Summer Heat: A Steamy Romance Boxed Set

by Carly Phillips

  After reading the letter, I immediately call Cole and leave him a message asking if he’s received a similar letter. I also mention the damn box. Cole had a bank account set up for him by his dad when he was dropped off at Maggie’s house. According to Maggie, his father said that he could no longer watch him and begged her to keep him. He left her the bank account information to give to him when he turned eighteen. Cole hired a man to track down the money, hoping he’d find his dad, but he hit dead ends. I know his situation is different because—unlike Cole—I’ve always known why I have an inheritance and who it’s from. Still, there are a lot of things about my past that I don’t understand. I wonder if we will ever get the answers we want. I call the attorney’s office and request for Mark Lewis to be present when I go in, but an hour later I get a call to inform me that he’s going out of town.

  As I’m opening the door for Aimee, my phone chirps in my hand. I look down and find a text message from Cole.

  No letter, baby. Keep me posted. The box is yours.

  I purse my lips before my mouth goes into a wide smile. I can feel Aimee’s eyes on me, but I’m too concentrated on my phone to pay attention to her right now.

  It’s beautiful.

  A second later I get his reply.

  So are you ;)

  The combination of his words and the little wink smiley face makes me smile like a teenager as I stuff my phone into my back pocket.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” Aimee says when she sees me. We kiss on both cheeks, like the Europeans we aren’t, and make our way to the kitchen. She sits down on a barstool around the island that surrounds my stove.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask Aimee as I pour her a glass of red wine. I always ask if people are hungry as if their answer is going to deter me from wining and dining them. I got my love for cooking from Maggie. She’s a much better cook than I am, but I try to stay on her level regardless. My favorite part about cooking is drinking red wine while I do it.

  “You know I’ll eat anything you make as long as you keep pouring that wine,” Aimee replies with a sly smile. “So...anything new you want to tell me about?” she asks with a raised eyebrow as she eyes the shorts I’m wearing.

  “Not really. It was just Cole being Cole.”

  She shakes her head. “I have got to meet that guy soon.”

  I laugh lightly. “Oh, before I forget, by any chance, do you know if Mark will be in town this week?” I ask nonchalantly.

  “Hmm...he should be. I heard my dad talking about a big trial coming up next week. He probably has a lot to do to prepare for it. Why?”

  “Just wondering. I have to go by there this week, and I wanted to meet him. So I figured if he was here, maybe I’d request to see him.”

  “I still don’t understand why he would be your attorney. I think you must be mistaken. He doesn’t practice estate; he only takes on criminal cases. The one who dabbles in estate law is Morris. You should speak to Russell about it.”

  I don’t know why Shelley took her business to Mark, but I know that I’m not mistaken. He’s the one that signs off on everything. I’m only allowed to meet with Mark’s assistant, Veronica Stein, about my estate. I know this because I have asked to meet with Daniel Morris in the past, and my attorney has stepped in and declined the request. I asked Daniel about it one day when Russell took me to his house for dinner, and he said that Mark liked to deal with his clients personally. I didn’t mention to him that I’d never even seen Mark in person.

  “You’re probably right. I’ll ask Russell,” I reply quietly as I serve our angel hair pasta with vodka sauce. As we eat sitting around the dining room table, we discuss the usual—school, fashion, and boys. Aimee has had a crush on Aubry since they met last year, but Aubry had a girlfriend.

  “So Aubry and that Haley girl finally broke up,” she says smiling over her wine glass.

  I stare at her for a moment. “Is that why you came over looking like you were going on a hot date?”

  She gasps and puts her hand over her heart. “Blake Brennan! I would never!”

  We both break out in a fit of laughter before we continue eating.

  “Aimee, I love Aubry like a brother. Hell, that’s what he is to me—a brother. He’s an amazing guy, but he always goes for the bad girls. You know, the ones who step all over his heart just for fun. Well, yeah, that’s what Haley did to him. He’s taking the break up better than I expected, but still. I just don’t want either of you getting hurt.”

  Aubry is a hopeless romantic, but it’s as if he enjoys getting hurt. I wish Aubry and Aimee would get together though. Aubry needs someone stable in his life. They would make an adorable couple, too. I just don’t think Aimee is crazy enough for Aubry.

  Aimee leans into the table and places her hand on mine. “I know, Blake. I get that, but I really like him. He’s funny, and he’s sweet. Just don’t worry about him...or me,” she adds in a soft voice. I search her face for a while before nodding slightly.

  I don’t know if it’s a wine or food coma that I’m slowly seeping into as I sit here pretending to listen to Aimee ramble about God knows what. My eyes are locked on her fingers drumming against the table, and the strangest feeling washes over me. I’m still lost in the familiarity of the drumming fingers when Aubry comes in and interrupts my train of thought.

  “Hey, Aimee. Blakey,” Aubry says, smiling. “Is there any food leftover? I’m starving.”

  “Do you even have to ask?” I smirk. “You know I won’t let you starve. Aimee, is it okay if I leave you with Aubry for a little while? I’m not feeling so good. I think I may have over done it with the wine,” I say as I get up to clear the plates. It sounds like a lame excuse and I hope neither of them call me out on it.

  “You overdid it with the drinking? No way,” Aubry deadpans. He’s such a dick sometimes.

  “Yeah, whatever. Just be a gentleman and take care of Aimee while I lay down for a little while. Aimee, is that okay? I’m sorry to leave you hanging,” I say even though I know she’s elated that I’m leaving them alone.

  “No, it’s totally fine. Go. I hope you feel better,” she replies quickly. I see Aubry raise an eyebrow at her quick response. I fail to stifle my laughter as I walk toward my room, leaving them chatting.

  After I lock my bedroom door behind me, I run to the desk on the other side of the room and open the envelope from the attorney’s office again. Sure enough, it’s signed Mark Lewis. I need to meet this man in person. I try to shake away the thoughts I keep having about Aimee and the drumming of her fingers. It is a total coincidence I tell myself repeatedly. Total coincidence—except I don’t believe in coincidences.

  I lay down with the black velvet box in my hand until Aimee knocks on my door to let me know she’s leaving. I toss the box under my pillow and open the door to her smiling face. I laugh and link arms with her as I walk her to the door.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says as she hugs me goodbye. “Thank you!” she whispers loudly.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” I reply as we air kiss on both cheeks.

  When I walk back to the living room, I see that Aubry’s door is half open, so I peek in.

  “Aub?” I call out.

  “Come in,” he shouts from his in-suite bathroom.

  I walk in and look around at his messy room before I plop down on his comfortable bed. Aubry’s room is bigger than mine, but the view from mine is much nicer and I have a small balcony, which I love since I have a little set up for my organic vegetables there.

  “So what’d you guys talk about?” I ask as I bite down on my lip to keep from smiling.

  “Oh, you know, nothing of importance. We set up a sex date for next week. Other than that not much,” he says in a serious tone.

  I wrinkle my nose as I sit up. “What?” I ask as I turn to face him.

  He breaks out in laughter. “Just kidding, Blake, damn. I told her I’d call her next week so we can go have dinner.”

  “Why next week?” I ask confused. />
  He exhales harshly. “I don’t know, Blake. I just need time to think about shit. She seems like a nice girl, and she’s hot as fuck. I don’t wanna fuck it up with her.”

  I walk over to him and give him a hug. “Good. I think you guys would be good together.”

  He kisses the top of my head. “I love you, Cowboy. Thank you.”

  I smile up at him and go back to my room. Once I’m lying down, I call Cole’s phone.

  “Hello?” answers a female voice.

  I bite down on my tongue to suppress the urge to growl at her. “Hey, Erin. It’s Blake. Is Cole available?” I say as politely as I can. Why is she answering his phone?

  Erin Kelley is a Sports Illustrated model. She’s landed the cover—twice. I hate her. I hate her perfectly non-frizzy wavy platinum blonde hair. I hate her skinny, tall, gorgeous body. I hate her lively blue eyes. Most of all, I hate that she has him.

  “Hey, Blake,” she replies cheerfully. “He’s in the shower right now. Do you want to leave a message, or do I tell him to call you back? I haven’t seen you in a while. I heard you had a relaxing weekend.”

  Oh yeah, and I hate that she’s so damn nice to me.

  “Yup. My weekend was pretty uneventful, which I was glad for. Just have him call me back. It’s not that important though. Thanks.”

  “I’ll let him know, but I’m sure he’ll call you back anyway,” she replies kindly.

  Ugh. Why can’t she be a bitch? It would be so easy to wish bad things on her if she was a bitch. I know why I hate her. I hate her for the same reason Cole hates Russell. The thought of Cole hating Russell makes me smile.

  “Thanks again, Erin. Good night,” I reply, smiling into the line. Not that she can see it, but I know she’ll hear it.

  I hang up and sit Indian-style in bed, trying to get the image of Erin and Cole out of my head. I’m still clutching my phone in my hand and trying to figure out whether or not I watered my tomato tree today when it starts vibrating. Cole. I smile—a showing-all-my-teeth, ridiculously goofy, “I feel like I’m fucking fifteen again” smile.

  “Hey,” I answer.

  “Hey, baby, what’s up?” Cole says hushed.

  I always loved that he called me that. Now I wonder if he calls her that. My stomach drops at the thought, and suddenly, I hate it.

  “Do you call her that?” I ask a little rougher than I intended.

  He laughs—a full-out belly laugh. I hate him. “Why? Would it bother you if I did?”

  “No,” I lie as I bite down on the inside of my cheek.

  “Yes, it would. If it didn’t, you wouldn’t be asking me,” he replies, and I can hear him smiling. I want to scratch his eyes out.

  “Whatever. Don’t answer me. I don’t want to know,” I say annoyed. “I called to ask you if you’ve heard anything from that P.I. of yours.”

  Cole doesn’t remember how he ended up in foster care. Maggie said his dad dropped him off when he was a toddler. He only remembers a couple of things before his dad dropped him off, though. One being an episode of Transformers that he watched—very helpful. I spoke to my therapist about it once and she says it could be Cole’s way of blocking out the pain of being abandoned.

  He exhales into the line, and I shutter at the chill that goes down my spine. I can almost feel his breath against my ear. “No, I don’t. Why? Did you find something?” he asks, and I can hear the exhaustion in his voice. His P.I. has gotten nowhere on the hunt for his father. I’ve been helping him search, but we always draw a blank. We can’t even find a birth certificate with his name on it.

  “No, sorry. Not really. I’m not sure. Maybe,” I say before letting out a frustrated groan. I’m so confused that I can’t even think straight anymore and I don’t want to tell him anything yet. I don’t even know if there’s anything to tell. I’m going on a gut feeling here.

  “I’m going to see the lawyer again on Thursday. I had to schedule the meeting with his assistant again. My friend, Aimee, says he’s here, but when I requested him, they told me he was out of town.”

  “Damn. That’s so weird, Blake. Let me know what happens when you go.” I hear noise in the background and Erin starts saying something to him, but thankfully I can’t make out what it is. “I have to go, Cowboy. Call me after your meeting. Lo—” I shut my eyes tightly and hold my breath. “Later,” he finishes and I exhale.

  “Yeah, good night. Thank you for the necklace. It’s really beautiful.”

  “You’re very welcome. I’ve had it for a while.”

  “Well, thanks. I’ll talk to you later, then.”

  “Oh, Blake?” he calls out before I press End.

  “Yeah?”

  “Only you.” With that, he hangs up.

  I smile to myself because now I know I’m the only one he calls that stupid belittling nickname. And I love it. Yeah, I’m an idiot.

  Chapter Four

  Past

  I couldn’t even bring myself to cry during Aunt Shelley’s funeral. I sat through the services with a blank stare on my face, feeling desolate. I knew there were a lot of people around me paying their respects as I kept my head down. I didn’t see anybody—just darkness. The only thing going through my mind—why does everybody that I love leave me? My answer was the same every time—it’s me...it must be me.

  After her casket was lowered to the ground, I sat in front of the gaping hole, thinking about how much it reminded me of my heart. Phoebe—the nosy neighbor I was staying with until I packed up—told me to take as long as I needed. I couldn’t find my voice to tell her that it wasn’t going to be long enough. I sat staring at that hole with a rose in my hand for hours. When Phoebe got up, a man sat in her place.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said gruffly, his own voice full of agony.

  I remember wishing I could meet his gaze, even for one second, so he could know I heard him. I couldn’t though. I couldn’t let him see the emptiness in my eyes. I’d just lost the last person I had left in my life, and I couldn’t even cry for her. What did that say about me? I wondered. Instead, I sat staring at his shiny black shoes.

  “Thanks,” I whispered. He sat there a little while longer, and then I saw his black shiny shoes get up and walk away.

  A couple of days after the funeral, Phoebe drove me to Mrs. Parker’s house. That was the longest car trip of my life. I was headed to yet another unknown home. I felt like a bag of hand-me-downs being tossed from one home to the next. I saw a sign that read: “Welcome to Peoria” and I knew we were there. Phoebe pulled into the driveway of a large two-story home with a two-car garage. The neighboring houses all had the same look. They were brick with manicured topiaries, and I couldn’t help but wonder what a foster home would be doing in the middle of this neighborhood.

  I was expecting an ugly gray house. That seemed more fitting. I hesitated for a while before I unbuckled my seat belt and stepped out of the car. I walked over to the trunk and waited for Phoebe to open it. Phoebe owned an old wooden-paneled station wagon—the ones that used to be popular in the late seventies or early eighties. I was pretty sure she got the car when it first came out. I was impatiently tapping my foot as I waited for her. She was a heavy-set white-haired woman and it took her an hour to walk from the driver’s seat to her trunk.

  “Hey, you Blake?” a male voice asked behind me.

  I tilted my head to one side and instantly got a crick in my neck. I cringed and began to massage it as I looked at the guy standing in front of me. He was probably about my age—thirteen—but much taller than me. He had dirty-blond hair and a lanky, long body. I craned my neck as best as I could to look into his hazel eyes. He reminded me of one of the kids that was in my class last year.

  “Yeah, and you are?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk today. I just wanted to get in the house and lock myself in my new room.

  “Aubry,” he said, extending his hand to me, so I could shake it. I looked at his long thin fingers for a beat before I sli
d my hand in his and shook once.

  “You live here, too?” Screw it. Might as well be polite to the kid.

  “Yeah, it’ll be three of us now,” he shrugged. He had really big shoulders, but they were hollow looking. It looked like Mrs. Parker didn’t feed the boy enough.

  “Do you eat?” I asked, scrunching my eyebrows together and pursing my lips.

  Aubry laughed, and when he did, the creases around his mouth showed. He looked like he laughed a lot. He was cute. He seemed genuine. I liked him. I’d become an expert at reading people. Well, at least I thought I had.

  “I eat a lot. Momma says if it weren’t for my metabolism and swimming, I’d be a cow.”

  I nodded my head and forced a polite smile.

  “Mrs. Parker is your mom?” I asked confused. Phoebe told me that Mrs. Parker fostered kids, but I didn’t expect them to be that close to her.

  “Yeah,” he replied, looking at me like I was an idiot.

  “Cool,” I replied with a shrug.

  Phoebe finally made it to the trunk and put her key in. As she greeted Aubry, I got my suitcases out and started lugging them toward the front door when Aubry stopped me and picked two up for me. Before we made it all the way to the door, another boy stepped outside, he was dark; his skin looked like smooth chocolate. He was tall—the same height as Aubry—but his build was muscular. He had big almond-shaped brown eyes, and his black hair was low on his head. He smiled brightly at me, and I was almost blinded by his perfect white teeth.

  “Hey,” he said as he eyed me up and down and made his way outside. I replied by nodding. “I’m Greg.” He stood in front of me and grabbed the suitcase out of my hand.