Forever Summer (5 page)

“The hotel has provided us with a car, Celia.  It will drop me off at the theater and take you wherever you wish to go, and then bring you back here.  The limo will come back for me after the concert.”

“But how will I get to the concert hall?”

“Celia, why would you wish to come to the show yet again?  How many times will this make?  A dozen?”

“Gabe, you know I never get tired of seeing you perform.”

“If you two will excuse us, I’d like to get going.  Ready Marisol?”

“Ready.”  Summer held out her hand after the child had kissed her father goodbye, ignoring Celia’s outstretched arms as she passed, and Marisol happily placed her hand in Summer’s and headed for the door.

Buckingham Palace wasn’t particularly exciting from the outside until the change of guard took place.  Summer and Marisol watched the expressions – or lack thereof – on the guards’ faces and bought post cards depicting the event.

“We should start a scrap book, Marisol.  Have you ever done one?”

“No, but I have seen some.  Can we look for those pretty papers and designs?”

“Absolutely.  Maybe we can find a store here.  Are you getting hungry?”

“A little, but I’m not ready to go back to the hotel, yet.  Please, can we stay out a little longer?”

“Of course.  I didn’t mean we should go back.  We’re in England, so I think we should find a place to have tea.”

“You mean like a tea party?”

Summer smiled.  “A fancy one with little sandwiches and pastries.  Would you like that?”

“
Sí
, Summer, I would like that very much.”  The two set off and found a tea house.  They took turns telling each other their favorite memories.”

“All of your memories are of when you were a little girl.  What about when you were a teenager?”

“My best memories were when I was younger, like you.  That’s why I told you the other day to enjoy being four.”

“But why?  When I’m a teenager, I’m going to do a lot of fun things.  Didn’t you do fun things when you were a teenager?”

Summer carefully kept her smile on her face.  “Not so much, no.  I had more fun when I was little.”

“Did you go to dances and on dates with boys?”

“Not very often.”

“But why not?  You’re very pretty.  Did your mother teach you how to put on makeup?”

“No, sweetie.  My mother died when I was about eight years old.  I didn’t start wearing makeup until I was about sixteen or seventeen and I taught myself.  I wasn’t very good at it in the beginning, but I eventually learned.”

Marisol reached for her teacher’s hand, and with serious eyes said, “My mother died when I was just a baby.  I’m sorry your mother died, too.”

Summer covered the little hand with her own.  “Thank you, Marisol.  It’s nice of you to say so, but it was a long time ago, and I’m not so sad anymore.”  Much.  “I think we have just enough time to go to a bookstore I found yesterday.  Maybe they have scrapbooking stuff there, or at the very least, maybe we can find some new books to read together.”

The two set off and did find a generous scrapbook section in the bookstore and bought several items to get them started.  They returned to the hotel and were taken to the back entrance and were escorted by the bodyguard to Marisol’s rooms.  Her grandparents were inside waiting for her and thanked Summer for taking her out.  Summer promised to return after dinner to start on their scrapbooking venture, and started for the door.  Before she reached it, she was nearly tackled from behind when Marisol wrapped her chubby arms around her legs.

“Thank you, Summer.  I had so much fun today.”

“You’re very welcome,
Chiquita
.  I’ll see you tonight.”  Summer reached down and hugged the little girl, and they parted ways.  She headed back to her room with the sole intention of taking a nap.  Jet lag was such a drag.  She’d just entered when the phone rang.  She rushed over to the bedside and picked up.

“Señorita Alvarez?  Please hold for Señor Rodrigo.”

“Summer?  It’s Gabe.  How did your outing go with my daughter?”

“It went well, Mr. Rodrigo.  We saw the changing of the guard at the palace and had tea together.”

“Call me Gabe, won’t you?  Did she behave herself?”

“She was a doll.  It was a good day.  I just dropped her off with your parents, and I promised her I’d stop by this evening for a quick lesson in scrapbooking.  I hope that’s alright.  I won’t keep her up too late.”

“You really don’t have to do that, Summer.  Why don’t you go out and enjoy yourself?  If you’d like, I’ll reserve a couple of tickets to the show for you.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.  I’ll stop by to see Marisol and make it an early night.  Was there anything else?”

“No, Summer
, gracias
.”  He should’ve known she’d turn down tickets to his show.  Hundred dollar tickets.  To his sold out show.  She certainly offered a nice way to keep his ego in check. 

Rather than take a nap after she hung up the phone, Summer got caught up in correspondence and sent off several postcards to friends in different parts of the world.  Before she knew it, it was time for dinner.  She ordered room service then went upstairs to keep her date with Marisol, yawning all the way.

****

The show went well, and Gabe was wired, as usual, afterwards.  He saw Celia to her room, despite her best efforts to talk him into either going out somewhere, or staying in with her in her room.  They’d known each other most of their lives, and he didn’t want to hurt her, but neither did he intend on moving from friendship into anything more serious.  Been there, done that, not going there again.

Thinking he’d order room service after he checked on Marisol, he entered into his suite and stopped dead in his tracks as he passed the sitting area.  There on the couch lay his daughter and Summer, sound asleep.  The coffee table was strewn with some kind of colored paper and designs of all sorts, along with some postcards featuring all the most famous sights in the city.  Summer held Marisol in her arms, a book collapsed across both their bodies. 

Gabe wished he had a camera handy to capture the scene before him.  His daughter’s dark curls next to the golden waves of Summer’s were quite a contrast.  Summer’s golden skin next to his baby’s fair skin another contrast just as beautiful.  He couldn’t remember ever seeing his daughter look so peaceful with anyone other than himself and his parents, not even her nanny.  So, the cool Miss Alvarez wasn’t quite as indifferent as she would have him believe.  Obviously, she was planning a cozy little reunion upon his return. 
Sorry, honey, I wasn’t born yesterday.  I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not in the market for what you’re offering.  How disappointing. 
He’d actually thought she might be different
. 
He hoped Marisol hadn’t already become attached to this latest parasite.

He reached down and picked up his daughter and took her into her own room, tucking her into bed.  Then, he returned to the sitting area and debated which way to throw the woman out.  She was still sound asleep, or at least she appeared to be.  Perhaps he should take a sample of what she was offering.  She made such an attractive, tempting sight lying there, almost as if she was awaiting the magic kiss that would release her from the spell she was under. 
Jesus, I need to get a grip.
  Still … he bent down and touched his lips to hers.  Sweet and warm.  Not yet awake, Summer began to return his kiss, and he was shocked to feel an instant response that shot straight below the waist.  He began to deepen the kiss, and Summer slowly opened her eyes.  And sat straight up.

“What the hell?”  Gabe looked up at her from his spot on the floor and leaned forward again to take up where they’d left off.

“Ah, you’re awake, good.  I don’t usually entertain while on tour, but since you’re obviously waiting for me …"

“Get the hell away from me, you, you … creep!”  Summer pushed him hard enough that he lost his balance and toppled over, hitting his elbow on the coffee table and making a loud noise.  “Your daughter’s here, for God’s sake, not to mention your parents.  What kind of a … never mind.  I know exactly what kind of a father you are.  I quit.  You jerk!”

“Gabriel, what is happening?  Summer, what is going on?”

“Mamá?  What are you doing here so late?”

“The nanny is ill and could not come to stay with Marisol.  Your father and I came over, but Summer was already here, and she was kind enough to stay and put her to bed.  They were working on some kind of book.”

“¡Estúpido baboso que te creas muy grande para andar haciendo eso!  No me toques.”
  Summer’s angry tirade in Spanish was punctuated with wild hand movements.

Gabe rubbed his face with his hand – the hand not attached to his throbbing elbow – and tried to get a handle on the situation.  “Everyone please calm down.  I think there has been a little misunderstanding.”

“Oh, please.  I’m leaving. 
Señora Rodrigo, buenas noches
.  It was nice meeting you.  I wish you well.  Please tell Marisol I said goodbye, and she can keep the scrapbook and the other books I bought her.”  Summer picked up her purse and headed for the door.  She was halfway to the elevator before Gabe caught up with her.

“Summer, please wait.”  She never even slowed down.  “Summer, at least let me apologize.  Would you just wait a moment?”  He reached out and grasped her arm to stop her progress.

“You keep your hands off of me, you jackass.  I don’t care who you are or how much money you have.  I’m. Not. For. Sale.  And I’m not interested, so back the hell off.”

Gabe held up his hands in surrender.  “Okay, okay, I’ll back off, and I’ll keep my hands to myself, alright?  Just, please, give me a chance to explain.”  When she didn’t turn back around, he started talking.  Fast.

“Look, I’m sorry.  I saw you asleep in my room, and I jumped to conclusions.  The wrong conclusions, apparently.  In my defense, and I realize I don’t have much of one, a similar scenario played out a few months ago, only that time, it was me doing the pushing away, and the
lady
trying to take advantage of the situation of being alone with me in a hotel room.  Well, not alone – Marisol was in the next room.  The woman was her nanny.  Shortly before that, the teacher who was here before you broke in and started singing at the top of her lungs, into the remote control no less, determined to convince me that she belonged in show business and could be my opening act.  Both true stories, I assure you.  You can even ask my mother.”

Summer’s lips twitched despite herself.

“Please, Summer, forgive my lapse in judgment and protocol.  I swear it will never happen again, now that I am assured you have absolutely no romantic or career interests in me whatsoever, I will remain a gentleman in your presence at all times, I promise.”

Summer eyed him suspiciously.  “The nanny was sick tonight.”

“So my mother said.  After I made a – how did you word it –
estúpido baboso
– out of myself.  I really am sorry.  Please, come back to my room, and we can sort this out.”