Blazing Summer (Darling Investigations Book 2)

by Denise Grover Swank

  Dixie turned to me. “Is this guy serious?”

  I grimaced. “As a heart attack.”

  Connor reached over and opened the cover. “It’s personalized and signed.”

  Sure enough, I read, “To Summer: I know getting your life in order seems impossible, and it probably is, but hopefully I can help you gain a tiny bit of balance. I’m here to guide you every step of the way to living the Connor Life.” I glanced up at Dixie as I finished. “XOXO, Connor.”

  He looked pretty pleased with himself. “We’ll have plenty of time to get you squared away with the Connor Life before I leave.”

  Dixie tilted her head. “It’s a wonder you have time to do the show and all with your busy schedule.”

  He graced her with an attempt at a humble smile. “I’m a giver.”

  “Of herpes,” she mumbled under her breath.

  I tried to suppress a laugh.

  “Now that you’re all reacquainted,” Lauren said, “let’s get to work.”

  I pushed the chair back and crashed into the desk behind me. Connor Blake’s desk. I shoved it even harder, pushing his desk against the wall and banging my knee in the process. After I got my legs untangled, I stood and gave him a death stare, choosing to ignore the fact that the whole effect had been ruined by my clumsiness.

  How had this happened? But the beaming woman in front of the whiteboard was answer enough. Lauren knew working with Connor would make my life a living hell.

  I shifted my attention to Lauren, who looked like it was Christmas, her birthday, and the release of a new Sex and the City movie all rolled up into one. “He goes, or I go.”

  If possible, she looked even more excited as she held out her hand to Karen.

  Karen cringed and handed her a thick stack of papers, which Lauren brought directly over to me. She cast a quick glance up to Connor and said, “You just hang tight for a moment while we talk about things you won’t understand.”

  Connor blinked but didn’t say a word, and I took malicious satisfaction from Lauren’s insult even though I knew she had something worse planned for me.

  Lauren flipped several pages until she reached one with a yellow sticky tab on the side. After clearing her throat, she said, “All hiring decisions will be made by the on-site producer.” Lauren looked up and touched her fingertips to her chest. “That’s me.”

  “Fine,” I said with plenty of attitude. Time to call her bluff. “Hire him. But I refuse to work with him.”

  A smug look filled her eyes. “That’s why you both have separate cases.”

  “Noooo . . . ,” I said slowly, dragging out the word, “I refuse to be on the same show with this asshole. One show with him was too many.”

  A tight smile thinned Lauren’s lips as she flipped through the pages again, this time stopping on a page with a blue tab. “If Summer Butler voluntarily leaves the show within the time frame agreed upon by all parties in the contract, she forfeits all royalties as creative director, which acts retroactively.”

  What the hell? My manager, Justin, had sworn an attorney had gone over the contract with a fine-tooth comb.

  Lauren tilted her head. “What that means is that you’ll have to return that $23,000 check Scott Schapiro just signed for you last week, and while we’re raking in the dough, you won’t get a cent—either in salary or in royalties.” She winked. “And don’t forget those residuals you’ll lose. Rumor has it that your greedy mother screwed you out of those too.”

  I caught the too and gritted my teeth. My mother had been my self-proclaimed manager for nineteen years, from when I was nine months old until I turned nineteen. I’d caved to her every demand right up until she convinced me to do something so horrible it imploded my life. At her behest, I stayed in Thailand to finish filming a movie instead of going to the funeral of my grandfather and aunt and uncle. My grandmother disowned me, and I lost the one place that had felt like home. I’d stood up to my mother soon afterward, and the moment she realized she’d lost control of me, she emptied my bank account and scuttled back to Sweet Briar, the one thing she’d always pledged she’d never do.

  I could have sued her—everyone who knew the truth encouraged me to—but Dixie had just been arrested for setting the barn fire that had killed her parents and our pawpaw. When the police added manslaughter charges, the case made national news—all because they were related to me. If I’d brought a civil lawsuit against my mother, Dixie’s case would have received even more attention, so I let it go, thinking I’d make more money from future projects to replace it.

  Only my mother’s underhanded way of dealing with agents, producers, and contracts had painted me out to be a diva that no one in their right mind would want to hire. Aside from a few commercials and one Lifetime movie, my career had suffered an almost decade-long dry spell.

  Now that I was back in Sweet Briar and feeling stronger, I planned on confronting my mother. But I had to deal with this issue first. One user at a time.

  “So much negative energy, darling,” he said with a fake smile. He knew how much I had hated being called America’s Darling—the name the press had given me when I was a fresh-faced teen. “You’re filling the space with negative chi.” He moved over, rested his hands on my shoulders, and began to rub. “Summer, Summer, Summer. You’re so tense. Just let all that negativity go.”

  My back stiffened. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.” I shook off his hands and jerked my gaze back to Lauren. “I do not want to work with this man.”

  “And you don’t have to,” Lauren said in a sweet voice. “You only have to share an office and very limited screen time. Otherwise you’ll be doing your thing, and he’ll be doing his.”

  “Why are you doing this, Lauren? Our ratings were through the roof.”

  “Our ratings were amazing because you stumbled onto a once-in-a-lifetime situation, and you managed to take down a rogue policeman on camera. People wanted to see that, Summer. That’s great reality TV.” She picked up the list of cases off my desk and scanned the sheet. “Nobody, and I mean nobody, wants to see you chasing a pet alligator who eats the neighbor’s chickens.” Then she paused and glanced up at the ceiling, an evil gleam filling her eyes. “On second thought, that could be good. Add it to Summer’s list, Karen.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  Lauren lowered her gaze to mine. “When I came to your house months ago with the contract, I told you I could make this stinkbug of a show a success.”

  “You had absolutely nothing to do with the success of last season,” I protested. “Bill, Dixie, and I were the ones who pulled this show out of the gutter. I should be running things.”

  Her eyes widened with surprise and then narrowed as if she was reevaluating me. I’d just unintentionally made myself a threat, and it was obvious Lauren Chapman made a point of eliminating threats. Great. “But you’re not running things, so you better suck it up, buttercup. You’re stuck with me producing this show whether you like it or not.”

  Dixie flashed me a thumbs-up sign. I had no idea what it meant, but I knew I had no choice but to let it go. Our first season had garnered me a lot of professional offers, all of which I’d turned down to come back to Sweet Briar and spend more time with my family and, truth be told, to become reacquainted with my first and only love, Luke Montgomery, Sweet Briar’s police chief. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go back to Hollywood after this series ran its course, but I didn’t want to be painted as a diva again. “I’m not working any cases with him.”

  Triumph flashed in her eyes. “And I’ve already stated that you won’t.” She turned to Connor and winked. “Why don’t you take a seat at your new desk, hot stuff.”

  He preened as he walked past me to his desk, then stopped and tried to figure out how he was going to sit behind it since it was smashed against the wall. “Uh . . . this doesn’t work with the Connor Life philosophy.”

  “I agree,” Dixie said. “The office is too small for three desks. The Connor Life program need
s to go back to whatever loony bin he pulled it out of.”

  Lauren’s mouth twisted, and she tapped her chin. It was a good thing she worked behind the camera because she was a terrible actress. “You know what, Dixie,” she said, dropping her hand, “you’re right. So we have two choices. One, we get rid of your desk, or two, we move the office to the empty train station down the street.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “In fact”—she threw her hands up in the air, then put one hand on her hip and pointed her finger at me—“gotcha!”

  My signature move from that stupid show. People were forever asking me to do it, and I took great satisfaction in turning the situation around and getting them to do it instead. But I wasn’t feeling any satisfaction right now.

  “As of tomorrow,” she continued, “the train station will be our new office.” Then she leaned closer to me and lowered her voice. “Don’t ever try to outmaneuver me again, Summer, because I will win every time.”

  I knew she’d caved too easily on letting me have this office.

  Lauren stood and graced Connor with a smile. “Don’t try to shove yourself behind that desk.” And then she said to one of the new people, “Give Connor your chair.”

  Dee, a meek-looking woman who appeared to be in her midtwenties, hopped up and pushed her folding chair toward Connor, who sat down with no hesitation.

  “Quite the gentleman,” Dixie muttered, but if Connor heard, he didn’t let on.

  “Okay, then,” Lauren said, “as you all have figured out, Connor Blake has joined our show this season, which is why we have all these new people. They’ll be Connor’s film crew; and Bill, Tony, and Chuck will be working with Summer. As Summer previously stated, since Scott Schapiro insisted we use real cases this season, we had a website where people could nominate their issues to be investigated. Karen’s done a lot of legwork and has come up with a list of nine to ten cases for each team to work on. We have a thirteen-episode run this time, so with two investigators, we’ll be busy. We’ll add more cases as they come, and edit them into the season.” She scanned the room. “Any questions?”

  Everyone remained silent. Even if they had questions, I doubt they would have asked for fear Lauren would jump down their throats. At least I’d be working with my old team. Tony was the other cameraman who’d worked with me last season, and Chuck was the sound guy. Although they’d been leery about working with me in the beginning because of my previous diva reputation, they’d grown to respect me by the end of production.

  “Okay, Karen’s going to e-mail you the list of cases with all the facts that we know. She’s scheduled times for you to meet with the clients and suggested places for you to look.”

  “Shouldn’t that be my job?” Dixie asked. “I’m the assistant.”

  Lauren laughed. “That’s so cute. You think you have a job besides being a pretty face and throwin’ in some cute Southernisms while wearin’ your short denim shorts.” Her fake southern accent grated on my last nerve.

  Dixie shot her a scowl and looked like she was about to tell her off, but I beat her to it.

  “As I stated before,” I said in a shaky voice, “Dixie had more to do with making this show a success than you did, Lauren. It’s obvious that you feel the need to put her in her place so you can feel better about yourself.”

  Lauren’s face reddened. “I can make your life a living hell, Summer. Don’t push me.”

  I walked in front of her, pissed that my five-foot-three stature ensured I would always need to look up to Lauren, who was nearly six feet tall with heels. “I’m a creative producer on this show, Lauren. Don’t forget that.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, probably so she didn’t reach out and strangle me. “You know what, Summer? You want creative control? Fine. You can have it. You be the producer of your own segments. Run them any way you please while I run Connor’s, and we’ll see who can produce the better show.”

  I gaped at her, certain I’d heard her wrong. “You’re giving me total control of my own cases?”

  “Yep,” she said in a clipped tone.

  “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch. You work out of the train-station office, and you agree to be in the combined segments I insist upon, and the rest you’re free to do on your own.”

  I was smart enough to realize that filming was only one part of it. “I want to oversee the editing of my clips too.”

  “Fine.”

  She was up to something, I just didn’t know what. This was exactly what I wanted, and she’d just given in way too easily.

  “You have to agree that you won’t try to take any of Connor’s cases, and he won’t try to take yours,” she said.

  “Not a problem,” I replied.

  “Then we’re good,” Lauren said. “Now if you’ll excuse us, Connor, his crew, and I will head down to the train station to work out our schedule. We’ll leave you and your crew to work out your own.”

  Karen opened the door and stood to the side as the four new crew people filed out the door with Connor and Lauren following behind. Before she stepped out after them, Karen shot me a mournful look and said, “I’m sorry, Summer. I really am.”

  Why was she apologizing? It didn’t take long to figure out.

  Lauren had given me all the crap cases.

  CHAPTER THREE

  An hour later, we’d reached the conclusion that Lauren had been planning this all along. She didn’t want to work with me any more than I wanted to work with her, so she’d devised a strategy that would allow her to keep her job and make me look like a fool in the process. Score one for Lauren.

  After I marked down which cases had been given to Connor, we erased the board and listed the cases that were salvageable, coming up with only three from her original list and three more from the twenty-six Dixie and I had worked on.

  “Six cases isn’t enough,” Tony said with a frown.

  “True,” Dixie said, “but we’ll get more as the season goes on.”

  “We hope,” I said, staring at the board. There was the alligator case (kept for the novelty), a child-support case, a husband who suspected his wife was cheating, and a few other minor cases. “There’s nothing big enough to carry us through a few episodes, let alone half a season.”

  “That was her plan,” Bill said, sounding disgusted. “You’re sharing airtime with boy-band-wannabe dude, and he’ll get more attention. She’s trying to squeeze you out of your own show in your own hometown.”

  Oh, my word. He was right.

  “We need a big case,” Dixie said.

  I heaved out a sigh. “We have to face the reality that this is a small town in a pretty boring county. There aren’t many big cases.”

  “Certainly not enough for two detectives,” Tony said.

  “Well, we still need a big case,” Dixie said with a mischievous look.

  “We’ve established that, Dixie,” Chuck said.

  She didn’t look deterred. “Except I know who can get one for you.”

  “Who?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Luke.”

  “Whoa.” I held up my hands. “Oh, no. I am not going there.”

  “Why not?” Bill asked. “He helped us with our other investigation.”

  “That’s because his hands were tied. Otto’s murder fell into the sheriff’s jurisdiction, not Sweet Briar’s, and we could find out information that Luke couldn’t. And . . . ,” I added when I saw him open his mouth to protest, “I’m sure he only agreed to it because I was under suspicion of moving Otto’s body.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t hurt to ask him,” Dixie said in a smug tone.

  Thankfully, I had a two-day reprieve. “He’s at that conference in Atlanta. He won’t be home until Wednesday night.”

  Her smile spread wider. “I think maybe he got back early.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Her eyebrows rose, and I glanced at the front door just as the bell dinged.

  Luke filled
the doorway, stealing my breath away. He was wearing khakis and a blue short-sleeve, button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone. I was used to seeing him in his uniform or in jeans and a T-shirt, so his business-casual appearance caught me off guard.

  His gaze went straight to me, then he smiled, and funny things happened to my insides.

  I felt about as sure-footed as Bill and Dixie had seemed earlier. I hadn’t seen Luke for seven weeks. While we were technically together, and had been since the last week of shooting, we hadn’t texted or talked on the phone much in the months we’d spent apart. I wasn’t sure if we were still on the same page.

  But the look in his eyes assured me that we were not only on the same page but likely in the same paragraph.

  “Hey,” he said with his hand still on the doorknob.

  “I thought you were in Atlanta at that police-chief conference.” My heart was pounding in my chest, and I sounded breathless.

  “I was sitting in an air-conditioned conference room, waiting for a guy to talk about training reserve police officers, and all I could think about was the fact that you were here. So I left.”

  I swallowed, suddenly unsure of what to say or do. We stared at each other for a few seconds before Dixie said, “I think it’s a good time for a lunch break.”

  “It’s only ten thirty,” Chuck said.

  “Then brunch,” Dixie replied with a hint of irritation. Turning toward the front door, she said, “Luke, are you free to take Summer to brunch?”

  He grinned. “I would love to take Summer to brunch.” He paused, his smile fading a bit. “If you want to go.”

  I felt my face flush, and I told myself I was twenty-nine years old, not the seventeen-year-old girl who’d fallen hard and fast for him. “Now’s a good time to take a break.”

  “I need to talk to the manager at my motel about changing rooms,” Bill said. “That’ll give me plenty of time.”

  I knew where he was staying. It was a dump, and I was afraid to ask why he was changing.

  Bill continued, “How about we meet back here at noon? Then we can go over our cases again.”