He heard the tears in her voice, but he let her give him one last shove before she walked away, back toward their friends. He saw her go back to Allie, sink into her embrace, and he felt like absolute shit.

That should be me comforting her. Except she won’t let me.

Fuck it. And fuck her not letting him.

A small rage was burning in his chest. Rage and certainty and he wasn’t quite sure where either had come from. Didn’t matter. He knew what he needed to do.

He stalked after her and grabbed her right out of Allie’s arms. “We’re not done talking. You’re coming with me, Summer Grace.”

“What the fuck?” Mick demanded.

“Mick, let them go,” Allie said, and Jamie would have shot her a look of gratitude if he weren’t so completely focused on the woman struggling in his grasp.

“Summer Grace,” he said, keeping his tone low. “You can come with me or I’m about to make a hell of a scene right here in front of everyone.”

“Like you haven’t done that already,” she muttered, but she stopped struggling.

“Oh, you haven’t seen what I can do if necessary. You coming or do I carry you out of here?”

There was a long pause, but she kept her gaze on his, not even glancing at the others. It was as if nothing existed but the two of them, the tension thick in the air between them. As if nothing mattered but what might happen next.

Nothing does.

Finally she nodded, shook him off, and with her chin held high she headed for the part of the wall they all used to climb into the closed cemetery.

“Sorry, guys,” he shot over his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, buddy,” Mick said.

“Go get her,” Marie Dawn chimed in. “What? It’s exciting.”

Jamie caught up with Summer Grace in a few long strides and grabbed her elbow. She kept moving, not looking at him, but she didn’t try to shake him off. At the wall he gripped her arm tighter.

“I’m giving you a boost up.”

She sighed. “Whatever. I can do it on my own, though.”

“You’re only five-foot-three.”

“I can do it myself, Jamie,” she said through gritted teeth. “I always do. I can use a can opener and pay my bills myself, too. I’m a Goddamn superwoman without you around. I can do a lot more than you’ve ever given me credit for.”

“Yeah. I know.”

She turned to look at him. “You do?”

“What do you think I’m doing here? Why do you think I’m dragging you out of here with me so we can talk? Did you think it was just to show that I could? Because you know, that move has earned me a lot of points with the crowd.”

She surprised him by cracking a half-smile. “Maybe.”

“Don’t think just because we have some talking to do that you won’t be owed a spanking.”

She squared her shoulders. “I’m not scared of you. And you might not get to spank me. Your silence was the beginning of renegotiations of our limits.”

Fuck.

“I don’t think you’re scared of anything, Summer Grace. But maybe you should be. And we’ll see about your limits.”

“Stop with the dire warnings and give me a leg up, will you, Braveheart?”

“Make that two spankings.”

“Promises, promises.”

He shook his head and clasped his hands for her to put her foot into. “Climb over the damn wall already and you’ll see how good I am at keeping my promises.”

Except for the one. But he was feeling more and more confused about how to interpret the promise he’d made to Brandon so long ago.

Would his friend have been upset if he and Summer Grace ended up together? He didn’t think so. But the kink . . . Would Brandon have known how to react to that at nineteen? How much would the years have changed his perspective?

Brandon would never know, though, would he? Maybe all he could do was his best.

He followed her over the wall and took her hand in his as they crossed Conti Street to where his Corvette was parked. It was a risk parking there at night, but he’d always taken whatever his current hot rod was to Brandon’s remembrance night, and nothing had ever happened to one of his cars there. It was as if Brandon were watching over them. He opened the passenger side door and watched with a small smile as Summer Grace’s hand stroked the cherry-red paint, lingering there for several moments. She’d always appreciated the muscle cars—maybe almost as much as he and Brandon did.

She slid into the pristine black leather seat and he closed the door behind her, then went around to the driver’s side and folded his long legs into the car. He flipped on the headlights before starting the car and the usual small thrill went through him at the purr of the powerful engine. But it was nothing compared to the fact that Summer Grace sat there beside him.

Gotta make it right.

“Your place or mine?” he asked.

“Yours,” she said without hesitation.

He raised an eyebrow at her but she looked straight ahead through the windshield.

“Okay. My place it is.”

As he pulled onto the street, the rain started, as it so often did in this subtropical city. The only sounds were the quiet thunder of the engine, the windshield wipers going back and forth and the rain splashing on the top of the Corvette as he drove. He didn’t let himself look at Summer Grace. He couldn’t. He was too damn distracted by her as it was, already formulating what he had in store for her at his place—and by what needed to be said. It was an insane mix of raw emotion and stark desire. But that’s just how things were with them. Pure intensity on every level. It wasn’t drama, like it was with some women. It was simply true.

When he reached the Pontchartrain Expressway he opened the engine up, the roar of it satisfying, helping him to focus on the drive home. A few minutes later he exited and hung a right onto Kerlerec Street, then pulled into a parking spot just past his house. He finally let himself look at her. She was still staring out the window—he could see the shadowed profile of her long lashes, faintly illuminated by the amber streetlamps as she blinked, the sooty weight of them coming down on her high cheekbones. He couldn’t read her from this angle. Was she still mad despite their banter? Hurt? She had a right to both.

“You gonna look at me, sugar?”

She let out a sigh. “Oh, you’re calling me ‘sugar’ again?”

He reached over to take her hand and felt her fingers wrap around his. He gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Summer Grace.”

“I know you are, Jamie.”

“You still mad at me? Upset?”

“A little. If I wasn’t I’d be a doormat. No one likes a doormat, Jamie.”

“You’re not a doormat. You want to talk to me?”

“Not really.”

“You just wanna give me a hard time, is that it?”

She chuckled. “Maybe I do.”

Ah, there’s my tough girl.

“In that case, I have the perfect cure for your mad.”

He grabbed her and unbuckled her seat belt, pulling her across the console in one easy move, then into his lap.

“Jamie! What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m spanking you in the front seat of my car.”

“You are not!”

“Wanna bet, sweetheart?”

He lifted her until she was straddling him, and with one hand he yanked her shorts down, revealing her nearly bare ass—not that the small scrap of lace she wore would get in his way.

“Aw, you dressed up just for me,” he said, stroking his hand over the smooth flesh of her perfect little ass.

“I did not.”

“You may as well have. I’m enjoying it either way.”

*   *   *

SUMMER WRIGGLED IN Jamie’s strong grasp, but he hung on tight. “I bet you are,” she sassed, enjoying the banter. Enjoying the way he held on to her. Overpowered her. It made her mind empty out, which was exactly what she needed tonight.

Jamie was what she needed, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. Despite her anger—her justifiable anger—his little cockfight of a show at the cemetery had told her what she’d needed to know. And his touch was getting to her. It always did.