The Pleasures of Summer (2 page)

‘Summer!’

Summer opened one eye. The other eye was glued together with the remains of her false eyelashes. She groaned into her pillow. Lifting the duvet, she took a quick inventory. She was still wearing the slinky pink dress from the night before but there was a stain on the front that looked remarkably like …

‘Summer!’

The roar came again, louder this time.

‘Ugh.’ If her father found her in this state he would go crazy.

‘Summer!’ The roaring was getting closer now.

She tumbled out of bed and hurried to the bathroom.

Her blonde hair extensions were clumped together and the remains of last night’s mascara stared accusingly at her from the mirror. She looked like a hung-over raccoon. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of her brain stirred a vague recollection of dancing on a table singing ‘The Fields of Athenry’.

‘You are never drinking cocktails again,’ she told her reflection.

She stripped off her dress, scrubbed her face clean,
rinsed her mouth with mouthwash, pulled on a bathrobe and wound her hair into a turban.

‘Summer.’ This time the roar was accompanied by pounding on the bathroom door. Her dad had finally lost it. She opened the door reluctantly.

Tim O’Sullivan’s face was scarlet. ‘What the hell did you do to my car?’

‘Me? Nothing.’

‘Don’t lie to me. If you took my car …’

Summer’s own face flushed. ‘I wasn’t anywhere near your cars. Natasha gave me a lift yesterday. You can ask her if you like.’ And he probably would. Her dad would believe anyone before he believed her.

His face crumpled. ‘God, I was hoping it was you.’

She stared, shocked.

‘If it wasn’t then some feckers broke in and did it.’

‘Calm down, Dad. Remember what the doctor said –’

Her father turned away, already heading for the door. ‘Feck the doctor,’ he muttered under his breath.

Shoving her feet into a pair of mules, Summer followed him down the stairs, through the open door and around to the side of the house where he garaged his collection of vintage cars. She winced. It wasn’t just any car that was damaged. It was
that
car. Sitting on the gravel driveway was her father’s pride and joy, the one that she had been driving yesterday. The silver Aston Martin DB5 – no wonder he was ranting.

She had listened to the story a zillion times. How Tim O’Sullivan, son of a poor fishing family, dragged himself up from nothing to build an international airline,
yadda yadda yadda
. This particular car was the symbol of his
meteoric rise to success. It was one of only six built for a James Bond movie. Now it was splashed with red paint and there were deep grooves in the passenger door.

‘What the hell am I paying security for?’

Her father was shaking. The last few months had been terrible for him. The plane crash, the hate mail, the endless newspaper coverage, and now this. She patted his arm. ‘It will all blow over. The inquiry found it was an accident.’

He clenched his hand into a fist. ‘Do you think any of them care? If it’s not the media following me around like a pack of hyenas, it’s some crackpot who thinks I’m responsible for every plane that drops out of the sky. You’ll be better off back home until things settle.’

He couldn’t be serious. Boarding school had been bad enough. Then, when she was doing her MBA, he had insisted that she share a flat with her strait-laced cousin Sinead. But Castletownbloodyberehaven with her grandmother watching her like a hawk?

‘Sorry, Dad. There’s no way I’m going there.’

‘You listen to me, young lady. It’s Castletownberehaven or you’re getting a bodyguard. After last year, you can’t possibly think it’s safe for you to be on your own.’

Calling her young lady was a sure sign that he had made his mind up and he would never change it. Summer had other plans while she was in London, but they weren’t the kind she was going to share with her father. She had to calm him down. ‘Please don’t send me away. You need me here. Please Dad.’

He gave her a measuring look. ‘Sometimes you remind me of your mother, lord rest her. I’m not going to risk losing you as well.’

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped the speed dial. ‘Brian, I need you to organize security for Summer. Yes. Until I get back from Atlanta.’ He eyed the vandalized car and shook his head. ‘And tell the garage to send someone over ASAP.’

Summer forced a smile onto her face. This was a temporary setback. She could handle a bodyguard. Her dad would be away for most of the month and when she got rid of the bodyguard, she could carry out her plans.

In the breakfast room, they helped themselves to food from the covered dishes on the sideboard. There were sausages, bacon, eggs cooked four ways, fried pancakes, mushroom, beans, black pudding and toast. She would have to speak to the new chef and tell him that he wasn’t feeding an army. No wonder her dad was overweight.

How was she supposed to run the household and keep her dad healthy when people kept leaving all the time? She had no idea why there was such a high turnover of staff.

Summer helped herself to yoghurt and fruit and sprinkled it with granola. Her stomach lurched. She was still queasy from the night before. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she picked up the morning paper. Her own face looked back at her from the third page. Damn. There was a photo of her holding Maya’s hair as she puked out the door of the limo. How the hell did the tabloids get these stories? She would have sworn no one else had seen that nasty little incident. Summer read on: ‘Irish eyes were certainly smiling last night when socialite Summer O’Sullivan hooked up with hunky Australian half-back Mike Chester.’

‘Oh bugger,’ she muttered.

‘What’s that, Summer?’

‘Nothing, Dad.’ She forced a smile and dropped the paper under the table. Her dad had enough to worry about without having to read about her latest exploits.

She took out her Xperia to check her messages.

Her father opened his laptop and they read through their emails in silence, broken only by the occasional expletive from her father when something annoyed him. He never stopped working. She couldn’t remember when they had last gone out for dinner together or done anything that wasn’t connected with business. It must have been when her mother was alive.

‘So when do you fly to the States?’ she asked to distract him from his latest rant about share prices.

‘Next Tuesday at noon. But don’t worry. Brian said they’re sending someone round at eleven.’ He said that his assistant was a godsend, efficient and organized. Summer hated him.

‘Great.’ Summer poured another cup of coffee. ‘I can’t wait.’
To get rid of him.

At precisely 10.55 a.m. a nondescript grey Nissan made its way sedately up the driveway. Summer let the curtain slide back into place. She couldn’t see the driver clearly but he looked middle-aged. Perfect for what she had in mind. Grabbing her towel, she hurried downstairs to the pool.

By the time they found her, she had swum four lengths at a fast crawl. The uniformed maid stumbled when she saw that Summer wasn’t wearing a swimsuit. With a blush and an apologetic glance at the visitor, she hurried away.

Through her tinted swim goggles, she watched as the
bodyguard stood at the side of the pool, shifting from foot to foot. She kept him waiting while she swam another length and then she climbed out, took off her goggles and shook her hair.

‘Towel,’ she said in a clipped tone, stretching out her hand in his direction.

After a moment’s hesitation, he fetched the towel from the sun-lounger. Keeping his eyes averted from her naked body, he carefully handed it over.

Summer deliberately didn’t thank him. She wrapped the towel around her hair, rubbed it dry and dropped the wet towel at her feet. Stepping closer, she stared him down. He was in great shape for his age, but no match for her.

‘I swim three kilometres every morning at seven and I expect you to join me. Oh, and be a darling and make sure that there are no leaves or insects in the pool before I arrive.’ She strolled away, leaving him staring open mouthed at her ass – and walked straight into her dad.

That was the end of Bob.

After that, operation
Defeat the Bodyguard
became her favourite game. Tyler, the driver, arrived the following day. She managed to clock up two speeding tickets during the afternoon she spent with him. Her dad had gone crazy about that one.

Then there was Joe. He was a real sweetie and a strict vegetarian. Serving braised liver for lunch and steak tartare for dinner two nights in a row had ended that particular assignment. The poor guy had been almost barfing while he watched her eat and she wasn’t sure if she could keep that much protein down.

Thursday brought the charming Tony who had a penchant for expensive Italian suits. Luckily he was gay. A heated kiss in her father’s office while she was giving him a tour of the house ensured that he was sent packing before his first hour was up. She really should have mentioned the hidden security cameras.

The last guy was bald, monosyllabic and built like a brick house. He had been a tough nut to crack until she had taken him lingerie shopping for three hours, insisting that he sit outside her dressing room and view each outfit she tried on. Asking the assistant to take their photograph was probably a bit mean, but then so was sharing them on FB. He hadn’t returned the next day.

No new bodyguards had arrived since Friday.

Summer stretched and yawned before she got up. She would be a sweet, dutiful daughter until her dad left for Atlanta. Casual clothes and no make-up except a quick slick of her favourite lip-gloss. She had almost reached the landing when she heard her father’s voice in the hallway below.

‘What do you mean, you have no one available? You’re on a retainer, Niall. Make someone available, for Christ’s sakes.’

She sat down on the stairs. Operation
Defeat the Bodyguard
obviously wasn’t over yet. When her dad’s voice dropped, she tilted her head to catch the rest of his words.

‘I want the best. I don’t care what it costs. Just get him here by this evening.’

Summer heard the door to the breakfast room slam. Her dad sounded worried, and that was unlike him. She rested her head against the banisters while she twisted the ring on her right hand. The plain gold band had once
belonged to her mother. It was the only piece of jewellery she had been allowed to wear at school and now it wouldn’t come off.

She wondered what her mother would think if she saw her now. The Hampstead mansion was very different from the one-roomed flat where her parents had spent the first few years of their marriage. What would her mother say if she knew about all the naughty things she had done during the week? Worst of all, she wondered if her mum knew that she was planning to go to an exclusive fetish club with her friend Molly?

Out of habit, Summer kissed the ring. She was being foolish. Her mum was dead. Climbing to her feet, she hurried down the rest of the stairs.

The blonde’s parted lips were moist and glossy. She was kneeling at his feet, her position in contrast to her prim office uniform of black skirt, white blouse and hair in a neat chignon. ‘Please, Sir, allow me to pleasure you,’ she begged.

Flynn looked down at her, appreciating the angle of her neck in that position. He would strip her later and mess up that efficient hairstyle, but not yet. ‘You haven’t earned that right yet. Has she, Lottie?’

The raven-haired siren shook her glossy bob. ‘No, Sir. I should be the one to pleasure you.’ Lottie wore a skin-tight latex outfit that showed off her generous curves. She was tall enough that her six-inch heels brought her close to his height. And put the collar she wore right into convenient grabbing distance.

He smiled slowly. ‘I’m inclined to agree. Lottie, you can show her how to worship me with your mouth.’ He turned to the blonde. ‘Bella, remain kneeling there and watch. Pay attention. There will be an exam later, and you won’t like the penalty if you fail.’

He settled himself back on the couch while Lottie dropped to her knees in front of him and unfastened his leather trousers.