Once Upon a Dream by Kate Perry

been paying attention, but all he could think about was Summer.
    What in the bloody hell did she see in this jackass?
    Everything about the man reeked foul. Jon didn’t even believe that the “designer” briefcase next to his desk was authentic. The only thing authentic about Ryan Huber was his smarm.
    What did Summer Welles see in a man like that? Not that she was still pursuing him, because what sane woman would go for a man who was a crook?
    Actually, a lot of women, and Jon wasn’t certain she was sane.
    Huber pushed a page across the desk. “And lastly, I need your autograph here,” he said, indicating a line.
    Jon should have been paying attention—he had no idea what he was signing. But he picked up the pen and scrawled his first name, catching himself before he added “Smith” instead of “Lincoln.”
    He needed to pay attention, he admonished himself again, smiling guilelessly at Huber and he passed the paper back. “There you go.”
    “Excellent.” Huber looked pleased with himself as he gathered all the pages together. “I already have some ideas of how to secure your money. Would you like to run through them?”
    Jon waved his hand dismissively. “No, I trust you. Do your thing.”
    Huber fidgeted, his eyes lit. “All right. Any time you need a snapshot of your investments, please do call.”
    “Sure thing.” Jon stood. “But that’s why I hired you, to worry about my money while I had some fun, if you know what I mean.”
    “Oh, I do.” Huber winked, an oily scrunch of the eye that made Jon want to take a shower. The man clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Speaking of having fun, I’m having a house party this weekend at my country house. I’ve invited a few close friends. You should join us.”
    Jon scratched his chin, pretending to consider it. “When is it, exactly?”
    “People will be arriving Friday and Saturday, and most people will stay until Monday, which is a British holiday.”
    “What do you do at a country house?” Jon asked as Huber escorted him out of the office. “Play croquet on the lawn? Hunt pheasant?”
    Huber laughed. “Pheasant isn’t what I’ll be hunting, if you know what I mean.”
    He did, and it made him want to punch the man in the face.
    Then Jon saw Summer waiting by the elevator bank. He watched her eyes narrow and her back stiffen, like she was going to pounce on him. He wished he knew if it was because she wanted him or because she wanted to strangle him.
    Then he saw the moment she saw noticed Huber at his side. Her face went blank and her mouth shut.
    He slowed his pace, oddly reluctant to have the two of them connect.
    “Come to my house party,” Huber said, oblivious of Summer, which annoyed Jon even as it relieved him. “I’ll have plenty of diversions there that should suit your tastes, and my friends are wild. I promise you’ll be suitably entertained.”
    Jon glanced at Summer, feeling her perk up. Putting himself between them, he faced Huber. “I’d like that a lot. You’ll let me know what to bring?”
    “I provide everything.” The man winked again.
    Jon wanted to punch him in the face. Instead he smiled slowly, playing along. “I getchya, man. Cool.” He put his fist out, waiting for Huber to bump it.
    The man fumbled before realizing what to do.
    What a fool. Jon smacked him on the back, feeling gratified when Huber stumbled.
    The elevator arrived, the doors pinging as they opened. “See ya later, friend,” Jon said with a wave, holding the door open for Summer. “After you, pretty lady.”
    She glared at him.
    He gave her a quelling look, willing her not to blow his cover.
    Sticking her pert nose in the air, she marched in. Relieved, he sauntered in after her.
    To her credit, she waited until the doors were closed before she lit into him. “Why do you do that thing with your accent? You’re not American.”
    “I’m undercover.” He dropped the act and readopted his own posture.
    “You have an awful American