But his eyes were the thing that caught her attention most. He had Ryan’s eyes—green like springtime in Ireland.
She hid the strange attraction behind indignation, trying to yank herself away. “What are you doing? Let go.”
“Not a chance, princess.”
She froze. Ryan had called her that the other night, and he’d spoken in the same strange accent. “Who are you?”
He frowned. “You don’t remember me?”
Those eyes, and his voice … But she was being fanciful. He wasn’t Ryan by any stretch of the imagination. “Maybe I’ve seen you in the building.”
“You’ve done more than that. You’ve kissed me.”
She shook her head, despite the dawning sense of dread. “I haven’t kissed you. I think you have the wrong woman.”
“You’re the right woman.” He snaked his arm around her. “Remember yet?”
“No.” But it felt
very
familiar, and she didn’t like that. She frowned, annoyed with herself. Ryan was her Prince Charming. She shouldn’t be turned on by another man. “I don’t know who you think I am, but—”
“You’re Summer Welles, who said she’s marrying Ryan Huber, who’s actually dating Sondra Fawkes,” the mystery man said. “And yet you kissed me. I want to know what game you’re playing.”
She gazed at his mouth, oddly mesmerized. She should mind having kissed him, but she couldn’t muster any regret. She licked her lips. “I told you, I never kissed you. I’d remem—”
He lowered his mouth to hers.
Her eyes flew open at the immediate flare of sparks. He watched her, too, as though trying to see into her soul. His hand laced into her hair, and he eased her head back to deepen the kiss.
She gasped against his mouth, her eyes widening even more. She recognized this—she’d dreamt about it since that night at the ball.
She heard a door open, and she glanced left to see Em standing in the doorway of their office, her eyes as round as saucers. Her friend gave her two thumbs up and then hurried back into the firm.
Summer squeezed her eyes shut. This was wrong.
She
was wrong—in so many ways.
But her body knew him even if her mind didn’t want to accept it. Her lips remembered the hungry press of his, her nipples hardened begging for his attention, and between her legs she tingled with need. She pressed her thighs together, trying to prevent her knickers from becoming wet.
It didn’t work.
He walked them backwards, pressing her against the wall, just like he’d done that night. And just like that night, her entire body lit up and begged her to give in to him.
“This doesn’t recall anything?” he murmured against her lips.
She tried to breathe. She should push him away. Instead, she grabbed him by the hair and pulled his mouth back down toward hers.
He stilled as if he hadn’t expected that. Quite frankly, she’d surprised herself.
But then he took her, in a way that made all the other kisses look like schoolyard pecks.
She moaned. Of its own accord—at least that was what she chose to believe—her leg hitched around his leg and pulled him closer.
He grunted, grinding his hardness against her. “I guess this means you remember me now.”
What was she doing? And in the hallway at work. She pushed him away, smoothing her skirt back down and touching her hair. It was a mess, and she groaned, this time in horror. “I have no idea who you are, but we can’t do this here. I work in this building.”
He looked around as if he just realized where they were. He cursed under his breath and then took her arm and led her back to Orson & Tomlin. “You have a private office where we can speak, I hope.”
“I don’t want to speak.” She tugged her arm from his hand and glared at him, walking slower just to annoy him because he was annoying her.
“You have no choice, princess.” He gave her a narrow look that was supposed to be menacing.
She rolled her eyes. “Try harder.”
“Okay, let me put it this way. We can either hash it out here in public, for everyone to hear how you mauled me on the dance floor—”
“
You
mauled
me
,” she protested.
“—or we can go to your office where it’s private and you can tell me what your involvement with Huber really is.”
“Fine.” She marched faster ahead of him, pushing open the door to the law firm. She didn’t bother to hold it open for him. If there was any justice in the world it’d slam in his face.
He caught it, giving her a look, but he said nothing.
“Hi, Summer,” Em said with a knowing smile. She looked at the man behind her, her eyes bright with curiosity.
“I don’t want to be interrupted,” Summer said, striding past.
Em’s eyebrows flew up, and a beat later she saluted. “Yes, sir.”
Summer heard the man behind her snort. She ignored both of them and hurried to her office.
The man was a step behind her, entering close on her heels. He closed the door behind him and locked it.
Her heart hitched—out of excitement. She closed her eyes. She would not remember how hard he was in the hall, or how good he’d felt pressed into her. She would not think of how he’d kissed her—how it was like a mating, deep and strong and undeniable.
She put a hand to her forehead. She was in dire trouble.
He sat in the visitor’s chair and crossed his arms. “Are you working with Ryan Huber?”
She blinked, confused. “He works for the investment firm down the hall.”
“I’m asking if you’re in cahoots with him.”
“Cahoots?” She gaped. “Do people still use that word?”
His eyes narrowed, and he waited her out in silence.
Sighing, she sat down. “I can’t tell you about Ryan.”
“Why not?”
Because it was embarrassing—doubly so because she’d kissed the wrong man and wanted to kiss him again. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re asking all these questions.”
“You first, princess.” He looked her in the eye. “I heard you say you were going to marry Huber.”
She flushed. “I may have gotten ahead of myself.”
He arched a brow.
Because she could tell he wasn’t going to relent, she gave up. “I’ve admired him from afar. I’ve been meaning to ask him for a drink or something, but I haven’t. Then I saw that he had a girlfriend, and I knew I had to make a move or he’d be lost forever.”
The man stared at her, obviously disbelieving. “That’s your story?”
“As pathetic as it is, it’s true.” She slouched in her seat, touching the pendant. Catherine Summerhill, who’d owned this necklace first, would have been so disappointed in her. Sometimes Summer was less like a Summerhill than she wanted to be.
“What about the man you embraced outside?”
“Outside …” She blinked. “Nick? He’s my brother. We had lunch.”
The man’s shoulders relaxed, just a little. “When did you meet Ryan?”
“I thought I met him at the masked ball, but that was you.”
The man sat up. “You’ve never met him?”
“No.” She crossed her arms.
“But you want to marry him? You’re either insane or daft, and I’m leaning toward the former.”
She glared at him. “I’m neither. He’s a fabulous man. He’s a real-life Prince Charming. He does charity work, and has a great job, and is always cheerful—”
“And is embezzling money from his company,” the man said blandly.
She shot up in her seat. “What?”
He nodded. “I’m investigating him.”
She shook her head, mute with shock. It was a long moment before she could say, “That can’t be.”
“I have no reason to lie to you about that.”
That was true. She frowned.
“Unlike you,” he continued, “who has every reason to lie.”
“I’m not lying,” she said, indignant.
“Your very being is a lie.” He nodded at her body. “I don’t even trust your clothes.”
She put a hand to her neckline. “Sorry?”
“You’re dishonest in what you’re wearing,” he said. “You’re dressed like an undertaker. The only reason a woman dresses like that is because she’s either disguising herself, or she thinks she’s unattractive. You aren’t that, so it must be because you’re disguising yourself.”
“Was that some sort of compliment?”
“Just telling it as I see it.”
She shook her head. “I have no idea what you mean when you say Ryan Huber is stealing money from his company.”
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but you’re telling the truth,” he muttered as though in shock.
“Of course I am.”
He stood. “Stay away from Huber. Don’t get involved in his mess.”
He left the door open when he left. Summer stared after him, her fingers on her lips.
They still tingled.
“You’re holding out on me,” Em said as she rushed into the office, her expression lit with curiosity. She shut the door and pulled a chair closer. “Who was that?” she insisted as she sat.
Summer shook her head. “I have no idea, but it wasn’t Ryan.”
“Maybe you should forget Ryan.”
She frowned at her friend. “Ryan is perfect.”
“But Mr. No Name was absolutely scrumptious, and you looked at him like you wanted to eat him up.”
She
had
eaten him up. She put a hand to her forehead. Worse—she’d gone back for seconds.
Em sat back, the devil in her eyes. “He looked like he found you tasty as well.”
“He wants nothing to do with me.” At least, that was what she thought, and it didn’t please her. “He said Ryan was being investigated for embezzlement, but I don’t believe it.”
Her friend shook her head. “Why would he lie to you?”
“He wasn’t lying.” She didn’t know why, but she was certain he’d told her the truth. “He must just be mistaken, because Ryan’s not the type of person who’d steal.”
“How do you know?”
She blinked. “What?”
“How do you know?” Em shrugged. “You’ve never talked to him, right?”
“I’ve talked to—” She frowned. Actually, no, she hadn’t, because she’d talked to the Aussie. She scowled. She didn’t even know his name.
Em stood. “If you want my vote, I’d go for tall, dark, and yummy instead of Ryan. He gave me hot flashes.”
“That’s because of your pregnancy hormones.”
“No, he was just hot.” Em grinned as she reached for the door. “But not as hot as my Joe.”
The Australian was much hotter than Joe Winslow. Not that Summer was going to argue that point.
Chapter Eleven
Jon stared at Ryan, who was explaining the paperwork that he needed to sign. He should have been paying attention, but all he could think about was Summer.
What in the bloody hell did she see in this jackass?
Everything about the man reeked foul. Jon didn’t even believe that the “designer” briefcase next to his desk was authentic. The only thing authentic about Ryan Huber was his smarm.
What did Summer Welles see in a man like that? Not that she was still pursuing him, because what sane woman would go for a man who was a crook?
Actually, a lot of women, and Jon wasn’t certain she was sane.
Huber pushed a page across the desk. “And lastly, I need your autograph here,” he said, indicating a line.
Jon should have been paying attention—he had no idea what he was signing. But he picked up the pen and scrawled his first name, catching himself before he added “Smith” instead of “Lincoln.”
He needed to pay attention, he admonished himself again, smiling guilelessly at Huber and he passed the paper back. “There you go.”
“Excellent.” Huber looked pleased with himself as he gathered all the pages together. “I already have some ideas of how to secure your money. Would you like to run through them?”
Jon waved his hand dismissively. “No, I trust you. Do your thing.”
Huber fidgeted, his eyes lit. “All right. Any time you need a snapshot of your investments, please do call.”
“Sure thing.” Jon stood. “But that’s why I hired you, to worry about my money while I had some fun, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, I do.” Huber winked, an oily scrunch of the eye that made Jon want to take a shower. The man clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Speaking of having fun, I’m having a house party this weekend at my country house. I’ve invited a few close friends. You should join us.”
Jon scratched his chin, pretending to consider it. “When is it, exactly?”
“People will be arriving Friday and Saturday, and most people will stay until Monday, which is a British holiday.”
“What do you do at a country house?” Jon asked as Huber escorted him out of the office. “Play croquet on the lawn? Hunt pheasant?”
Huber laughed. “Pheasant isn’t what I’ll be hunting, if you know what I mean.”
He did, and it made him want to punch the man in the face.
Then Jon saw Summer waiting by the elevator bank. He watched her eyes narrow and her back stiffen, like she was going to pounce on him. He wished he knew if it was because she wanted him or because she wanted to strangle him.
Then he saw the moment she saw noticed Huber at his side. Her face went blank and her mouth shut.
He slowed his pace, oddly reluctant to have the two of them connect.
“Come to my house party,” Huber said, oblivious of Summer, which annoyed Jon even as it relieved him. “I’ll have plenty of diversions there that should suit your tastes, and my friends are wild. I promise you’ll be suitably entertained.”
Jon glanced at Summer, feeling her perk up. Putting himself between them, he faced Huber. “I’d like that a lot. You’ll let me know what to bring?”
“I provide everything.” The man winked again.
Jon wanted to punch him in the face. Instead he smiled slowly, playing along. “I getchya, man. Cool.” He put his fist out, waiting for Huber to bump it.
The man fumbled before realizing what to do.
What a fool. Jon smacked him on the back, feeling gratified when Huber stumbled.
The elevator arrived, the doors pinging as they opened. “See ya later, friend,” Jon said with a wave, holding the door open for Summer. “After you, pretty lady.”
She glared at him.
He gave her a quelling look, willing her not to blow his cover.
Sticking her pert nose in the air, she marched in. Relieved, he sauntered in after her.
To her credit, she waited until the doors were closed before she lit into him. “Why do you do that thing with your accent? You’re not American.”