Page 34 of Turning Up the Heat

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

WITHGEMMABUSY in Miami with her family, Tom hadn’t made plans to visit that weekend. So, when his father’s assistant called—on his father’s behalf, of course—to invite him to dinner on Friday night, he begrudgingly accepted. Of course, he missed Gemma, but with her father visiting Miami, they’d decided it was best for her to spend time with her family without the added potential drama of their illicit affair. Funny thing, though—his time with Gemma didn’t feel illicit to him.

So he made the trip out of the city to his father’s home, and he parked his car in the driveway. He wished he’d hired a car, because he might need copious amounts of alcohol to get through a dinner with his father and Carolina. He wanted nothing more than to be in Florida with Gemma, or holed up with her in his condo. She was gorgeous, sexy, intelligent, funny, sassy. He loved everything about being with her. With his hand on the door handle and with one foot out of his car, he paused. Love?

He loved talking to her, being with her, sleeping with her, eating with her, thinking about her. His chest clenched as he made his way to the front door. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, Gemma had gotten under his skin. She was all he could think of. He rang the doorbell, and his father’s longtime housekeeper, Louise, opened the door.

“Thomas,” she said with a smile, drawing him in for a hug. Louise had worked for his family since he was a child. Hell, as his guardian, she’d been more of a parent than either his mother or father.

“Hello, Louise, how are you?”

“Very good for an old thing,” she told him.

“Well, you don’t look a day older than when I was a child,” he said, winking.

She giggled. “You old charmer, get in here.”

Tom walked into the salon—it had never been called the family room. They had never exactly been a family. He nodded in hello to his father, seated in his chair, and made a straight line for the bar in the corner. Fuck it. He’d call a car to pick him up.

He poured himself a glass of dark rum. Tasting it, he realized he’d always thought they’d made a decent rum, but this didn’t taste anything like Gemma’s. Since they’d started manufacturing and bottling in a plant, the product was missing something. That handmade quality. The art she’d spoken of. Love.

He took a seat in the chair opposite the ornate couch where his father and his wife sat. Carolina barely acknowledged his presence, not looking up from her phone as she tapped the screen with the manicured nail of her thumb, holding her wineglass in the other hand. He couldn’t imagine cold, calculating Carolina being part of Gemma’s family, and no matter what he thought of her brothers, he knew that they were a tight, loving family. That was something that he’d never known growing up in this home.

“How have you been, son?” John asked, with as much concern as he’d show a business acquaintance.

“I’ve been well.”

“You’ve been scarce around here lately.”

“I’ve been traveling on the weekends.”

“In Miami?” he asked. “The flight records show quite a few trips down there on the corporate jet.”

“Yes. I have a friend down there.” Carolina raised an eyebrow at the mention of her former hometown, but she didn’t look up, so he tried to goad her. “You’re familiar with the area, Carolina. Any tips for my next visit?”

“The place is a swamp,” she answered simply while John frowned. “I wouldn’t waste my time with it.”

Tom smirked into his glass. He was growing to love the time spent in Miami. Although, he was certain that had more to do with Gemma. Love. There he went, using that word again. “I’m surprised you lived there. You seem to be quite at home in New York, what with how cold it gets.”

“That’s enough, Tom,” his father reprimanded him. He wasn’t concerned—he knew he’d rattled Carolina.

“When will dinner be ready?” Tom asked.

“Louise says within thirty minutes.”

“Great.” Tom couldn’t sit in the room with them any longer, so he took his glass and headed upstairs. He walked to the end of the hallway and opened the door. As he entered his childhood bedroom, he looked around. It was exactly how it had looked the day he’d left for college. After that day, he’d never spent another night in the house, and that was okay with him. He looked over his sports trophies, academic accolades, old pictures that featured him with friends and Louise. But not his parents.

Tom sat on the bed. He wondered why he wanted to hold on so tightly to the family business. He’d never felt like he was part of this family. It had always been his goal to carry on the legacy, but he wondered if it was even worth it.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and saw it was Gemma. “Hello,” he said, unable to take the smile from his face.

“Hey, how are you?” she asked. Even though their connection was crystal clear, he could hear the physical distance between them, and a pang of longing hit him square in the chest. He missed her. “What are you up to?”

He leaned back against the headboard of his bed and swung his feet up on the mattress. “I’m at my dad’s place for dinner with him and Carolina.”

“Ugh. Sounds like a lot of fun,” she said sarcastically.

“Oh, yeah. I’d much rather be in bed with you. How are you?”

---