His deep grin revealed a wealth of charm and matching dimples in each cheek. A rich boy who was used to getting whatever he wanted. “I did my share of bartending back in college.”
“Oh, really?” Camilla took a small sip of the amber liquid in an effort to hide her curiosity. She was here to meet potential investors, after all. If he had experience in the service industry, he might be interested in her ideas about opening her restaurant. “Was it at a chain restaurant or a dive bar or—”
His soft chuckle cut her off. “No, not professionally or anything like that. I usually only manned the bar at our fraternity parties. I can mix a mean sangria, though.”
Of course the heir to the Taylor fortune hadn’t actually had to work for a living in college. Camilla took another sip and felt both the alcohol and the disappointment burn down her throat. Yet she’d had enough experience in the service industry that she knew how to paste on her own charming smile. “I’m sure all those sorority sisters loved your sangria.”
“Just between me and you...” He leaned in closer, and Camilla felt a heat spread through her. It must be the Scotch. “Being the bartender was actually my trick to avoid the sorority girls. Or at least avoiding them on the dance floor.”
The band’s lead singer directed everyone to go check out the silent auction items before launching into the appropriately titled Pink Floyd classic “Money.”
As partygoers wandered away from the dance floor to hopefully spend their cash on things they didn’t need, Jordan surprised her by asking, “How’s your father?”
“My father?” How did Jordan Taylor know Camilla’s father? Aaron Sanchez had worked at the only post office in Bronco for the past thirty or so years. But Jordan didn’t look like the type of guy who trekked into town every day to pick up his own mail. He probably had a slew of employees who did that for him. “He’s fine?”
“I heard he had surgery last month,” he said, and Camilla tried not to stare at the tan column of his neck as he tilted his head back and swallowed the contents of his glass. “My assistant sent something. A wine basket, I believe.”
“A wine basket?” Camilla repeated, then shook her head to clear it. A few neighbors had dropped off casseroles, but she was pretty sure she would’ve remembered if her dad had gotten a wine basket after his bunion surgery. Especially one from the Taylors.
“Speaking of fathers,” Jordan continued. “I believe my dad mentioned something about you and your family expanding your business ventures to Bronco Heights.”
Camilla’s hand flew to her chest. How did he already know that? Did they vet all the guests ahead of time? And expanding their business ventures was a lofty way to put it. Her mom managed a somewhat upscale beauty salon, but that was pretty much the extent of the Sanchezes’ global enterprises. She cleared her throat. “Well, the restaurant I’m planning to open is more of my venture than my family’s. I mean, obviously, they’ll support me in any way they can, but I’m actually looking for outside investors.”
As soon as she said the words outside investors, Jordan’s eyes veered away from her as though he’d caught a glance of something more interesting. Great. She was already boring him. At least he was polite enough to ask, “What kind of restaurant?”
“Well, Mexican food primarily, but not Tex Mex. I’ve got a ton of my grandmother’s old recipes, although I’m not actually a trained chef. I’d have to hire someone to run the kitchen, but I have a ton of experience with running everything else in a restaurant.” Camilla had practiced the sales pitch several times in the mirror before coming tonight. However, now that she was standing in front of one of the wealthiest—and best-looking—men in Montana, she was getting it all wrong.
She exhaled. It wasn’t as though Jordan was particularly paying attention to her right that second anyhow. His gaze seemed to be focused on a very pretty and very pregnant woman on the other side of the dance floor.
“Did you need to go talk to her?” Camilla offered the same pleasant smile she would use when asking a customer if she could bring him the check.
“Uh, no.” Jordan’s head whipped back in Camilla’s direction. “Erica is friends with my sister and I was just thinking that Daphne would be happy to see a familiar face.”
“Oh, so she’s a family friend?” Camilla asked, knowing that it really wasn’t any of her business if he was staring at every single woman at the gala. A guy like Jordan Taylor didn’t get a nickname like Rancher Most Wanted because he could focus all his attention on only one female. He oozed charm and even if she wasn’t already familiar with his reputation, Camilla had dated enough good-looking guys to know a player when she met one.
“Well, our families go way back,” he replied. Then he surprised her by admitting, “Erica and I actually went out on a few dates one summer when I was home from college, mostly to appease our parents. She moved back to Bronco recently, and even though I’ve seen her a handful of times since then, it’s still weird seeing kids I grew up with come back to town as grown-up adults with these totally different lives.”
His sentimental words settled deep into Camilla’s chest, and something about Jordan’s eyes made her momentarily doubt all the rumors she’d ever heard about him. But only momentarily.
“I get that.” She nodded. “Every time one of my friends gets married or has a baby, I feel as though I’m standing still while everyone else is moving ahead.”
“Exactly!” Jordan lifted the bottle of Scotch as though in a mock salute. “If you’re not settled down and starting a family by age thirty, society begins to think there’s something wrong with you.”
Her eyes traced down his broad shoulders and lean waist in that custom-made tuxedo.
“I seriously doubt that anybody thinks there is something wrong with you.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Camilla sucked in a breath and prayed he hadn’t heard her over the opening strains of the band’s next song.
Unfortunately, his knowing smile told her otherwise. “Coming from the most beautiful woman in the room tonight, I’ll defer to your judgment on the subject.”
A flush of heat stole up her neck and face. Her mother had insisted on doing Camilla’s hair and makeup before the party, and now she hoped the pricey bronzer on her cheeks hid her embarrassment. “Oh, I don’t know if it’s my expertise that you’d want. I’m afraid I’m in the same boat as you when it comes to settling down. It seems like there’s so much to do before I can even think about going along that same path as everyone else.”
He lifted his dark eyebrows and Camilla was about to artfully bring the conversation back to her restaurant. But before she could bring up potential investors again, he asked her a question. “You know this song?”
Camilla was surprised the band had moved on from 1980s hits and was now covering a Bruno Mars song, yet her hips naturally moved along to the thrumming hip-hop beat. “It’s one of my favorites.”
“Mine, too.” He downed the rest of his drink before gesturing toward the parquet floor that must’ve cost thousands of dollars to rent in order to cover the expanse of grass inside the heated tent. “Let’s go out there and show everyone that we’ve got a lot of living left to do before we settle down.”
The fast-paced song meant that no touching was required, but that didn’t stop Camilla’s body from reacting to the way Jordan moved. Or to the way he watched her as she threw back her shoulders, dipped her knees and rolled her hips to the beat. It was as though someone had tied a string around both of their waists, connecting them by a thin thread that they couldn’t break.
A second song started, this one by Beyoncé, and even more people poured onto the dance floor. The chemistry between her and Jordan must’ve been obvious to everyone else, because even with the crowd jockeying for position around them, the other partygoers gave them their space. The heart-pounding music threatened to take over her body and her judgment, and Camilla had to keep danci
ng just to keep from drowning in his chocolate-brown eyes. The very same eyes that made her feel as if she were the only woman here with him.
Despite knowing his reputation, by the third song, she finally succumbed to the thrill that Bronco Heights’ most eligible bachelor had chosen her as his dance partner. At some point, Jordan had shrugged out of his jacket and Camilla had to make a concerted effort to keep her focus above his chest. Speaking of chests, she needed to be sure that the double-sided tape keeping her plunging neckline in place didn’t slip and cause a wardrobe malfunction.
Earlier in the day, she’d expressed that same concern to her sister Sofia, a stylist at a fashionable boutique in Bronco Heights who had loaned her the ball gown. Sofia had assured her that everyone at the gala would be standing around networking and complimenting each other on their substantial donations to charity. Nobody would be hopping around on the dance floor like a bunch of teenagers at their high school prom. Camilla couldn’t wait to tell her little sister how wrong she’d been.
She attempted a casual dance move that simultaneously allowed her to adjust the narrow strips of sequined fabric covering her breasts, yet she only succeeded in drawing Jordan’s eyes to that exact spot. When the tempo quickly changed to a slow song, it seemed only natural for him to pull her into his arms.
The warm fabric of his starched white dress shirt pressed against Camilla’s flushed skin and she slid her own arms around his neck, her face turning toward the sleekly knotted black tie at his throat. Lord help her, she thought as she inhaled the musky scent of cedar wood and damp skin. The man smelled even better than he danced.
Her heart pulsed behind her rib cage as Jordan’s fingers carelessly traced circles along her lower spine. Or maybe his fingers weren’t careless at all, but very, very methodical. Don’t think about how perfectly you fit against him, she commanded herself. Just enjoy the moment. When was the last time she’d been out dancing? Her cousin Bianca’s wedding, maybe? Surely, way before she’d picked up those extra waitressing shifts. Usually, her already exhausted feet were much too tired to do more than hold her upright in a steamy shower at the end of a long day.
“Hey, Camilla!” DJ Traub, the owner of DJ’s Deluxe, interrupted her romantic thoughts. Her boss had maneuvered his wife beside them on the dance floor. “Have you mentioned your restaurant idea to Jordan yet?”
The man’s reminder was as subtle as a dropped tray of dishes. She was here to find investors, not to be seduced by the town’s most infamous bachelor.
Jordan pulled back, but only slightly, keeping his gaze locked on her as he spoke to the other man. “Camilla and I spoke briefly about it. Although we haven’t negotiated whether Taylor Beef will be one of her main suppliers.” He looked into her upturned face. “Maybe we should go sample some of the product?”
A ripple of anticipation zipped through her. Was he serious? She was still in the early stages of finding investors, yet Jordan was already miles ahead of her, talking about food suppliers. Sure, he might be a savvy businessman and probably easily navigated his way through many deals. But would he really be laying on this much charm to negotiate a deal if he didn’t believe in her restaurant?
Trying to get her head back in the game, Camilla allowed him to lead her to one of the food stations, where they were serving bite-sized beef Wellington pastries and prime rib sliders. The scent of the garlicky horseradish sauce helped clear her sinuses and her mind.
“Sounds like you’re not going to have any problem getting your restaurant up and running if you’ve already got DJ Traub talking about it.” Jordan handed her a small appetizer plate and his fingers brushed against hers.
That anticipatory thrill shot through Camilla again, but this time it wasn’t just because of Jordan’s nearness. DJ wasn’t only her boss, he was one of the best known restaurateurs in Montana. He’d known that by bringing Camilla to this fundraiser as his guest, he was all but assuring the public of his faith in her. Now it was time for her to do her part and seal the deal.
Camilla took a deep breath. “You know, I put together a financial proposal if you’d be interested in reviewing it.”
“I’d love to review it.” Jordan smiled again and Camilla’s legs turned to jelly. “Just as long as we’re clear that I’d be looking at it as a friend, not as an investor.”
“Oh.” Camilla tightened her spine to keep her shoulders from sagging with disappointment.
Jordan put a finger under her chin, forcing her to meet his direct stare. “Camilla, I never mix business with pleasure. If we were to work together, then we couldn’t dance together like that again. And I really, really enjoy dancing with you.”
“Thank you.” One of her eyebrows lifted slightly. “I think.”
“But I can introduce you to one of my uncles. His daughter did a semester abroad in Mexico City a few years ago and is still talking about the lack of good authentic food in Bronco.” Jordan put two sliders on her plate, added several savory puffed pastries, then loaded them both down with skewers of tender marinated steak and a yogurt cucumber dipping sauce. “Let’s grab another drink and maybe one or two more dances, and then we can go find my Uncle Thaddeus and maybe talk to a couple of my business associates.”
Camilla followed him as he cut a path to one of the bars set up on the perimeter of the massive tent. Part of her had been hoping that having Jordan investing in her restaurant would be a quick and easy solution. The other part of her was trying to tell her giddy nerves that he was right and there was no way they could be business partners considering how her body reacted to his on the dance floor. Besides, she’d known that she wasn’t going to hook an investor at her very first event. She was supposed to be meeting people and mingling tonight, networking and forming her own connections.
This time, instead of offering her a bottle of Scotch, Jordan stood back while she ordered a spicy jalapeno mojito from the bartender. They ate, they laughed and they tried each other’s drinks. Then they ate a little more. It was almost easier being around Jordan now that Camilla didn’t have to impress him—at least not in the business sense.
The only awkward moment came when Cornelius Taylor took the microphone to announce how much money they’d raised so far tonight. It was an obscene amount that none of the local community fundraisers she’d volunteered for ever brought in. She wanted to ask Jordan which local charities would be getting the proceeds from tonight, but she’d noticed the firm set of his jaw while his father was on stage and decided not to dip her toe into those tense waters.
When a country-and-Western song came on afterward, Jordan quickly pulled her onto the dance floor to teach her how to two-step. “Cha Cha Slide” came on next, and it was her turn to teach him how to do a line dance. His feet went to the left and his arms went to the right, and when it came time to hop five times, Camilla had never laughed so hard in her life.
Another slow song started and when he pulled her close a second time, Camilla realized that she never wanted tonight to end. As soon as the thought popped into her mind, another couple bumped into them.
It was Erica Abernathy Dalton, her face completely drained of color. “I think I’m going to have a baby.”
Chapter Two
Camilla felt Jordan’s hand squeeze her waist before he dropped his arm. “I’m going to call an ambulance. Would you mind staying with them?”
“Of course,” she replied, sliding closer to Erica and helping the pregnant woman’s husband lead her off the dance floor.
Camilla had never actually witnessed a birth—not even on an online video. She prayed that tonight wasn’t yet another first for her. Camilla hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d told Jordan that she’d had no desire to follow in any of her friends’ footsteps and get married or have kids anytime soon. This all looked way too painful and complicated.
“Should you sit down?” she asked Erica, whose mouth was in a perfect circle and puffing out sh
ort bursts of air.
“No. The contraction is easing up now.” Erica whistled air through gritted teeth. Erica’s husband—Camilla thought she’d heard someone call him Morgan—asked people to clear out of the way so they could get through to the tent opening.
Several other people crowded around the laboring woman, wanting to offer any help they could. The band stopped playing and more and more guests became curious about what was going on.
“The ambulance is on its way.” Jordan returned with his cell phone pressed against his ear. “How far apart are the contractions?”
Erica was now seated on one of the chairs and as more bystanders arrived, Camilla was slowly edged out of the way. And really, it was just as well. She didn’t know these people and she certainly didn’t know a thing about delivering babies. There wasn’t anything she could do but get in the way.
Jordan, though, had sprung into action, directing both the staff and the guests. First he ordered people to give Erica space. Then he told some random guy in a bright blue tuxedo to fetch a glass of water before instructing the security guards to ensure the long driveway was cleared for the ambulance’s arrival. His take-charge attitude was quite the reversal of his earlier laid-back mood, and Camilla almost wanted to stay just so she could watch him in action.
Really, though, there was no point in her staying. Not only would Jordan be preoccupied for the rest of the night, it wasn’t as though Camilla could walk up and introduce herself to Jordan’s Uncle Thaddeus or any of the Taylor cousins to discuss her business model while one of the guests was currently in labor. Besides, Camilla had already gotten what she came for—some buzzing interest about her up-and-coming restaurant and even some tips about possible investors.
It was probably best to leave now with the success of the evening still glowing inside her. Camilla grabbed her faux fur stole and purse from her assigned table, and had just handed her ticket to the valet parking attendant when Jordan caught up with her.
His Christmas Cinderella Page 2