Cause For Scandal (Dynasties: The Elliotts #3)(19)
Author: Anna DePalo

When Summer spied him, laughter still lurked in her eyes and she exclaimed, “Zeke, you’re here!”

Apparently not a moment too soon, he thought dryly. He bent and kissed her on the cheek, grazing the corner of her lips—and staking his claim. She was dressed in black, as was he, and she looked fantastic.

As he straightened, he gave her an intimate smile. “Hi.”

“Zeke, have you met Stash?” she asked, gesturing with the hand holding her wineglass.

Zeke looked Pretty Boy in the eye and noted the amusement on the other man’s face. Stash? What the heck kind of name was that? And why didn’t Stash go stash himself somewhere else right now?

Aloud, he said, “I haven’t.” He stuck out his hand. “Zeke Woodlow.”

The other man grasped it. “Zee pleasure iz all mine.”

Zeke almost rolled his eyes. A Frenchman? He had to compete with the lure of Stash’s foreign mystique?

“Stash is the manager of Une Nuit,” Summer said. “Zeke is—”

“I know who iz Zeke Woodlow, chérie,” Stash said. A smile curved his lips. “I am afraid that work calls, however, so I weel leave you to your friend.”

Zeke watched as Stash kissed Summer on the cheek and then sauntered off, tossing him another amused look as he went.

Stash, Zeke thought sourly, seemed like the type who could charm honey away from bees. Turning his gaze back to Summer, he asked, “You two know each other well?”

“Stash has been the manager here a long time.”

Hardly reassuring, Zeke thought.

Summer beckoned to him, and with narrowed eyes, he followed her as she moved deeper into the gathered crowd.

She greeted people as she went until she was stopped by a man who looked to Zeke to be a quintessential smooth operator. The guy was around his own height of six foot one but looked to be about a decade older—perhaps in his late thirties.

Great. Was he destined to spend the whole evening batting away potential rivals?

Standing next to the dark-haired playboy type was a curvy green-eyed blonde. She gazed up at the playboy admiringly, but he hardly seemed to notice—his attention was directed at Summer.

Damn. He took another step forward and moved closer to Summer.

Summer looked up, seeming to realize all of a sudden that he was still there. “Zeke,” she said, “this is my uncle Shane Elliott, the editor in chief of The Buzz, and his executive assistant, Rachel Adler.” To Shane and Rachel, she added, “This is Zeke Woodlow.”

Zeke’s shoulders relaxed. He needed to get a grip. His attraction to Summer was starting to drive him crazy—even if right after their interview, he’d been able to get down a major chunk of the melody and lyrics for the elusive song in his head.

Zeke shook Shane’s hand and noted that Shane’s grip was just as firm as his own.

“It’s good to meet you,” Shane said. “Summer tells me that the interview went well.”

“The interviewer did her homework.”

Shane laughed. “In any case, I appreciate your taking the time. We’re in a heated race and every little bit helps.”

The talk then shifted to a discussion of the music industry and who was topping the music charts, or would be soon, with new CDs.

When the conversation eventually ended and he and Summer had moved on, Zeke asked, “What did he mean ‘we’re in a heated race’?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Tell me now.”

She sighed. “My grandfather, who founded Elliott Publication Holdings, recently announced that the head of whichever EPH magazine is the most profitable by the end of the year would succeed him as CEO.”

Zeke whistled. “So basically he’s letting his kids duke it out over who will succeed him?”

“Yes.”

“So that’s what made you desperate enough to try to beard the lion in his den. You were hoping an interview with me would help the home team.”

He watched her shrug. “I did it for myself and for The Buzz. I’m just hoping Granddad’s challenge doesn’t tear this family apart.”

Zeke grimaced. “It’s at times like this that I appreciate growing up an only child.” He gave her a wry smile. “No matter what, the parents still have only me.”

“And you still have them.”

The look in her eyes made him stop. He’d done some digging into her background on the Internet, and surprisingly, while there’d been plenty of mentions of her grandparents and assorted other Elliott relatives, there’d been none connecting her to her parents.

Before he could ask, however, she said, “My parents died together in a plane crash when I was ten.”

“God, I’m sorry,” he said.

“I’ve had fifteen years to learn to cope, but, you know, the hurt never completely goes away.”

Before he could respond to that, their conversation was interrupted by a man Summer introduced as her cousin Bryan, the owner of Une Nuit.

“Stash sent me over,” Bryan said before Summer could say any more. “He told me that he’d run into the two of you together by the door.”

From the way Bryan pronounced the word together and from the look in his eyes, Zeke could tell he’d come over to check things out himself.

Doing some sizing up of his own, Zeke estimated that Bryan was about his own age—twenty-eight. In contrast to Shane, however, there seemed nothing laid-back about this Elliott cousin. If anything, Bryan seemed to be constantly watchful, taking in everything and giving nothing away. He was like a panther ready to pounce.

Zeke looked Bryan in the eye as they shook hands, and a certain recognition and mutual respect passed between them.

“Bryan has the perfect life,” Summer joked.

“Really?” Zeke asked, looking from Summer to Bryan and back.

“Yes,” Summer said, throwing her cousin a teasing look. “He has this fantastic bachelor pad above the restaurant that lets him just fall out of bed and go to work. Not only that, but he’s got a job that keeps him well away from EPH and us other Elliotts. Or, I should say, one Elliott in particular, namely my grandfather. And on top of it all, Bryan gets to travel to fantastic places for the restaurant.”

Interesting, Zeke thought. Not only was the statement revealing about Bryan, but it was intriguing that Summer thought the perfect job was away from EPH.

“Summer’s exaggerating,” Bryan said.

“No, I’m not.”