Vote Then Read: Volume I

by Carly Phillips

  Twelve Years Ago

  When we get back from the stables, I fix a couple of sandwiches for us. Vanessa takes a bite of the grilled cheese and hums in approval. The sexy moan rekindles the spark I’ve been carrying for her. Would she whimper the same way when I bury my cock inside her? She flicks her tongue over her lips to catch a wayward crumb, and I stifle a groan.

  “That was amazing.” She leans back on the chair and pats her stomach.

  “Thanks. It’s simple, really. Three cheeses, avocado, bacon, and tomato.” I’ve never cooked for anyone but myself. Her praise sends a rush of heat up my neck.

  “Where did you learn to cook like that?”

  “I dated a chef once. I managed to pick up a few things from her.” The half-truth stings on my tongue. Monique has taught me many things, the least of which is cooking. She’s the culinary genius behind a New York chain of five-star restaurants. We’ve never been on a date; our arrangement consists of sex with a side of assorted roleplay. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from giving away more to Vanessa than I should.

  “Mrs. Avondale had the cook leave prepared meals in the freezer for us, but I have a feeling yours is better.” The antique chair creaks when she stands and bends to clear away the dishes.

  “Sit. I’ve got this.”

  “You cooked. It’s only fair that I clean up.” A whiff of soap and shampoo tickles my nose. Her breast grazes my shoulder, and an electric thrill races up my arm.

  “Let me help you.” I take the plates from her hands and carry them to the kitchen. Together we pile everything into the dishwasher. “Don’t you have servants at home to do this kind of stuff?”

  Her laugh holds no amusement. “My parents have a household staff, but I don’t have anyone in the dorm to help me. Anyway, I like doing things for myself.”

  “I can see that.” When she bends to close the dishwasher door, the movement exposes a sliver of the tanned skin above her waistband. I curl my fingers and fight the urge to caress that prime piece of real estate.

  “Just because my family is wealthy doesn’t mean I’m helpless or lazy. The way I see it, I’ve got a choice about how I live my life. And it really ticks me off when people judge who I am by how much money I have.” Her eyes flash, revealing a quick temper simmering below the surface of their green depths. “And technically, it’s my father’s money.”

  “I’m sorry.” I understand judgment. My entire life, I’ve been stymied by preconceived opinions. My high school teachers assumed I was ignorant because I came from uneducated parents, and the local police assumed I was a hoodlum because my father was a convicted murderer. If it hadn’t been for the kindness of my high school guidance counselor and the prosecuting district attorney, I might have turned out to be all of those things. “I didn’t mean to set you off. I just want to know what makes you tick.”

  She’s standing so close that I can feel the heat of her body. My skin prickles with awareness. Pride and stubbornness emanate from every pore of her body, and fuck me if it isn’t the biggest turn-on ever. To distract myself from desires I don’t want to feel, I pull a tin of mints from my pocket and pop one into my mouth.

  “I want to make a difference.” The passion in her voice is music. Her face flushes. “I’m going to use my status to help those less fortunate. I’ve already started a non-profit rescue for dogs, and another one is under way to rehabilitate racehorses. My mother is the head of several charitable foundations for the less fortunate and devotes all her time to running them.”

  “Easy, princess.” I lift my palms into the air. A sparkle brightens her eyes. The low hum of desire buzzes in my ears.

  The words are barely out of my mouth when she closes the distance between us. One of her hands curls around my neck, drawing my head down. Her mouth opens and seals over mine. We groan in tandem. This is such a bad idea, but my self-control evaporates under her touch. I grip her hips and slam them to mine. She grinds into me. My poor dick doesn’t have a chance. I slide my palms beneath her shirt and caress the smooth, soft skin of her ribs. Fucking her might be a bad idea, but I’ll learn to live with the consequences.

  13

  Vanessa

  Today

  The day races by in a flurry of phone calls and meetings. Cam’s offer taunts me from its resting place on my desk, but I’m too busy to read it. I resist the urge to peek. Whatever it contains deserves my full and undivided attention.

  It’s late when I return to the hotel, my briefcase packed with work, Cam’s proposal tucked inside. After a relaxing bath, I pour a second glass of wine and put on my favorite silk nightie. Small things can make a big difference when it comes to comfort. Sexy lingerie makes me feel attractive again. Giles never really paid any attention to my wardrobe. On the rare occasion when he was home, we slept in separate rooms.

  With my attitude properly adjusted, I open the envelope, spread the papers over the bed, and thumb through the legal jargon to the final page. A dollar figure jumps out, underlined and italicized. I blink, certain my eyes are deceiving me.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I mutter. This isn’t an offer. It’s an insult. Who the hell does he think he’s dealing with? Only an idiot would accept an offer like this.

  The more I think about it, the angrier I get. Not only did he break my heart, but now he’s insulting my intelligence. The man has no common decency. I don’t know why I expected more from him; past experience should have taught me better. I down the glass of wine and pour another. With the bottle in one hand and the goblet in the other, I pace the length of the suite. The more I think, the angrier I get. Who does he think he is?

  Before I can second guess the sensibility my actions, I grab the offer, stomp to his door, and pound like a mad woman, determined to give him a piece of my mind.

  The door opens. Cam stands before me, and for the briefest nanosecond, I forget why I’m here. He’s shirtless, the broad expanse of his chest tanned to a honey brown and smattered with dark hair. Worn blue jeans hang low on his hips, the top button undone, revealing the cut of muscle below each hip. His full lips are swollen and smeared with lipstick, his black hair mussed. I’ve obviously interrupted something—or someone. I want to run away, but it’s too late.

  “Vanessa?” By the widening of his eyes, he’s just as dumbfounded as I am.

  “Who is it?” asks a female voice from the living room.

  He steps to the side, blocking my view, but not before I catch a glimpse of two naked beauties tangled together on the sofa. Heat rushes into my face, and I want to die. Of course he’s not alone. What was I thinking? This is Cam, man-whore and heartbreaker. An unfamiliar emotion explodes in my chest. Never in my life have I hated anyone, but I abhor those two girls for taking what should have been mine, what used to be mine. And I hate him even more for giving it to them.

  “Um,” is the only word I can say. Suddenly, I feel very drunk. Gathering the two remaining shreds of my dignity together, I turn to flee. Screw the offer. Screw Cam.

  “No, wait.” Strong fingers wrap around my bicep. The touch of his hand ignites fire on my skin.

  “You’re busy. I’ll go.” But I let him draw me into the room anyway. The naked girls on the sofa don’t move. They continue to fondle each other, unfazed by the presence of a stranger. I swallow and, unsure where to look, concentrate on the oil painting beyond Cam’s broad shoulder.

  Cam challenges me with his gaze, drawing my attention back to him. Is it my imagination, or is he taller than before? He’s definitely matured. The traces of college frat boy have been erased and replaced by a full-grown man. And judging by the bulge behind the fly of his jeans, he’s all man. Everywhere.

  “Ladies, maybe you should take it into the bedroom,” Cam says without breaking the connection between us. “I’ll catch up in a second.”

  One of the girls pauses long enough to ask, “Will she be joining us?”

  Her words remind me I’m wearing a tiny nightgown that barely covers my ass. I cross my ar
ms over my chest.

  “No.” Cam’s terse reply ricochets through the room. I’m not sure whether to be insulted or relieved. Does he think I’m too much of a prude to participate, or not attractive enough? The ridiculous question fuels my irritation. Cam lifts one of his thick eyebrows. Many things have changed between us, but apparently he can still sense my thoughts.

  “Nice nightgown.” His eyes dip to my breasts where my nipples jut against the flimsy fabric. “I see you came dressed for the party.” For one brief moment, a glimmer of the old Cam breaks through his cool façade, the one I knew and cared for. How I long for that boy, the one who held my hand and told me he loved me on a blustery New York morning.

  “I want to talk to you about this.” I shake the papers in his face, trying to remember why I was angry. Seeing him like this brings back painful memories of my fingers in his hair, his lips on my breast, the weight of his body between my thighs. I squelch the remembrances, finding them too bittersweet, too painful. “This is an insult. You know as well as I do that my half is worth ten times this amount.”

  “Only if you have a buyer, and no one is going to invest in a company with you at the helm.” His words scald my pride, even though they’re true. “If you’re smart, you’ll take my offer.”

  “Only a moron would accept such a—a—” I can’t think of a word bad enough to describe what he’s done. His answering laugh sends a rush of heat up my neck. I toss the papers at him. They hit the middle of his bare chest and flutter to the floor. “You can shove your offer up your—”

  He snatches my wrist and traps it between us. “Take the offer, Vanessa, or I’ll pull out of the partnership all together.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Oh, I can, and I will.” His gaze roves over my lips, my breasts, down my thighs, and returns to my eyes. “You see, there’s an escape clause in this partnership. Maybe you should sit down and read the agreement. I can leave any time I want, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

  “You’re such an ass.” My heartbeat thunders in my ears. His confidence, this show of power, excites me in ways I never expected. I’ve never felt more alive or more turned on.

  “I know.” His lips curl into a wicked grin. “Sucks to be out of control, doesn’t it?”

  “Why are you doing this?” The anger fades, leaving only weariness and confusion behind. “If you pull out, the bad publicity alone will kill us. All I need is a chance, Cam. I can make this work.”

  “Can you? Really?” I try to reclaim my wrist, but his grip tightens. “You have no idea what you’re doing. I give you six months to drive the whole thing into the ground.”

  We stare at each other. Why does he hate me so much when I’m the one who was betrayed? “You said you loved me once. If I ever meant anything to you, you’ll give me the opportunity to prove myself. This means everything to me, Cam.”

  “Like you gave me a chance to explain twelve years ago? What comes around goes around, and it looks like it’s your turn.”

  I bite my lower lip, holding back a decade of unshed tears. I will not cry in front of him. His insult fuels my desire to prove him wrong. Determination swells inside my chest. I lift my chin and glare. “I’ve been a failure at everything I’ve done—my marriage, my family. This is important to me. I won’t fail at this. Not again. Not because of you or anyone else.”

  He studies my face. I have no idea what is happening behind the icy blue of his eyes, or what I’ll do if he refuses. I only know that I won’t quit until I win.

  After a few seconds, he releases my wrist and steps back. “Okay. You have ten minutes to convince me.”

  14

  Cam

  Today

  Even angry with no makeup, Vanessa’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen—silky blond hair, long legs that used to wrap around my waist, and lips—God, those lips could make a man weep. She’s all soft curves and warm, tanned skin. I remember how she felt in my arms: too right, too good to let go. I forget that I hate her, that she tore my heart out and stomped on it. All I want is to have her again.

  “I’m making a fool out of myself,” she mutters, then draws herself up, squaring her shoulders. In an instant, she’s no longer the girl of my memories. She’s confident and in control. She clears her throat. “Please forgive me for barging in on you. We should talk about this tomorrow when we both have clearer heads.” I admire her strength and her fearless determination to go after what she wants. I don’t want to like her, but I can’t help myself.

  “I’m busy tomorrow. It’s now or never.” I nod at the sofa. “Have a seat. Let’s talk.” Twin circles of pink blaze high on her cheeks. I follow her line of sight to a pair of pink panties stuffed between the cushions. I grab them and jam them into my back pocket. She lifts an eyebrow before sitting on the chair to my left.

  “I’ve laid out a solid business plan for the next year with projections out to five years. There’s a healthy profit structure for the both of us. I just need you to inject a little cash into the business over the first three months.”

  Laughter bursts out of my throat. The insincere sound bounces off the marble floor and rattles the windows. “After everything I just said, you’re asking me for money? You’ve got bigger balls than I do.”

  Her scowl deepens. “Don’t be shitty, Cameron.” In a heartbeat, her confidence returns and reminds me of the girl I used to love. She edges forward on the chair and lowers her voice. “You owe me.”

  “For what?”

  Her green eyes blaze. “You know what.”

  Three little words shatter my confidence, and guilt washes through me. Yes, I know why. Animosity pulses between us along with something else, something primal. I haven’t seen her in years, but I’m overwhelmed with the urge to grab her by the hair and ravage those plush, sassy lips of hers until she begs me to fuck her. “Fine. Come to my office tomorrow. I’d like to see this plan of yours.”

  “I’ll have Elena call your office and set something up.” She stands, as if the subject is closed.

  “We’ll have dinner. I’ll pick you up at eight.” Wait—what am I saying? We can’t spend thirty seconds together without fighting. Sharing a meal might invoke World War III, but I don’t retract the invitation.

  “I’m not going to dinner with you.” Her refusal turns the request into a challenge, one I won’t lose. “Your office. I don’t want any distractions.” She juts her chin at me in a gesture of pure defiance, the way she’s done a hundred times in our past. Maybe my girl isn’t gone after all.

  “Fine.” A curious sense of excitement replaces my irritation. I can’t wait to see what she brings to our meeting.

  The bedroom door opens, and one of the girls pokes her head through the opening. “Cam? Are you coming or not? We’re getting bored in here.”

  “In a minute.” Christ. I forgot about them. I raise a questioning eyebrow to Vanessa, unable to resist goading her. “If you aren’t going to join us then you’d better excuse me. My guests are restless.”

  If possible, her face gets redder. I want to take satisfaction out of her discomfort, but instead, I feel deflated, a sensation I’ll have to deconstruct later. I walk her to the door, unable to tear my eyes from the bouncing globes beneath her silk nightie. The material clings to her ass. Is that the faint outline of thong panties? Be still my heart.

  “Did you say something?” She hesitates on the threshold, looking up at me with enormous doe eyes.

  “I said, see you tomorrow.”

  Once she’s gone, I give the blondes cab fare and send them on their way. For whatever reason, my dick is no longer interested in them, and neither is my heart. The past twelve years have been an endless blur of nameless faceless women, but none of them ever held my interest the way Vanessa did. I hate her, and I can’t wait to see her again.

  15

  Vanessa

  Twelve Years Ago

  This boy has me tied up in knots. My mouth goes dry as his hands slide be
neath my shirt. A hunger unlike anything I’ve ever experienced rears its head and screams for satisfaction. His lips part. My tongue dips into his mouth, tasting and taking. His cock hardens between us. I should push him away, but my body wants more.

  “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he says against my lips.

  “I have every intention of finishing.” If I’ve learned anything from my dad, it’s that you must take what you want when the opportunity presents itself. I’m sure he didn’t intend for the lesson to be applied in a sexual context, and the thought makes me smile.

  “What’s so funny?” Cam stiffens, like he thinks I’m laughing at him.

  “Nothing.” I grip the hem of his T-shirt and pull it up so I can smooth my palms over his abs. They’re rock hard and glorious. The second my fingers graze his ribs, he flinches. “You’re ticklish?”

  “A little.” He twists then bites his lower lip. I do it again. Laughter erupts and lights his eyes. “Hey, no fair.”

  “All’s fair in love and war.”

  “What do you know about either of those things?” The timbre of his voice lowers, sending a shiver down my back.

  “You might be surprised.” I steal another kiss. My heart kicks against my ribs until I think they might break.

  He leans back, chest heaving, and swallows. “Everything about you surprises me, Vanessa.”

  “Let’s go upstairs.” Desire hums through my body.

  “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” He grabs my hands and pins them to my sides. “I don’t do relationships or dating or any of those things.” The corners of his mouth curl up, but there’s no humor in the gesture.

  “Neither do I.”

  “Really, princess? You say that, but do you really?” The heat of his breath scalds my neck.