Killer Summer, Lynda Curnyn [books suggested by bill gates .txt] 📗

whatever remedy she could find for that burn of hers.

The sliding glass door to the back deck opened, allowing in the only other person who could possibly get her butt into that thong—and that CD into her player, God help her. I had no idea who she was, but as I watched her yawn, then stretch that lithe, tan, bikini-clad body, I knew that, music tastes notwithstanding, I wanted to know her better. A lot better.

“Is it time for cocktails yet?” she asked, blinking as she took in the room, her eyes falling on me with what looked like genuine interest.

“So you must be my new roommate,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Nick,” I said, holding out a hand to her.

“Roommate?” she said, putting the smallest hand I had ever seen in mine, catlike blue eyes gazing up at me from beneath thick, dark bangs. God, she was young. She couldn’t be more than eighteen, if that. Mnirn, but she was nice. Maybe that’s what I needed… a nice young babe. No neuroses yet. No hassles.

“Yeah, the purple room is where I usually sleep. Not that I mind sharing,” I said, giving her my cockiest smile. Yeah, this was shaping up to be a helluva weekend. Good food in the making. Hot chick in waiting—

“Nick, you made it!” Tom said, stepping in behind the brunette babe, carrying a bloody, beheaded fish in his hands. Yuck.

“So I see you’ve met my daughter, Francie,” Tom said, pausing briefly to acknowledge the girl before marching toward the kitchen.

Daughter? Uh-oh…

“Francesca,” she corrected, her eyes still on mine. “A pleasure to meet you, Nick,” she said, giving me the kind of smile that said she was very glad to meet me. Oh, man…Tom’s daughter. It figured. Did I have the worst luck in the world or what?

“Daddy, you didn’t tell me I was going to have a roommate,” she said, her eyes moving over me in a way that made me feel uncomfortable with Tom standing right there.

Not that Tom noticed, I thought, watching as he laid that fish on the counter. “Roommate?” He laughed, then looked at me. “Francie decided to come out and keep her old dad company. But I guess I hadn’t sorted out the sleeping arrangements.”

“I can stay in Nick’s room, Daddy. We can separate the beds.” Then she smiled up at him. “I’m a big girl, after all.”

“Oh, no, no,” Tom said. “I don’t think that would work…”

Embarrassed, I looked at Francesca, then noticed her smile had deepened. As if she liked the way Tom was acting all overprotective and shit. Okay, let me revise my assessment. Young chicks are weird.

“After all, what would the neighbors think?” he continued with a hearty chuckle that turned Francesca’s smile to a frown. Then he snapped his fingers. “Hey, I got it. You can sleep on the day bed in my room, Nick,“ he finished with satisfaction. ”Sound good?“

“Uh, yeah. I’m easy,” I replied, watching as Francesca waltzed past me and out the sliding glass door once more, a pout on her pretty face. Okay, so I didn’t get to sleep with the weird hot chick, but I did just step up to an ocean-view room.

I’d say the weekend was turning out a-okay.

Chapter Twelve

Sage

What’s the Fourth of July without a little spark?

“ Look at this place,“ Zoe said.

“I know,” I replied, smiling as I gazed around. We were standing on the back deck of the house, which had been decorated with great diligence by Tom. Red, white and blue lanterns lined the railings that overlooked the ocean. Matching candles flickered on the patio table. Inside the house, the living room was strewn with candles and streamers and more lights in red, white and blue.“He did a great job,” I continued, peering through the sliding glass door and spotting Tom, who was presiding over the small crowd that had begun to gather in the living room, “He always does.”

I felt Zoe shift uneasily beside me. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant,” I said, more sharply than I’d intended. I knew Zoe wasn’t in the best of moods tonight after her run-in with Myles,but I was tired of her chronic critique of Tom’s postmortem behavior. He needed to move on. We all needed to move on. “Tom already explained to us why he’s decided to hold his annual Fourth of July bash. He didn’t want to disappoint anyone, least of all us. We’re his first shareholders.”

“Gee, what a guy.”

“Zoe,” I said, turning to face her. “Tom is a nice guy.” Probably too nice, I thought, thinking about how he’d slaved all day, preparing for this party he felt we shouldn’t do without. Not that I said that to Zoe. “Why don’t you direct your anger where it belongs?”

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

“It means you’ve done nothing but whine about Tom ever since you ran into Myles this afternoon. Why not just admit to yourself that seeing Myles here was upsetting?”

“I’m not upset!” she cried, her sunburned face going a shade darker as she did.

“Hey,” Nick said, stepping through the sliding glass doors, beer in hand. “Simmer down. Zoe, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing is the mat—” she began.

“It’s a party, lighten up,” he continued, gently knocking his beer into her arm. “Let me get you a drink.”

“I’m not thirsty,” Zoe replied.

“As if that matters,” Nick said, with a roll of his eyes. “Let me get you a beer.”

“I’m not in the mood—I mean…no, thank you,” Zoe said, her gaze seeking out the ocean view.

“Suit yourself,” Nick said, taking a healthy swig out of his beer. “Sage?” he asked, looking at my half-empty tumbler of tequila on the rocks.

“I’m good, thanks,” I replied, studying him and noticing for the first time that he’d taken the time to give his hair that gently gelled, tousled look. He’d even put on a nice shirt. A new shirt, I realized, noting that the baby blue cotton button-down he wore