Kiss Cam (With A Kiss Book 1)

by Anie Michaels

  **Who can I talk to about getting a repeat performance of this morning again tomorrow?**

  A smile took over my face as I sipped my hot chocolate. I loved how playful he always was and enjoyed that he brought out a feistiness in me I hadn’t ever experienced with anyone else.

  **I guess that depends on whoever you have in your bed tomorrow morning.**

  My smile grew as I waited for his reply. I wasn’t expecting a quick response, but the butterflies in my stomach took flight when I saw the little moving dots nonetheless.

  **What makes you think it won’t be you?**

  **What makes you think it will?**

  I added a winky face after the last text just to show him I was being playful.

  **I think the way you came around my cock might be incentive enough.**

  They were only words on a screen, but I still felt a little quiver down below. A park bench downtown wasn’t an opportune place to get aroused. Before I could respond another text came through.

  **Coupled with the way you came on my face, surely, will get you back in my bed.**

  Oh, lord. He was obviously an exceptional sexter. If he didn’t stop there’d be a pile-up at my intersection, and I’d definitely get some sort of ticket for indecent exposure. So I did the first thing that came to mind. I sent him a selfie of me taking a big bite of my hot dog.

  **That is both horrifying and sexy at the same time. But more horrifying. Are you just now eating lunch?**

  **Yeah, busy day.**

  **Can I see you later?**

  **My wiener biting didn’t turn you off of me forever?**

  **It’ll take more than a few bites to make me go away. I can take you out to a late dinner. Or hang out. Your place or mine. I’d just really like to see you.**

  Aw, the guy had it as bad for me as I did him. That was comforting, and completely unusual. I wore a big smile as I texted him back.

  **Do you like pizza?**

  **Do you like hot dogs?**

  And he was funny too. Damn it, he was going to steal my heart.

  **Bring a pizza to my apartment at eight tonight. I’ll try to be wearing clothes when you arrive, but I can’t guarantee anything.**

  **That’s the sexiest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Just one question.**

  **Yeah?**

  I quite nearly forgot to breathe waiting for his response.

  **What kind of pizza do you like?**

  I was giggling all the way back to my office. And blushing too.

  Chapter Eleven

  Riley

  The Crystal Ballroom was on the west side of town and not in an optimal location. There wasn’t much parking and it was on a busy intersection. But, all that taken into account, I could see the appeal of holding an event there.

  It was classic Portland.

  What I’d learned from the raven-haired woman named Taryn giving me a tour, was that the room right below the ballroom was also available for events. The Crystal Ballroom was used mainly for concerts, so it felt a little strange to be planning a gala for the space, but Taryn assured me they could make anything work and that we weren’t the first people trying to put a square peg in a round hole.

  Rachel and Jasper followed us, taking notes so I didn’t have to, and whispering between themselves. When a man stepped into the large ballroom and called Taryn’s name, she excused herself and left to see what he needed.

  “So, what are you guys thinking?” Jasper and Rachel gave each other side-eyes, obviously communicating silently. “I did not get in on the telepathy, so please, use your words, kiddos.”

  “Well, I didn’t want to say anything, because it’s kind of a long shot, but….” Jasper looked too scared to finish his sentence and if he could bite any more of his fingernail off he would have.

  “What?” I cried. “Tell me before I die of anticipation.”

  “Jasper thinks he might, and emphasis on the might part, be able to get Indigo Ale.”

  The ballroom was silent as I stared at him, mouth agape.

  “Jasper, now is not the time to play with my emotions.” My words would have been steel had they been any harder. “Tell me what you mean by this.”

  “Well,” he said meekly, starting to waver. “I’ve worked with their publicist on a few things before, and they’ve been back in town from a world tour for a few weeks now. A year or so ago I helped their publicist with an event and she said she owed me, so I called her. She said a fundraiser for the Angel House was something right up their alley, and that she’d reach out to them.”

  “Are you serious right now?” I asked, stepping close to him. His eyes went wide. My blood pressure was about to skyrocket.

  Indigo Ale was a Portland institution. A glittering diamond in the history of a pretty dull city. World-renowned musicians who were pretty fucking cool too. They were classy and fun and fucking perfect for this event. They were also completely out of our price range and grasp. There was no situation in my daily life where I ever thought I’d be able to reach out to anyone involved with Indigo Ale and ask for a favor.

  “Listen,” I whispered harshly to Jasper. “We don’t speak a word of this to Meg. We don’t mention Indigo Ale unless it’s in the bag, got it?” My finger was in his face and I had to pull myself together. I stepped backward and took in a few breaths. “I’m not cut out for this,” I said, dragging the air into my lungs.

  “Riley.” Meg’s soft and happy voice filled the empty ballroom and I spun to face her, a smile automatically crossing my face.

  “Meg,” I said as I walked toward her. “It’s good to see you again. Thank you for coming to meet us on such short notice.”

  “Of course,” she said before giving me a polite hug. “I was so grateful you could fit me into your schedule.”

  “Let me introduce you to my team. Meg, this is Jasper and Rachel. I have full confidence in them and we’re excited to make this a successful event.”

  Meg reached her hand out to both of them, giving them the same warm smile she’d bestowed upon me. “It’s so nice to meet you. The next time we all have to get together we should do it at my house. I make an award-winning sangria.”

  “There’s nothing about that I want to say no to,” Rachel said with a laugh.

  “I love sangria,” Jasper added.

  “We’re very excited to work on this event, Mrs. Rogers,” Rachel said, a genuine smile.

  “Please, call me Meg.”

  “Thanks, Meg.”

  “We’ve been working all day on preliminary ideas and I think we’ve got a good starting point.”

  “That’s great. Now that we’re here, do you think this venue will work?”

  “That depends wholly on what exactly you want. There’s a stage, so if you want musical entertainment, this will work.”

  “I want some sort of music. I’d like there to be dancing. I want people to eat, drink, and be merry. But I also want more than the typical dinner party and dancing.”

  “How would you feel about a silent auction? We already have a few high-end vendors willing to donate goods and services to the cause.”

  Meg’s eyes lit up and her smile went positively solar.

  “What about a bachelor auction?”

  My head tilted at her words, not sure I’d heard her correctly.

  “A… bachelor auction? Like, people bidding on men? For a date?” The idea seemed a little off-base, seeing as we were trying to raise money to support survivors of domestic abuse. I tried not to sound like it was a bad idea, but it was a bad idea.

  “Well, I like the idea of a silent auction, but it’s not exciting enough. I want it to be fun and lively. I want people to talk about the event afterward, to remember it, so that perhaps they’ll want to come to another. Word spreads, and if I throw another boring gala, soon it’ll just be me sitting at a table by myself.”

  “I hear you completely. You want something different, but still appropriate and refined.”

  “Yes! That’s exactly what I wa
nt. What can we do?”

  “Excuse me, Meg?” Jasper spoke up from behind us. “What if, instead of auctioning off, uh, men, we auction off experiences with men.”

  My eyes practically fell out of their sockets and Rachel started choking on air. “Jasper,” I exclaimed, “we’re not selling sex!”

  “No! Oh, God, no! That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry! Jeez….” He slapped his hand over his eyes. “I swear, that’s not what I meant. I meant that we could reach out to some people who could offer unique experiences and see if they could donate their time and access. Like, maybe we could get someone to donate a private dinner for two on the sternwheeler with the captain. Or a box seat at a Renegades game with the owner. Stuff like that.”

  “Jasper, that sounds fantastic! Do you really think you could get people to donate those kinds of things?”

  He shrugged. “I can try.”

  I was a little peeved he brought this up in front of Meg because if it didn’t work out, I’d have to disappoint her, but I did like the way her face lit up with the idea. And it was a good idea, just hard to put together. Would we be able to find enough high-profile people who were willing to donate to make it worthwhile?

  “We could do the big auction in this room and have the silent auction for the smaller items in the ballroom downstairs with cocktails and hors d’oeuvres. We can have a dinner upstairs and then clear the tables for dancing and bidding.” Rachel’s eyes were alight with inspiration.

  “Perfect, we can move people downstairs while the tables are being cleared,” I said, thinking out loud. “Maybe instead of hors d’oeuvres we can do dessert.”

  “If there’s room downstairs during the dessert hour I could put together some information about the families that the Angel House has helped and display it, give people something to look at, a little incentive to spend their money.” Meg looked thoroughly excited by her idea.

  “That’s actually brilliant. Nothing opens wallets like tugging on heartstrings.”

  Right as I said the words, Taryn returned.

  “Sorry about that, administrative details,” she said, waving away the interruption.

  “No problem. Meg Rogers, this is Taryn. She’s the coordinator here at the Crystal Ballroom.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Meg said, sticking out her hand.

  “Likewise. Are there any questions I can answer?”

  “If we wanted to do a formal, sit-down dinner in this ballroom, how many people would that seat?”

  “We seat six hundred in this ballroom.”

  “Oh, Riley,” Rachel said from behind me. “I just received a text from the owner of Unico downtown and she says she can get you an eight-course tasting on Friday night if you’d consider her restaurant for the event catering.”

  “Unico? I’ve never heard of them,” Meg said.

  “It’s a newer restaurant, but it’s getting great reviews. It’s pretty exclusive though. I heard the reservations are out two months and even then it’s dicey. But they’re rumored to have the best Italian fusion cuisine ever. It’d be great for the event.”

  I looked at Meg with raised eyebrows. “Are you free on Friday night? We could go check it out, see if it’s what you’re looking for.”

  “Me?” she asked surprised. “I’m sure anything you pick would be fine, Riley. Why don’t you take Camden?”

  “You don’t want to go to the tasting?” Surely she’d want to be involved in picking the food for the event.

  She shrugged with a smile. “I think you’re more qualified to pick the right kind of cuisine. Obviously you wouldn’t make a poor decision, and I love Italian food, so I’d really be no help. You should take Camden.” Her smile was so genuine and eyes so caring, it was hard to argue with her. So I didn’t.

  “I guess tell the owner I will be there with a plus one to audition her restaurant.”

  When I entered my apartment that evening, the walk to my bedroom seemed like miles, so I slumped back and let myself rest against the door. My feet hurt, my head ached, and my eyes were tired. It had been a stressful day, but a productive one too. We’d accomplished a lot, but I almost dreaded all the work that was to come in the next six weeks. We usually had six months to plan similar events.

  I had practically fallen asleep against the door when I heard the soft knocking coming from the other side. I managed to pull myself upright and open the door to see Camden’s handsome face smiling at me. The smile dimmed though, as he stepped into my apartment and got a good look at me.

  “You look exhausted,” he said, concern in his voice.

  “Thanks,” I said, a tiny bit of sarcasm finding its way into my voice, but mainly I just sounded lethargic. He walked to my dining table and set a pizza box down and then came back to me, wrapping me up in his arms.

  “Everything all right?”

  I sighed and snuggled closer in to him, taking the strength he was offering and giving him my weight.

  “Did you talk to your mom today?” I asked, my words garbled against his chest.

  “Um, no.” He chuckled. “Why?”

  I pulled back far enough to look up at him.

  “She called my boss this morning and hired Rose City Event Planners to coordinate her event next month.”

  “That’s good, right?” he said, running his hands along my back. I wished there weren’t a few layers of clothes between his hands and my skin, because I really needed a massage.

  “It is good. She also insisted I be the lead on the project.”

  He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. “That’s good too, right?”

  I lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s not bad, it’s just a big job. There’s no way I would have gotten an account that big at this stage in my career on my own. So, my boss gave in and let me have it, but if I screw it up, it could be bad. Not only professionally, but, I mean, I don’t want your mom to hate me. We’ve only just started dating, but I kind of like you and I’d hate for your mom to dislike me.”

  Camden’s eyebrows drew together and I could see him thinking in the way his eyes darted around the room but never landed on anything specific. After a few moments, he suggested, “Why don’t I call my mom and ask her to back off a little?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want that. I want to do a good job. I’m just afraid it’s too much too soon. Plus, I don’t want my boss to think I’m afraid of hard work—I’m not. It’s a lot of pressure. And I don’t want to disappoint you either.”

  “You want to know what’s disappointing?” he asked, his tone deadly serious and eyes trained on mine.

  “What?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer.

  “Your preference in pizza toppings.” He held the stern look for a moment, but then the corner of his mouth tugged up into a grin and I couldn’t help but laugh a little, resting my forehead against his chest. “Seriously, Riley. Chicken, pineapple, tomatoes, and green peppers? That’s the oddest topping combination I’ve ever heard of.”

  “I’m nothing if not original,” I mumbled, smiling still as I felt his lips against the top of my head, kissing me gently.

  “Which would you prefer first? Food or bed? Pizza tastes just as good, if not better, the morning after.” His arms were still around me, holding me to him, prepared to take me wherever I wanted, waiting for my command.

  “I think I’d like food, then shower, then bed, if that sequence of events is all right with you.”

  “I’m nothing if not agreeable.”

  He took me to the table and made sure I had everything I needed before he sat down to eat. My eyes roamed over him, appreciating the way he looked in a suit. Camden in a suit was like my kryptonite. His tie was pulled loose and the top button of his shirt undone, and my eyes were absolutely drawn to the scruff on his neck over his Adam’s apple. He swallowed and I practically let out a moan. I needed to distract myself before I jumped him.

  “You made a point to mock my topping choices, but I notice yours are boring and predictable.”
r />   “You think pepperoni is boring and predictable?”

  “Isn’t it?” I replied before taking another bite of my delicious pizza.

  “Pepperoni pizza is a staple in American cuisine. It’s steady and reliable.”

  “Oh, my gosh,” I laughed, mouth still impolitely full. “You’re such a lawyer.”

  “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—I can argue anything for any reason.”

  “I’d have to be crazy to start a relationship with someone I’ll never win an argument against.”

  “Firstly, it’s too late, you already have. And secondly, if I really care about someone I’ll let them win sometimes.” He winked at me and I had to hold myself back from throwing my pizza at him. I didn’t want to ruin his suit.

  “You can’t always win, it’s statistically impossible.”

  “I might not always win, but I always get my point across.”

  “I’m too tired to be infuriated, but trust me, this would normally infuriate me.”

  “I like it when you’re all feisty.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “How can this be attractive? I don’t want it to be, yet, I can’t help it. Your arrogance is alluring. Stop it.”

  “Sure thing, baby.” Another wink.

  Damn him.

  I took another bite and shook my head, trying to seem more irritated than I actually was. Camden’s brain and the way it seemed to circle me was extremely attractive. And just as he seemed to like it when I was feisty, I liked it when he was argumentative. On any other man it would have been a repulsive trait. In fact, I’d not gone on second dates with many men who seemed to always want to correct me or tout their opinions. But Camden was different. His arguing was almost like foreplay and I knew it made him hot when I argued back.

  It suddenly occurred to me he hadn’t brought in an overnight bag and the thought of him not staying over upset me.

  “Are you going back to your place tonight?”

  “Hadn’t planned on it,” he replied, focused on his pizza and how much of one piece he could cram in at one time. Camden might have been a fancy lawyer, but he was still just a dude.