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The New York Artists Series
Straight-laced, veterinary surgeon, Summer Wynters is ready to break the rules. And who better to break them with than the most irreverent of all men, mega rock star Malcolm Angel? With one last summer free from work obligations, Summer moves to New York City, and at the coaxing of her friend, pretends to be a model so she can spend one wild night with Malcolm.
Rock star, Malcolm Angel, tortured by a dark past, may be the poet laureate of romance, but he, like science-minded Summer, has never believed in romantic love. How could he? With his history, he doesn't deserve to be loved.
When Summer's honesty, kindness, and exuberance for life changes his perspective, the two discover they are in deeper than either dreamed possible. But when Malcolm discovers Summer's been perpetuating a lie, will he forgive her? Even if forgiveness is possible, can a man immune to love teach someone else to believe in it?
Page Count: 256
Word Count: 60320
Summer’s eyes darted up toward his. Perspiration dotted her forehead, and she felt her nipples harden. He tugged on her lip gently then let go, allowing his eyes to deliberately drop down to her shirt. He exhaled a deep guttural groan, and Summer felt an intense jolt of pleasurable pain flash through her body she couldn’t—and didn’t want to—explain with any logical medical reasoning. Her body moved toward his, and Malcolm lurched out, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her toward him with such force, she grunted. She pressed against him, and he held her tightly, his black eyes warming.
“I don’t even know your last name…” he whispered.
Summer exhaled, frustrated, feeling the moistness in her jeans, knowing there was no way to maintain their intensity once she spoke.
He held her at arms’ length. “Okay? Your last name is ‘Okay’?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, it’s okay you don’t know.”
His eyes clouded over, and he let his hands slide down her arms until they were no longer touching. A searing pain socked Summer in her gut. She’d have to tell him, or risk hurting him. She stood up straight, and shimmied around a bit, trying to alleviate the contact from the seam of her jeans. Why did he stop?
“Okay, okay…I’ll tell you. But please try to keep your reaction under control.”
Malcolm raised his eyebrows. “I’ll make no such promise.”
Summer blushed. “You know what I mean…” Her voice was a mere whisper.
“Okay, fine. I will do my best. But why are you anticipating a reaction? What could your name possibly be?” Malcolm twisted his mouth as he spoke. He squinted as he offered possible options. “Summer Smith? Summer Saunders…Summer Day?” His eyes sparkled. “That’s it, isn’t it? Summer Day?”
“Excuse me?” The look of entertainment came back to Malcolm’s face.
Summer rolled her eyes again and crossed her arms. “You heard me.”
She turned to walk away, but Malcolm grabbed her hand and held her fast.
“Oh, no. No way. You can’t drop that and then just walk off. Did you just say, ‘Winters’?”
“As in, Summer Winters…?”
“Yes. But it’s not spelled like you’re thinking. It’s W-Y-N-T-E-R-S.”
“I don’t think that’s any better.” Malcolm laughed.
Summer smiled and pouted, playfully storming away. She made her way around the construction zone and back to the table with Malcolm at her heels. “That is the reason I didn’t want to tell you.” Her voice was high, enjoying the banter.
“How did you go through life with that name…?” Malcolm’s eyes flashed with happiness. “I mean, if I wrote it, people would crucify me. What were your parents thinking?”
“I mean, do they love you at all?” Malcolm chuckled.
Summer’s feet refused to move, and her arms lay limp at her side.
“Summer?” Malcolm’s smile faded. “Sum?”
The sound of her nickname spoken by Malcolm did her in. She desperately fought the mounting tears.
Malcolm stared at her. “It’s not your name you’re upset about, is it?”
Summer clenched her jaw and shook her head.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was low and modulated.
She nodded, looking at Malcolm, and wanting, for the first time ever, to have someone make it all okay. To have him make it all okay.
Malcolm grew quiet. They stood there for whole minutes.“I’m sorry if I touched on a sore subject. Really.”
Summer stared at him—this man who had everything except the answer she needed. How could he be so closed off? How could he care so little about the pain of another living creature?
He stepped forward then, as if reading her mind, took her hand gently, and leaned over, speaking quietly into her ear. “It’s not that I don’t care.”Those few words found a place deep in Summer’s soul.
Malcolm stood tall, and Summer’s eyes followed him. He reached out and stroked her cheek. “But I’ve got nothing more to give than today.”
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