“You drive a hard bargain.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet.” Camryn couldn’t resist a cheeky reply.
Rumbling a laugh, Maximo looked out the window. “Not long now. We’re almost there.”
Max had visited Pompeii twice, both times before becoming an international star. He secretly loved the ancient ruins and the stories embedded in stone. He also loved the haunting atmosphere and the view of Mount Vesuvius on clear days. Like today. The sun shone hot and bright over the mazelike array of cobbled streets, with the mountain brooding in the background.
Camryn’s delight and awe once again gave him a new perspective to view the decaying remains of the city, and he found himself pausing more often with her for pictures. With the security detail following at a short distance, Max wandered alongside Camryn as they explored old Roman houses, temples, baths, and theaters. Several times he caught himself wanting to reach for Camryn’s hand, which surprised him. He barely knew her. Besides that, he wasn’t exactly fond of the gesture.
The only glitch came near the end of their stay, when Camryn had run into the modern onsite pizzeria to use the restroom. Max waited outside in the sun, hands in the pockets of his jeans, attempting to look like any other tourist. He’d escaped notice so far, but his luck ran out when two women cautiously approached with tentative smiles on their faces.
“Maximo Payne?” one asked quietly, like she thought she might startle him into flight.
He turned his back to the main street and put his finger to his lips, a silent gesture asking that the women didn’t give him away. In return, he posed for three pictures, stepping off to the side so others entering and leaving the restaurant didn’t catch on.
Relieved that the women didn’t make an issue of it, Maximo resumed pacing and waiting, giving his security a nod to let them know he was okay. Their only real purpose was to break up a mob scene anyway.
Camryn emerged several minutes later with two chilly bottles of water in hand. “One more for the road,” she said, offering him a bottle.
“Thanks. Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked as they traversed the sloping path down toward the entrance.
“More than I can even say. Oh my gosh, I love it here! I could explore for hours and hours and hours,” she said. Droplets of water fell from the bottle and landed on the tanned skin of her chest, glistening like diamonds.
Maximo averted his eyes. He tipped up his own bottle for a long drink.
“You have explored for hours and hours and hours,” he said after he swallowed, amused.
“I know, but it’s so amazing. I’m not sure we even saw everything there was to see.”
“Not by half. Pompeii is a lot bigger than people expect. It takes a long time to wander the streets and see all the mosaics, gardens, and houses. I suppose you could run through here and see most things, but you’d miss a lot of the nuance.” He tossed his empty bottle into a trash can on the way out.
“I’m going to have to come back someday. At least I got a ton of pictures to take home with me. Oh, by the way, thanks for posing with me. I think we got some great shots in there.”
“I enjoyed it.” Max realized the truth of the statement as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He hadn’t felt this relaxed and at ease in months. Although still watchful of his surroundings, the tension that usually followed him around Hollywood was gone.
“I’m glad. And I’m very ready to stop somewhere on the way back to Rome. I’m starving.” She smiled, a straight row of teeth gleaming in the late afternoon sun.
“We’ll get you fed and wined up. Come on.” Max led her along the pathways exiting the ruins, and shortly after met up with their sedan.
Once seated in the cool air-conditioning, Max pulled out his phone to check his messages. Now that he had a signal, several texts popped up on his screen. Not just several, more like ten. Or twelve.
What the hell?
There were so many that the message boxes popped up one after the other before he could read them. He went in and manually pulled up a random text from Lenni. The very first message he read mentioned something about an interview. In Rome. He didn’t get to the fine details such as who and at what venue.
Putting his thumbs on the screen, he awkwardly typed a reply.
Cancel the interview. I’m not going.
Seven
Great wine, excellent food, and Maximo Payne’s company made for a very satisfied Camryn. They’d dined on the coast at a quaint, out of the way restaurant where she’d gorged on pasta and pizza until her sides ached. The sun set over the ocean, casting radiant orange rays across the outdoor eatery where bright umbrellas provided partial shade for the customers.
Camryn pretended not to notice when, as they departed, several women giggled and snapped pictures of Max. He hadn’t been approached or harassed, which meant she didn’t have to divulge that she’d known who he was all along.
The ride back to Rome passed swiftly, much to Cam’s chagrin. She stared out the window at the ruins along the roadside once they entered the city, swept up in the romance and beauty.
More than anything, she loathed that her day with Max was coming to an end.
“I want to tell you how much fun I had today,” she said, looking across the gloomy car at Max. He’d taken off his sunglasses long ago, allowing her to finally see his eyes. The negligent, leonine way he slouched in the seat did strange things to her libido. “And I appreciate you taking the time to show me around. I’ll never forget all the things I’ve seen.”
He smiled, one arm draped across the back of the seat. “It’s no trouble. I enjoyed myself. What are your plans for tomorrow?”
Maybe it was the wine that made her tongue feel as sluggish as her mind. What were her plans? Maximo’s interview! “I have business, actually. Until dinnertime, that is.”
“Yes, that’s right. Business.” He seemed to accept the reply with aplomb.
Cam didn’t think she imagined the simmering chemistry between them. In that particular moment, she felt like they might both lean in and share a kiss.
Just then, the sedan slowed and pulled to a stop.
The spell broken, Cam glanced out the window at the night, realizing that they were back at the hotel. Not near the front doors, but closer to the side entrance they’d used earlier.
Once the driver opened her door, Cam stepped out and met Max at the gate. They made it inside without interruptions from paparazzi, for which she was thankful.
In the elevator, Cam once again felt the desire to kiss Maximo. She dared to glance over, meeting his gaze. He watched her with an intensity that made her toes curl. She knew she wasn’t imagining the spark of desire. Some part of her brain—the inebriated, silly part—was freaking out over the idea of a kiss.
Before she could do or say anything, the elevator doors opened. Laughing quietly, acknowledging the bad timing, Cam stepped into the hallway ahead of Max. His hand came to rest at the base of her spine, guiding her toward her room. The heat of his palm spread through her skin until she felt the first telltale ache of desire settle low in her belly.
Pausing before her room, she faced Maximo with a smile.
Now came the awkward part. Did she dare invite him in? Should she initiate the kiss? How would it affect things tomorrow? If she kissed him, would it naturally lead to other things? The questions raced endlessly around her head.
Maximo took all the guesswork out of the equation. He stepped in, one hand cupping her jaw, and covered her mouth with his. The sensation was so electrifying, so heady, that Camryn groaned against his lips. He took advantage and pressed his tongue past her teeth, boldly exploring every niche and hollow.
It was over almost before it began. He ended the kiss and leaned back.
“Good night, Camryn. I’ll see you tomorrow night at dinner,” Max said.
Cam opened her eyes, ridiculously dizzy after the kiss. Tomorrow night. Dinner. Yes.
Tonight. Him in my bed. Yes. Yes. Yes.
She fumbled with the key card while attempting to slide it into the slot. Max reached around her body, chest fitting snug to her back, and helped her guide the key in. All sorts of naughty thoughts erupted out of nowhere. Barely containing a giggle, she opened the door and waved as she stepped into her room.
“Night,” Max said, eyes gleaming. He seemed both amused and aroused.
“Good night.” She closed the door then slumped dramatically against it. Mother of all things sweet and holy, she’d kissed Maximo Payne! Camryn had the urge to do the squee dance while erupting into wild giggles of glee. How had today even happened? A karmic motherlode of bliss and happiness had fallen right into her lap. She couldn’t account for their good luck in bypassing hordes of fans or the sizzling chemistry that sprang up naturally between them.
After lurching away from the door, she hurried to the bed and spun around, flopping backward onto the mattress. All she needed was for the ceiling to open up and dump a million dollars on her head.
At the moment, life was good.
Very good.
Bemused and intrigued by the day’s interactions, Max let himself into his room. He hadn’t expected to feel more relaxed than he had in a year, or to connect so well with Camryn. Spending time with her seemed natural, as if he’d done it all his life. He crossed to the counter, pulled a small bottle of scotch from a welcome basket, and cracked the lid. He drank half the contents in three swallows. The burn helped take his mind off the discomfort in his groin.
A knock came at his door.
Max arched a brow and crossed the suite. Maybe Camryn had changed her mind and decided to take things further than their good-night kiss. What would he do if she was standing in the hallway, looking at him with bedroom eyes? He wasn’t the kind of man who engaged regularly in one-night stands, yet his pulse raced and all he could suddenly think about was waking up entangled with Camryn.
He opened the door.
“Hi, Max,” Raquel Howard said.
Rumbling a laugh, Max snatched her out of the hallway and nudged the door shut with his foot. “Well, well. Hello, yourself.”
The muffled thud of a door brought Cam upright on the bed. All thoughts of calling Lark to gush about her day vanished as she listened. The noise had sounded close, as if it had emanated from Maximo’s suite.
Scrambling off the bed, she hurried to her own door and put her eye to the peephole, expecting to see Max walk by. Maybe he was going downstairs for a drink. She heard the deep bass of masculine laughter and the velvety purr of a feminine voice.
Maximo came into view, distorted but recognizable through the peephole. And right with him was none other than Raquel Howard. Cam would have recognized that dark auburn hair and beautiful profile anywhere.
It hadn’t even been fifteen minutes since Maximo had left her, and he was already with another woman.
His lover, according to the tabloids.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she chided herself. Her euphoria deflated as if she’d been popped with a pin. The pleasant buzz from the wine took a hit, too, leaving her a bit clearer in the head.
Well, that sucked.
She’d conveniently forgotten about Raquel, and now reality had come back to bite her in the backside. Already she could hear Lark ranting at her about opportunities of a lifetime. Photographers had been desperate for pictures of Max and Raquel together, to put an end to the mystery once and for all.
Here was her chance for a scoop. For a scandal.
Yet this was exactly the way she didn’t want to go about it. Max deserved his privacy, as did Raquel. She’d appreciated not being harassed during her tour with Max, which made her doubly hesitant to act on her advantage.
If Max grew furious tomorrow when he realized she’d withheld information, and refused the interview, she would have nothing to put on her site. But even if she took pictures tonight, would she actually use them? She would be breaking her own rules, going against her beliefs.
Stalking celebrities was not the reputation for herself that she’d envisioned.
Maybe she should just be up-front about it. ‘Accidentally’ run into Max at the bar and admit who she was and what she did, as well as bring up the interview tomorrow. If she was really lucky, Max and Raquel might agree to an impromptu interview tonight to dispel the rumors once and for all.
She couldn’t ignore the sting of disappointment, however, at the knowledge that Max had probably been using her. A nice deviation and distraction while he waited for his lover to arrive.
Departing her room with cash in her pocket and her camera in hand, Camryn made her way to the elevators. Once on the main level, she approached the archway leading to the bar and dining area. She paused outside for a moment to center herself, to try and banish her sullen mood. It was then she spotted Max and Raquel laughing across a candlelit table, sharing a bottle of wine. Cam stood at an angle to the archway, not easily seen by those within.
Not that Max was paying any attention. His focus was all for his lover.
Cam lifted the camera and snapped off several shots. She zoomed in and snapped another handful, capturing the deep affection in Maximo’s eyes and the fondness in Raquel’s.
A pretend encounter didn’t sound so good after all. Cam’s stomach sank and her mood soured further.
What an idiot she’d been, entertaining hopes and dreams of tomorrow. Camryn receded from the archway and went back to her room.
A good sulk was in order.
You knew he was rumored to be involved, she thought as she entered her suite. Cam had no one to blame but herself. Liberating her cell phone from her purse, she took it off airplane mode so she could finally check her messages.
Her screen exploded with texts from Lark that popped up one after the other.
911!!
WHERE ARE YOU?
ANSWER, ANSWER, ANSWER.
EMERGENCY!
With shaking fingers, suddenly sure the world was ending, Camryn pulled up her contact list and found Lark’s name. Her roommate answered on the first ring.
“Camryn! Why didn’t you call back? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for two hours! Oh my God, have you seen the news?”
Eight
Were they at war? Had bombs been dropped? Rattled, Camryn sat on the edge of the bed and prepared herself for horrible news. “What happened? Were we attacked?”
“What? Attacked? No! Your face is on the cover of every major tabloid on earth! You’ve even been on TV! Haven’t you seen?”
Camryn frowned, confused. “Wait, I don’t understand. I haven’t been on TV. I would have remembered a camera in my face.”
Camera.
The photographer outside from yesterday, the same one who’d snapped pictures at dinner. Oh no.
“There are pictures everywhere! They’re saying you’re Maximo’s new love interest; that he’s cheating on Raquel with you!”
Camryn felt as if she’d been doused with a bucket of ice water. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected to be the source of tabloid fodder. She didn’t know what to say, and could barely breathe.
“They’re calling you—wait, let me read directly from the Internet: Maximo Payne’s Second Secret Mistress Revealed. You’re the Second Secret Mistress! So far none of them have your name, but you’ll be hounded as bad as Max until they get the scoop,” Lark said. “Plus, everyone knows for sure you’re both in Rome. The moment someone figures out which hotel that is, you’re dust.”
Camryn buried her face in her palm. Max’s Second Secret Mistress. This couldn’t be happening. She didn’t want to pull up sites on the Internet and see her face smattered all over the place.
“By the way, you totally look like a deer in the headlights at the dinner table. It’s not a very flattering picture,” Lark said.
“Thanks for that, Lark. Really.” Cam rubbed her temple with her fi
ngertips. It wouldn’t be long before the journalists picked up her name.
“You’re welcome. The other one isn’t much better.”
“Aren’t you a fount of happy information?” Cam said, sarcastic to the bone.
“I know you’d rather have the truth before you see the pictures for yourself.”
Camryn groaned. “He kissed me. Or I kissed him. Whatever, we both kissed.”
“What?”
“And then Raquel Howard showed up fifteen minutes later. He’s down there right now, yukking it up with her.”
“Camryn Castillo! Why didn’t you say so sooner?”
“I took pictures of them,” Cam said, continuing to confess her sins.
Lark gasped.
“Which probably means someone else will, eventually, and then I’ll never shake the Second Secret Mistress title,” Cam said.
“Send the photos to me.”
“No way.”
“Send them. I know exactly what to do,” Lark said.
“We can’t resort to that. Especially because I’m supposed to release an interview with him, all upstanding and professionally courteous!”
“Then why did you take the pictures in the first place?”
“I don’t know. I had this dumb idea that I would go down there, introduce myself, and give them the opportunity to come out, as it were, in a controlled atmosphere. But then I saw them laughing over wine and candlelight, and I just . . .”
“You like him,” Lark said, as if a lightbulb had just gone off over her head.
“I didn’t mean to like him.”
“Have you been drinking?”
“I had wine,” Cam said.
“You sound so forlorn. Quit it. I know wine can make you maudlin at times like these, but the Cam I know has a backbone of steel. Send me the pictures and let me at least sell them to someone else. We’ll probably make ten grand or so, and we could use the money. It’s a matter of saving the magazine as opposed to going back to work for Rocket or some other trashy tabloid. Or, you know, fast food.”
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