Relaxing on her seat, Summer said, “Your car is very nice.”
“Thank you.”
“It still has a new-car smell.”
“I’ve had it for six months. It was my birthday present to me.”
She smiled at him. “You’re very generous to yourself.”
He gave her a quick glance. “I hadn’t had a new car for more than thirteen years, so I decided to make up for it.”
This disclosure surprised Summer. “But … but you’re …” Her words trailed off.
“Not a pauper?”
“Yes.”
“True,” he said candidly. “But having money doesn’t translate into buying a luxury car every year. I bought my first car when I was twenty-one. It sat in a garage for months at a time because I was on the road traveling with a band.”
He and a few of his college buddies had put together a band, playing the college and club circuit. It wasn’t until after they’d graduated that the sextet went into the Serenity Records studio to record their first album. Once released, it had become an instant hit.
“We’d spend one night in Cincinnati, the next two in Chicago before we were onto Dallas. After a while I felt like a vagabond, sleeping in strange beds in even stranger towns and cities.”
“When did you stop touring?”
“It was six years ago that we stopped touring as a group. Every once in a while we get together to do a private gig.” He had stopped to pursue a graduate degree in music education. “Right after that I was asked to write a soundtrack for Reflections in a Mirror. The experience was like nothing I had ever encountered before in my life. I sat in a room, watching a film where the only sounds were dialogue and special effects. I had to view it twice before I gained enough confidence and felt comfortable enough to write the main theme. After that the entire score fell into place.”
“It fell into place perfectly.”
Gabriel gave her a modest smile. “Thank you.”
It was the last two words they exchanged until they’d left the city limits of Plymouth.
Summer looked at Gabriel. His expression was stoic, as if he had been carved out of granite. “What are you going to do after June?”
He paused, then said, “I’ve been asked to write another soundtrack. Filming will begin in Toronto in late spring and wrap sometime in early June.” He glanced at her. “How about you, Summer? What are your plans?”
“I don’t know,” she said truthfully.
It was true only because she did not know where she would be in June. If she exposed the drug ring at Weir before the end of the school year she would resign her position with the DEA. Once her true identity was revealed, she knew she could not remain at the high school.
“Have you thought of returning to the stage?”
She pondered his question. “At times I have.”
Gabriel gave her another sidelong glance. “What’s stopping you?”
Her smile was bittersweet. “It’s been a long time. I’d have to get an agent, then begin the vicious cycle of reading scripts and going to auditions and casting calls. I’m not certain whether I’m up to that again.”
There was complete silence as Gabriel crossed the Sagamore Bridge. He wondered what had happened in Summer’s past for her to give up what once had been a very promising stage career. He was aware that she had garnered her Tony nomination when as an understudy to a popular actress, she had stepped into the role three days after opening night to rave reviews. The original lead actress had come down with a misdiagnosed case of strep throat, which eventually damaged the valves in her heart, abruptly ending her career.
Even though she did not win the Tony, Summer had become a star. A month later, her agent held a press conference stating his client was retiring because of personal reasons.
And there were times, since he was introduced to her, that Gabriel wondered what those personal reasons could have been: a failed love affair, family tragedy, or a health problem.
He was now thirty-four, and there was never a time in his life when he had been responsible for another human being—only himself once he reached his majority. But now he wanted to become responsible for someone other than himself. He wanted to take care of Summer Montgomery.
“I’ll probably set up a dance school back home,” she said. The Department had fabricated a scenario wherein she had taught musical theater at a private dance school in Washington, D.C.
“Where’s home?”
“St. Louis, Missouri.”
“Oh, so you’re one of those mule-headed Missourians that have to be convinced of everything.”
She folded a hand on her hip. “We’re not mule-headed.”
“Isn’t Missouri known as the ‘Show Me State?’ ”
“That’s because we’re not easily fooled and need a bit more convincing than most.”
Gabriel sucked his teeth. “Yeah, right. What you are is headstrong and willful.”
Shifting slightly on her seat, Summer stared at him. “Is that how you see me?”
“At times, yes.”
“You’re wrong, Gabriel.”
He flashed a dimpled smile. “If that’s the case, then prove me wrong this weekend.”
“What?” The single word exploded from her mouth.
“We take off our masks, Summer. No pretense or charades.”
“Is that what you really want?”
His smile was dazzling, attractive lines deepening around his gold-flecked eyes. “Yes.”
Closing her eyes, she nodded. “Okay.”
A spark of excitement warmed her blood. This weekend she would step out of her role as Renegade to become Summer.
It had been a long time since she could be herself. She had played the masquerade so long that she wasn’t certain where the make-believe ended and reality began.
Gabriel’s “little place” was a restored two-story, four-bedroom, five-bath farmhouse with white clapboard siding, a green asphalt shingle roof, and a generous wraparound porch set on six acres of beautifully landscaped waterfront property.
Summer gave Gabriel a narrow look when he curved an arm around her waist. “A little place, Gabriel?”
“It was little before I had it renovated. I raised the ceilings in the bedrooms on the second floor and expanded both floors by a thousand square feet on either side.”
Summer followed him up a staircase to the second floor. Like his car, the house smelled new. Gleaming bleached pine floors, French doors, and pale walls projected an atmosphere of openness. They walked down a long hallway, stopping at a doorway at the end of the hall.
“You’re here, and my bedroom is at the top of the staircase on the right.” Cupping her chin in his hand, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Take your time settling in. I’ll be out on the front porch.”
He was there, then he was gone, but the sensations from the feel of his silky mustache remained with Summer long after she had walked into her bedroom and closed the door.
She found the bedroom large and filled with an abundance of natural light. The gabled roof made her feel as if the room was a separate structure, an intimate retreat. Walking over to the French doors, she opened them and stepped out to a private deck that offered a view of the water. A cool breeze feathered over her face, the distinctive smell of the salt water wafting in her nostrils. The tense lines on her face relaxed as she expelled her breath. She felt as if she had been holding her breath and raw emotions in check for years.
She lost track of time as she watched the foam-flecked gray waves washing up on the beach. When she turned to reenter the bedroom a clock on the fireplace mantel was chiming the hour. It was three o’clock.
She unpacked, hanging a dress, slacks, two blouses and a jacket, and putting several pairs of shoes in a walk-in closet before storing her undergarments and T-shirts in the drawers of a massive mahogany armoire. Kicking off her shoes, she sat down on a cushioned side chair next to a table that doubled as a desk. The bedroom’s furni
shings were an eclectic mix of French Country and contemporary.
Reaching for a pair of sweatpants, polo shirt, a set of underwear, and a small bag filled with her grooming aids, Summer walked into an adjoining bathroom.
Gabriel leaned against a column supporting the porch, arms folded over his chest, his gaze fixed on a field of sea oats swaying gently as if dancing to their own music. A flock of seagulls swooped down along the beach, squawking noisily as they fought over scraps of food left on the beach. His nearest neighbor’s toddler twin sons had made it a habit of leaving stale bread, for the “boids” every afternoon before their nanny put them down for a nap.
He had begun vacationing on Cotuit off-season because of its solitude. After the second year, he decided to buy the farmhouse from an elderly widow who had lived her entire life on Cape Cod.
Gabriel had returned to Cotuit after spending the past Christmas holiday with his extended family in West Palm Beach, Florida, with the intent of taking up legal residence in the state of Massachusetts. His parents thought he had lost his mind to consider moving so far north where the winters were long, bitterly cold, and snowy. He had reassured them that he had made the right decision even before he had commissioned an architectural firm to draw up plans to expand and renovate the century-old structure. He moved in permanently in May, and now looked forward to living year-round on the island.
He went completely still when he heard the soft click of the screen door, opening and closing behind him. He inhaled the scent of a sensual perfume before he felt the heat from Summer’s body.
Lowering his chin, Gabriel stared at Summer as if seeing her for the very first time. Her unbound hair floated around her face and over her shoulders. She had removed her makeup, and her fresh scrubbed face made her appear no older than eighteen.
His gaze moved lower. Her face may have look like an adolescent’s, but that was not the case with her body. A pair of hip-hugging, drawstring sweatpants failed to disguise the womanly curves of her slim hips. A smile crinkled his eyes when he noted her bare slender feet.
Moving closer to Gabriel, Summer curved an arm around his slim waist, sighing softly under her breath. Without her heels, the top of her head was level with his shoulder. He had also changed into a pair of jeans with a black T-shirt and sandals.
Smiling up at him, she said, “Everything is so peaceful.”
Lowering his arms, he hugged her. “That’s why I decided to move here. Even during the summer with the influx of tourists it’s still a relaxing place to live.”
She stared out at the ocean with a faraway look in her eyes. “It must be an incredible experience to wake up every morning and see the ocean.”
Gabriel heard the longing in her voice. “You’re welcome to come and hang out here anytime you feel the need to get away from the city. I have more than enough room so we wouldn’t have to fall over each other.”
She forced a smile. Didn’t he realize what he was offering? Did he actually believe she could sleep under his roof and remain unaffected by the sexual magnetism that made him so self-confident and secure about his rightful place in the universe?
“I don’t know if I could,” she said, refusing to commit.
“Will you?”
“Will I what?”
“At least think about it.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Good.” The single word spoke volumes.
She felt the invisible bond pulling her closer to Gabriel at the same time a gentle peace invaded her for the first time in more than ten years. Everything about him was calming and relaxing.
“Why did you leave the theater?” he asked after a comfortable silence.
She closed her eyes, struggling to bring her tortured emotions under control. “It was because of my brother.” Her voice was a trembling hush.
“What about him?”
Inhaling, she held her breath before letting it out slowly. “He was killed in a drive-by shooting.”
Gabriel eased back, staring at her grief-stricken expression. “Why?”
“Why?” she repeated. “I don’t know why. He just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. He was on his way home from school when someone in a speeding car fired two shotgun blasts at a group of kids waiting on the corner. My brother was hit in the chest. He died instantly.
“We learned later that those in the car were members of a rival gang from the other side of town. Several gangs had declared war on one another because a few members had invaded another’s drug turf.
“Charles was an honor student who planned to become a doctor like my mother and father. He was kind, gentle, and the day my mother brought him home from the hospital I had promised him that I would always protect him. I lied to him, Gabriel. How could I protect him when I lived more than a thousand miles away? How, when I was in New York night after night accepting curtain calls from an adoring public?”
Cradling her face between his large hands, Gabriel shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault, Summer. You can’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t control even if you had been in St. Louis.”
“I shouldn’t have left him,” she whispered.
“It’s still not your fault,” he repeated.
Staring over his shoulder, Summer said, “I shouldn’t have left St. Louis until Charles was old enough to go away to college.”
“Your brother was your parents’ responsibility, not yours.”
She glared at him. “Didn’t you say you protected your sisters?”
He nodded. “I did because I wanted to, not because I had to. My father was and still is more than capable of protecting all of the women in my family.” Lowering his head, he brushed a kiss over her parted lips. “Let him go.”
Her lids fluttered. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can, sweetheart. All you have to tell yourself is that it was beyond your control. Your brother’s destiny was determined before he was born.”
She went completely still, her gaze meeting and fusing with his. “Do you believe in destiny, Gabriel?”
“Yes, I do,” he said softly.
Summer wanted to tell him she also believed in destiny, believed her life would end like her brother’s in a hail of bullets.
She managed a half-smile. “Do you believe you can change your destiny?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “No.”
Keeping her features deceptively composed, Summer pulled away from Gabriel. She moved off the porch and sat down on the first step.
Gabriel stared at her ramrod-straight back. “Is there something else you want to tell me?”
“No,” she said a little too quickly.
Gabriel went to sit down next to her. He studied her profile until she turned her head and looked at him. The vulnerability she had hidden for years surfaced, her mask of fearlessness slipping. Her face had become an open book, permitting him to see what she did not want him to see. He was entranced by the silent sadness he saw.
He wound a hand in her hair, his fingers combing through the thick chemically straightened strands. His head came down, his mouth moving over hers in a slow, drugging kiss that melted any resistance. Pulling her closer, his tongue parted lips in a soul-reaching message that vowed silently: I’m here for you.
Summer quivered at the tenderness of Gabriel’s kiss, making her aware of what she had missed, needed. She kissed him back, melding her body to his, wanting to get closer. His touch, his kiss triggered a familiar, long-forgotten throbbing between her thighs.
Lucas’s warning swept over her, dousing the rising passion like a bucket of ice-cold water: Stay focused.
Reluctantly, she tore her mouth away. She and Gabriel stared at each other, breathing heavily, their chests rising and falling with an even measured rhythm.
“What are we doing, Gabriel?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
He smiled, his dimples winking at her. “I believe it’s called kissing.”
She placed her fingertips over his mouth. “I can’
t… we shouldn’t do it again.”
Gabriel’s lids lowered at the same time he captured her hand, holding it firmly. “And why not?”
“Because it’s not going to work.”
“Because you say it?”
She shook her head. “No, Gabriel. Not because I say it. It’s because we have to work together.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve never been kissed by someone you’ve worked with?”
“No … I mean yes.”
His expression hardened. “What is it? Yes or No.”
“Yes.” She had lost count of the number of times she had kissed the actors she’d performed with.
“It didn’t work out?”
“It worked just fine.”
Gabriel leaned closer, his lips mere inches from hers. “So?”
Summer gave him a long, penetrating look. She’d tried and failed miserably. She wanted so much to be Summer and not Renegade, but found it impossible to distinguish between the two identities.
“I can’t afford to get involved with you. We are worlds apart, and there is no way you can fit into mine, or I in yours.”
An incredulous expression froze his features. “What are you talking about?”
“You are a celebrity—a brilliant superstar, a multi award-winning musician. I suppose you have your reasons for becoming an artist-in-residence at Weir, but after the school year ends, you will go back to doing whatever you’ve been doing. Meanwhile—”
“Don’t!” he shouted, cutting her off. “Please don’t say it,” he continued in a softer tone. “I can’t change who I am anymore than you can change who you are.” He caressed her cheek. “And I happen to like who you are.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “You don’t know me, Gabriel.”
“Then don’t shut me out, Summer,” he pleaded softly. “Allow me to get to know you.”
Renegade Page 4
