That wasn’t Huber’s ass to stare at. Jon marched forward.
But then he remembered to keep in character, so he slowed to a lazy amble and headed straight to Summer. “Hey, baby.”
She looked at him suspiciously, her eyes widening as she realized he intended to embrace her.
He didn’t let that stop him. With his gaze, he warned her not to resist as he smoothly slid his hands around her waist. Turning her away from Huber, he pulled her hips into his.
She gasped, opening her mouth. He lowered his to hers to cut off whatever she was about to say.
He figured she’d try to push him away. He was shocked when she melted against him and kissed him back.
Just like at the masquerade ball, the initial contact shocked him, and then it settled into him, molten and fiery, feeding a current in his body that he hadn’t known was so strong.
Each time his lips touched hers he had an uncontrollable urge to rip her clothes off and lose himself in her. He had hope when he kissed her. When their lips touched, he felt like one person in the world might be exactly what she appeared to be: good and kind and genuine.
It shocked him how much he wanted that to be real.
They broke apart. Taking advantage of Summer being shocked silent, Jon faced Huber. “I’m taking Summer for a walk.”
The crook smirked. “I’d recommend the route by the large oak. There’s a huntsman’s cottage down there,” he added with an oily wink.
Jon escorted her away. She still looked as stunned as he felt.
When they reached the path, she tugged her arm away from him and hugged herself. “What was that?”
“What?” he said even though he knew what she was asking.
She shook her head, stumbling along the path.
He took her arm to steady her. That he got to touch her was a bonus. “I told you to stay away from Huber.”
“Nick says I don’t listen very well.”
“Nick is right.”
“He likes to think so.” She stopped and looked at Jon—really stared at him like she was trying to figure him out. “You’re no Prince Charming.”
He felt an odd pang of regret, which was strange because he’d never wanted to be anyone’s prince before. “Damn right I’m not, princess. But neither is Huber.”
“Hmm.”
He didn’t know what that meant. Was she agreeing or disagreeing?
“Where are we going?” Summer asked after a moment.
“To the cottage.”
She hurried to his side. “You’re going to search it, aren’t you?”
He didn’t bother to answer. If Huber was indeed a hunter, he might keep trophies in there, including trophies from his business hunting. Jon had to look. He just had no choice but to take her, too, now.
“What is it you do, precisely, anyway?” she asked, trying to keep pace with him. “You’re obviously at home wearing disguises and camouflaging who you are. Your friend hired you to incriminate Ryan. You must have a background in this sort of thing. Are you a private investigator?”
“No.”
“A spy?”
“No.”
“An enforcer for an international crime kingpin?”
He glanced at her. “Really? You think that?”
She shrugged. “I have a feeling whatever you do, you’re good at it, but it must be awful.”
He couldn’t help it—he stopped and turned around. “What?”
She caught herself before she ran into him. “Suspecting everyone all the time. It must be terrible.”
He frowned. Then he shook his head and kept walking. “Behave yourself and stay out of my way,” he ordered when they arrived at the door.
She made a sound that was both amused and dismissive.
He entered the cottage boldly, calling out in his American accent. “Anybody home?”
“No one’s here,” Summer said as she pushed past him. She went to a small table in the entrance and began rifling through the drawers.
He closed the door and pushed her aside. “I told you to stay out of my way.”
“I’m helping here.”
He arched his brow.
“Fine.” She shrugged. “I’m searching for evidence to prove Ryan is innocent. But it’s helping you in a fashion.”
“I don’t want your help.” He wanted her safe and sound away from Huber and his roving hands.
She put her hands on her hips. “I can be an asset. You need to get over your issues and learn to trust people.”
“Trust people?” Eyes narrowing, he crowded her against the table. “Why should I trust you?”
She shook her head, hands braced on the edges of the table. “Because for some reason it feels important.”
He stared into her eyes, large and earnest. Damn it to hell, he wanted to trust her. “How is it you do this?” he asked, genuinely baffled.
“What?”
“This.” Holding her hips, he stepped between her legs and lowered his lips to hers.
Just like each other time, it was an explosion of sensation. He felt her sigh and melt into him, and it made him want to beat his fists on his chest and drag her off to his private cave.
Lifting her, he set her on the table, and her legs clasped him around the waist, pulling him closer with a satisfied hum. His erection cradled into her, warm and snug, and for a second he felt like he might lose all control and explode like a teenage boy.
He stopped kissing her, to try to regain some control.
She looked up at him, flushed, her lips glistening and swollen, her eyes glazed with lust. “Are you stopping?” she asked, her voice husky with need.
He got harder watching her lick her lips. Because he couldn’t help himself, because he couldn’t deny her, he took her black dress by the collar and dragged it off her shoulders and down her arms to expose her chest.
“Oh.” She lifted her arms to cover herself.
He shook his head, pulling her hands away. “I want to look at you.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she nodded hesitantly.
Shy? He searched her face, looking for the truth.
The vivid pink of her underwear stunned him into silence. It was like ordering salad and uncovering cotton candy under the lettuce. He ran his fingers between the gentle swell of her breasts. “Is this where you hide your color?”
She closed her eyes, letting her head drop back as his fingertip teased just under the satin. “I started wearing black to disappear in school. The other students teased me for being a bastard.”
He knew full well how cruel people could be and hating that anyone could treat her that way. If he could have, he’d have punched each and every little wanker.
“Sometimes it’s better to blend into the background.” She opened her eyes. “You of all people understand that.”
He did.
“Then I became a lawyer and I had to dress conservatively for respect. It wasn’t hard, since I was already in the habit. It’s how people expect me to look.”
“Do you always do what people expect of you?”
“Yes.” She frowned, not looking happy. “And look where it’s gotten me. Maybe it’s time to do something different.”
Then she sat up and pulled at the neckline of his shirt, the way he had hers. Only his shirt was less forgiving, and the buttons popped off.
“Oops,” she said without meaning it.
“What—”
She ran her hands over his chest, fingers curling around his shoulder, down his pecs. And then she leaned forward and pressed her lips over his heart.
He stilled, as did his heart, stunned—scared. Not sure what to do.
Disengage
.
Easier said than done. His hands didn’t want to let go of her, and his body screamed
more
.
Reaching behind him, he unhooked her legs from him and stepped away. “If we don’t return soon, it’ll look strange.”
“Ryan practically told you to bring me here and take me. I think this is expected.”
Not by him it wasn’t. “There you are again, doing what’s expected. Everything you want or do is what someone else told you that you wanted.”
She frowned. “That’s not true.”
“Your clothing. This, now. I don’t think you even really want Huber.” He waved a hand at her, oddly upset at her for this truth. “You don’t know who you are or what you want.”
She held the top of her clothing closed. “You certainly know how to kill the mood.”
And he hated himself for it. He took another step back, silently cursing that he couldn’t button himself back up. “I’m leaving.”
She nodded, but she made no move to follow him.
As he tromped back toward the manor, he told himself it was just as well, but he wasn’t sure he believed it.
Chapter Fifteen
Jacqueline was curled up on her favorite settee in the orangery staring into space when she heard masculine steps approach.
The question was which one would it be? She closed her notebook and waited. They had such a surplus of men in the Summerhill household these days. It was a lovely thing, because the men were all so wonderful. Her daughters had done a much better job in their choices than she had, thank goodness.
Luca entered the room, a burst of Italian sun on a dreary morning. He smiled in his indolent way when he saw her. He had a way of looking at an ordinary woman that made her sit up and preen, even one as old as she was.
Beatrice was a lucky woman, she thought as she returned his smile. “This is a delightful surprise.”
He leaned down and kissed both her cheeks. “Then you are as happy to see me as I am you?”
“Maybe more so.” She took his hand and drew him to sit next to her. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Beatrice asked me to bring these for you.” Luca handed her a stack of papers.
Jacqueline looked through the bundles. A couple were financial reports and contracts Bea had told her about, but it was the last clipped pile that she was most interested in: her partial manuscript. She’d asked Bea if she wouldn’t mind having her assistant print a copy for her. “Bea couldn’t come herself?”
“She had a meeting.”
Jacqueline arched her brow. It was clear what Luca thought of that from his tone. “On a Saturday?”
He shrugged in his Italian way. “She lives to work.”
And he didn’t like that, it was clear. Although if Jacqueline knew her daughter at all, she suspected there was more at the bottom of the discord than the fact that Bea worked too much. “I’m surprised you’re in town this week. No races?”
He shrugged expansively. “It is not the same since Nico left. Now there is no challenge.”
She smiled, having heard about Luca’s bitterness since Rosalind’s fiancé decided to retire. He and Luca had been Formula One rivals, but more than that, they were best friends. “You sound as though you’re thinking of retiring as well.”
“It is always a possibility.” A gleam lit his eyes, and he leaned in. “Perhaps you’d care to run away with me? I would give away all the glory for a moment in your presence.”
Smiling, used to his flirting, she still flushed. She patted his hand. “That’s very sweet, darling, but you deserve someone who can run when you chase her.”
He looked away, as though he was picturing this woman.
Jacqueline bet the woman in his mind’s eye looked exactly like her eldest daughter. Her heart went out to him. Beatrice was the one she worried least about, but Bea was also the one she least expected to end up in love.
She wished she could change that. She wished she could do something to make Bea see how wonderful this man was for her. Impulsively, she cupped his face. “Don’t give up on her, Luca.”
His gaze sobered. “There is only so much a man take. But for you,
carissima
”—he brought her knuckles to his mouth and kissed them—“I will try one more time.”
“
Grazie
, Luca.” She squeezed his hands.
He took a deep breath, exhaling like he was making a personal vow. Then he smiled. “
Pronto
, tell me why you look so beautiful. You have a date?”
She flushed again, thinking of Declan. She’d been going to his writing sessions all week, and she’d planned on going again today. “Not a date, but I’m hoping to make a favorable impression.”
“
Carissima
, this is no impression,” Luca effused. “If he does not fall to his knees and beg to take you home, he is no man.”
She pictured Declan asking to take her home and crossed her legs, as though that’d keep the damp hope at bay. “You’re a darling, but it’s not like that.”
“When do you go?” He stood, ready to go. “I shall drive you.”
“Now is fine.” She stood as well, more hesitant because she hadn’t expected that she’d give Declan the manuscript today.
Today—tomorrow—it made no difference. Sooner was better than later, she told herself, lifting her chin. She nodded at Luca. “I would love a ride, actually.”
“
Bene
.” He made an elaborate bow. “After you.”
His Ferrari was parked outside in front of the house. Like the gentleman that he was, he opened the door and saw her settled in the low car before he gently closed the door and went around to the driver’s seat.
She ran her hands over the leather seat as he pulled away from the curb. “I’ve been in many cars, but never a Ferrari.”
He screeched to a stop in the middle of the street and turned to her, gaping. “You cannot be serious.”
She glanced at him. “Maybe you should drive while we discuss my lack of sophistication.”
He made a particularly Italian noise. “You are the most sophisticated woman I’ve ever met. This is just a lack of education, which we will remedy.”
She smiled at him. “I hope so.”
“
Si, certo
.” He shook his head and muttered under his breath as he drove her to the café near Regents Park.
They pulled up to the entrance in a roar of power. Jacqueline saw everyone inside turn their heads to look—including Declan, who sat at his usual table.
She met his eyes, seeing him glance at Luca before his expression clouded over with disapproval.
That wouldn’t do. Lifting her head like the countess that she was, she turned to Luca and kissed his cheeks. “Thank you, darling.”
“The pleasure was mine.” He glanced inside, zeroing in on Declan. “And perhaps, a little bit, yours.”
She smiled at him and then slid out of the car, putting extra saunter in her step because of all the eyes on her.