Luke rolls his little lips together, and I swear I can see the gears turning in his head. Almost five, smart as hell, a full-on troublemaker. But still too young to realize when he’s blown it. He side-steps that question, widening his eyes strategically. “Papa came looking for you at home. He’s with a lady.” I groan because I know what this means. Lady. A more apt word has never been used to describe Summer Hamilton. My agent’s princess. My brother’s eyes dart to my face. “Lady? Did you finally knock someone up?”
