“Yes, I’m interested.”
I was interested in everything about him. Even that closed door. Maybe especially what was on the other side of that closed door. If he let me inside all the rooms, all the different aspects of his life, wouldn’t it be more difficult to set me aside?
“Sometimes it helps to talk things through out loud,” I said. “I might be able to help you see a solution you didn’t see on your own.”
He nodded. “You help just by being here.”
“Thank you. But I can do more than cook and clean. Or I could before my life went the way it did,” I said, frowning at the thought of my former life.
“Hey.” He put his hand under my chin. “You’re smart. Intuitive. You do help. Your story helped with Coralee. But Logan . . .” He shook his head and released me, settling back in his chair. “He’s a talented guitarist. He and the bassist, Everett Kirk, are gifted musicians. Everett’s nice, maybe a little too quiet, but most people think Logan’s just an asshole.”
“Why do they think that?”
“Because most of the time he is an asshole. And it doesn’t help that he has a scar down one side of his face that he’s confrontational about.”
“Oh.” My lips rounded. “What happened?”
“That’s his story to tell. Obviously, he has his reasons for being the way he is. But the timing on this latest departing lead singer really sucks. Without one, I’m probably going to have to take his band out of the lineup for a big charity gala on Friday.”
“Aces High is his band?”
“Yes. He and the drummer, Chance Vegas, are best friends and the founding members. They harmonize well together, and with a little direction, occasionally come up with songs worth recording.”
My eyes narrowed. “I’ll bet you help them a lot.”
“Some.”
“Hmm. If they harmonize well, can’t one of them step up to take lead?”
“Logan could, but he won’t. He doesn’t like being center stage in the spotlight.”
“Because of his scar?”
Brad nodded. “He wouldn’t admit it, but yeah.” His brow creasing, he exhaled heavily. “Their album is overdue and overbudget. Timmons might cut the band, and they’ll have to pay back their advance. Maybe even owe her for their studio time.”
“Will that be a lot?”
“Hell yeah. Twenty-five thousand, at least.”
“Wow, that is a lot.” My eyes widened.
“A lot he doesn’t have. None of them do, I’m sure.”
“What about your percentage as their manager?”
“Mine to keep.”
“Ah, being a manager is better than being the artist.”
Brad’s expression darkened. “Safer. Less risk. More guarantees.”
He had those financial assurances as a manager, but he’d given up music for himself, except when singing me to sleep or serenading me in the car. When it was his preference. He might not say so, but he had to have some regrets.
“I’d better go.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “It’s getting late. I’d better get going too.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Late for me to write,” I said quickly. It was the truth, just not all of it. I needed to jot down new story ideas before I got on the bike and headed to Venice Beach again. “Will you be coming back to the house for lunch?”
“I wish, but not today. Unfortunately.”
“All right.” I tried to hide my disappointment.
“And I won’t be able to take you to Dr. Jacoby’s. I scheduled a driver.”
“Oh.” My disappointment increased.
“Dicey for dinner too, actually.” He was looking at his phone and didn’t see my frown. Was he already tired of me? “I’m supposed to meet Logan and the band at the club where Everett works on the other side of town. With no lead singer, I don’t know how that’s going to go down, but still.”
“I could meet you for dinner, and go with you to the club after. If you wanted me to.”
“I would love that.” He glanced up and caught my frown before I could hide it. “If I could spend the entire day with you, Cam, I would. But—”
“You have responsibilities. I understand.” After all, he desired me with him. That was what mattered. “Text me the address where you want to eat dinner. I’ll take a Lyft.”
“You can use the car service. I’ll call and make all the arrangements. I’d rather someone I can trust to be professional drive you.”
“Okay.” My lips curved.
I mattered. Brad’s actions confirmed that last night wasn’t a onetime thing. The trying for something real continued.
He reached out and trailed his fingers along my jawline, and warmth rolled through me. His touch made me feel claimed, appreciated, and desired.
Then he kissed me. A good long one with his talented tongue. I didn’t climb into his lap and straddle him like I was tempted to, but I was out of breath afterward, and he had to pry my fingers loose from the lapels of his jacket.
“Wear something sexy.” He gave me a head-to-toe scan. “Something you can dance in.”
Brad danced?
“Like a dress?” It was always best to get specific details on what to wear. I was representing him, after all. As a real girlfriend this time. I could hardly believe it.
“Yes. Take the car service to Nordstrom and see Maurice again. Have him charge it to my card.”
“Okay.” I wanted to talk to Maurice anyway about the modeling. “But if I get a new dress, one I can afford, I’ll pay for it.”
“Cam, it’s a work function. Have him charge it to my work card.”
“We’re doing real, right?” I asked to set up my point.
“We are.” His eyes narrowed.
“In a real relationship, I pay for my own things. My own dress.” I didn’t want money involved between us at all.
“Okay.” Brad looked more resigned than happy.
“Have a good day.”
“As good as I can with you here and me out there.” He gave me a longing look that made me feel almost as desired as the kiss had. “See you later, my lady.”
“Later, Brad.”
I shifted in my chair, watching him as he crossed to the kitchen and grabbed his keys. He paused to give me another look before going down the stairs. The meaningful looks, the affection, the confirming words, I tucked them all inside. My virtual rose bouquet was getting larger.
The hope Brad thought I didn’t have, the hope I hadn’t had much of before him? Well, I had some now. And a little hope from him went a long way.
Chapter 43
* * *
Bradley
I couldn’t get Cam off my mind. Having her didn’t dampen the intensity of my obsession—it fueled it like gasoline to an already blazing fire.
I thought about her at the bank. I thought about her during a meeting with my current lawyer to draw up the paperwork to bring Sierra into Marshall Enterprises officially. And I thought about her while talking to a new lawyer who was going through the appropriate legal channels to move Pete’s kids to a safe environment.
I thought about her when I got in the Z and my phone rang, indicating Jewel was calling.
“Bradley Marshall speaking,” I said.
“Is she okay?” she asked.
“Cam?”
“Yes, Cam.”
Trepidation made my heart rate spike. I was glad the Z remained in a parking space. “Why wouldn’t she be?”
“She’s not picking up her phone. You and she, well, I thought for sure she would call me afterward or at least by this morning, but she didn’t. So I called her, but she didn’t answer.”
“When I left her at the house, she was perfectly fine.”
“Wait a minute,” Jewel said. “Cam’s ringing me now. Gotta go. ’Bye.”
Oh, hell no. I frowned at the street lined with palm trees and the row of businesses behind them. Jewel had me worried now.
Truthfully, I�
��d had reservations about leaving Cam alone today. The thought had crossed my mind to bring her with me. But part of doing togetherness was giving her some space, convincing her to blend her life and her desires with mine, not demanding she do it.
I wanted to call her, but since she was likely on the line with Jewel, I phoned Rush instead.
“Hey, man,” Rush said, answering his cell on the first ring and sounding wide awake, which was surprising, given his schedule.
“Tour going okay?”
“Yes. You calling because your woman’s on the line with mine?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t argue with him about my motivation, or about Cam being mine.
“From what I’m overhearing, it sounds like you made a good impression. The word ‘glorious’ has been used. Would you like me to tell you some others?”
“No.” I grinned, knowing I had skills. “I just wanted to be sure Cam was okay.”
“Sounds like she’s better than okay.”
“Good. I’m glad.” My grin widening, I drummed a celebratory rhythm on my steering wheel that complemented the rhymes I’d made up yesterday.
“What’s that beat from?” Rush asked.
“Just me fooling around.”
“You? Drumming? It doesn’t sound like fooling around. It sounds like a backbeat for a song.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“For a client?”
“No. Just for me. Sang a little for Cam in the car yesterday too.”
“You don’t do music shit for yourself anymore.”
No, I didn’t. He was correct. Until now.
“You wanna explain that?” he asked.
“Feels right. Like she does. The two are interrelated.”
“Fucking shit. Fucking glorious shit.”
“Just messing around with the music. With her, I’m totally serious. Been leaning that way since I met her. I have no reservations on my side, but I know she has some hang-ups.”
“Issues because of what she did before as an occupation?”
“Sure, that mostly.” And her childhood. Her exes. The rape.
“Jewel had some issues related to that too when we first started out. Kept her from seeing things as clearly as I did. If you want to keep Cam in your bed, you’re going to have to convince her like I had to convince Jewel.”
“That’s the plan.”
“Knew you’d have one.”
“I do.”
“Cam’s an imaginative type.”
“She is.”
“The music and your involvement with her being interrelated, you might want to go all in with that.”
“How so?”
“Seems like an area of common ground. Be good for you not to keep that side of you under wraps anymore. I know how you are. Or were. Life without music is a life half-lived for guys like me and you. If Cam’s inspired you to let the creative part of you flow again, I don’t need any convincing she’s right for you. But you need to let her in on that part, on all the parts of you.”
“Yeah. Appreciate the advice. But you’re not the one I need to convince.”
“My woman seems to be on your side in this development too. She’s off the phone and looks happy as shit from whatever Cam shared. She’s hanging on my neck now, tits pressed to my back, and we’re in bed awake with some free time. Gonna make use of it. You hear me?”
“I hear you,” I said, but got only a double beep and then silence in my ear. He’d hung up.
I didn’t take offense. But I did take his advice to heart, and texted Cam.
BRADLEY: Heard you’ve been talking to your bestie.
CAMARO: You must’ve been talking to yours.
BRADLEY: Certainly. You doing okay?
CAMARO: Yes. I talked to Maurice. I’m going to do some modeling.
BRADLEY: Great. Got a dress?
CAMARO: Working on it. In the dressing room now.
BRADLEY: ARE YOU NAKED?
My cock hardened at just the thought of it.
CAMARO: Bra and panties.
BRADLEY: Sexy stuff like you wore last night?!?
CAMARO: Avery Rose lingerie, yes.
BRADLEY: You have more like that?
CAMARO: Yes. Christmas presents from Jewel.
BRADLEY: Christmas present to me. FaceTime me. NOW!
CAMARO: No, Brad.
BRADLEY: Why not?
CAMARO: Seeing you. Hearing your voice. It’s only going to end one way. And I’m working. A potential legitimate job.
BRADLEY: Of course you are. You’re gorgeous.
CAMARO: A few test photos. In exchange for the designer’s dress.
BRADLEY: Okay. How about a photo for me?
My cell beeped. I glanced down, swiped the photo open, and groaned.
BRADLEY: Babe, I really wish you’d consider a little phone sex.
CAMARO: Gotta go.
I got no more beeps, just the hard pounding of my pulse roaring in my ears.
Rather than jack off in the car and get arrested, I jotted down some notes. A few phrases. As I did, the florist shop across the street caught my eye.
I got out of the car and headed over with my phone held to my ear. One idea led to another, a great one, I hoped.
Everything in my head and my heart right now was inspired by her.
Chapter 44
* * *
Camaro
Small black clutch on the leather seat beside me, I watched the lights go by outside the tinted window of the town car. But mostly, I thought about Brad.
When my cell beeped in my hand, I brought it up to read the text.
BRADLEY: Are you here yet?
“How much longer?” I asked the driver and saw his smirk in the rearview mirror. It wasn’t the first time I’d asked, or the first time Brad had texted.
“Google estimate is five more minutes, ma’am.”
My driver was a Southern boy earning extra income. He was polite and very cute with his red hair and lopsided smile. I didn’t think Brad would like him.
CAMARO: 5 minutes.
BRADLEY: I’m in the bar. Call when you pull up. I’ll come get you.
CAMARO: Okay.
I smiled at his response.
“Your guy likes you.”
I didn’t correct the driver. I was in Brad’s bed, and knew that while I was there, he was mine and I was his. My smile widened.
“He’s a lucky guy.”
“Thank you, Gilbert.” I knew for sure that Brad wouldn’t like him pointing that out.
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
I frowned as Gilbert turned the car down a familiar street. “Why are you turning here?”
“It’s the fastest route to the restaurant.”
“What restaurant is it?”
I hadn’t asked, and I should have.
“Giovanni’s.”
Oh shit. The best Italian restaurant on this side of town. Also, Chris’s favorite restaurant.
It’ll be okay.
I gripped my cell tighter and worried my bottom lip between my teeth. Chris couldn’t afford it anymore, not since drinking his way off the circuit. Chances were slim that either he or anyone else I knew from that time in my life would be there.
But worrying about it, I forgot Brad’s directive. I got out in front as Gilbert held open my door. Ducking under the green awning, I made my way inside and turned right at the hostess stand.
Sadly, I knew the way to the bar quite well. I’d dragged Chris out of it after separating him from one of his admirers plenty of times.
A quick scan reassured me that my ex wasn’t inside. The room was full of strangers, except for one familiar blond sitting on a stool at the bar.
Brad had his back to the room, but I could see his face reflected in the mirror. His head was down, the golden layers of his hair casting shadows into his eyes as he stared intently at his phone.
With his attention occupied, I was free to drink in the sight of him. Taking advantage of the opportunity, I
stared intently at him with my heart in my throat, and I knew. I knew in that moment, even before the bartender said something to him, pointed at me, and he turned around.
“Cam.” Brad breathed out my name like it was the answer to some wish.
For me, he was the answer, not just to a wish, but to the right one. A man who knew my mistakes and nearly everything about me, yet thought me worthy of his care and kindness.
I swallowed as he scanned me again, only this time slower.
“Wow,” he said, sliding off his stool and moving toward me. “You look incredible.”
“So do you.” His hair styled perfectly, he wore a black silk button-down and all-season charcoal slacks. Custom-made, the high-end clothing clung to his muscular frame. “Where’s your suit?”
“In the Z. I changed when I got here.”
He took my hands, brought them to his lips, and brushed a sweet kiss across the back of each one. Sweet, yes, but I immediately began to throb between my legs.
“You thinking about this morning?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.
“Oh yeah.”
“Better get you fed. If I keep staring at you, and we continue this line of conversation, I’m going to take you to the bathroom and fuck you.”
“You fed me something this morning.”
“Cam.” He growled out my name, glancing around, then leaned in close. “You look so pretty, but I just want to dirty you up.”
His warm breath stirred the fine tendrils of hair around my neck, and I leaned back, looking into his eyes. “I wore this dress, hoping for just this type of reaction. If you’re expecting me to stop you, that’s not going to happen.”
“I want you.”
“I want you too.”
“I thought about you all fucking day.”
“I thought about you too.”
“I’ve got it bad for you, Camaro Moltepulciano.”
I knew he didn’t mean anything by his choice of words, but they reminded me of a lie I’d been telling everyone, even him. The burden of it was heavy on my soul, and I suddenly didn’t feel so light anymore.
The Right Wish Page 24