she’d built around herself. Logan kicked his brother under the table.

“Summer, I’m sorry for what happened in the courtroom yesterday. My intent was to win. You challenged me, and I couldn’t help myself.”

She swallowed and looked at Max. “I actually understand why you did it. It’s a compulsion to win at all costs, but now you know that ‘at all costs’ sometimes has costs that no one should have to pay. I saw it in your face when that realization struck you. My daddy was a drunk; I allowed him to become a drunk, and I want to repay his debts. Now, my face is all over the news; locust, I mean reporters, are camped out on my doorstep. I’m no longer a nameless, faceless person in New York. I don’t particularly like this feelin’.”