“No!” she giggled. A minute of quiet passed between them. “What are you drinking?”

“Whiskey. Try it.” He offered his glass. “I get it from a private distiller.”

Avoiding his fingers, she confiscated the tumbler. The decadent pale gold liquid twinkled in the clear tumbler, raising it to her lips.

“Personal chef, private distiller. Living the good life, ah?” The words came as a playful compliment, but in truth Summer had grown into a confident man. Time gifted him with an aura of relaxed poise and inner-strength that looked very, very good on him.

“In some aspects, yes. Still missing out on the best parts of life, though.”

Fuck. Fuckity-fuck. She continuously stepped, no…dove, head first, into her own traps. Desperately needing to fill her mouth with something, she took a long draw of the whiskey. Subtle layers of smoky heat balanced perfectly with smooth hidden hints of sweet buttery vanilla.

“Umm. That’s delicious. It’s got a little sweetness to it,” she assessed, taking another drink.

“It’s made with a bit of honey.” He shot her a lopsided grin, declining the half empty glass when she handed it back. “Go ahead and drink that one. I’ll get another.”

Gulping down another swig, she licked the wetness from her lips inspecting the flexing of his assets as he moseyed to the bar. A slow burn seeped through every nerve ending she possessed. Carrie Ann could’ve sworn she heard an internal sigh of pleasure from her hooha as it gave a little hug to her nether regions. Peering down at her crotch, she mentally wagged her finger from side-to-side in a scolding fashion. Oh no you didn’t! No, no, no!

Placing the drink on the coffee table, she pushed it out of her reach, and fell back into her book. Summer lowered into the cushions, one foot curled under his thigh, reading what she assumed was a script. She didn’t dare open her mouth until all effects of the alcohol left her body. The term lightweight was an understatement and whiskey always made her frisky.

Somewhere near the end of Chapter Seventeen, some serious action was about to go down, literally, under an oak tree in Montana. After six toe-curling pages of foreplay, the wealthy rancher started to seduce the city girl. He’d unbuttoned her sundress and slipped his fingers into…

“Is your book getting good?”

Carrie Ann jolted wildly at the sound of Summer’s voice.

“What?” she asked breathily. Her head popped up, eyeing him over the pages. “Yeah, it’s pretty good.”

“I figured.” He had the nerve to flash a haughty grin. “Your feet are wiggling a lot.”

Color flooded her cheeks. She scoffed, deriding his accusation, but failed to keep the edges of her mouth from lifting.

“You want me to read it to you? Judging by the shade of red you’re turning, I’m guessing it would be far more interesting than these scripts I’m reading.”

Clutching the paperback to her chest like a scared virgin, she attempted to turn the tables, “What are you reading?”

He played along, mercifully. “I’m going over several scripts my agent brought me. One in particular that he swears I’ll be perfect for.”

“You don’t sound very interested.”

“It’s not particularly in my wheelhouse.”

His disinterest surprised her, heightening her curiosity. “What’s it about?”

“The producers are pitching it as an erotic thriller. Think Fifty Shades meets Dexter. He’s a very dark character, which no matter how challenging, it’s just not something I want my name on. Plus, I’m not keen on being fully exposed for the world to see.” A throaty laugh rumbled in his chest. “However, it does have a big number attached to it, so my agent loves it. I can already tell by the premise that I’m not going to take the role.”

She smirked, squirming restlessly in her seat.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What’s what supposed to mean?”

“You just rolled your eyes at me, like you think I’m full of shit or something.”

“I’m sure your principles have boundaries, but…” she hesitated, shoulders winched up, tossing out an insignificant shrug. “It didn’t seem like you had a hard time making your last movie and it had a nude scene.”

And there it was again. On full display. Ryan Summer’s heart-stopping, cocky, motherfucking smile. “You jealous?”

“No.” She was.

A clash of wills ensued. He stared at her with glazed concentration. Carrie Ann sensed he had more to say, but patiently and silently, weighed his options.

“This might surprise you, but filming that scene has been the biggest challenge of my career.” She could tell he was serious. And it did surprise her. “It wasn’t believable.”

Her lip twitched and eyes took another rotation behind closed lids. She didn’t want to show any reaction, but she couldn’t stop the words from spewing out her mouth. “Looked believable to me. I’m sure practice makes perfect.”

“Practice made it worse. Not to mention, her husband insisted on being on set while filming the scene. He was totally into it.” His features scrunched in disgust. “Who the fuck would want to watch his wife making out with another man?”

Carrie Ann’s eyes drifted shut for a brief moment recalling the scene. Her fingers began to curl into the edges of her book.

“Anyway, it required a private conversation…some keen advice from Tommy for me to get through the scene.” He set the script on the table and stretched his long arm along the top of the couch. “He suggested I visualize Evie, the woman I was dating at the…”

“I know who she is,” she grumbled. Slamming the book on the table, she bolted to her feet, not wanting to have this conversation. By the time she reached the bar, Summer’s fingers hooked around the front of her hipbone.

“Tommy praised my efforts.”

“I’m sure he did.”

“He said, ‘You must really be crazy about Evie. That was one of the most passionate…’”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” she spouted. Jealousy simmered. Carrie Ann couldn’t control it. She was shaking with it.

“I thanked him for the advice—” He spun her to face him, paralyzing her retreat with a solid grip to her arms, “and admitted that I wasn’t thinking about Evie.”

A scalding flash of raw emotions rushed through her veins hitting her chest like a molten red branding iron.

“I was thinking about you.”

A shudder of understanding rolled down her spine one vertebra at a time.

“It’s always you, Red. Always. No matter who I’m with, when I close my eyes, it’s you I see.”

“Are you telling me…that I was set up by Tommy? At the premier?” She yanked her arms free from his grip.

“It’s not like that.”

“Bullshit!” Her jaw clenched. She targeted the center of his broad chest and jabbed him forcefully with her index finger. “When I ran into you at the gym…did you know I’d be there?”

“No. Well, sort of. I’d heard that you’d joined my gym. Shayla mentioned it in passing, but when I ran into you, it was by chance.”

“And the premier?”

His lips parted, but only to draw in an edgy breath of air.

“Where’s that satellite phone? Can I text on that thing?”

“Carrie Ann, this has nothing to do with Tommy. They were only trying to help me out a little. I’ve spent a lot of time with them while…”

“Who is them? If I find out Shayla knew about this…”

“Calm down, Red. Shayla had nothing to do with it. Not really. I had dinner a few times with Tess and Tommy.”

“Give me your phone!” Springing toward him, she shoved her hands in his pockets. Carrie Ann delved through his jeans retrieving the bulky phone from the confines of his back pocket, she located contacts and pushed T.

Tommy Clemmins!!! You are in some serious trouble when I get back! FYI this is Carrie Ann!

“Don’t be mad at them, just because you’re too damn hot-headed to come to your senses. Big deal. So what. He gave you tickets to the premier.”