Chapter 14

Summer paused in front of the floor-to-ceiling poster behind the reception desk at Satellite Entertainment Radio. Across the top it said All the Naked Men You Want! Her newish friends, the ACSs, were all larger than life. The publicity shot caught them in open-necked shirts, sport coats, and wind-tousled hair on the balcony of the POV bar, with the Washington Monument spearing behind them in what could not have been a coincidental use of a phallic symbol. They were laughing at what had to be an inside joke, because it didn’t look posed or forced; just fun. More to the point, Riley wasn’t wearing his thoughtful, guarded, and watchful expression. He looked relaxed and happy.

Just the way he’d looked in her bed this morning.

And yesterday morning.

The thing about Riley Ness? He had staying power. The man was a lovemaking machine. Tireless. Tirelessly inventive. And every single time he told her to come in that throaty growl, she did. They’d made it to dinner Friday night. Then hadn’t left the bed again until they needed dinner last night.

He’d been true to his word: Riley had started a fire without a match on her balcony. Three different ways. Which was pretty much the hottest thing she’d ever seen. Summer didn’t doubt for a second that this man could keep her well-fed, sheltered, and protected on a desert island, stranded in a blizzard, and everywhere in between. What more could a woman ask for?

Oh, yeah. A man who knew all the words to all of Hercules Mulligan’s songs in Hamilton. When she’d asked him why not Jefferson or Burr? Riley said it was because Mulligan was a badass and those other two were obvious.

A man who spent an hour scrolling through the Web trying to prove to her with a slew of adorable pictures that she should get a corgi. Summer told him she’d never get a pet. Because that required planning for the future. His response had been to tell her that she should plan to have a double orgasm within the next hour.

And she did.

Clearly they’d still done a do-si-do or twelve around how opposite they were. Not just her insistence on no pets. Her insistence on no long-term responsibilities of any kind. No time to waste in a day with his brand of excess caution.

Riley actually made her put her blinker on when nobody was behind her for at least half a mile. She’d been prepared to go ballistic about the lack of necessity and the unnecessary wear and tear on her index finger, for crying out loud. But when those green eyes had focused on her and insisted that her safety was more important than convenience? It was impossible to say no to someone whose every action, every thought, was fueled by the need to keep her safe.

In fact, instead of chafing at her, his constant concern felt like a silken blanket of protection.

“Josh, get in front of us,” Riley ordered.

Finger-combing the blond hair falling over his forehead, Josh asked, “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you looking up Summer’s skirt as we climb the stairs.”

“I would never.”

Summer laughed. His aggrieved tone and dramatic smoothing of his blue soccer jersey with the Italian flag over the breast was the very picture of wounded innocence. Innocence that she didn’t buy for a millisecond.

“Bullshit.” Logan slapped the cargo pocket of his shorts. Something rattled. Even though he wasn’t off rebuilding disaster zones anymore, he still filled his pockets with “necessities”— necessities according to him, anyway. They’d teased him at the beach when he’d had to unload it all before playing volleyball. “Of course you’d steal a peek. You’d never touch Summer, but who doesn’t look when someone waves a beautiful woman in front of them?”

“Nobody’s that buttoned up,” Knox agreed. “Riley, you’d better go last, behind her. Because men are dogs. But appreciative ones. And you, my voluptuous vixen”—he shot a wink at Summer—“are sexy as hell in that crop top and skirt.”

Riley didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His hand was busy squeezing her ass. Claiming ownership to her by his deeds rather than mere words…and that was perfectly fine with her.

“Everybody stand down—now,” Griffin ordered as he took the stairs two at a time to get ahead of the other guys. “You’ll freak out our esteemed—and very necessary—special guest.”

Summer giggled. Because she didn’t exactly hate gathering compliments from discerning men. Men she trusted to not even come close to crossing the line. Men she knew were as devoted as could be to their girlfriends. Except for Josh. He was pretty darn devoted to just playing the field, from what she’d seen. And his excuse (albeit the truth) of getting up at four a.m. for his food truck helped him escape any threat of serious entanglement or, God forbid, sleepovers.

“I don’t mind being ogled for the right reasons. I happen to know I look pretty terrific today,” she said as she finally hit the stairs. Summer trailed her hand along the exposed brick wall as she climbed the floating staircase. The studios were a mix of historically old (aka crumbling mortar flaking off on her fingers) and modernly hip. Which kind of represented all of D.C.

Riley ran his hand up her thigh in approval. “You look so good, it’s a shame to waste you on radio.”

“Good thing we won’t.” A stunning blonde in a wide-legged sailor pant jumpsuit with a strapless bustier called down to them from the third floor.

“Stunning” was actually too tame a word. Summer had never once, not even when she was on the pageant circuit, felt insecure around other women. Her gene pool had hit the jackpot in the looks department. Just because she didn’t want to be identified by her looks didn’t mean Summer was unaware of their significance. Or their ability to score her free drinks at a bar.

But this woman set her back on her heels. Because she was supermodel-gorgeous, with her blond hair and perfectly proportioned, Kewpie doll features…and apparently knew the guys. Riley, in particular.

Summer had no plans of her own with Riley. It was more of an evolving, day-by-day thing. More than she usually allowed herself with a man. Most definitely all that she could handle.

That did not mean she wanted to be confronted with the competition. With someone who had the looks—and the impeccable fashion sense—to lure Riley away from her with a wink of a single, smoky eye. Someone who made Summer think about the fact that casually dating Riley suddenly no longer appealed. Someone who made her realize that locking him down into a committed relationship was the way to go.

Even if the words “committed relationship” made her left eye twitch and had the stench of planning for the future all over it.

Griff paused halfway up the second flight of stairs. Crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve got a guess where you’re headed with this, Lara. And I don’t like it.”

“Color me unsurprised,” she drawled dryly. “Everybody hustle up. We’ve got a few extra things to do before you go live today.”

Riley’s hand on the small of Summer’s back started her moving forward again. “That’s our show producer. Lara keeps all the technical stuff going. And herds us like cats.”

“She’s terrific and terrifying at the same time,” Josh said over his shoulder as they rounded the curve of the second floor. It had more larger-than-life posters of some other podcast presenters. None were anywhere close to as striking, though, as the Naked Men.

“She’s beautiful.” Immediately, Summer hated herself for even mentioning it. How many times had she bristled at people shoehorning her because of her looks? But she knew it was her jealousy talking. Hoping beyond hope that Riley didn’t take the bait.

Damn it. Not that she’d ever insisted on a monogamous relationship. Not that they’d even broached the subject. Not that her orange lace panties had any reason to be in a twist.

“Tell me about it,” Josh sighed. “I took a run at Lara the moment we met. Barely rolled my tongue in enough to talk to her.”

Logan not so gently cuffed his ear. “I’m sure she appreciated the effort.”

“Hey, you weren’t here. You didn’t see. We knew she was a dead ringer for a supermodel. Just couldn’t agree on if it was Kate Upton or Brooklyn Decker. All of us were fighting over who’d hit on her first. Except for Griff, who was already head over dick for Chloe. That’s how we figured out he was serious about her.”

This was sounding worse and worse to Summer. Because if Riley had made a move on Lara, of course she’d have gone out with him. The man was annoyingly irresistible when he turned his charm on full force. Trying to come off as casual, she directed her question to Josh instead of Riley himself. “You all hit on her? You took turns? How does that work?”

“We use the ‘shotgun’ approach. Whoever calls it gets to try first.”

“God.” Logan gave a full body shudder, like he was trying to shake off Josh’s words. “Don’t tell Brooke I ever did that, okay? In fact, do yourself a favor and don’t tell anyone that story ever again.”

“It’s the truth,” Josh protested.

On the third floor, Griffin raised his hand. “The truth is that we used to do that. We also used to pee without washing our hands afterward. We used to consider beef jerky and Berger cookies a meal. We, in fact, do none of those things anymore. For we have matured into responsible, respectful men.”

Josh blew a raspberry so wet that Summer could see the spittle spray through the air like a sunburst. “Speak for yourself. Aside from the hand washing. Holy Christ, as a chef I wash my hands as many times a day as a scallop blinks.”

“Stop. Just stop,” Riley begged as he jogged to come even with Summer. “First of all, I thought Griffin tossed out the command not to freak out our VIP guest? So stop talking about our very much in the past horndog approach to women. We’ve learned from our mistakes and corrected our, ah, disrespectful ways.”

It bloomed a little warmth in her heart that Riley didn’t want her to be upset by Josh’s joking around.

Unless it was just that he wanted her calm for the podcast, and not because they were sleeping together.

Summer’s throat tightened. Oh my God. This had to stop. Did other women really walk around all the time counteracting this ridiculous jealousy?

Knox hooked his sunglasses in the neckline of his linen shirt. A shirt cut lower than any currently in Summer’s closet. An artfully rumpled shirt underneath a pale gray suit with a thin periwinkle box pattern. Oh, and with the sleeves pushed up to his elbow. Exactly as the model had worn it on the runway during Milan Fashion Week. Summer remembered seeing the photos. And appreciated once again Knox’s couture style. With his penchant for fashion, it was too bad he wasn’t a woman. He’d single-handedly double her store’s profit margin.

He cleared his throat. “I’m jumping in with the ‘secondly,’ because we’re all thinking it. Scallops don’t have eyelids.”

“That is so fucking not what I was thinking.” The side eye Logan shot him would’ve cut straight through an aluminum can faster than the knives hawked on late-night television.

“You didn’t let me finish.” Knox swung his gaze to Josh. And it switched from an eye-rolled, nonverbal Shut up to a squinty Have you lost your mind? “Aside from the fact that they can’t blink, why’d you even use scallops instead of people in that analogy?”

Nodding, Logan said, “Okay, that’s what I was thinking.”

It was what Summer had been thinking, too. When Josh first said it. But now all she could think about was scallops not having eyelids. How did they sleep if they couldn’t close their eyes?

Josh let his head fall back and sighed. “Look, a scallop can have more than a hundred eyes. Something I learned at the Culinary Institute before we were taught how to clean, cut, and cook them into melting morsels of deliciousness.”

Hand diving to his pocket, Knox pulled out his wallet, removed a crisp Franklin, and waved it in the air. “I would give you a hundred dollars if you could get through a conversation just once without bringing it around to food.”

“You’re on, rich boy.” Josh tried to snatch the cash. Knox charged up the rest of the stairs to escape him. They both came to a full and immediate stop when faced with Lara’s glare. “Anyway, they have lots of eyes. More than humans. So I figured they blink more, all added together. You know, guys, a joke’s no good if you pick it apart.”

“A joke’s no good if you don’t pack in the funny,” Riley threw back.

Griffin put a hand on Summer’s shoulder. Bent down to put his mouth near her ear. In a loud stage whisper, he said, “Lara’s gay.”

Finally. Somebody who had sense enough to know that while the easy camaraderie of the ACSs amused her, she was about ready to jump out of her skin at wondering if Riley had slept with Lara.

Not that it mattered.

Not that she had any right to be the least bit ruffled, even if he had slept with her.

Crap. Just how deep had she fallen for this guy?

Before she could fully process, or react—or thank Griff for setting her straight—Riley pulled her forward. “Lara, this is Summer Sheridan. Our VIP guest. Since she’s not a man, I assured her that you’d waive the standard Naked Men dress code.”

“You mean the one where you all tried to convince me you wanted to do the podcast in the buff? Or the one where I shamelessly begged you not to do it?”

“You have no appreciation of our hotness.”

“No. I genuinely don’t. But your ever-growing audience does, which is all that matters.” Lara shook Summer’s hand. “Welcome. You chose an exciting day to visit. After too many weeks of folderol and faffing about, we’re finally going to run a live video stream of the podcast.”

A muscle in Griff’s jaw twitched. “With a whole twenty-minute warning? Not cool, Lara.”

The grim tightness of his mouth didn’t seem to faze her. “Lieutenant, you’ve pushed back and dragged your feet with every official tweak we’ve made. Given what happened to you all in high school, I get your aversion to publicity. But you signed a contract. If I’d told you three weeks ago that we planned to start filming today, you would’ve come up with twelve excuses why it couldn’t happen.”

“True.” Griffin patted the belt at the waist of his mint green shorts. “But we’re not dressed to go on camera. We’re dressed to hang out with our best friends, shooting the shit.”

“Which is exactly what we want to capture.” Lara tweaked his button-down collar. “Your tidy preppiness. Knox’s over-the-top fashion. Logan’s rumpled world-traveler look. And so on. So go take your seats. You’re about to get powdered.”

“There was no mention of makeup in the contract,” Knox growled, with eyes narrowed to storm-cloud-colored slits.

“By the time you get your lawyers to wrangle a no-makeup addendum, the show will be long over.” Lara herded the men into a room with wide glass walls.

Summer did not budge. She couldn’t.

Riley would think she was weak. Think she’d lost her mind. That she didn’t have an ounce of courage in her whole body. And if this dragged out much longer, he’d have to deal with the beginnings of an honest-to-God panic attack. He hadn’t signed up for that. For dealing with a woman on the verge of breaking down. No man liked that, and with his straightforward approach to life, he seemed particularly disinclined to tears and drama.

Two steps ahead, Riley stopped and turned back. With an easy smile, he said, “Sorry about this last-minute switch-up. But you look great. You always do.”

“I can’t do this.”

The smile turned indulgent. A just girls being girls twist of his lips. “Because of your outfit?”

“No.” She’d forgive him that dig. It hadn’t seemed intentional. More that he was aware of her livelihood and attention to fashion, and realized she’d want to be at the top of her game. But it meant she’d have to reveal the truth. Or he’d just keep wheedling and hammering at her. Or offer to send a car to pick up another outfit. Which would solve exactly nothing. “Because of the cameras. I freeze up.”

Riley crossed back to her. Took her hand, which she knew to be a disgusting mix of ice on the top and clammy wetness on her palm. “I don’t understand. You’ve been giving speeches for years.”

“To an audience, not a camera. None of them were filmed.” She’d made sure of it.

Forehead still furrowed in confusion, he asked, “What about when you did pageants?”

“That’s why I’m so scared.” Summer’s mouth went dry as flannel. “The first time I did a pageant that was televised, I was all excited. Ready, confident, and with a new burgundy lipstick that was guaranteed to put me in the finals. But right before the question round, Colby Zuniga pulled me behind the curtain. She dug her nails into my arm and hissed into my ear that there were cameras out there and if I screwed up, everyone in the whole state would be watching and would see it and would know how stupid I was.”

“Teen girls can be bitches.”

Jerking her hand away, Summer fisted it on her hip. “Oh yeah? Well, boys have plenty of their own moments of cruelty.”

“You really want to put on your feminist cape and fight?” Riley tilted his head and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Or are you just trying any avenue to keep from walking through that door?”

He’d seen right through her. When she hadn’t even realized what her knee-jerk flip-out was about. “Sorry.” And she put her hand back in the comforting warmth of Riley’s.

“So she gave you the yips?”

It was like he wasn’t listening at all. “You mean hiccups?”

“No. The yips. It’s a golf and baseball thing.”

This was what she got for hanging out with a man who worked in a primarily male field and lived with four other alpha males. Completely useless frames of reference. Next he’d probably pull out a motivational Star Wars/Trek/Whatever quote. Which she’d recognize if it was from the Hayden Christensen era, because he was hot. But Summer had been told by numerous men that his movies “didn’t count.”

With a sniff and a slow eye roll that hopefully made it clear just how much he should’ve known better, Summer said, “Not really my milieu.”

Instead of looking frustrated or annoyed—which she expected—Riley nodded. Patiently, he stroked the back of her hand and said, “It means she got in your head and put you off your game.”

Oh. What a great word. “Yes. I yipped. I was petrified. I blew the question, made a fool of myself, got mocked in newspapers, and, btw, didn’t even make it into the final ten.”

“That’s shitty. No way to sugarcoat it.”

“Exactly. So you see why I can’t guest on your podcast today.”

“Nope.” He tucked her forearm under his and patted her hand. Like they were about to promenade down a turn-of-the-century boardwalk in gloves, top hat, and parasol. “We’re going to do this.”

Sweat beaded at her nape. “Riley, I can’t move. I’m terrified all over again. Terrified that I’ll ruin a podcast that today, of all days, will mean so much and be the start of helping so many people. Terrified it’ll go viral and my big Web launch in a few weeks will fizzle because everyone will assume I’m too stupid and flighty to run a successful business. I’m not doing it.”

“Do you remember what you said to me? In your store? The day we declared a truce?”

Many, many bad things. Until the kiss, anyway. “I probably called you a jerk. There might’ve been some reference to the giant stick permanently lodged up your ass.”

“Not where I was headed. All true, though.” And it got him to release her arm. Which at least gave her a chance at bolting down the stairs when he wasn’t looking. “You told me that you wished people would look at you and see the brains inside the beautiful brunette.”

“By me stammering and not making complete sentences?” Maybe their truce had ended. Now he was intentionally torturing her.

“How old were you when that little cheat messed with you?”

“Fifteen.”

“More than a decade ago.”

Point to Riley. Too bad logic didn’t work on fear. “Phobias don’t lessen just because time passes.”

“But you’re not the same person anymore. How much has changed since you were that nervous teen? You made it through college. Started your own business. Got drunk. Had sex. Made other mistakes and rebounded from them instead of wallowing or avoiding. For Christ’s sake, Summer, you survived getting shot. You’re strong. Stronger than fear.”

She was a different person; Riley had no idea just how true his words rang. Now wasn’t the time to tell him, though. “It’d be one thing if I tried this solo. But Riley, I won’t be responsible for being the weak link in your podcast.”

“You’re looking at this all wrong.” Riley put an arm around her waist and pushed and scooted her over to stand in front of the studio’s wide glass wall. “You’ve been waiting, hoping that people would see past your boobs to your brains.” He pointed at the cameras in the corners. “This is your chance to show them. This is your vehicle.”

It was a complete U-turn in thinking. One that appealed to her stubborn streak. The part of her that insisted she could sleep with any guy she wanted, make any business she chose successful, try anything she wanted. Summer had no idea why she hadn’t come around to the idea herself. Or how Riley had realized it was exactly what she needed to hear.

“You’re right.”

He staggered back three steps, one hand at his heart and one to his forehead. “Sweet Jesus, I’ve been waiting to hear those words from you for so long!”

“Very funny.” Summer swatted at his hand and kissed him with great tenderness and care on the cheek. What he’d just done for her, how he’d helped her shake off the chains of the past, was enormous. “Thank you for the pep talk. I didn’t know you had it in you. It was a nice surprise.”

“I surprised you? Unspontaneous me with the giant stick up my ass?” Riley tickled her rib cage until she squealed.

“I want to do this. I want to try, anyway. You’ve given me the courage I needed. But there’s still a chance I’ll yip.”

“I’ve gotta teach you the proper way to use that word.”

“I’m serious. You should warn the other guys. Ask if they want me to stand down.”

“Summer, you’re one of us now. We’re a team. If you stumble, we pick you up. Remember, it was their idea to invite you on. Like you said, this is an important day for us. We wouldn’t have asked you to share it if we didn’t believe you’d make a meaningful contribution.”

“Only you could turn something so sweet into something so wordy and dry.”

“If you’re bitching at me, you’ve got swagger. Which means we’re ready to head in.” He pushed open the door. “You’ll do great.”

Summer wasn’t so sure she believed that. Just getting through it would be a major accomplishment. But she tossed her hair back, jutted out her chin, and said, “I’m going to be brilliant.”

“I’ll hold your hand the whole time.”

Now that she had no trouble believing. The trouble came when Summer realized just how much comfort and strength Riley’s promise gave her.