Summer Sins Read online

  Summer Sins

  Hot in the Hamptons Series

  by

  Jennifer Probst

  Dedication

  To great friends and Hudson Valley RWA chapter mates, Wendy S. Marcus and Liz Matis. I've had a blast writing this series with you - thanks for making this project so much fun!

  Dear Reader,

  Come play in the Hamptons sandbox with the Hot In the Hamptons series, a trilogy featuring SUMMER DREAMING (Liz Matis), SUMMER TEMPTATION (Wendy S. Marcus), and SUMMER SINS (Jennifer Probst). Three separate novellas. Three different authors. One summer to remember.

  Read them all, or just read one. It's up to you! But when read together you'll find extra story scenes to enhance your reading pleasure. No matter which route you choose, these standalone novellas will make you burn.

  Chapter One

  STORME

  I PULLED UP IN MY CHERRY RED CONVERTIBLE, cut the engine, and stared up at my parents' Hamptons estate where I planned to spend the summer. An odd combination of excitement and unease coursed through me. Probably too much stuff going on at once. After all, not many people graduated from college and got married within a few months. At least, no one that I knew. Worrying I might be making the biggest mistake of my life was normal, right?

  I sighed, slid my Tori Burch sunglasses on top of my head, and got out of the car. I hated whining. Drama was okay for a good cause, but endless bitchy whining was completely lame. It wasn't as if I didn't love Phillip. He was perfect for me, my best friend, and my parents were banking on bringing our families together to merge a vineyard dynasty. My life kind of reminded me of a late-night soap, a remake on the new Dallas, but with wine instead of oil. The only thing lacking was a hot affair and stinging betrayal.

  I grabbed my leopard print luggage, pulled it out of the backseat, then made my way up the patio. My two best girlfriends and co-maids of honor, Kelsey and Leigh, would be spending a few weeks here, and I couldn't wait. We'd met freshman year at Penn State when we discovered we were all roommates. Packed like sardines into a dorm room meant for two, we'd bonded immediately. They'd become like my sisters, and I hated the idea of us being split up when the summer was over. I pushed the thought out of my mind. No worrying about the future. For now, I had the place to myself to set up, and with my parents and my fiance, Phillip, in California, I was finally alone. It was a heady feeling I wanted to savor, since it rarely happened. Kind of embarrassing. Twenty-two years old, and I'd never been on my own. Even in college, Phillip and my parents were constantly checking on me, showing up with odd visits, and calling consistently about my family's business, Drink It In Style Vineyards.

  But finally I was here, with no maids, cooks, or guardians checking on my well-being. Just an entire summer ahead with my best friends, sun, sand, and relaxation. Amidst planning my wedding, of course, which was only a mere eight weeks away. There may be endless details to confirm, but I intended to have fun and kick back for the first time in a long while.

  The shingled beach house was located in Wainscott, East Hampton, and had been in my family for years. I sucked in a deep breath, kicked off my heeled sandals, and curled my toes against the warm pavement stones with just a touch of gritty sand. With two outer decks, an infinity swimming pool, fire pit, and views of the beach, it was truly a paradise just a few hours away from the vineyard. I was used to living in the outskirts of Long Island, with acres of grapes and few neighbors. Easy access to bars, partying, and beaches was my perfect summer getaway.

  The screen door squeaked as I made my way in. Yanking off the furniture coverings, I revealed the gorgeous cafe color furniture, with vibrant plump pillows, and cranked the bay windows wide open to let in the ocean air. Dark wood floors contrasted with stark white walls, giving the house a clean, elegant look my parents always preferred. Personally, I would've loved to decorate it in a more beachy way, with shells and wooden signs and bright pinks and blues, but I was grateful to even own a beach house in the first place and let my mother's taste rule.

  I quickly checked the fridge and found empty space. I'd have to get some groceries in before my girls got here. The wine racks were full, though, along with a case of beer. Maybe I'd take a quick drive for supplies before settling in. Dumping the heels and changing into comfortable flip-flops, I pulled my long, dark hair into a high ponytail, grabbed my Coach purse, then hit the road in my convertible.

  The house was close to Main Beach where all the action was, but I wasn't ready yet for a big social outing. My bicycle was in the garage, but I needed to pump some air into the tires before taking it out. I cranked up the radio and hummed to Maroon Five as I pulled into the local market, completely relaxed until I heard the loud rumble of an engine. Suddenly, a sleek black motorcycle cut in front of me. I slammed on the brakes and jerked forward as the bike whipped past my right tire and squeezed into the parking space I'd been heading for.

  Son of a bitch.

  Fuming at the idiot who thought having a motorcycle made him cool, I pulled into another open space, slammed my door, then marched over. The guy had this futuristic shiny black helmet with a visor over his eyes.

  "Hey, you cut me off! You could've gotten both of us hurt."

  I didn't know what I wanted. At least an acknowledgement or some half-assed apology. Instead, he pretended he didn't hear me, fiddling with his helmet strap and keeping silent. My temper spiked. I hated arrogant guys who thought they were hot shit.

  "Think you're too cool to talk to me, huh? Let me tell you something. Owning a motorcycle doesn't mean you can drive one."

  He threw his leg over the seat then stood up. I sucked in my breath as he unfurled to his full height, which was a solid six inches over me. In worn jeans, scarred boots, and that sci-fi helmet hiding his whole face, he looked a bit intimidating. His full lips turned down into a mocking sort of sneer at my little speech, which only made me madder. And then he slid off the helmet.

  Holy. Shit.

  He was gorgeous. I mean, let's be honest, I'd seen attractive guys before. With his golden blond hair and light eyes, Phillip looked a bit like Prince Charming himself, and always turned girls' heads. But this guy in his badass glory put everyone else to shame.

  Thick, black waves of hair fell haphazardly over his forehead and covered his ears. His face was a bunch of strong lines and rugged curves, with a dominating nose, high cheekbones, and slanted, black brows. Eyes as misty green as I imagined Ireland to be gleamed with a twist of light gold. But it was more than just his good looks. This man owned an air of demand that singed everyone in his circle. From the sheer intensity of his gaze and his aura of impatience, he was obviously used to calling the shots or walking away if he didn't get what he wanted. This man was the ultimate bad boy mothers warned their daughters about and girls dropped their panties for.

  I think I hated him more on sight. Because right now, my panties were damn wet.

  "Did you hear me?" I demanded again. I shifted my feet under his scrutiny, that hot gaze raking my figure from head to toe, lingering on everything in between a bit too long. A strange breathlessness caught my chest, and my tummy clenched into a silken knot.

  His voice was so dark and husky he reminded me of Christian Bale's sexy Batman. "Oh, I heard you, all right. The whole parking lot heard you. Didn't anyone tell you owning a cool convertible doesn't mean you know how to drive one? You cut me off, sugar."

  My mouth dropped open. "Did you just call me sugar?" I asked.

  He shrugged, already bored with me, and concentrated on hooking his helmet to the strap on the bars. "I call all women sugar. Don't take it as a compliment." He swiveled on his heel and walked away without a backward glance.

  I closed my mouth and dragged in a breath. What an asshole! The touch of his southern drawl pro
bably allowed him to get away with all sorts of things. Stupid women probably encouraged him to call them all sorts of ridiculous names, and felt blessed to almost get hit by his crazy motorcycle. Thank goodness Phillip never acted like that. He was always polite to a fault. Charming. Kind. There was pretty much not one bad quality I could come up with. Maybe that's why I always felt like I needed to work harder to be worthy of our relationship. I had a bitch factor, along with a drama gene that I was desperately trying to get under control. My parents were always telling me men like Phillip came along once in a lifetime, and I needed to be on more of an even keel. They were right. But I was still failing at an epic level. This dude, though, would probably respond better to my inner bitch than my polite society woman.

  I shook my head and walked into the store. Grabbing a cart, I went up and down each aisle, getting enough for some small meals for the next few days. I enjoyed cooking on my own terms, but wanted to enjoy some nice dinners out with my friends, too. Kelsey was super health-conscious and a natural athlete, and Leigh had a thing for salt, so I loaded up on fruits, veggies, chips, popcorn, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (my nemesis), Shredded Wheat and Lucky Charms cereal, and tons of chicken and salmon. Good enough. I hauled my wares to the checkout counter, glancing through a gossipy magazine where they reported the latest Bachelorette had broken it off with her pick.

  "Now, that's a cart full of issues."

  I stiffened. Turned. Badass biker guy smirked as if I were on the plane of his existence just for his amusement. Even though my heart beat faster, I masked it with a chilly glare and dismissed his pathetic basket with a wave of my manicured hand. "At least it's interesting," I shot back. I took in his purchases of Bass beer, one bag of Doritos, and a tub of macaroni salad. "Yours screams of male cliches and predictability. You know what they say about your grocery basket, right?"

  He lifted a brow. "What?"

  "The smaller the basket, the smaller--" I trailed off in a deliberate insult that made me feel a lot better. "Never mind."

  He surprised me by laughing out loud. The rumble from his chest stroked my ears and the place between my legs. Damn, this guy was my walking, talking Kryptonite. I rarely got aroused over a hot guy, and since my engagement, there had never been anyone who'd tempted me to stray. Until now. "You're a real firecracker. Sorry, sugar, no man would come near you after seeing your purchases. How many girlfriends are with you? One or two?"

  I shifted my feet and glared. "Two. Go ahead, let's see what you got, motorcycle man. What do my food purchases tell you?"

  He flicked a lazy glance to my cart, then lifted that jungle cat gaze straight to me. My cheeks flushed at his slow, knowing grin. Oh, I so didn't like this man. "The health nut eats organic, worries over calories, cancer, and is OCD. Loves to exercise. You should've gotten the Greek yogurt for her--more protein." Damn him, I had been torn and stayed with the regular. "Your other friend is standard issue. She likes a balance, knows when something is good or not, and enjoys all of her food along with a guilty vice now and then." Crap, how did he peg Leigh so easily? I cocked my hip, raised my chin, and challenged him with a direct stare to finish up.

  "Ah, but the last in your crew is the most dangerous. She's not on either side. She's unpredictable, going from a candy sugar rush one minute to a juice diet the next, depending on her mood. She's a chameleon, some type of artist, quite a bitch with a temper I wouldn't want to get near."

  He managed to shock me for the second time. "You're wrong."

  He laughed again. "Nope. Bet it's you, too. You've got trouble written all over you, with your sexy body all wrapped up in a cherry red convertible that drives you instead of the other way around." Taking my stunned silence for his advantage, he leaned a few inches forward and dropped his voice to a whisper. "The peanut butter cups don't lie, sugar."

  I opened my mouth to give him hell, especially since my weak body was responding to the sudden heat of his breath, and lush lips, and I'll-nail-you-right-now-and-you'll-love-it stare. But the cashier gave an impatient sigh, and I hurriedly loaded my groceries onto the conveyor belt, deciding to completely ignore him. I shouldn't even be engaging in conversation with him. Did he really think my body was sexy?

  It didn't matter. Keeping my head lifted with regalness, I wheeled my cart outside, loaded up my trunk, then walked the cart back to the station so it wouldn't hit another car. Via my peripheral vision, I watched him stuff his purchases into some type of leather bag clipped onto the bike. While he strapped on his helmet, I climbed back into my car, started the engine, then carefully reversed.

  Then stopped short again.

  With a roar of the engine, a flash of black whizzed by my rear bumper, a scant few inches away. Was that laughter I heard in the sound of the wind? I banged my hand against the steering wheel, mad as hell that he'd gotten the last word.

  Oh, yeah.

  I hated him.

  Chapter Two

  HOLDEN

  "DUDE, BEACH PARTY TONIGHT. We're meeting the crew at The Grille for some food first. What the hell are you doing?" I looked up from my laptop and stretched. My friend, Brian, frowned, checking out my screen that showed Wall Street finance figures rather than porn. Yeah, he was pissed. I slapped the cover closed. "Just hanging. Having a beer."

  Brian shook his head and fell into the other deck chair. "Seriously? You just got here, and you're worried about the fucking Down Jones?"

  My lip twitched. "Dow Jones, asshole. I just want to be ready for my new job. I have a lot riding on it."

  "You got the job already, you're a fucking genius, and if I see you do any more work this summer, I'm going to kick you out of my house. You so need to get laid."

  I laughed, and my thoughts shot back to the gorgeous brunette at the market. What was it about her that I still couldn't forget? Sure, she was the typical rich brat with her pricey car, designer clothes, and snappy attitude, but I'd never felt such a sexual connection before. She practically bristled with pent-up sexual energy and sass. All that smooth, tanned skin on display from her skimpy tank top and tiny shorts had my cock hard in seconds and begging for relief. And that hadn't happened for a while. I got the feeling if I touched her I'd get an electrical shock, and we'd both burn. How was that for fucked-up poetry?

  Brian stabbed a finger at me. "Holy shit, did you meet someone already? You got that look that screams horndog."

  I rolled my eyes and took another swig of beer. Brian had been my best friend for years. We'd met back in high school and been paired as lab partners. We shared a failing grade, tons of laughs, and a bond that kept strong throughout the years. He was also a great balance for me. I was a bit of a workaholic, wanting to make my mark in the business world ever since I started college. I had a thing for numbers and the finance market, and always knew that was my future. I'd gone directly for my MBA and secured a job on Wall Street. Brian was more relaxed, dabbling in a bunch of interests he may or may not commit to, but he was a good guy who had my back and made me laugh. He'd insisted on me spending the summer at his parents' Hamptons house rather than sweating it out in Manhattan before I started my new job. I only had to promise him one thing. No work.

  "Dude, if you know my horndog look, that means we've been spending way too much time together."

  "Whatever. Who is she?"

  I shrugged, but again, her face flashed in my mind. She wasn't classically attractive. Her eyes were too large for her face and dark as coal. Her brows too strong and arched. Her lips too big. Her face too angular and sharp, especially with her dark hair pulled back. Yet, when I turned and met her gaze, my gut felt sucker punched. It had taken me everything to remain cool and distant, fighting my instinctual urge to back her up against the wall and show her who was boss.

  I mean, WTF? I wasn't that type of guy at all. Women didn't screw with my head ever. They lined up, and I picked who I wanted, making sure they knew my career always came first, and then when it got too complicated, I moved to the next.

  "I met her at t
he market. Drove a red convertible. Had a mouth on her."

  "Maybe you could put it to better use." Brian hooted when I shot him a glare. "Hey, if she's one of the rich locals, I'm sure you'll run into her. Probably lives here if she was buying food."

  "Maybe. She's hot, but not my type. I hate spoiled, rich girls who think their parents' money gives them the right to own the world. One real conversation, and I'd probably be bored out of my mind." She may have surprised me with her sharp wit, but I knew after ten minutes of rehearsed flirting, she'd probably be vapid and boring. There was nothing worse than a girl obsessed with clothes, makeup, and money.

  "You're not here for stimulating talk," Brian shot back. "Remember the rules? If she's hot and into you, just sleep with her. She's probably here to play this summer, too. You both can scratch an itch and move on."

  "We'll see. She'd need to be up for me to scratch her itch."

  Brian chuckled. "There's not a woman out there who doesn't want a scratch from you, bro. That's why you're such a pain in the ass. You get more play than you deserve."

  I hung out with Brian a bit, shooting the breeze, and decided my friend was right. It was time to kick back and party a bit before the serious stuff began. If I happened to see her again, I'd focus on getting her into bed and keeping us both damn happy.

  My skin itched with anticipation.

  Yeah. A summer affair with no strings attached was exactly what I needed.

  Chapter Three

  STORME

  "I'M SO GLAD YOU GUYS ARE FINALLY HERE!"

  Kelsey and Leigh laughed as I hugged them for the hundredth time. Leigh had finally arrived, stuck in horrific Long Island traffic, and after she unpacked, we headed to the deck to watch the sunset with glasses of Chardonnay.

  "I've been looking forward to this big time," Kelsey said. Her southern accent soothed my ears. Her hand swept over the magical view of blue sky, blinding white clouds, and the ocean roaring in fury before us. With her gorgeous blond hair and brown eyes, she was tall and always turned boys' heads. She had a natural beauty, and a down-to-earth manner that made everyone feel comfortable in her presence. Kelsey had lost her father recently and was still reeling from the effect of his absence, especially during graduation. My heart ached for her, and I hoped a few carefree summer weeks would help with the pain. "This past semester kicked my ass. It's been nonstop since graduation, and I've felt bad not helping you more with the wedding. I'm a terrible maid of honor."