A Taste of Summer Page 3

  Buzz buzz buzz

  A reminder alarm jingled her phone at five minutes to nine, pulling into the private compound. Carrie Ann circled around a massive limestone fountain in the center of the drive. Her assistant, Sara, waited beneath the colossal portico made of rustic wooden beams. She wore her chestnut hair pulled back in a posh ponytail, giving the added element of sophistication to her grey slim-fitting skirt and sleeveless cream-colored blouse.

  Stepping from the car, the scent of the ocean carried along a breeze from the canyon below. Carrie Ann glanced downward, smoothing the creases from her graphite pencil skirt and white camisole. Their California boardroom business attire matched exactly, all the way down to their open-toe three inch heels. She pointed to the long layers of espresso hair framing her face. “I’m glad I wore my hair down today. We look like twins. Maybe we should start calling each other in the morning.”

  “Yeah, except you fill yours out so much better than I do.” Sara frowned, cupping her petite breasts.

  Carrie Ann tossed Sara an apologetic pout in return. She’d been naturally blessed with voluptuous D cups and complementing full hips.

  Sara jingled the keys in her hand. “Morning.”

  “Thanks for stopping by Jason’s office to pick up the keys.”

  “No problem.” A discrete grin flourished beneath the dark lenses of her glasses. “I think he was hoping you’d be the one picking up the keys.”

  She only smiled in return. Sara had worked diligently for Carrie Ann for over two years and boasted a host of many redeeming qualities. She was remarkably organized, could juggle a range of tasks, and had the ability to stick to tight deadlines. But what she treasured most about Sara was her reserved personality and uncanny instinct of knowing precisely when to speak up and when to keep quiet.

  “Let’s get inside and go over today’s line-up.”

  “Our first meeting is at nine thirty, so we have plenty of time to walk the property.”

  The sound of their heels clipped along the Versailles patterned travertine as they strolled through the twelve thousand square foot Spanish-style manse. Event Bible in hand, Sara took pics and notes on her iPad, jotting down any and all things pertaining to the event.

  Quickly making their way through the hacienda, they concentrated on the outdoor entertainment space where the auction would take place. Large planters scattered throughout the pavilion. Each teemed with blueish-green agave and flowering lavender, snuggled to the trunks of the mature oak and pepper trees.

  “Let’s make sure the trees get wrapped with extra lighting.” Carrie Ann waved a hand, noting the surrounding gardens manicured to perfection. “It’ll add touches of elegance and oodles of charm, plus draw your eye away from the tent.”

  Passing beneath a large romantic archway, Sara halted her rush pausing to take in the gorgeous view of the Pacific. “This place seems very familiar. I think I’ve seen this house somewhere before.”

  “I’m sure you have. They’ve filmed several reality shows here.”

  “Really? This place is perfect.”

  “When Jason first mentioned the possibility of using the Pacific Hills Villa, I totally dismissed hosting the auction here.”

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t think it would be a big enough venue. It took some convincing, but it turned out to be the ideal location. Plus when the owner realized it was for the HAH, she offered it to us at no cost. A donation of sorts. I couldn’t turn it down.”

  “I can tell you that it was refreshing not to have to jump through hoops in order to get the correct permits. This place comes with plenty of parking and His and Hers restrooms.”

  “It’s the little things that make you happy,” Carrie Ann chuckled. “Jason did an amazing job finding this place.”

  Sara snapped her fingers in recollection. “Hey, this is where they film Still Single!”

  Carrie Ann grew up surrounded by fame and fortune of Hollywood leaving her numb to its effects. However, Sara was somewhat of a newbie to California and reveled in the glitz and glam.

  “Would you mind taking a picture of me with the house in the background?” Giddy excitement sweetened her tone.

  Noticing the pink tinge dusted her cheeks, Carrie Ann asked on a whim, “I’ve got an extra VIP pass for the movie premier Saturday night. Would you like to go with me? We’ll have to work it a little, but…”

  “This Saturday?” Her entire body slumped in disappointment. “Oh man. I can’t believe I have to turn you down, but I have a date Saturday night.”

  “You could always cancel. Or change the date.”

  “You don’t understand.” Sara shook her head. A timid grin crept over her petite features. “As much as I’d love to stroll down the red carpet with you, Carrie Ann, I need this date. I even bought a new pink nighty.”

  “Ahh, I totally understand.” A quick round of pings tap danced a circle around her lower belly at the mere thought of new-sex jitters. “Believe me, I’d rather be in your position.”

  Sara snickered pressing her palms together in a pleading fashion. “Amen. I’m praying for a few good positions.”

  Both women laughed as she snapped a photo of Sara posing in front of the infamous Rose Courtyard. They moseyed to the far edge of the outdoor pavilion, soaking up the California sunshine before the hectic agenda broke loose.

  “I’ve been watching the weather reports. Hopefully the storm moving up from the gulf holds out until after the auction, but if not the party planners will provide dropdown walls, heaters, whatever we need. They’re bringing a van full of their finest examples.”

  Tilting her face skyward, Carrie Ann closed her eyes to the brightness. She prayed the weather held off. Not for the sake of the party, but for the sake of her sanity. Stormy nights always brought back the horrible memory of the night her mother died. She could deal with the rain and strong winds. She could even tolerate the grumbles of thunder in the distance. But she hated the lightening. The deafening cracks snapping through the night sky still wielded a brutal assault on her emotions. A sickening feeling of total loss and heartache that made her stomach turn.

  “I’m still not happy about using the tents,” she complained. Her tenacity outweighing reason.

  “The canopy?”

  “They can attempt to dress it up all they want by using the word canopy, but it’s still a damn tent. It’s half the size of a football field! I’ve been envisioning this event for a year and not one time did I conjure up a beautiful image of a tent.”

  “It’s not that bad, Carrie Ann. By the time we bring in the stage, dance floor, and all the tables dressed with candles and beautiful flowers, the staleness will disappear. If it rains—”

  “I’ve put in an order to the weather gods.” A firm business-like voice carried over the expansive travertine. “They’ve promised to hold off on the deluge until after the auction.”

  Jason appeared from the shadows of the open doorway. He ambled toward them wearing a light grey suit, crisp white shirt and patterned navy blue tie. Dark sunglasses concealed his sapphire eyes, but a wide smile stretched across his lips, drawing a discreet sigh of appreciation from Sara.

  “I’m going to need all the weather-prayers I can get.” Carrie Ann grinned extending a hand.

  “Nah, you’ll pull it off.” Jason clasped her hand in both of his. “What do you think of the estate?”

  Sweeping a dithering glance from one side of the property to the other, Carrie Ann shrugged in a ho-hum sort of way. Her smile ultimately giving away her approval. “It’s amazing. I can’t thank you enough for the recommendation.”

  Sara nodded in agreement. The growing shade of pink deepened further across the apples of her cheeks. Carrie Ann immediately noticed a shift in her assistant’s body language the moment Jason approached.

  “You’re welcome and I’m glad you finally came to your senses. It took some convincing, but I think you made a wise choice.”

  The pleasant sound of mission bells rang thro
ugh the hidden outdoor sound system.

  “That must be the party planners,” Sara announced, glimpsing at her watch. “I’ll go let them in.”

  The trio started for the house. Reaching the backdoor, Sara stepped inside, but Jason paused at the threshold, casually guiding Carrie Ann off to the side. “I was wondering if you’d like to get a drink later. Early celebration?”

  “Can I get a rain check?” Straightaway, she realized her mistake in word choice as a look of optimism flicked the edge of his mouth. “No pun intended,” she added glancing at the heavens above, hoping to pull off her slip as an intentional joke.

  “I should’ve guessed you’d already have a date for the evening.” He was fishing…cautiously. “A smart, beautiful woman—”

  She cut him off before smooth charm turned to overkill. “Actually, today is my birthday. My best friend, Shayla, is in town, so we’re having dinner.”

  “Ah, happy birthday.”

  Foregoing a hand shake, he opted for a brief, but full-frontal embrace. His gaze landed on her cleavage for a full three seconds before releasing her from his arms. A male reaction she’d grown accustomed to since she turned sixteen. Lucky for Jason it was a harmless peek, otherwise he would’ve found the heel of her flirty Kate Spade piercing painfully into his toe.

  “Thanks.” Voices coming from the grand foyer seized her attention. “I need to get going.”

  “Maybe we can squeeze lunch in before the auction?”

  “Let me check my schedule.” She settled for a noncommittal response.

  Carrie Ann enjoyed Jason’s company. He exuded intelligence, good looks, and an impressive portfolio. However, she didn’t want to give him false hope. Nor did she want to seem rude.

  As the day went on, excitement gathered momentum. Carrie Ann met with party planners, caterers, a florist, and musicians, nailing down each option with clear, concise decisions. Making the long drive home through rush hour traffic, exhaustion began to set in. Watching the sun dip low in the sky on it’s descent toward the Pacific, she pushed out her worries and concerns. Only nine days remained until the auction, and that meant vacation beckoned in ten. She intended to leave her lists and laptop behind, collapsing in bed for a few days before indulging in two full weeks of solitude. A little rest and relaxation was exactly what she needed before the mayhem of the HAH Bare Your Soul Calendar preparations began.

  Carrie Ann considered skipping dinner with Shayla and heading straight for a glass of wine and her pillow. However, they hadn’t enjoyed a girls-only night in a long time and she couldn’t wait to catch up.

  Gaining her second wind, she hurried to the door hearing a knock. Not bothering to look out the peephole, Carrie Ann grinned yanking open the door. “I am so ready for a night—”

  Her words drifted off and the smile chased away from her lips, coming face to face with a young man wearing khakis and a red shirt. He cradled a lavish bouquet of long stem red roses, accented with white tulips and stephanotis, tied with a delicate strand of taffeta ribbon.

  Her heart stopped.

  “I have a delivery for Ms. Lowell.”

  Old feelings bowled through her stomach, catching her off guard. The pain ripping through her heart nearly dropped her to her knees.

  “That would be me,” she croaked.

  The deliveryman held out the arrangement expecting her take it, but her legs turned to jelly and she staggered backward into the house. Her hands remained locked at her sides, refusing to touch the flowers.

  He followed inside asking, “Where would you like me to put them?”

  She swallowed hard over the sullen lump of despondency growing in her throat.

  Unable to respond, she merely stood there gripping the back of her sofa, watching as he hastily placed the flowers on the end table. He uttered something, a company jingle of sorts, rushing out the door, but she couldn’t summon one word in return.

  The sweet fragrance, full and overpowering, invaded her senses like the memories flashing through her head. Chill bumps covered every inch of her body.

  Shayla knew better than to send roses, especially on her birthday, so did, Sara. Even her father would never cross that line.

  Carrie Ann ripped the card from the clear prongs. Her fingers trembled as she opened the small envelope.

  I’m teaching Drew how to ask a woman out on a date…Properly

  I miss you, Red

  Have dinner with me

  Happy birthday

  Summer

  Her chin quivered as the gash in her heart tore a little deeper, stealing the air from her lungs. Tears caught at the rim of her lashes as a hot wave of shame, unexpected and unwanted, washed over her. Tremors wracked her body, staring at the blur of red laid atop the dark wooden table.

  Carrie Ann’s knees buckled and she sank to the sofa. Painful heartache she’d swept into the far frayed edges of her heart spilled down her cheeks.

  She didn’t know how long she sat, crumpled in a ball weeping, staring at the bouquet before hearing another knock at the door. Moving to her feet in a daze, she gaped out the peephole. It didn’t do any good, she couldn’t see through the blur of wetness.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s me! Open up birthday girl!” Shayla chimed cheerfully.

  Unable to think clearly, Carrie Ann turned the knob without even bothering to check her appearance.

  “Oh my God, what’s wrong?” Shayla dropped her purse to the floor, grabbing her by the shoulders taking close inspection.

  Carrie Ann shook her head back and forth, palming her face to wipe away the onslaught of tears. She tried to speak, but nothing came out, only shaky sniffles and huffs of air, as she attempted to catch her breath.

  “What is it?” Worry saturated Shayla’s tone.

  Carrie Ann made another pass at her tear streaked cheeks, waiting for her voice to return. Years of guilt and sorrow began to unravel, mixing hazardously with a dose of fury.

  Looking down at the card crumpled between her fingers, she motioned wildly toward the roses shoving the card toward Shayla. “Fucking, Summer.”

  “Oh.” Shayla’s eyes widened in shock and then instantly tapered into a cringe. “Oh shit.”

  Carrie Ann nodded in agreement. Out of all the years they’d been friends, she’d only cried in front of Shayla once. She couldn’t hold back anymore. Her face contorted and her body quaked as she eased forward, wrapped her arms around Shayla’s waist, holding to her like a lifeline.

  “Aww. Come here.”

  “And it’s today, Shay. Of all the fucking days he could do this shit me?” She struggled to keep the hurt out of her voice.

  Shayla swayed back and forth, soothing her breakdown as if she were a small child. Her arms, heavy and encumbered, dropped to her sides in defeat.

  After a moment of comforting, she said softly, “Carrie Ann, he doesn’t know.”

  “I…know… but it had to be…roses? On my birthday?” Words came in fits, sucking deep breaths of air through her open mouth.

  “I’m so sorry.” Shayla led her to the living room, tossing a few colorful pillows to the corner of the modern cube-like white sofa, encouraging Carrie Ann to sit. “He would never do this to you on purpose.”

  Dropping her head back, she released an anxiety filled huff of air. The coolness of the leather brought relief to her heated skin. Carrie Ann stared up at the exposed rafters, reigning in her show of emotions.

  “You wanna talk about it?”

  Carrie Ann shook her head.

  “You want a glass a wine?” she asked eventually, already heading for the kitchen. “Or how about a Cosmo?”

  “Definitely a Cosmo.”

  Listening to Shayla rummage through the liquor cabinet, her breathing began returning to normal.

  “You’re almost out of Cointreau.” Shayla informed conversationally. Her soft voice holding notes of compassion. She knew better than to push the Do you want to talk about it? It was a subject that had been tabled for years.
>
  Carrie Ann grabbed a turquoise pillow from the corner, holding it to her front as she sank deeper into the leather. Her view returned to the ceiling. “I just can’t believe this is happening. Seriously? After all these years ‘I miss you. Have dinner with me?’ What the hell is he thinking?”

  Shayla peered beneath the contemporary cabinets floating above the granite top kitchen island. The concern stretching across her face moderated. “So, does this mean we can talk about it?”

  Her head tilted in the barest twitch of a nod.

  “You’re not really surprised by this, are you? It’s not like he hasn’t tried to reach out to you a few times,” Shayla affirmed loudly over the ice tumbling in the shaker.

  “Yeah, I know, but it’s usually a very wishful-thinking 2:00am booty call…not a date.”

  Shayla rounded the kitchen corner. Her eyes widened in a questioning manner, handing off the martini glass filled with pale pink cure-all.

  “What’s that look supposed to mean?”

  “It means…you know damned well Summer doesn’t call you in the middle of the night for a booty call. Not that he doesn’t have an obsession with your ass, but we both know that’s not why he calls.”

  Carrie Ann glared over the rim of her glass pulling a lengthy sip of the Cosmo.

  “You put it on the table. I’m just keeping it real, my friend.” Her tone wavered between empathy and logic.

  “Seriously, Shayla. Every time I’m around the man it takes less than five minutes for me to want to grab him by the balls for one reason or another.”

  Shayla’s brow raised to a defined point of inquiry. “And that reason would be?”

  “To inflict an unbearable amount of discomfort.” Tight crinkles scrunched and contorted across her forehead. The fingers of her non-cocktail hand curled around the corners of the pillow, squeezing into a tight fist.

  “And the other reason?”

  Carrie Ann sucked in a deep breath, pulling it all the way to her toes. She tossed Shayla an exaggerated around-the-world-eye roll. Releasing a brash short-tempered huff from her nostrils, she cast an index finger at her best friend. “You know what the other reason is. The man drives me fucking crazy. He knows how to push all of my buttons.”