“You’re welcome,” he said, his mouth a full smile spreading to each corner of his face.
God, that smile. Would she ever see those beautiful lips and pretty white teeth again?
Simone lingered for a moment longer. She needed to leave but wondered if he really would call. She hoped so.
“Bye, Cameron.”
Even if he didn’t, she would be fine. She’d had a great time, and anyway, he wasn’t Mr. Forever. He was just fun. That’s what she’d told her sister.
She rushed out of the loft and was halfway down the hall when a smile spread across her face. She’d never before spent the night at a man’s house the first night she went out with him, but she didn’t regret it.
Not one bit.
Chapter 8
Cameron and his siblings occasionally ate dinner together, and whenever they did, they ate at his place. Tonight was one of those nights.
He’d grilled two large butter-basted rib-eyes currently resting on the cutting board, and prepared a sauce béarnaise to be served over them. Oven-roasted asparagus was already on a white serving plate, and he was taking the Parmesan and herb-roasted potatoes out of the oven at the moment.
As he set the dishes on the steel table that seated eight on the other side of the kitchen pass-through, the front door opened and closed.
“Smells good in here.” His brother Mason entered, wearing jeans and rubbing his stomach in preparation for the meal.
“I just finished. Where’s Harp?” Cameron scraped the potatoes onto a serving dish and garnished them with chopped parsley.
“On her way, last time I talked to her.” Scouring the selection of food, Mason licked his lips. “This looks good. I think you outdid yourself this time.”
Cameron chuckled. “You say that every time.” He didn’t know if his meals were really that good, or if Mason graded on a curve because he didn’t know how to cook. “Dad called, doing the usual check-in.”
Their parents were traveling the country in a Winnebago, acting like tourists and visiting all the places they couldn’t when they were a working couple raising a family.
“Where are they now?”
“San Diego. They’re going to take a cruise to Mexico from there, and when they get back, head up the west coast to Seattle.”
“I’m here!” Harper came into view in a pink sheath dress, her high heels sounding on the walnut wood floors. She dropped her purse on the dining room table. “I’m starved. Tell me you’re finished.”
“I’m finished. I know better than to keep the two of you waiting.”
Although they were triplets, they didn’t look much alike or act alike. Harper was the “baby,” a bundle of energy with a toffee complexion and tiny like their mother. Having a beautiful sister meant Cameron and Mason were always in protective mode, which annoyed her.
Mason had the same dark complexion as Cameron but was an inch shorter. And while Cameron was proud of his physique built from years of outdoor activity, as a former Marine, his brother’s body was a machine honed in missions around the world.
Mason invested in Club Masquerade from the outset but only recently returned to Atlanta after an explosion in Afghanistan left him wounded and one of his fellow Marines dead. Since his return home, he’d taken over the club’s security. At times he favored his injured hand, and Cameron sometimes wondered how much pain he still suffered from. But Mason didn’t talk much. He’d only share when ready.
They sat at the table, where the food had been set out family style, and passed the dishes around, filling their plates with heaping servings of the asparagus, potatoes, and sliced steak.
At first, the conversation turned to business, and Cameron gave them an update on a shooting that took place outside a club a couple of months ago. Two men had been killed, and the city council had pressured the liquor control board to temporarily suspend the club’s liquor license. With no alcoholic beverages being served, business plummeted, forcing the owners to close the club.
“The good news is, those people are going to be looking for a place to party,” Cameron said. “The bad news is, that could easily happen to us. We have to be diligent about security and make sure it doesn’t.”
Harper swirled a glass of pineapple and hibiscus cocktail. “I still think they overreacted. The incident took place outside the club,” she said.
“You know as well as I do, that doesn’t matter. They’re always looking for a reason to shut us down, even though we pay a fortune in taxes.” Cameron turned his attention to Mason. “We have to make sure we disperse the crowds and keep them from loitering around the club after they leave.”
“My guys know what to do, but I’ll brief them in our next meeting.”
Harper set her glass on the table. “So what’s this about you dating one of my clients?” she asked.
Cameron paused in the middle of slicing into his steak. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Mason told me about how the super-rich socialite, Simone Brooks, threw up all over you. If she’s not a billionaire, she’s pretty darn close. Why’d you go out with her anyway? She doesn’t seem like your type.”
Harper was right. Simone wasn’t his type. She appeared to be high-maintenance and certainly had the arrogance down, the way she pranced through Cooks Gadget Warehouse like she owned the place, with her red-bottomed shoes and Fendi purse. Still, he sensed a depth to her, hidden beneath the surface.
“She didn’t throw up all over me. Mostly on my shoes.” He shrugged. “And why wouldn’t I go out with her? She’s a woman.” Cameron ate a piece of ribeye.
He’d never made a secret of his appreciation of the opposite sex. He loved everything about women, from their soft curves to their saucy smiles.
“What happened when you went out?” Harper asked.
“Had a good time.” He smiled.
Harper rolled her eyes. “Ugh. You didn’t.”
“I can’t help it if I’m irresistible.”
Mason chuckled and shook his head. “Do you ever turn down a piece of ass?”
“Do you?”
Mason dated, but Cameron suspected he carried a torch for their childhood friend, London, though he’d never admitted it. Harper had been trying to get the two of them together for years.
She waved a hand in front of Cameron’s face to bring his attention back to her. “So what’s the deal? Are you two dating?”
“We hooked up. We may hook up again, that’s all. I called her the other day to see if she wanted to get together, but she’s in London and doesn’t know when she’ll be back.”
He’d been a bit disappointed to learn Simone was out of the country and surprised she hadn’t said a word to him about the trip. The day after their night together, she’d rushed out without even having breakfast. It burned to have her dash from his bed so early in the morning and leave him behind. He’d felt…used.
“At least she doesn’t have your nose wide open like the other one,” Mason said.
“Hey, she didn’t have my nose wide open, but I did screw up by sleeping with one of the owners of the company. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”
When the short-lived affair ended, so did his position as general manager of the restaurant.
Harper tapped a nail on the metal table. “Hmm. Does Simone have a job? I mean, what does she do, exactly?”
“Charity work. That’s all I know.” Cameron still didn’t have a full grasp on Simone’s role at the foundation. Essentially, she sounded like a professional volunteer. “I have plans with Sherry Stone anyway,” Cameron said.
“The business banker?” Mason asked.
“That’s the one.”
“I guess your persistence paid off,” Harper said drily.
“You could say that.” Cameron chuckled softly. Sherry had turned him down several times when he asked her out, even though she eye-fucked him every time she saw him at the bank. They’d played a little cat and
mouse game for months. Flirt. Laugh. Say goodbye. Start again the next time he went into the branch.
Harper shook her head in disgust. “How do you keep up with all these different women?”
“Skill and practice.” He stopped teasing long enough to look at his sister with concern. “If you’d stop working so hard, you’d have time to meet someone yourself. I keep telling you to give your staff more control.”
“It’s hard letting go. I know how important it is to give the celebrity clients extra attention, and to be honest, I feel as if I’m best suited to make sure everything runs smoothly.” She shrugged. “But I promise to take your suggestion under consideration. How’s that?”
“Let the right man come along and she’ll gladly change her tune,” Mason said.
“Enough about my lack of love life, you two. By the way, this ribeye is delicious.”
“Subtle. Real subtle, Harp,” Cameron said.
She wrinkled her nose at him and they had a good laugh.
At the end of the meal, Cameron brought out a simple dessert—a tray of ice cream sandwiches made of strawberry ice cream and ginger cookies.
Harper’s eyes went wide. “No. You. Didn’t.”
“Yes. I. Did.”
“Shit, I haven’t had one of these in years,” Mason said, plucking one from the tray. “Dad used to make these all the time.”
Cameron nodded. “Made the ice cream from scratch, too, remember? He used that old hand crank machine.”
“It made the best ice cream, though.” Harper took a bite and closed her eyes. “Mmm. This brings back so many memories.”
“Sitting on the back porch, eating ice cream sandwiches after Sunday dinner,” Mason said. He took another bite.
“It’s not the back porch, but I have a terrace,” Cameron suggested.
“Let’s do it.” Harper jumped up first.
The three of them went out onto the terrace and ate the ice cream and cookie dessert, watching the sun go down, with the noise of the street below. The perfect end to the meal.
And everything Cameron had said to Harper and Mason about Simone…well, he almost believed it.
Chapter 9
Once a month, Sylvie Johnson insisted on having lunch with her children. When Simone had lived in Seattle, she had missed the lunch dates with her family and sometimes flew back and spent the day so she could experience that closeness. The monthly meals were not only for their mother’s benefit, but a way for them all to catch up and maintain their familial bond.
Having returned earlier than expected from London, Simone spent the last couple of days catching up on foundation business. Today she joined Ella in their mother’s plush office, an expansive domain decorated in tan and gold and splashes of pale rose, while they waited for Reese and Stephan to arrive.
Sylvie sat behind her desk in a plush ivory chair from her high-end line of office furniture designed with the female executive in mind. As a young woman she’d had no interest in the family’s beer and restaurant empire, and had used her inheritance to build businesses that she had an interest in. For her that meant furniture, film and television projects, and anything related to the fashion industry. Her line of clothing and makeup products were made with only the finest materials sourced from all over the world and sold in exclusive stores. The Sylvie brand, popular among the rich and famous, was synonymous with extravagance and quality.
On the filmmaking front, she’d produced a number of independent films that turned into huge moneymakers and financed a few documentaries. The paperwork she was going over was for an almost concluded contest where documentary filmmakers submitted proposals for funding. Her committee whittled down thousands of entrants to twenty-five. She and a core group of the committee would then decide which of the twenty-five her company would invest in.
“Did Simone mention to you that she cooked dinner last night? By herself?” Across the room, Ella smiled. She thought it was funny Simone had been spending so much time cooking.
The truth was, she’d been practicing so when she saw Cameron again, she could impress him with her improved culinary skills.
The midday sun came through the sheer curtains on the window at Sylvie’s back. Looking up from the paperwork in front of her, she said, “Cooked? You could have ordered something to eat, surely? Is Martha ill?”
“She’s not ill. I just wanted to,” Simone answered, rather proud of herself.
Before the trip to London, she’d worked in the kitchen a few times with Martha, but this time she’d wanted to handle the meal all alone. She gave Martha a list of ingredients to purchase at the store and prepared the entire meal herself by carefully following the recipe instructions.
Martha had teasingly said that she would soon have to look for a new job. They’d laughed at that, knowing no such thing was about to happen. As much as she enjoyed her new hobby of cooking, Simone knew she could not run her household without Martha.
“You wanted to what, darling?” Sylvie asked.
“Cook,” Simone answered.
Her mother’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You wanted to cook? This is a very confusing conversation.” Sylvie removed her designer glasses and placed them on the desktop.
“It’s fun and something different to do. I like being able to make a meal for myself.” Simone took a deep breath, ready to share her experience with Cameron. “A couple of weeks ago, I went out with a man, and he took me on a date to a school where we cooked dinner and then ate what we’d made. Ever since then, I’ve been practicing and Martha’s been helping me. Last night I made roasted chicken with brown rice and steamed vegetables.”
Pause.
“Darling, are you all right?” Genuine concern filled Sylvie’s eyes.
“I’m fine.”
“Then why are you cooking? Like a servant? And who is this man who put you to work on a date, for heaven’s sake? That sounds absolutely horrid.”
The conversation quickly tumbled downhill.
Realizing her teasing had created an uncomfortable situation for Simone, Ella jumped into the conversation. “Mother, we’ve cooked before. We used to make you breakfast, remember?”
Sylvie smiled then, a beatific expression as she reflected on the past. “Yes, I recall those cute little heart-shaped pancakes with scrambled eggs and fruit you all made for me as children. And all of you would come into the bedroom with flowers to wish me a happy Mother’s Day. Those were wonderful times.” Wistfulness filled her voice at the memories. “But an entire dinner seems rather extreme.”
“Simone was just having fun.” Ella caught Simone’s eye and smiled, her expression at once soothing and apologetic.
“Well I certainly hope it was fun,” Sylvie said. She twisted her attention back to Simone. “I didn’t even know you were dating. Who is this young man? Do I know him?”
Simone didn’t know how to answer that question, and she took too long formulating an answer. Sylvie lifted her eyebrows impatiently.
“You don’t know him,” Simone replied.
“May I have a name?”
Simone smoothed the full skirt of her dress. “His name is Cameron Bennett. He owns Club Masquerade.”
Sylvie gasped and clutched her pearls. “Is that some kind of swinging club?”
Ella snickered, and Simone darted a glare in her direction, which promptly shut her up.
“It’s a nightclub. The hottest one in Atlanta,” Simone answered, oddly proud. “It’s an upscale place that hosts celebrity parties, and they have different events like Wind Down Wednesday and stuff like that. I threw Kim’s divorce party there.”
Sylvie folded her hands atop the contracts and took a good look at her daughter, disapproval etched in the fine lines around her mouth. “I realize good men are hard to find, but a nightclub owner? I certainly hope your little dalliance doesn’t distract you from your work at the foundation.”
She didn’t say it, but the word again was understood in the scolding.
“I won’t le
t it.” Embarrassment and guilt burned Simone’s cheeks.
“I’m not saying this to be cruel, but you said you wanted to get married. Do you recall what happened in Seattle?”
The fiasco in Seattle had been the biggest mistake she’d ever made. Jack was an administrator for a cancer research facility the Johnson Foundation partially funded. He turned out to be an ass.
True enough they’d had their differences, and after breaking up, he set about to systematically tarnish her good name. He attacked not only her, but the foundation’s credibility. He accused her of being pushy, entitled, and arrogant and implied the funds the foundation raised did not go toward the programs as reported. He pointed out that Simone often traveled first class or by private jet, and that while she wasn’t on the payroll, it was questionable she needed all the perks that she was allotted, completely ignoring the tens of millions she helped raise and the huge sums donated to the cancer facility. He eventually lost his position, as they could not afford to alienate the Johnson Foundation and lose the money donated every year.
“Keep in mind that the differences between you and someone who does not have our type of money sounds nice and is exciting at first, but men are simply incapable of handling strong women like us.”
Here it comes.
“Look at your father. Our relationship didn’t last, did it? He’s gone. Ella’s husband. Gone.”
Across the room, Ella stiffened.
“The situation with Jack was certainly not your fault,” her mother continued. When she was on a roll, she didn’t know when to stop. “But once again he was not accustomed to our level of wealth, and because of that he made gross accusations that tarnished the good name of the foundation, and you as well. My darling, you’re not getting any younger. Why put yourself through that again? Why waste your time with a man who you know you won’t marry, when there are so many eligible young men available. In fact…” Sylvie flipped open her royal blue planner and tapped a page with a cream painted fingernail. “I have lunch tomorrow with Agnes Duvalier. I don’t have to tell you that the Duvaliers have amassed a huge real estate fortune and she’s interested in expanding her investments with some money left to her by an aunt, who recently passed away. I’ll probably have her invest in a small independent film first. Anyway, I said all that to say her son, Albert, is in town with her, and he’s single.” She used the French pronunciation of his name—Al-bear. “And…” her voice dropped to a conspiratorial level and excitement sparked in her eyes. “…he’s looking for a wife. Absolutely, positively, ready to settle down from what I understand. I can arrange a meeting within the next few days. What do you think?”
A Passionate Love Page 5