by Dani Collins
“As was I, thinking he was worthy of mine.”
She sucked in a breath, proving he’d landed a jab as sharp as hers had been. He smiled despite experiencing no satisfaction.
“Good night, Cami.”
“Goodbye, Dante.” She hurried away, sexy boots leaping over puddles, graceful as a gazelle.
As he watched her retreat, skin so tight he could barely breathe, he acknowledged that he was rooting for her. He wanted, by some miracle, to hear that she had been trying to make some sort of restitution to him. It would make this lust so much more palatable.
Which was why he was so disappointed when the email came through in the morning, proving yet again that Fagans were liars.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND.” It was the understatement of the year. Of the decade. She couldn’t even comprehend what she was seeing. Her stomach had plummeted into her shoes along with her heart, her blood and her brain. Even her breaths felt like she had to draw them with great effort from the center of the earth.
She looked from Dante’s phone, to his remote expression, back to his phone. It still didn’t make sense.
“How can there be no record?”
He released a very quiet sigh. “You’ve taken this as far as it can go, Cami. It’s time to abandon this pretense of yours.” His gaze was flinty with warning. Dislike?
Her insides grew sharp and jagged. A sick feeling churned in the pit of her belly.
“It’s not a pretense!” It was a terrifying disaster.
Her heart picked itself up and began to run. Her mind whirled, trying to grasp at a course of action, but it was like trying to catch a snowflake, each one melting and disappearing on contact. This simply couldn’t be true. He was wrong. His accountant hadn’t looked hard enough.
“I need to talk to my bank,” she managed weakly, touching her temple and finding it clammy. Surely they would have a sensible explanation. Please, God.
“It’s Sunday.”
“I can’t wait to sort this out. It’s thousands of dollars missing!”
“Is that right?”
“Don’t be sarcastic!” It came out sharpened by the tears she was suppressing.
She had actually gone to sleep with a certain peace of mind, thinking she would finally be vindicated in his eyes. He would realize she wasn’t the lowest form of life, and maybe they could move forward from there, toward...she didn’t know what. Something she refused to imagine until it was possible, but it was beyond out of reach now. He still reviled her and, she suspected, thought even less of her for “lying” to him.
How could the money not be showing up in his account?
She had to tell Reeve. He had taken all the files last summer, when he’d been trying to get his student financing in place, to demonstrate need. They’d had a spat about it, actually. She hated anyone to know about their situation, feeling ashamed of it. He was incredibly bitter they were in this position at all—that she was. He couldn’t help her pay it down. He needed every spare cent for tuition and food. He kept saying they had paid enough, but she saw no other option.
She texted him with shaky hands, keeping it vague, just asking him to scan the most important documents, not saying anything about Dante’s accountant.
She wasn’t surprised when there was no response. Reeve often spent Sunday at the library or some other quiet location, catching up on assignments or reading.
When she lowered her phone, Dante lifted his brows in expectation.
“What? Oh, for heaven’s sake! You can’t expect me to go skiing.” She was having a crisis over here. And he hated her. He couldn’t possibly want to spend the day with her. She certainly couldn’t withstand hours of his derision.
“I don’t want to disappoint my grandmother.”
She opened her mouth, wanting to claim a need to visit the bank but then remembering it wasn’t open. She considered phoning the hotline, but doubted the after-hours customer service would be able to do anything. This felt like an in-person problem that would require an official ordering a proper investigation into her own records and the bank’s.
“I’m catching a bus in a couple of hours.”
“My grandmother invited you to travel with her to Vancouver tomorrow.”
“And where do you suggest I spend the night? I’m turning in my keys on my way out of here.” Her backpack was buttoned up, and she was wearing the same clothes she’d worn last night.
Dante lifted one corner of his mouth, as sexy as he was arrogant.
“With you?” Wicked temptation coiled through her, much to her chagrin. He knew it, too, which made it worse. “Please,” she dismissed in a scoff she wasn’t able to pull off. “I was not fishing for an invitation.”
His brows twitched in a silent, Sure you weren’t. “How much do you want?”
“To spend the night with you?” she nearly screeched.
“To play tour guide on the mountain,” he drawled, not bothering to hide the amusement crinkling his eyes. Those tiny lines were annoyingly attractive, making her wish she could prompt a smile that attractive without the mockery at her expense.
Awful man, twisting her up like this. “A thousand dollars,” she blurted.
“Done.”
“I was joking!”
“I wasn’t. Let’s go.” He jerked his head at the door.
“No.”
“You want to negotiate spending the night, as well?” His tone lowered to a velvety, lusty tenor that wrapped her in erotic bonds.
“Stop treating me like I can be bought.” Her voice was barely audible, not nearly as belligerent as she was going for. She was damned near pleading for him to show some mercy—which was futile.
His gaze dropped to the boots she was wearing.
She shifted her weight, unable to hide them. “These were a gift.”
“Ah.” So supercilious. “What sort of gift would you expect from me, then?”
“Respect?” she suggested sweetly.
He held his eyelids at a cool half-mast. “That’s something you earn.”
“And I would earn buckets by taking your money, wouldn’t I? As I told your grandmother last night, I teach kids to ski. One of their mothers gave me these. They weren’t from some random man I slept with. I don’t do that.”
His expression didn’t change. He said nothing, not even a skeptical, No?
She blushed, all too aware of how off the scale her reaction to him was and how it sent all the wrong messages. Maybe he had a reason to wonder about her, considering the way she’d behaved with him, but—Oh, damn him anyway.
“Can you get out of my life, please?” She swept the hair off her brow, aware she was trembling. Teary.
How could he not be getting her money?
He pushed his keys into his pocket with a quiet jangle, gaze so intense it just made her feel all the more fragile. It was a struggle to keep her lips steady.
“I want to believe you, Cami, I really do,” he said quietly. “But you can understand why I don’t. Can’t you?”
Her eyes grew hotter. “Can you understand that I’m freaking out, right now? I thought I was paying you back!” Her phone ought to be snapping in two. It was certainly going to leave a bruise across her palm where she was clutching it with all her strength.
His jaw hardened, and she heard a subtle exhale of tested patience.
Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, saw it was Reeve. “Hi,” she answered.
“What do you need those papers for? I thought you were on your way here.”
“I haven’t left yet.” She flicked a glance at Dante, certain he could hear her brother as clearly as she could.
“Good, because Seth’s brother just got here. I said you were coming, but if he could use the couch tonight—”
“That’s fine.” Cami tried not to wince. The suite belonged to Seth, so she couldn’t really take the sofa from his brother. “I can stay with Sharma.” Probably. “But can you send the scans? I don’t
want to wait.”
“I’m at the library. It’ll be a few hours before I’m home. Why? What’s up?”
“I want to check something at the bank in the morning,” she prevaricated, then hurried to forestall more questions. “I’ll text when I’m on my way. Happy studying. Eat a vegetable. Coffee beans don’t count.”
“If you were a science major, like me, you’d know different. Over ’n’ out.”
She ended the call and texted Sharma, then faced Dante again. Why was he even still giving her the time of day?
Oh, she had such a burning desire to prove herself to him. If she could just get him to believe this one thing... But what would it change? Her father’s betrayal still existed. Nothing could erase that, and it left her so exhausted inside, she wanted to cry.
“Now are you ready?” He moved to shoulder her backpack.
“You really insist on skiing?”
“I do.”
Was she rationalizing? Finding a reason to spend the day with him?
She was filling her day with the one thing guaranteed to work out her stress. That’s what she told herself as she closed her apartment for the last time and followed him out.
* * *
Cami certainly knew her way around the village, the hill and, most important, skis. He bought some, since he would be in town a few weeks.
She quizzed him thoroughly about his preferences and experience before recommending a pair, shrugging off her extensive knowledge of edges and bounce, wax and seasonal conditions in the area. “I’m a geek for this, what can I say?”
She disappeared while he was picking out ski pants and a pullover, leaving him mulling that she had nothing to gain from what she had just done except personal enjoyment. There was no attempt to earn a commission or his favor. It seemed an act of selflessness, which aligned with her acting so kindly toward his grandmother, but still went against his preconceived assumptions.
The way she had seemed genuinely alarmed over the missing money transfer was another puzzle piece that didn’t fit. He was trying to work out what she thought she could gain from such an outrageous lie when he met up with her at the lift line.
She wore rented skis and clothes he’d seen her pull out of her backpack, which she’d stored in the back of his SUV—a thin black turtleneck, skintight yoga pants and a lightweight red windbreaker. Sexy as hell.
His brain blanked, unable to think of anything else.
It didn’t help that in that moment the sun broke through the thin film of clouds, making her that much more incandescent with silvery streaks in her hair. She perched a pair of sunglasses on her nose and smiled with an excitement that was contagious and utterly entrancing.
“You said you like powder?”
It was why he’d wanted an early start. All that rain in the village last night was reputed to produce a foot of talcum-like snow at the top. Left to his own devices, he might have found a pocket or two, but Cami knew all the bowls and untracked slopes and the shortest distance between them.
He let her lead, and they roared down one untouched run after another. By the time the snow was growing heavy under the warmth of afternoon sun, he was pleasantly tired.
“Lunch?” It was closer to happy hour.
“I should take a break,” she agreed. “I haven’t skied that hard in ages.”
He frowned, realizing fine trembles were quivering through her. “You should have said you were getting tired.”
“Your grandmother wanted us to have fun,” she reminded. “I’ll take the beginner run to the lodge. You can take the diamond, if you like.”
“I’ll stay with you, but there’s a chalet midway, isn’t there? Let’s eat there.”
She nodded, and he followed at a distance so he could make sure she didn’t fall.
He’d watched her more than once today, convinced that at least her family’s reasons for going to Italy had been genuine. She wasn’t afraid of speed, and her turns were a thing of beauty, precise even now, when she was being lazy, playfully kicking up a spray of snow as she crisscrossed the slope.
She moved gingerly once they removed their skis and were shown to an outdoor table on the overlook, though.
Dante ordered white wine and shareable appetizers, then asked, “Have you pulled something?”
“Just an old break that wants to be babied.” She buried the response in her glass of water, gaze hidden behind her sunglasses. Then her nose turned to the stark white peaks jabbing at the intense blue sky. “That would make a nice backdrop for a selfie if you want one for your grandmother.”
He took out his phone and they moved to the rail. The view of rolling peaks gave a sense of being on top of the world.
They turned their backs to it and he flicked to his camera setting, looping his free arm around her. She stiffened and flashed a startled glance up at him, flushing with instant awareness.
The simmer of lust hadn’t abated in him. Her slender figure was undeniably feminine, yet strong and resilient. She smelled like wilderness and woman. The weight of her resting against him had his skin feeling too small to contain him.
As they held eye contact, and the pink in her cheeks deepened, the smolder inside him grew to an inferno, but there was more beneath the physical response. He was oddly pleased by this perfect day. Something like gratitude welled in him that she’d made it so enjoyable. He leaned in to kiss her, unable to resist.
She gasped and her mouth parted under his, receptive and delicious, clinging and encouraging, her hunger as depthless and instant as his own. As with the other two times, the match caught immediately. Passion flared so high and quick, it singed his brows.
With a tiny sob, she abruptly pulled her head back, lashes wet and blinking. “Please don’t.”
His blood drummed in his ears as he hovered inches from kissing her again, taking in the pang of her voice, nearly fearful, and the anguish in her wet lashes.
“I don’t know how to handle this,” she whispered. “Please don’t embarrass me in front of people just to prove you can.”
She wasn’t playing coy. Her distress was real and worked like a burr into his heart, prickly and uncomfortable. He did like knowing he provoked such an unfettered response in her, but he wasn’t trying to degrade her with it. He wanted to drown in it. With her.
She tried to slip away and he tightened his arm, snapping back to the business at hand. “Smile,” he said gruffly, hand not quite steady as he held up his phone.
She swallowed, lifted her sunglasses into her hair and swept a fingertip under each eye, then tilted her face up to the screen. “Turn it to video.”
He did and she smiled, fresh-faced and beaming with natural beauty, yet so unguarded, it caused an unsteadiness in his chest.
“Thank you, Bernadetta. We’ve had a wonderful day.” Her voice was husky, and she blew a kiss with a hand that trembled.
“Grazij, Noni,” he said, arm tightening around Cami in an impulse to protect and reassure. He wanted to insist he would never hurt her, but he already had.
The fist clenched with righteousness inside him gave a twist of guilt. He kept his turmoil from his expression as he scanned to capture the view behind them before ending the recording.
“Grazij, Cami,” he said as he released her to send the clip.
“I enjoyed it.” She flashed him a look of lingering vulnerability, then moved to their table, seeming to deliberately look for a more neutral conversation as she commented, “It’s nice that you’re so close to her. My grandparents were gone before I was old enough to remember them.”
Their wine had been delivered. They sat, clinked, sipped and sighed.
“It’s too bad she isn’t seeing more of the area.” Her sunglasses were still on her hair, leaving her serene, sun-kissed expression wide open for his admiration. She looked across the view the way he looked across the vineyard at home. Like it brought her peace. Restored her.
For one second, he wondered if he could blame Stephen for indulging her, if mo
untaintops were where she belonged. He shook off the damaging thought, saying, “She was here with my grandfather years ago. Nostalgia brought her. I think she’s disappointed by the signs of progress. She prefers to stay in her hotel room where she can pretend he just popped out for ice.”
The signs of age in her were eating at him.
“They traveled extensively when my grandfather was building their fortune. When she heard we’d bought property here and said she’d like to see it, I thought it was a resurgence of her old travel bug, but it’s more about revisiting a place she enjoyed with my grandfather. That’s why she walked to the Tabor the other day. I arranged a car, but she preferred memory lane. Last night at dinner was the first time she’s talked about anything but being here with him. I don’t mind. She’s telling me stories I’ve never heard, but it’s made me realize how much she misses him.”
It made him realize how much he’d been in his own world, concentrating on work at the expense of spending time with her.
“How long were they married?”
“Almost fifty years.”
“Amazing.” Her gaze eased into wistfulness that faded to melancholy. “It must have been so hard for her to lose him.”
“It was.”
“You must have been very close to him, too. You said you lived with them after your parents died? How old were you?”
“Eight.” He scratched his cheek, becoming aware he was sharing far more than he meant to. He took a sip of wine.
“So young.” She frowned, introspective. “But there’s no good age, is there?” The empathy in her gaze dropped the bottom out of his heart. How had they come to get so personal? “Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“No.” He had to clear his throat. The abandonment instilled by his parents’ death had been unbearable, making him wish for siblings at the time, but it was a very long time ago. His grandfather’s loss had hit him hard, though, stirring up his sense of being adrift. Losing his grandmother would be the same grief all over again, which was why he couldn’t bear to contemplate it.