by Ruth Langan
He took a step back, then picked up his file and started toward the door.
In the doorway he turned. “I left my cell phone number on the report so you can reach me when you’ve made your decision.”
When he was gone Summer stood very still, dragging in several deep breaths before she sat down weakly in her chair.
She’d sounded like a pompous ass, accusing him of harassment. And all to cover her embarrassment at her lapse in judgment.
She drew in another ragged breath, then caught sight of the rose on her desk. It looked so silly here, in the midst of all this institutional dreariness.
She picked it up and inhaled the wonderful fragrance.
She turned toward the window just in time to see his snappy red car pulling into traffic.
For several seconds longer she stared into space, wondering at the way she had behaved when Cameron Lassiter had kissed her. Just thinking about him was having that same effect on her now.
She felt the way she did after swimming laps in her parents’ pool. Heartbeat accelerated. Legs a bit shaky. Her breath coming hard and fast. Her brain high on adrenaline.
All that, and it had been little more than a whisper of a kiss. What would it be like if he ever decided to really pour himself into it?
Damn him for invading her thoughts like this. Even when he wasn’t around, he was wasting her time.
Cam threaded his car through traffic. He needed to clear his mind in preparation for a meeting with the senior partners. They had a right to know what strategy he was planning to use in the coming trial. Even a firm as successful as Stern Hayes Wheatley didn’t get the opportunity to aim for a billion-dollar windfall more than once or twice in a lifetime.
He was ready. The bigger the prize, the more calm and focused he became. He was certain that Summer O’Connor would call his attitude cocky or arrogant, but it was simply a fact.
Summer. What did he care what she thought?
But he did. And that bothered him more than he liked to admit.
What was he going to do about her? One minute he’d been ready to leave, the next he’d been kissing her. That kiss had been completely spontaneous. And what a kiss. It had rocked him to his soul.
It had been a long time since a woman had affected him like this. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so rattled.
He’d like to think it was because this boy, Tio Johnson, meant so much to his mother. After all, Kate Lassiter had always been a sucker for a sad story, especially if it involved children. But he’d be lying if he tried to pin this on his mother or the kid. The truth had nothing to do with Tio Johnson and everything to do with Tio’s gorgeous caseworker. There was just something about Summer O’Connor that had him baffled.
She might be easy to look at, but so were dozens of other women. She might have a bright mind that challenged him, but it wasn’t her mind he’d been thinking about when he’d kissed her. In truth, once in her presence, his mind had been wiped clean of every thought but one. He’d wanted her. Desperately. And the feelings springing to life inside him hadn’t been the least bit civilized. He’d felt, in that instant when their lips met, as primitive as a caveman. Doing the right thing, the proper thing, hadn’t even entered the equation. He’d simply acted on impulse and to hell with the consequences.
He realized that, despite the fact that he’d cranked the car’s air-conditioning as high as it would go, he was sweating. It had nothing to do with the weather, and everything to do with the woman who was playing with his mind.
He was in over his head and sinking quickly. And the worst part was, he didn’t care.
He was going to see Summer O’Connor again.
And kiss her.
Of that he was absolutely certain.
Chapter 5
“Hi, Pop.” Cam balanced his cell phone between ear and shoulder while he shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it over the passenger seat of his car.
“Where are you, boyo?”
“Stalled in traffic on the Beltway. An accident has cars backed up for miles. Who’s coming for dinner tonight?”
“What makes you think anybody’s coming over?”
“It’s Friday night. You’re making your pasta. Need I say more?”
Kieran laughed. “Well, Micah and Pru phoned to say they’d be here. And Donovan and Andi and the kids are driving down. I haven’t heard from our Mary Brendan and Chris yet. But if they’re free, I’m sure they’ll stop by.”
“Count me in. I don’t know when I’ll get there, but I’m bringing an appetite.”
“Don’t you always, boyo?” Kieran was still laughing as he rang off.
When his cell phone rang a few seconds later Cam picked it up. “Cam Lassiter here.”
“Summer O’Connor.” The voice was cool, controlled. “I finished my last case ahead of schedule and was able to return home early to read the details of your discussion with the warden regarding Alfonso Johnson.”
Cam waited.
“Warden Novicky made some very valid arguments about the father remaining in contact with his son. But I’m afraid none of this changed my mind. I still believe an accused murderer will prove to be a harmful influence on a boy of Tio’s age and temperament.”
“I see.” Cam paused and counted the number of silver cars he could see in the traffic jam. It was an anger-management method he’d learned from an instructor in high school. A way of distracting himself from an issue that might become explosive and have him speaking before thinking. “Have you had dinner yet?”
“Dinner?”
He could hear the confusion in Summer’s voice. That had him smiling. “Yeah. You know. Food. Maybe a little wine. A quiet restaurant, off the beaten track.”
“Sorry. After fighting traffic all day, nothing could persuade me to leave my place and deal with any more crazy drivers.”
“All right. How about if I bring dinner to you?”
“I don’t think…”
He caught sight of an advertisement for an Italian restaurant less than a block from where he was sitting. “Pasta drenched in sauce. Breadsticks with just a hint of garlic.”
He heard her sigh and decided to press his advantage. “I can be in Georgetown in half an hour.”
She laughed. “That’s nice, but I’m afraid it won’t do me any good. I live at the Northside Apartments in Silver Spring.”
“The Northside? I had a law school friend who lived there.” He calculated the time. “Give me an hour. What’s your number?”
“Six thirty-one. On the sixth floor.”
“See you in an hour.” He rang off, then phoned his grandfather. “Pop? I’m afraid I won’t be able to make dinner. Tell Micah he can have my share.”
Kieran laughed. “It’s your loss, boyo. Where are you headed?”
“Got a date with a cool blonde.” Just thinking about her had Cam reaching over to turn on the air-conditioning and raise the car windows before rolling the sleeves of his monogrammed shirt. It was a typically steamy June afternoon, but until now he hadn’t been at all offended by the heat and the exhaust fumes.
Whistling a tune, he used the nearest exit to escape the traffic.
Summer stared at the phone in her hand wondering how this had happened. One minute she was preparing herself for an argument and the next she was agreeing to dinner with Cameron Lassiter.
And not just dinner anywhere. Right here in her apartment.
What had she been thinking? Once again she’d been robbed of her common sense. And all because of one very slick con artist.
No wonder he was so passionate about defending Alfonso Johnson. They were probably soul mates. The only difference between those two men was that one was at the mercy of the law and the other practiced it.
She started toward her bedroom, stripping off her work clothes as she walked. After a cool shower she’d be prepared to face the enemy on her own turf.
Cam shifted carryout bags to one hand and punched in the button to
Summer’s apartment. Seconds later a buzzer sounded, and he pushed open the main door before heading toward the elevator.
On the sixth floor he followed the arrows and felt a moment’s confusion when he caught sight of Summer standing in the open doorway to her apartment. He’d been picturing her in a prim business suit. Instead she was wearing some sort of soft, clingy slacks and a pale pink shirt that seemed to hug every line and curve of her body. Her hair was still damp from the shower and had been brushed long and loose, spilling around her face in a cloud of soft waves.
She couldn’t help laughing at the jumble of bags. “Did you invite an army to join us?”
He grinned. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
He stepped past her and breathed her in. She smelled like a field of wildflowers.
He glanced around as she closed the door. “Nice place.”
“Thanks.” She led the way to the small kitchen. “I looked at a few houses in the area, then talked myself out of them. There just isn’t time in my life to take care of a house.”
“I know what you mean.” He set the bags on the island counter, then began removing cartons. It pleased him to note the single red rose on her countertop. She’d taken it out of the paper cup and placed it in a tiny crystal bud vase. “I bought a place nearly a year ago, and I’m still spending more nights in my old room at my mother’s place than I am in my own home.” He glanced around. “I’ll need a skillet for this chicken cacciatore.”
“I thought you promised me pasta.”
“I did. And you’ll have some. But I got carried away with all the other choices offered.”
Intrigued, Summer handed him a heavy skillet and watched as he dumped the contents of a carton into it before setting it on the stove.
He held up a bottle of Chianti. “I hope you have a corkscrew.”
She rummaged in a drawer and found one. While he opened the wine she set two stem glasses on the counter.
He poured and handed one to her, enjoying the swift rush of heat as their fingers brushed. From the way her eyes narrowed, she’d felt it, too.
“Here’s to the end of the work week.”
“For you, maybe. I’ll be reading reports all weekend.”
“Yeah.” He smiled, watching the way she backed up when he leaned too close. “Too bad we have to work for a living.”
He turned to lower the heat and stir the contents of the skillet.
Summer leaned a hip against the counter. “You look like you know what you’re doing.”
“Do I?” He shot her a smile. “I’ve been helping Pop in the kitchen since I was five.”
“Pop?”
“My grandfather. He lives with us and pretty much does everything around the house. He’s the cook, shopper, cleaner. And all-around boss.”
“That must be nice for your mother.”
“Yeah. It frees her up to do her thing.” He looked around. “Got a platter?”
“Up here.” She reached into a cupboard over the stove. When she turned she found herself brushing his body. She was aware of the little curls of pleasure along her spine. “Will this do?”
“Yeah.” The smile on his face had her backing up. “That’s perfect.”
“Well, I…” She felt the wine slosh over the rim of her glass and set it down quickly. “Guess I’d better set the table.”
“Good idea.” Cam waited until she walked to the little glass-topped table. With the counter between them he could breathe again. He picked up his glass and drank, needing something for his parched throat. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought. The minute he got too close to Summer O’Connor, all the energy left his brain and seemed to flow to another part of his anatomy.
“What’s in this bag?” Summer crossed to the counter.
“Cheese rolls. Antipasto. And salad for two.”
She began dividing the salad into two pretty crystal bowls. “If you ask me, there’s enough here for two dozen.”
He laughed. “This is the first time I’ve fed you. I didn’t know if you had an appetite like a bird or like King Kong.”
“Judging by all this food, I know what kind yours is.”
“Yeah. Thanks to Pop, the Lassiters all have an appreciation for fine food.” He added two small side dishes of pasta and began carrying everything to the table.
Summer was laughing as she took her seat. “If you and I manage to eat all this food, we’ll be too full to get up from the table.”
“That’s the plan. I figure you’ll be a captive audience while I expound on my theory that Alfonso Johnson could actually be a role model for his son, Tio.”
“Dream on.” She shook her head while he topped off their wineglasses. “I don’t think even your silver tongue will manage to persuade me of that.” She took her first taste of chicken and sighed. “Oh, this was definitely worth waiting for.”
“Good. I’m glad you approve.” He followed suit and was pleasantly surprised. He’d chosen the carryout restaurant at random and was afraid he’d be disappointed. That was one reason he’d brought so much food. If the first course failed, he’d intended to salvage it with a second choice, or even a third.
He tasted the pasta and nodded. “Not as good as Pop’s, but close.”
“Your grandfather’s a good cook?”
“The best. Especially his pasta. Whenever we know he’s fixing it, the entire family shows up for dinner.”
“I suppose it’s an easy way to impress your dates.”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never brought any of them home to sample Pop’s pasta.”
She arched a brow. “Not even Elise?”
Cam studied her over the rim of his glass. “I never actually had a date with Elise.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that your uncle was jubilant after his court case was won and impressed by the brash young lawyer who saved his hide.”
“That brash young lawyer being you?”
He grinned. “Your uncle did his best to bring your sister and me together. It was at his insistence that I attended her birthday celebration. But we never went out on a date.”
“I’m sure you can correct that oversight when she gets back from Europe.”
He shook his head. His voice, usually so smooth, held the thin edge of steel. “It’s not going to happen. Especially now.”
At her questioning look he merely smiled and passed the rolls. “If you don’t hurry up and eat, I’ll beat you to all the good stuff.”
Summer dug into her food, amazed at the improvement to her appetite. It wasn’t the knowledge that he hadn’t dated Elise, she told herself. But a small voice inside her mind was telling her that it did matter. It mattered very much. If there had been anything at all between this man and someone she loved, she would immediately back off.
Cam helped himself to more chicken cacciatore. “Tell me about your family.”
She broke a roll and buttered it. “My father and mother owned the Westcourt Galleries until a year ago, when they sold the company to an international conglomerate.”
Cam paused. No wonder the house in Georgetown had been filled with such impressive art and artifacts. “I’ve seen those galleries in my travels.”
Summer nodded. “Besides the one here in Washington, they have branches in New York and Paris and London. My parents had always hoped Elise and I would follow them into the business, but it had no appeal to us, so they finally accepted an offer to sell.”
“Are they enjoying retirement?”
She laughed. “They don’t know the meaning of the word. My father is considering accepting an appointment as ambassador to Ireland. My mother still acts as buyer for the galleries.”
“So this trip to Europe is strictly business?”
Summer considered. “A little business, a little pleasure. Like Mother, Elise enjoys the shopping. The two of them will have a grand time buying out Europe.”
“How about you?” Cam
dug into his salad. “Why didn’t you go along?”
She shook her head. “After a day or two I’d go stark raving mad. I’ve never been able to spend long days doing nothing more challenging than finding a bargain.”
“But with a background like yours, why social work?”
“I guess it comes naturally to me. My father said, in all our travels, I was always standing up for the underdog. At any rate, I knew from the time I started college that I wanted to do something that would make a difference.” She sat back, surprised to find her plate empty. “What about you? Why law?”
He shrugged. “I thought about following my older brothers into government service. Micah was a Secret Service agent. Donovan…” He grinned. “Donovan never talks about his work, so we assume it was some kind of top-secret stuff like CIA. But I found myself intrigued with my mother’s law classes. After my degree, I interned with Stern Hayes Wheatley, and they asked me to stay on.”
“Considering their reputation, you must be good.”
“Careful. Any minute now you might forget I’m the enemy and say nice things about me.”
There was that smile again. Quick enough and dangerous enough to have her heart reacting in the strangest way. “Oh, I doubt I’ll go that far.” She indicated the empty platters. “But I will admit that you have excellent taste in carryout. And Italian food is a real weakness of mine.”
“Any other weaknesses I ought to know about?”
“Chocolate.” She laughed and pushed away from the table, returning with two cups of steaming coffee.
“I’ll remember that for next time.”
She picked up her cup. “What makes you think there’ll be a next time?”
He sipped, then met her look across the table. “Maybe you won’t be able to resist my charm.”
“Right. And maybe pigs fly.”
That had him chuckling. He surprised her by starting to clear the table.
“You don’t have to do that. You brought the food. The least I can do is clean up.”
“If we do it together it’ll be done in half the time.” While she carried the rest of the dishes, he loaded the dishwasher.
When the table was cleared she topped off their cups and led the way to the great room.
