Cameron shot her mother a look over the bowl she'd been working in, dicing butter and mixing it with herbs and spices that filled the kitchen with fragrance. Popping the bowl into the microwave and setting the time, she turned back to the other women, passing her gaze between her mother and her soon-to-be sister-in-law.
"What exactly do you two think you're pulling?" she demanded, fighting a grin as she settled her hands around her hips. Raising an eyebrow, she took in the too-innocent faces on the other side of the bar. "The personal touch? For goodness' sake."
"Well, I did always prefer the, ahem, the personal touch, myself," Eva chuckled into her wine.
"How many glasses of that have you had?!" Cameron exclaimed, making a show of lifting the wine bottle. She winked one deep brown eye, bringing the other close to the mouth of the bottle and peering inside. Satisfied that the bottle wasn't empty, she thumped it back onto the bar and whirled on Cass.
A grin twitched at her lips, ruining her stern tone as she asked, "Cassaundra Keaton, what have you done to my mother?"
"Well, Cameron," Eva said dryly, her eyes still twinkling. "You can't hide from men forever." She turned her gaze to Cass. "I think we're caught, dear. So now that we're out in the open, tell me about this man."
"Well, he's emotionally available to begin with," Cass said, shooting a quick wink toward Cameron, who rolled her eyes with a groan.
"Good grief. They all are, when they want under your skirt," Cameron grumbled, turning away to hide the grin she couldn't hold back. Blowing out an exasperated breath, she muttered, "Emotionally available. My ass."
"Ohh, does he like ass?" Eva asked, teasing. "Or is he a leg man?"
"You know," Cass laughed, gesturing toward Cameron with her wine. "Maybe Cam can ask when she goes to see him. You know, since I've hired her to make my day perfect and all, and I do so want Mac to be there. I think that's part of the whole wedding planner package, right Eva?"
Cameron spun on her heels, her eyes flaring, her cheeks flaming. "You two are shameless. Like I'm some dandy princess being sold off in an arranged marriage."
"Oh darling, you know we don't do arranged marriage," Eva laughed. "But do remember to wash that bit of flour off your cheek before you go and meet this man, please. And put some lipstick on, Cameron, make your mother proud."
Fighting back the urge to laugh, Cameron heaved an exasperated sigh. "I hope the rolls burn while I'm gone," she grumbled, lifting her jacket from the counter and stalking out of the kitchen, the slam of the front door drowned out by the laughter in the kitchen.
***
"I can't believe I'm seriously doing this," Cameron grumbled to herself. "I am going to kill those two for this. And what the heck am I supposed to do if he asks me out or something?" She checked the address on the card she'd gotten from Cass, part of her hoping that she'd somehow gotten it wrong.
No such luck, the numbers on the card matched the numbers on the building. Cameron sighed; she'd been neatly trapped into what would most likely end up feeling like an awkward blind date.
"Well aren't you just full of yourself, then," she continued grumbling, flipping down the visor to check herself in the mirror. She ran her fingers quickly through the spill of dark curls that refused to be controlled, smeared some lipstick over her mouth and checked the eyeliner she never left the house without.
"Not like anything will happen anyway. I'm gorgeous, it's plain to see. So why aren't men falling all over me like everyone always says they should be? Then again, it's all for the best anyway. Men suck." She left her jacket in a bundle on the seat, pocketed her keys, and left the car.
By the time she made it through the parking lot, though, a wind had picked up, tossing her curls into an insane mess, tendrils sticking to the lipstick she'd put on, flying into her eyes to make them water. Frustrated, she shoved her hair back and gave herself a stern mental lecture for making something so big out of a simple invitation.
Walking through the door to the office, Cameron was instantly greeted with a soft and quiet atmosphere, the scent of apple pie, and a grandmotherly woman who popped her gray head into view. Her blue eyes twinkled and then she smiled; the smile was gentle, wrinkling her face, softening her, aging her in a way that pulled at Cameron.
"Hi," she said, smiling back at the old woman and reaching out her hand. "I'm looking for Mackenzie Caswell?"
"Are you a patient, dear?" the old woman asked, taking her hand gently and then releasing it.
"No ma'am," Cameron answered, the steadiness of the old woman's gaze making her nervous. "Cassaundra Keaton sent me here to speak with Dr. Caswell, to --"
"Oh, honey, is she alright? That dear girl," the woman said, her voice trailing off as she waited for Cameron to respond.
"Cass is fine, ma’am; she’s just fine," Cameron said, smiling. The older woman’s concern was adorable.
"Caswell," the woman answered. "Marie Caswell. Mackenzie is my son."
"Oh," Cameron murmured, her face heating. Hoping it didn't show any blush at this new information, she stepped up back a bit and said, "I actually came here as her wedding planner. She and Drew have decided to invite Mr. Caswell to attend their wedding, as this office holds some significance for both of them. I'm wondering if I could just have a few minutes of his time?"
"Why, honey, he's alone in there right now, had a cancellation this afternoon. You can go right in, just there," Marie chuckled, waving a hand to indicate a door off to the side of the waiting area.
"Thank you," Cameron said, turning to cross the room. "How convenient, a cancellation," she muttered to herself. She knocked lightly on the door, twisted the handle, and entered his office.
He was behind the desk, reading, so engrossed that he didn't notice her coming in at first. The lights in the room were low, and he was sitting in a circle of light provided by a small but powerful lamp on his desk. On the walls, lighted paintings gave the room ambiance and a sense of comfort. This room was obviously meant to be a sanctuary for his patients.
He sat hunched over his desk, one hand in his short dark, the other idly thumbing the corners of the book pages. His shoulders were strong and round, impossibly broad, but not overly large.
Cameron cleared her throat softly, causing him to raise unbelievably stark blue eyes in her direction. Without realizing it, Cameron stepped back slightly, her body reacting to him in ways that no man had garnered in years. A decade of protective fear faded away, leaving her vulnerably aware of his presence. His jaw was straight, his lips round and kissable. She felt her face flame, helpless to speak under his scrutiny, afraid she'd say something idiotic that would betray her self-imposed lack of real experience.
"Can I help you?" he asked, rising and walking toward her. The muscles of her stomach clenched, and she swallowed, pulling herself together.
"I'm Cameron Kingsley," she blurted, sticking her arm out to offer her hand. He took it, gently, holding on as he stepped closer. Cameron was suddenly surrounded by the scent of him, spicy and clean, fresh and crisp.
"Hello, Cameron Kingsley," he said gently, grinning. His cheeks were textured with faint stubble and when he smiled, dimples appeared in his cheeks, dimples that made warmth settle shockingly in her panties.
"Ahem," Cameron cleared her throat. So much for not looking like an idiot. "My brother Drew was a patient of yours?" Watching his face immediately close up, watching his eyes cloud, Cameron felt an immediate respect for him. Had she come here for information, she'd have left with nothing. He held his patients' privacy close, then.
"Cameron, what can I do for you?" he asked, still holding her hand in his. Tossing off all the dirty answers that immediately came to mind, Cameron cleared her throat again.
"I've been asked to invite you to his wedding," she said, trying to slip her hand from his. He tightened his grasp slightly, preventing her, and then released her hand, grinning as if he'd just heard a secret. Cameron fought off the urge to dip her tongue into the sexy dimple beside his mouth, taking a step
back and pulling herself to her full height. She brought her eyes to his, surprised at the jolt she felt.
"Is it important to him?" he asked. "Is it important to him that I come?"
"It is important enough to Cass that she sent me here personally to ask," Cameron said, her nerves jangling at his proximity.
"In that case, I'll go," he murmured. "And now I'll return the invite. Come to dinner with me."
“What if I’m seeing someone?” Cameron countered, cocking a hip out and propping her thumbs in the pockets of her jeans.
“What if you aren’t?” he said, answering her question with one of his own.
"I don't even know you!" Cameron exclaimed, fighting the instant desire to say yes. This reaction was so unusual for her, so out of place in her life. She didn't have time to get starry-eyed over some stranger, some sexy man on the outskirts of her family circle. She didn't have time for personal involvement. She didn't have time for the inevitable heartbreak.
"I believe that's the point of the dinner, Ms. Kingsley," he teased, the dimples appearing in his cheeks again. "You ask me questions, I answer them. I ask you questions, you answer them. We fascinate each other, I drive you home, and you tell me you had a fabulous time. I kiss your cheek, you wish you'd had the courage to turn your lips, and then I call you the next day because I'm still thinking of you and I want a second chance to impress you."
"I see. All planned out then, is it?"
"That depends," he challenged her, lifting his eyebrow and watching her closely. "Are you in?"
Cameron debated telling him no, but she had to admit to herself that she'd been hungry for something more in her life lately, something new, something interesting. She'd been longing for something exciting, and there was a nagging fear growing deep in her heart that she would never find love. And staring her in the face, with sexy blue eyes and deliciously rough stubble, was a man offering her a shot at something new.
"I'm in," she said.
Chapter Two
Slicking a neutral lipstick over her mouth, Cameron checked her hair one last time and glanced at her watch. It was almost time for her date, and she was more nervous than she'd been in months. She had to admit though, she was wildly grateful for Mac's easy acceptance when she'd suggested meeting him at the diner instead of letting him pick her up.
"Well, it's now or never," she whispered to herself. "Can you do this?" Closing her eyes, Cameron leaned back in her seat, letting her head fall gently back against the firm cushion of the car's headrest.
"It's not like before," she whispered. "And he can't pay for the past. He shouldn’t have to." Cameron opened her eyes, blinking quickly to fight off the glare of the late afternoon sun. Gasping, she leaned forward, bracing her hands on the steering wheel. Her mouth fell open, and she felt completely frozen.
In front of her was a sexy, well-built man, in a black leather jacket and jeans that were worn and frayed. Her fingers itched, watching him; she knew the denim would be soft to the touch; the leather of his jacket would be a sweet textural mix of smooth and rough. There was a peek of darkness below the neckline of his helmet, but his face was shielded. He wore heavy black work boots, and Cameron chewed her lip, allowing herself to imagine the thud they would make if he took them off and dropped them heavily to the floor. Which was odd, because Cameron very rarely allowed herself to fantasize, considering her past.
"Oh my goodness, like you haven’t learned enough yet. You are a tramp, Cameron Kingsley. You are a flat-out, full-on tramp. On the inside, at least. But jeez, you don’t even know that guy! You're here on a date for crying out loud, with a sweetheart of a man who wears button-down shirts and straightens out messed up heads for --" Her voice broke off as the temptation in front of her finally straightened and removed the helmet.
"Oh my God. Mac," she whispered. “That’s Mac. It’s Mac on a motorcycle. With ripped jeans and a leather jacket and oh dear God he's seen me." Cameron hurriedly looked away, stuffing her cell phone and keys into her handbag and scrambling to get out of the car as he approached.
"Hey, pretty lady. Let me buy you a drink," he laughed, stepping close and offering his hand. He leaned to grasp her arm, in an effort to steady her when she bumped her head getting out of the car. Cameron felt her face flood with heat, the bare skin of her forearm hot under the touch of his hand.
"I seem to have had enough to drink," Cameron joked. "I can't even get out of my car."
"Good thing I'm here then," Mac answered, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. The contrast between his gentlemanly gesture and his bad-boy look was a delicious contradiction, and Cameron looked up, meeting his eyes.
"You're here to rescue me from my own clumsiness, are you?" she asked, grinning. Her breath caught, realizing how close he'd brought them, realizing that the wave of heat she was now feeling was radiating out of his body, a soap-and-wind scented heat that she wanted to lean into and drink up until it flamed, blazing them both into oblivion.
He could see his impact on her; he grinned slightly to himself, his dimples flickering into sight and then vanishing. "Well, I may not look the part when I've been riding, but I know how to deal with clumsy beauties such as yourself," he teased, wiggling a darkly arched eyebrow at her.
"Mmhmm, and how is that?" Cameron asked trying not to stiffen against his touch, allowing him to lead her through the parking lot and toward the diner.
"Well, I hold them up when they need it," he laughed. "Just like mama taught me." He winked, dropping her hand from his arm and swinging it over her head to hold the door open for her.
"I see. A pillar of strength then, are you?" Cameron laughed back, straightening dramatically and turning her nose into the air, grateful for a second to step out of his grasp.
"It's how I manage to work in my field," he said, sobering. He stood, waiting for her to tuck herself into a booth, and then he slid in across from her and moved his packet of silverware to the side. Cameron mimicked his actions unconsciously, watching his shoulders and chest work as he slipped his jacket off and tucked it down beside him in the booth. Licking her lips, she feigned interest in the menu, desperately trying not to stare at the way his t-shirt clung to him. After what she’d been through, she should know better than to get heated over such an obviously powerful figure.
"Do you like your work?" she asked, struggling to control her focus, gripping the menu in both hands and ignoring the desire to reach out and touch him.
"I do," he answered. "It makes me feel useful."
"Really?" Cameron asked, her eyes rising to meet his and getting lost in the sea of blue. He stared back for a while, and when his eyes fell to her lips, her breath caught in her chest. She lowered her eyes, breaking the moment, her face flaming with the conviction that he could read her thoughts.
"Yes," he murmured, his voice low and a little thick. They stilled, looking at each other as a waiter approached their table. Mac nodded, and the boy filled both coffee cups, raising his blonde eyebrow as he asked for their order. Mac spoke clearly to the boy, giving a simple order and a friendly dismissal.
"Two burgers and fries, the works," the young man muttered to himself, scribbling their order as he walked away. Mac cleared his throat and looked to Cameron.
"So, you feel useful," she prompted.
"Right," he murmured, and went on. "Anyway, it's a nice feeling, going to work every day and having people come to me with things that they feel helpless about. I like showing them how to find their way, in their own way."
"Well, you make it sound good, when you say it like that. Interesting. Tempting, even. Do you feel good at it?"
"My wife always said it was my best quality," he answered, his eyes rising to capture hers again when he felt her stiffen. "Before she died." He waited, watching, his eyes clouded. He looked almost as if he expected her to jump up and run screaming from the diner.
Cameron watched him silently, trying to read his face, his body language. He'd tensed too, clearly a little afraid of what sh
e might say or do. It made Cameron wonder how many dates had run out on him before.
"What happened to your wife?" she asked.
"Alexandra had a brain tumor." He said it matter-of-factly, his voice gruff, the sharp blue of his eyes flicking up to her dark gaze and then dropping away again. "I don't usually bring her up on a first date. She just popped out," he muttered, shaking his head as if in annoyance.
"I'm really sorry to hear that you lost your wife, Mac," Cameron said, reaching out and briefly touching his arm, pulling her hand back. He stopped her from retreating, turning his arm to catch her fingers with his.
"Don't be. I don't want her to be my first-date sob story," he said gruffly, his mouth tightening. Cameron stiffened, tugging her fingers, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Guilt flashed in his eyes; he closed them, and his wide chest swelled with the breath he took.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I just --"
Prescription For Love (The Kingsley Series) Page 5