by Helen Lacey
She feigned knowledge, knew that Cameron was laughing to himself and made a point to settle this particular score with him when they were alone. “What time do you want me here?”
“Six o’clock,” Noah said.
They chatted for another twenty minutes and she was grateful her brother didn’t question her about New York or how long she intended to stay in Crystal Point. Finally, Cameron got up to leave, said goodbye and offered to walk her out.
Once they were by their cars and out of earshot she glared at him. “What was that about?” she demanded. “Has meddling in my life suddenly become an entertaining pastime for you?”
“More of an interesting pastime,” he corrected with a self-indulgent grin.
“And clearly volunteering me to babysit is your idea of a joke?”
“Well, you did say your therapist suggested you spend time with your family.”
She wanted to slug his smug face. Instead, she drew in a steadying breath. “Thank you for your charitable concern. However, I can arrange my own family time without your interference.”
He grinned. “Really? And did you know about your brother’s award?”
“Of course,” she fibbed.
His brow came up. “Well, in case it slipped your mind, it’s a community award. And a big deal. Preston Marine offers traineeships for young people with disabilities. The award is recognition of his work helping these kids.”
She knew her brother did that, didn’t she? Noah had been at the helm of the boat-building business that had been started by her grandfather for over a decade. Her father had retired a couple of years earlier. A niggling shame seared between her shoulder blades. Was she so busy with her own problems she’d forgotten everything about where she came from?
“Of course,” she said again and knew he wasn’t convinced.
He came a little closer. “On the other hand, if you don’t think you’re up to the task of watching the kids, I’m sure they could find someone else.”
Grace bristled. “No need for that,” she assured him and continued to fight the urge to slap his handsome face. “I’m quite confident I’ll manage the task.”
He laughed out loud. “Well, that’s great to hear, Princess. Because the price for my silence has just gone up.”
Her blood stilled. “What does that mean?”
“Emily needs a tutor for the next two weeks.”
A tutor? “I can’t possibly—”
“No lessons,” he said, cutting her off. “No silence.”
Shock leached the color from her face. “That’s blackmail.”
“Friendly incentive,” he said and grinned. “Besides, Emily likes you.”
In truth she liked Emily, too, and even though part of her sensed she would be able to help the teenager, Grace wasn’t about to be railroaded. “I’m not qualified to do that.”
“You’re perfectly qualified,” he said and moved closer to open her driver’s door.
“I won’t do it.”
“Sure you will. You fight a good fight, Grace,” he said with a kind of arrogant overconfidence. “But not good enough. I’ll make sure Pat drops Emily off at Dunn Inn around four tomorrow for her lesson. Good night.”
He was close enough that for a second she thought he might kiss her. For a second she actually wanted him to.
But he didn’t.
She got into the car and drove off and wondered what had happened to the well-ordered, organized life she’d once had. The life that had been about clients and meetings and skipped lunches and business dinners. Not about tutoring teenage girls, babysitting five-year-olds and dreaming about kissing Cameron Jakowski.
And then, she wondered how she was supposed to want that old life back once she returned to New York.
* * *
Cameron stayed away from Grace for the following two days. Mostly because he knew it would drive her crazy. Being the rigid control freak she was, he’d bet his boots she’d want to wail at him some more about being pushed into tutoring Emily. So he gave her a couple of days to work with the teenager without him hovering.
He arrived at Dunn Inn late Wednesday afternoon and found Grace in the downstairs kitchen, preparing things for the evening meal. Of course she could cook. There were a couple of unfamiliar vehicles parked in the circular driveway, indicating guests were in residence. Even working over a stove she was immaculate. Black pants and white shirt and a pristine apron he figured probably wouldn’t dare crease, made her look formidable and beautiful.
He remained beneath the threshold and watched her work for a moment.
When she finally looked up and let out a small, surprised gasp, he spoke. “How’s the tutoring going?”
“I’m holding up my end of the bargain,” she replied and placed a lid on a saucepan. “Emily’s a smart girl and I think she’ll ace the test with a little more studying.”
He walked into the room. “I think so, too.”
She frowned. “Is her son’s father in the picture? I don’t want to ask her directly if the subject is off-limits.”
Cameron shrugged. “He took off when Riley was born.”
She stayed silent for a moment, looking at him. “Is that why you...”
“Is that why I...what?” he prompted. But he knew what she was thinking. His own parentage wasn’t exactly a state secret. Barbara Preston had introduced his mother to Franciszek all those years ago, so they were well aware he was adopted by his dad.
“Nothing,” she said tightly and pulled a frying pan off an overhead hook.
“Do you think I’m trying to get over my abandonment issues by helping Emily and Riley?”
“I...don’t...know,” she said and he noticed she looked a little paler than usual. Maybe she wasn’t sleeping? Well, she wasn’t the only one. “Are you?”
“I never knew my biological father,” he said quietly. “So there’s no real issue to get past.”
One brow rose. “You don’t miss what you’ve never had, you mean?”
“Exactly. And I help kids like Emily and Dylan because it needs to be done. Otherwise they could fall through the cracks in social services.”
She untied the apron. “I don’t know how you manage it, but you always make me feel...feel...”
“Feel what?”
“Self-centered,” she said and tossed the apron on the bench. “Selfish. Shallow. Superficial.”
At least he was making her feel something. That was a start, right? “Success and beauty don’t go hand in hand with being superficial.”
She stared at him and the mood between them quickly shifted. His attraction to her had a will of its own and air was suddenly charged with awareness. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and he had the urge to set it free. Memories of kissing her on the beach only a few nights before rushed back and filled his blood. Her icy reserve had slipped and she’d kissed him back passionately. And he wanted to feel that passion again.
“Don’t.”
Cameron tilted his head. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t say I’m...you know.”
“Beautiful?” He laughed softly. “No point denying the obvious.”
“Like it’s all I am.”
Cameron moved around the counter. “That’s not what I said. But I guess it’s easier to think the worst of me.”
She turned to face him. “Nothing is easy with you.”
He reached out and touched her jaw. When she didn’t move he rubbed his thumb across her cheek. “Then let’s call a truce.”
“A truce?”
“Yes,” he said and stepped closer. “And let’s stop pretending we don’t want each other.”
Chapter Five
He wants me.
She couldn’t remember the last time a m
an had said that to her.
Or the last time she’d wanted to hear it. Erik’s lukewarm attentions hadn’t bothered her because she’d felt the same way toward him. And Dennis was no different. But her feelings for Cameron were different. They always had been. They were there, under the surface, waiting to jump up and take hold. For years she’d been safe in New York—away from him and the connection that simmered between them.
She drew in a tight breath. “I don’t have casual sex.”
“And you think I do?” he asked and dropped his hand.
Grace raised a brow. “We’ve already had the conversation about your reputation.”
“You shouldn’t believe all you hear, Grace.”
Yes, I should. It was safer to think of him as a womanizer. Safer to imagine him making love to someone else. But that notion made her insides contract. Not that I want him to make love to me. “I’ve got three weeks, Cameron. And I’m not going to complicate things by...by...”
“Not everything is so black-and-white.”
Grace crossed her arms. “What does that mean?”
“It means you can’t put every feeling into a neat little package because you’re determined to control everything. The truth is we’ve been dancing around this for years. I’d rather it be out there and on the table.”
She pushed back her shoulders. “I wouldn’t. We have a deal—and that’s all we have. I want your silence and I’ll tutor Emily in return.”
He blatantly ignored her. “You haven’t got anyone staying here after tomorrow, right?”
“Right,” she replied suspiciously. “The place is empty until after Scott and Evie return the weekend after next.”
“Good. Pat is taking the kids out to the farm in Burdon Creek this weekend. There’s still some work to be done on the place before they can make the move permanently, so I thought you might like to help me give them a hand for a couple of days. Plus you’ll get a chance to keep tutoring Emily.”
No way. “I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can,” he said and smiled. “It’ll be good for you.”
“I don’t—”
“Just think of all that fresh country air,” he said with one brow raised. “Wouldn’t that be exactly what the doctor ordered?”
Yes, she thought, it probably would be. But it didn’t mean she was about to agree. Spending the weekend with Cameron, in any circumstances, was a complication—and temptation—she didn’t need.
“No,” she said quietly.
He shrugged, infuriating her. “No weekend, no deal.”
Grace felt her control slip away. She thought she had everything settled. A month back in Crystal Point and then she’d return to New York—that was the plan. This wasn’t. “More blackmail? Forget it. I’m not spending the weekend with you.”
“Emily and Riley will be there. And Pat and the kids. There’ll be plenty of chaperones, Grace, so you can relax.”
She didn’t want a chaperone. She didn’t want to relax. “I said no.”
“No weekend, no deal,” he said again. “Unless, of course, you would prefer to tell your family about the car accident which could have killed you and how you didn’t care enough to inform them at the time.”
Grace glared at him. “You’re an ass, Jakowski. I will tell them and you’ll have no hold over me.”
He grabbed the cell phone on the countertop and held it toward her. “Here you go.”
She froze. He knew she wouldn’t take the phone. He knew she wasn’t ready to tell her family what had happened. One word about the accident and she would also have to talk about her therapist, Richard and the whole awful experience. She lingered over another refusal and considered how hurt her parents would be once they found out the truth.
“Okay,” she said resignedly. “I’ll go with you. To help out and to tutor Emily,” she said with emphasis. “And that’s all.”
He nodded and stepped back. “I’ll pick you up Friday morning, eight o’clock.”
Then he dropped the phone back on the counter and left.
* * *
The next morning Grace went shopping for new jeans and a couple of polo shirts. Bellandale had a few nice boutiques and she couldn’t help splurging on a new pair of fire-engine-red heels that simply screamed “pick me.” She also purchased a pair of sensible boots. They were the kind she knew people wore in the country, ankle-length with a square block heel. She walked around the B and B at night in them to try to break in the stiff leather and got mean-looking blisters on her toes as a result.
She also kept up her end of the deal and tutored Emily each afternoon.
“So, you’re hanging out at the farm this weekend?” the teenager asked as they ended the lesson on Thursday evening.
Grace closed her laptop. “Yes.”
Emily grinned. “Ever been on a farm before?”
“When I was young,” she replied. “My grandparents had a small fruit farm and I used to visit sometimes.” Not often, though. The farm was more Evie’s and Noah’s thing back then. Most of her vacations from boarding school were spent in Crystal Point. When her grandparents passed away the farm was sold.
Emily packed her books in her satchel. “So,” she said with a curious edge. “You and Sarge—there’s really nothing going on between you guys?”
“Not a thing,” she said quickly and ignored her flaming cheeks. “Make sure you take your books tomorrow—we can continue with this on the weekend.”
“I don’t get a break?”
“No chance. One more week at this pace and you’ll easily pass the exam.”
Emily dropped the bag to her feet. “Not that it will do me much good. It’s not like I’m going to get a great job or anything.”
“It’s not?”
The girl shrugged. “I’ve got a kid, and even with Nan’s help it’s gonna be hard to do what I really want to do—which is study fashion design. I work at a coffee place three mornings a week when Nan can watch him. But once she moves to the farm I won’t have anyone here. It sucks, but I get why she wants to move. Dylan was getting into a lot of trouble before Sarge came along and he’s really looking forward to living on the farm.”
“What about day care?” Grace suggested, not really having a clue.
She shrugged again. “I can’t really afford it. And I don’t want to miss out on Riley growing up. But I want to go to design school, too...” She sighed heavily. “I guess it will work itself out.”
Grace felt for the girl. “If design school is where you want to go, then it’s exactly what you should do.” She smiled gently. “You should follow your dreams, Emily.”
Like she’d followed the dreams set out before her. But were they her own dreams? New York. A huge apartment. Designer clothes. A successful career. In the midst of trying to prove herself she’d gotten swept up in wanting what had been expected of her. But the truth was, none of it really satisfied her anymore. The money and fancy apartment were part of the facade that had become her life. When she was younger and ambition had burned in her, Grace hadn’t noticed how alone she actually was. Perhaps her failed relationships with Dennis and Erik had amplified that feeling. Or maybe it was knowing both Noah and Evie had found their happily-ever-after that made her question what was really important. And now, more than ever, she didn’t know where she belonged.
* * *
When Cameron arrived to pick her up Friday morning, Grace was waiting outside the bed-and-breakfast, her Gucci luggage at her heels. She pulled at the lapels of her soft leather jacket and ran her hands down her fine-gauge wool trousers as he eased the big, powerful blue car alongside the curb. It was cold and barely eight o’clock.
He got out and flicked open the trunk. Her heart stopped when he moved around the vehicle. Dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved gray Henley shirt, he
looked so good she could barely swallow.
“Morning,” he said easily.
Grace walked toward the passenger door and tried desperately to ignore her traitorous feelings. “Be careful with my cases,” she demanded with a frosty glare.
He laughed. “Not a morning person, Princess?”
Grace opened the car and got inside. What was the worst thing that could happen? She might break a nail or get a few blisters? I can handle that. I can handle anything.
She took a deep breath and immediately wrinkled her nose. Something didn’t smell quite right. When she heard a strange, almost guttural sound she snapped her neck around and found herself staring into a pair of piercing amber eyes and the most unattractive, jowly, drooling face she’d ever seen.
Grace’s breath stopped. Oh, my God! The dreadful beast licked his chops and saliva leached from his pinkish, puckered mouth. She jerked her head back to the front and closed her eyes, gripping her hands together.
When Cameron got back into the car she spoke through tight lips. “There’s something big and horribly smelly in the backseat.”
“That’s Jed,” Cameron said with a laugh. He started the car and the hideous-looking animal woofed.
The sound reverberated in her eardrum like a trombone. “What is it?” she asked, trying not to think about the terrible smell racing up her nose.
“A dog. My dog.”
He had a dog. The biggest, ugliest dog he could find by the looks of things. Grace’s only recent experience with animals was her neighbor’s Himalayan cat she sometimes watched. Noah and Callie had two dogs, but not like the thing in the backseat.
She glanced at him, determined not to look at the beast in the back. “What kind of dog?”
“Dogue de Bordeaux.”
It sounded French. The only French dog she’d seen was a poodle. “It smells.”
“He’s not an it,” Cameron corrected as he steered the car in an arc and down The Parade. The road ran the length of the town, a buffer between the narrow parkland and walking track along water’s edge and the long row of houses, which ranged from small beach homes to some three-story mansions. “His name is Jed, like I said. And you’ll get used to his breath.”