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  “No, of course not, but as I was about to say—”

  “I feel so much better after hearing your news,” Henrietta said. She closed her eyes. Summer waited beside the bed, hoping she would open her eyes, and they could continue their discussion. No such luck. Henrietta had already drifted off.

  #

  Half an hour later Summer barged into Warren’s office, dropped her purse on his desk, and slumped into a chair. “Jeez, what a day!” she said.

  “How is your grandmother?” he asked.

  “It wasn’t a heart attack, thank goodness. She is being discharged tomorrow.”

  Warren leaned back in his chair and gave her a hundred-watt smile. “Perhaps this piece of news will make you feel better. Gridlock Tires loves us. It’s in the bag.”

  “We landed the account?”

  “Yup. The guys in suits were impressed as hell with the presentation.”

  Summer experienced a brief moment of joy. Her hard work had paid off. Gridlock Tires was a major win for Worth Advertising. “Do the big boys upstairs know?”

  Warren shook his head. “I think you should be the one to tell them since you did most of the work. By the way, I owe you big-time.”

  Summer felt a headache coming on and massaged her temples. “I might just take you up on that because I’m in a pickle,” she said, echoing the term her grandmother often used. “I did something really dumb.”

  “How dumb?”

  She told him about her visit and her grandmother’s fear of dying and leaving her all alone in the world. “Stress is a major factor in her health problems, so I lied and told her I had a man in my life and it was serious.”

  “Where do I fit in?” Warren asked.

  “Grandmother is having a dinner party Friday night so she can meet the man of my dreams. I need for you to come with me and pretend you’re madly in love with me.”

  “I am madly in love with you, but I have a date with the new receptionist on Friday.”

  Summer could feel her headache getting closer. “Excuse me? What was that you said about owing me?”

  “I was thinking Starbucks and a sweet roll.”

  “I will make it easy on you. We’ll meet at Grandmother’s at seven. Over cocktails, we’ll pretend we can’t take our eyes off each other. While you’re in the process of telling her how much you adore me, I’ll slip into the downstairs bathroom and call your cell. You’ll pretend you have some kind of emergency and have to leave right away, and I’ll pretend to be crushed.”

  Warren frowned. “What if she starts asking questions?”

  “Grandmother won’t pry. She will very graciously ask if there is anything she can do to help; then, she will suggest getting together at a more opportune time. You’ll be free to go and play catch-up with the cute little receptionist.”

  “All of this sounds awfully complicated,” he said.

  Summer pressed the ball of her hand against her forehead. Her headache had officially arrived. “Of course it’s complicated!” she said more forcefully than she had meant. “That’s what happens when you tell a lie. You always end up telling more lies to cover up the first one. Didn’t your mother teach you that?”

  “So, why … ?”

  “Because I was afraid, that’s why.”

  “I don’t like it,” he said.

  “Like you’ve never lied.”

  “Yes, but I draw the line at lying to little old ladies.”

  “Oh, right,” Summer said, rolling her eyes. “Next you’re going to tell me you were a Boy Scout.”

  He looked offended. “As a matter of fact, I was a Boy Scout.”

  Summer crossed her arms and gave him her most menacing look. “Do you have any idea what your commission is going to be on the Gridlock Tire account, thanks to me?”

  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get reservations at my parents’ country club on Friday night?”

  Summer stood. “Fine, don’t help me. I just hope you’re not disappointed when your date cancels on you.”

  Warren frowned. “Why would she do that?”

  “Some women are turned off by the thought of a man wearing a plus-size stripper’s G-string.”

  Warren’s face turned a deep red. “It was my best friend’s bachelor’s party and I was very drunk at the time.”

  “Whatever,” Summer said and headed for the door.

  “Wait!” Warren said.

  Summer turned. “Yes?”

  “Give me your grandmother’s address.”

  #

  On Thursday, Summer took the day off so she could tend to her own needs, which she had neglected while working insane hours on the Gridlock Tire account. She spent part of the day at a high-end spa; by the time she left her face and skin glowed and felt rose-petal soft.

  She raced to make her hair appointment. Her stylist added a few highlights to her ash-blond hair, trimmed the split ends while leaving the length, so that it fell well past her shoulders. Afterward, she met Joyce for dinner, and was in bed by ten p.m., reading the first page of a book by a favored author that had gathered dust in the weeks since she’d purchased it.

  #

  On Friday evening, an anxious Summer arrived at her grandmother’s estate in Buckhead twenty minutes early. The Pettigrew mansion was set back from the road, partially obscured by towering pine trees, oaks, rhododendrons, flowering dogwoods, Bradford pears, and various shrubs. Azalea bushes lined each side of the winding drive—they also filled flowerbeds and gardens—and they created a stunning picture when in full bloom.

  Summer pulled into the wide circular drive and gave an enormous sigh when she spied two BMWs and a Mercedes. Leave it to her grandmother to turn a simple dinner into an elaborate affair, which only added to Summer’s frayed nerves as she considered how it might interfere with the script she and Warren had prepared. She should have known the woman would insist on showing off the new man in her granddaughter’s life.

  Summer climbed from her car and smoothed the wrinkles from her black cashmere and silk jumpsuit, then reached for her black and white windowpane jacket to fight off the chill from the mid-March temperatures. She had accessorized her outfit with a gold choker and matching bracelet from Tiffany’s, a birthday gift from her grandmother. The flawless, two karat diamond earrings, a family heirloom, had been passed down to her when she had graduated college. While Summer appreciated fine jewelry, she only wore it for dressy events and special occasions. She preferred tasteful but unique, sometimes clunky, costume jewelry for work.

  She had arranged her hair in an artful beehive that Grace Kelly had made popular in the fifties and was now the rage in Atlanta after Vanity Fair had showcased it with a slightly different flair.

  Summer smiled at the sight of the magnolia tree that Henrietta had planted as a new bride and was now massive. As a young girl, Summer had loved sleeping with her bedroom windows open once the tree bloomed. Some of her happiest memories were falling asleep as the sweet scent sailed in on a light breeze, falling on her bare arms and legs, soft as dandelion fluff.

  Despite having her own key, she rang the doorbell. The housekeeper, Emma Bradshaw, answered right away. She was a no-nonsense woman who wore matching skirts and sweaters, thick support hose, and clunky shoes. Henrietta had hired her to “run the household” when Summer was ten years old and loved to climb trees.

  “Young ladies do not climb trees,” Mrs. Bradshaw said one afternoon as she treated a scrape on Summer’s knee. There were times that Summer felt the housekeeper did not like her, as if she thought Summer was taking up too much of her grandmother’s valuable time.

  Henrietta, who was amused that Summer was going through a tomboy stage, had overheard the scolding. “My granddaughter can climb as many trees as she likes,” she told Mrs. Bradshaw, “as long as she promises not to fall out of one.”

  “I’m not going to fall,” Summer had said and went on to boast. “I can climb trees better than any boy I know.”

  Two weeks later she fell ou
t of a tree, fractured her wrist, and landed in the ER. It wasn’t until Summer had arrived home wearing a cast that Mrs. Bradshaw had given her an I-told-you-so look.

  “Good evening, Miss Summer,” the woman said formally and stepped aside so she could enter. “Your grandmother and her guests are in the drawing room. May I take your jacket and clutch?”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bradshaw,” she said, handing them to the woman. “And, while we have a moment, I’d like to offer my heartfelt thanks and appreciation for all you’ve done for my grandmother. I am able to rest easy knowing she is in excellent hands.”

  “My pleasure,” the woman replied.

  “Oh, there you are, my dear,” Henrietta said as Summer stepped into the room, bringing the men to their feet.” She kissed her grandmother’s cheek, then, addressed the guests, exchanging hugs with several of them. She knew everybody by name; they were Henrietta’s dearest friends.

  “You look exquisite,” Henrietta said, then looked past her, “but where is your young man?”

  “He’s meeting me here,” Summer said. “He should arrive any minute.”

  Henrietta smiled at her guests. “I can’t wait to meet this mystery man.”

  Mrs. Bradshaw spoke from the doorway. “May I get you something to drink?” she asked Summer.

  “A diet soft drink if you don’t mind,” Summer replied. The woman nodded and disappeared.

  Henrietta picked that moment to announce that Summer had been awarded a major account, and everyone congratulated her. “How exciting for you,” one of the women said. “What is the product?”

  “Tires,” Summer said. “Not very sexy,” she added.

  “Drape a hot pink boa over one of them when you take photos,” the woman said. “That should set the tone.”

  Summer laughed. “And get me fired.”

  “Worth Advertising is lucky to have my granddaughter on board,” Henrietta said proudly. “I look forward to the day Summer opens her own firm.”

  “Don’t rush me,” Summer said. “I still have a lot to learn.”

  Henrietta waived off the remark. “Nonsense. Those staid old men who run the place wouldn’t know a fresh idea if it knocked them upside the head.” Henrietta winked at her guests as they chuckled at her comment.

  Mrs. Bradshaw appeared with the soft drink and asked Henrietta to buzz her when she was ready for the chef to serve dinner. Summer glanced at her wristwatch. It was almost seven-thirty; where the heck was Warren? She descretely checked her cell phone. No calls or text messages.

  Eight o’clock chimed on the antique grandfather clock in the foyer. The guests had another cocktail, and Summer asked for a glass of wine. By eight-thirty, Summer noticed she wasn’t the only one checking the time. The hors d’oeuvre tray had been carried away, and there were lulls in the conversation.

  “I hope nothing has happened to your young man,” Henrietta said.

  Summer could tell her grandmother was beginning to fret. “I should probably call his cell phone and see what’s keeping him,” she said. She pulled her cell from her purse and excused herself. She dialed Warren’s number. After several rings, he answered.

  “Where are you?” she whispered. “Do you know what time it is? You were supposed to be here at seven sharp.”

  “I’ve been in a car accident,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah, right,” she said, her sarcasm thick as Karo syrup. “You could have called to let me know you weren’t coming. It would have given me time to come up with an excuse instead of looking like an idiot.”

  “I’m telling the truth,” Warren insisted. “I’m in the emergency room. I think I have a broken leg. They’re getting ready to take me to x-ray.”

  “Fa-la-la-la-la, I’m not listening,” Summer said. She heard a women’s voice in the background. “Oh, gee, is that your date? Put her on the phone. She and I need to have a little chat.”

  “Hold on,” Warren said.

  Summer was surprised when she heard Warren ask the woman to speak to his friend on the phone. More background noise; someone was paging a Dr. Newton. Summer suddenly wondered if she’d made a big mistake.

  “This is Nurse Thelma Woods,” a deep voice said, “and I have told Mr. Spencer several times to turn off his cell phone. So I suggest you make it quick because I am getting ready to take it from him.”

  “Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry,” Summer said when Warren came back on the line. “I’m a terrible person. If I were you I would never speak to me again.”

  “Listen up,” Warren said. “I only have a second before Nurse Attila flushes my phone down the toilet. I called my cousin. He’s coming in my place. He should be there any minute.”

  Summer frowned. “Your cousin?”

  “I told him to act like he was crazy mad in love with you.”

  “Call him and cancel,” Summer said. “I’ll tell my grandmother my, um, beau, has been in a car accident and can’t make it.”

  “It’s too late for that,” Warren said. “He’s already on his way. His name is Cooper Garrett. He’s a bit of a wild card, but he’ll do in a pinch.”

  A wild card? Summer gripped the phone tighter. “Warren, seriously, we need to call the whole thing off.”

  “Uh-oh,” Warren said. The next thing Summer heard was a dial tone. She quickly redialed Warren’s number, but there was no answer. The nurse had obviously followed through with her threats. Summer stood there for a moment not knowing what to do. Finally, she rejoined the group in the living room.

  “Is everything okay, dear?” Henrietta asked.

  “Cooper is running late, but he’ll be here shortly.”

  “Cooper?” Henrietta said as though testing the name on her tongue. “Is that his first name or his last?”

  “First. His full name is Cooper Garrett.”

  “I don’t believe I know anyone named Garrett,” Henrietta said. “Is his family from Atlanta?”

  Summer didn’t have the first clue, of course, but as she muddled through her answer, she was interrupted by the sound of an approaching engine.

  “What in heaven’s name could that be?” Henrietta said.

  “Sounds like a motorcycle to me,” one of the male guests replied.

  Everyone looked to Summer for an explanation. It most definitely sounded like a motorcycle, but as she did not know anyone who drove a motorcycle she remained silent. The sound stopped abruptly. A moment later the doorbell pealed out.

  Henrietta smiled. “That must be my granddaughter’s new beau,” she said to her guests. “I hope he is as hungry as the rest of us.”

  Summer gave a meek smile and held her breath. After what seemed like forever, Mrs. Bradshaw appeared in the doorway of the drawing room. “Mr. Garrett has arrived,” she said, looking quite bewildered as though at a loss how she should respond. In fact, she forgot to offer him a drink or hang up the black bomber jacket he wore.

  A hush fell over the room as Cooper Garrett stepped inside. Tall, dark, and powerfully built—his faded, close-fitting jeans emphasized lean muscular thighs—he carried himself with a commanding air of self-confidence. Summer hoped she was the only one who noticed the almost imperceptible swagger that made her wonder if he was a bit arrogant as well. He did not seem the least bit concerned that he needed a haircut and shave.

  His dark eyes scanned the room and lighted on Summer, his gaze bold and assessing. He smiled; clearly he liked what he saw. “Sorry I’m late, babe,” he said. “Trouble with my bike.”

  Chapter Two

  At first, Summer was so stunned that she could not find her voice. She feared the charade was about to blow up in her face, and she considered calling it off and coming clean with her grandmother. Had they not been surrounded by guests, she would have been even more tempted. But Cooper Garrett was headed her way, his stride quickly closing the distance between them. Had they been alone, she would have bolted. Unfortunately, she was frozen in place.

  “You look gorgeous as always, sweetheart,” he said. He reached out and
hauled her from her chair. She caught a flash of humor in his dark eyes before he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his. The kiss lingered. She tried to pull free without drawing attention.

  Henrietta coughed politely. “Summer, dear? Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

  Cooper finally released her, and Summer took a deep, shaky breath as she tried to clear her head. She started making a mental list of how she was going to pay Warren back for sending his … his … reprobate cousin in his place.

  “Summer?” Henrietta gave her a gentle nudge.

  “Of course,” Summer said, still trying to gather her wits. “Grandmother, this is my, um, good friend, Cooper Garrett.” She turned to him. “Cooper, please allow me to introduce my dear grandmother; Mrs. Henrietta Pettigrew.”

  “So good to meet you, Mr. Garrett,” Henrietta said graciously. “I’m delighted that you could join us.”

  “I’m happy to be here,” he said, giving her a respectful nod. “Please forgive me for holding up your dinner party,” he added. “My bike broke down on the way, and I had to make a few minor repairs.”

  Henrietta tilted her head to one side and smiled. “So you are a motorcycle enthusiast,” she said. “My late husband drove a motor scooter when we were in college. It was solid red. We had such a good time riding about.”

  “You never mentioned that,” Summer said, trying to imagine her grandmother sitting on the back of a scooter.

  Henrietta chuckled. “I wasn’t always old, dear.” Her smile suddenly faded. “Oh, my, where are our manners?” she said to Summer. “I’m sure Mr. Garrett would like to meet our guests.”

  Summer felt the color rush to her cheeks. She had been so flummoxed by Cooper Garrett’s sudden appearance, not to mention The Kiss, that she had overlooked her grandmother’s dinner guests. She made the introductions, and even though a couple of them looked askance, they went out of their way to be polite to the man.

  “Why don’t we go into the dining room now,” Henrietta suggested, and pressed the buzzer that would alert the chef that they were ready for dinner. One of Henrietta’s male guests rushed to her side and offered his arm.