by Kendall Ryan
Camryn doesn’t press me; she just takes another sip of her cocktail.
“Do you want kids someday?” she asks.
I rub the back of my neck. With kids comes a total life change. And until now, my life has been about me. Pursuing my career and the self-interests that bring me pleasure. Though I suppose when I get married, that will have to change too.
“Not sure. You?”
She smiles. “I do, actually. I’d like at least one. A little mini-me, someone to be my best friend.”
I can picture Camryn as a mother. She’d be one of those effortlessly cool mums. Not one of those with a gigantic diaper bag, mom jeans, and a permanent look of worry etched into her features. She’d make it fun. I have no doubt about that.
“I don’t have any siblings,” she continues. “So I guess I like the idea of building my own squad.” She giggles, and I wonder if the champagne cocktail she finished has gone to her head.
I signal the waitress, ordering another for her.
“That’s something you and I have in common. Only child,” I say, motioning to myself.
She meets my eyes, studying me carefully.
The idea of family is something I hold dear, and there’s something inside me that warms at hearing her say she wants to build a family. When my own happy family was split apart, I pretty much gave up all interest in the idea, but I’m starting to realize that with the right person by your side, anything is possible.
Camryn’s gaze drifts to the dance floor, which on a weeknight isn’t being used, but a group of girls in short cocktail dresses linger near the edge. I’ve paid them no mind, but it’s been hard to ignore the fact that they keep looking in our direction.
“They’re wondering what a man like you is doing with a girl like me,” Camryn says, her voice uncharacteristically soft.
“What do you mean by that?” If she’s going to put herself down, I’ll have something to say about that.
She shrugs. “It’s fine. I’m not bothered by it. You’re attractive, and they’re interested. Simple as that.” She grabs her fresh drink, slowly draining it all, and I get the sense that she’s embarrassed.
“Fuck that.” I rise to my feet. “Come on.”
Chapter Nine
Camryn
I’m out with Sterling at the rooftop bar I suggested we meet at tonight. And though I try to ignore it, I can’t pretend the women ogling him don’t exist. He’s tall, deliciously attractive, and his commanding presence coupled with his British accent make him a magnet for women. That’s a fact.
I just didn’t expect it to bother me. I’m his matchmaker. He and I aren’t here on a date.
“Where are we going?”
“Out of here,” is all he says.
He grabs my hand, and as we pass, it’s impossible to ignore the group of girls giving me a death stare. His grip on my hand is tight, certain, as though he’s not planning to let go anytime soon.
When we stop on the street with cars and taxis zooming past, Sterling still hasn’t let go of my hand.
“Don’t let those girls bother you.” His tone is uncharacteristically soft.
I shake my head. “I’m a big girl, Sterling. I can handle the truth. Honestly, I’m fine.”
“You may not realize this, sweetheart, but once upon a time, I wanted to hook up with you.”
He takes a step forward and my heart lurches. Unsure what to do with this information, I chew on my lip.
“And you don’t anymore.” I place my hands on my hips and watch him.
He pushes his hands into his hair, looking eager, yet unsure. “I’d bend you over this rubbish bin right now if you’d let me.”
At this, I crack up laughing. Not only does he call a trash can a rubbish bin, which is adorable, but he suggests that we have sex on the sidewalk.
But mostly, I’m smiling because this sexy, confident, delicious man just told me that he finds me attractive. And more than that, he came to my rescue. In my experience, that isn’t something that men do anymore.
Last year when a bitchy waitress messed up my order twice and then suggested I was hard to please, David only laughed. I have a feeling that Sterling would have jumped to my defense, maybe even stormed out of the restaurant without tipping just to prove his point. David ate his tuna-salad sandwich while I sulked, waiting for my omelet to be remade. The jerk didn’t even offer me any of his fries.
Sterling tosses me a flirty wink, and I realize I still haven’t responded to his offer for public sex.
“As fun as that sounds, I think I’ll pass.” I elbow him in the ribs, and he chuckles.
“Come on.”
He takes my hand again and tows me off down the street. We walk for a long time, passing by little bakeries, family-owned restaurants, and dry cleaners while the city buzzes around us. We talk about family, and life, and our goals for the future, and I realize how much I’ve been missing the thoughtful conversation between a man and a woman.
Chapter Ten
Sterling
I grab my phone and dial Noah, watching as Camryn’s taxi carries her into the night.
“So, Camryn’s pretty fucking hot,” I blurt, my filter gone along with that last cocktail.
But holy shit, she really is. Tonight after leaving the bar behind, we walked and talked, and as simple as that sounds, it’s much more than I’ve shared with a woman lately.
Noah chuckles, and I hear Olivia shout something incoherent in the background.
“Oh my God! Do you like her? Like really like her?” Olivia asks excitedly.
“Fuck me. I’m on speakerphone, aren’t I?” Rubbing the back of my neck, I wait for Noah to answer.
“Sorry, buddy. Give me a second.”
I hear him speak in a hushed tone to Olivia, and then a click as he switches it from speakerphone.
“What in God’s name are you talking about?” he asks.
I stroll down the sidewalk, hoping the fresh air will help clear my head. “Would it be the worst thing in the world if I pursued Camryn?”
“What are you saying?”
“Camryn,” I repeat. She’s hot. She’s funny. Feisty. Smart. Why the fuck not?”
“Yes, I see where you’re going with this, good buddy, but did you forget about the inheritance? You’re supposed to get married.”
“Yes, I know that. And Camryn’s supposed to help me.”
“Sterling, you’re going to have to dumb it down for me. I just spent the last three hours looking at paint colors with names like weathered moss and mossy linen. What are you saying? You want to date her while you’re looking for your wife? Have you lost it, buddy?”
Rolling my eyes at my friend’s idiocy, I hit the button for the street signal. “I’m saying, what if I continue working with her under the guise of finding a wife, but really, I’m wooing her.”
Silence.
“Noah?” I pull back the phone and glance at it for a second, wondering if the line went dead.
“I think it’s ridiculously stupid,” he finally says.
I hail a cab at the corner, and when one stops, I hop inside and direct him uptown. “How so?”
Noah scoffs. “If you like her, just tell her how you feel. Man up; ask her out for real.”
“That won’t work. First, there’s no way Camryn is going to just quit. She wants to see me get that inheritance, and of course, she wants her bonus at the end of this.”
Noah scoffs, but he knows I’m right.
There’s no way I’m walking away from my inheritance, and for what? A shot at a date? That would be crazy. Not when my mum is counting on me.
And there’s absolutely no way Camryn will agree to date me if she knows I’m still planning on getting married at the end . . . but I have no choice in the matter.
It must be the alcohol talking, because I sound crazy. I give Noah an excuse and shove the phone in my pocket. I really need to get my head in the game.
Once back inside my apartment, I leave the lights off, fi
nding my way in the darkness easily. It’s an open-air loft and essentially just one big room. Sidestepping around the dining table and sofa, I find the wall that separates my bedroom from the living area and enter my room.
Reaching down, I grip my cock that has been hard ever since Camryn walked up the stairs to the bar, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. Fuck. The soft swell of cleavage under her low-cut top was mesmerizing. And the way she challenged me, probing, trying to tease out what I was looking for. She’s inquisitive, open, outspoken. Beautiful. The way she stood up for herself when those women made her feel inferior. I still feel as though I’m in a fog.
I strip my shirt off over my head, and tug my boxers and jeans down my thighs.
My erection stands tall and ready, and I stroke in quick pulls, right there in the center of my bedroom. Needing to relieve tension that her unexpected presence in my life is causing, I move my hand up and down in even strokes, my breath pushing past my lips with the exertion.
With thoughts of Camryn swirling in my brain, my climax comes faster than I expected, and I come in the wadded-up T-shirt still clutched in my hand.
I throw the shirt away because I don’t want to deal with that shit come laundry day, and get cleaned up. Sinking into my king-sized mattress, I let out a heavy sigh.
What the fuck is happening to me?
That orgasm didn’t even come close to taking the edge off. I’m still keyed up. Yet the text message from Rebecca, that I’m sure is a booty call, holds no appeal. I shove my phone aside without responding.
For years, the only thing I was sure of was that I never wanted to get married, and now that I’m faced with the fact that I need to, the one girl who suddenly looks very appealing is the only one I can’t have.
Of all the fucked-up situations to find myself in, this is one I never imagined.
Noah was right. Asking Camryn out would be insane. It would be suicide. She’d call off this whole thing, and I’d be worse off than I am now. I’m building toward my goal of being able to take better care of my mum. I need to remind myself of that.
Lying there, staring up at the ceiling fan whoosh in lazy circles, I try to solve the puzzle buzzing through my brain. Do I really like her? Or do I only want her because she’s the one thing I can’t have right now?
Maybe it’s only the latter. Maybe she’s merely a good distraction for the shit show that is my life at the moment.
Running a hand through my hair, I know that’s not it.
At least, I’m fairly certain it’s not.
I like her. Deep down, I really like her.
Lying here in the dark cloak of night, I make a deal with myself. I can spend more time with her—hell, I can even mess around with her if things come to that point—but I promise myself one thing. I won’t hurt her, won’t lead her on and make her believe this could be more. I’m going to be married in the next six months, and I know that true, everlasting love is a false promise that only lovesick fools would believe in.
Life doesn’t fucking work that way.
Chapter Eleven
Camryn
It’s Friday afternoon, and I’m at the office.
Being the good (nosy) friend she is, Anna has already sufficiently grilled me about my dinner out with Sterling this past weekend, and of course, our evening out last night. I downplayed the strange sexual tension that crackled between us.
The intimacy of the restaurant. The way his gaze stayed glued to mine. His low voice.
My cock is a big boy.
A shudder zips through me at the memory.
And then last night, the way he only had eyes for me, despite the roomful of gorgeous women clamoring for his attention.
There’s just something magnetic about him. Of course he’s attractive, but it’s so much more than that. His confidence. His candor. It’s all so intriguing.
If we were both single, I could see myself falling fast for him.
Well, we are both single, but it’s more complicated than that. He’s trying to get married, and I’ve sworn off men.
We discussed him swinging by the office today if he got a break in his work day. I’m sure we covered everything last night, but just in case there was anything we forgot, he insisted.
Now that he’s almost due to arrive, my heart is in a frenzy, and I swear I’ve typed and deleted the same sentence three times. Slamming my fingers against the keyboard, I manage to finish the e-mail without typos and finally click Send.
“You okay?” Anna asks.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, I nod. With the last-minute arrangement to bring on an assistant, I’ve spent a good part of the week getting Anna up to speed on all of my current projects, which means I’ve fallen behind big-time on answering e-mails and voice mails. But Anna’s a quick study, and is already off and running on creating a mock-up social-media campaign for a client that I’ll review tomorrow.
We’re sharing an office space, which is fine by me. I have a desk in the center of the room facing the door, and Anna is seated at the L-shaped desk in the corner, typing away.
I refuse to glance up and check the clock yet again, but when I hear a British accent, all bets are off and my gaze flies to the door.
Sterling’s in the hall, talking to Noah and Olivia. Today he’s dressed in a tailored navy-blue suit with a crisp white shirt and pale pink tie. Only a confident man wears pink.
A warm shiver passes through my body. Dear God, he’s attractive. He’s shaking hands with Noah and laughing about something.
I rise to my feet and wander out to join them. As I approach, Sterling turns to Olivia and gestures to her belly.
“May I?”
She shrugs. “Most people don’t even ask. Go ahead.”
He places one large palm against her belly and grins at her, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Wow. This is incredible.” Pulling his hand away, he shakes Noah’s hand again. “Good job, mate. Makes me want to get someone pregnant.”
He chuckles, and I see several of the office girls smile in his direction while my ovaries do a dance of joy.
Get in line, ladies.
I approach and stop beside Olivia. “Hi, guys.”
Sterling’s gaze pulls over to mine like we’re two sides of a magnet. “Cami,” he says, his voice low.
“Are you ready to go over the plan?” I ask.
Noah and Olivia are watching us wide-eyed, and while I’m trying to figure out what’s up with their weird vibes, Sterling nods and says cheerio to Noah and Olivia before following me into my office.
The space seems smaller with his masculine presence looming.
Anna turns and her focus lands on Sterling, her gaze drifting up his six-foot-plus form. Her mouth opens and she just kind of stares blankly.
“Anna, this is Sterling Quinn. Our new client,” I say pointedly.
This snaps her from her likely erotic daydream, and she manages to say a shaky hi.
“’Ello, love,” Sterling says brightly.
“Go ahead and have a seat.” I indicate the floral-print accent chair in front of my desk.
Sterling obeys, and I sit across from him. The desk between us feels like a necessary barrier.
“I made some progress on our plan this morning, contacting a few local hotels to obtain quotes on renting ballroom space for our recruiting event. I think we’ll have a good turnout, and we’ll need the space.”
He nods along.
“I’m aiming to hold the event about four weeks from now. Make sure your calendar is free.”
“Of course,” he says smoothly.
“As soon as we have a firm date and the location nailed down, I’ll begin placing ads on the local dating sites to solicit candidates. After I screen them for the obvious stuff, like making sure they don’t have any felonies, or an ex-husband they tried to mutilate, you can have a look at the prospects and let me know if any of them suit you.”
He nods again. “Very thorough, Miss Palmer. I’m impressed. You’ve thought of
everything.”
“Well, not everything.” I realize we never discussed specifics. Last night, we merely covered big-picture things. “I need to know the shape and size of the woman you desire. Age. Hair color. Chest size. Shaved bald or landing strip? Give me your preferences.”
“Pardon?” He scoffs with a smirk.
“Be as specific as possible.” I grab my notepad and pen, poised and ready.
He leans back in his seat and appraises me, his gaze sinking slowly from my loose chignon bun to the peep-toe pumps resting under my desk.
I fight off a shiver. Good fucking golly, it’s been way too long since I’ve been laid.
“Hmm. Let’s see.” He leans closer, his eyes still appraising me as he rubs his chin. “Five six.” He stops and looks down at my heels again. “No, five three, about 145 pounds. Twenty . . . six? With dark blond hair. Shoulder length. And green eyes.”
Sterling just described me to a fucking T, and I’m not amused. He promised to take this seriously.
“Are you trying to be funny?”
“Not at all. Why?” He shifts closer still, and I catch a sniff of his mouth-watering cologne.
“I’m not an idiot, Sterling. You don’t need to stroke my ego, or butter me up. I’m in this until the end. When I take on a project, I always see it through. No matter what.”
His confused look tells me his compliment had nothing to do with kissing up. Which means now I’m the one who’s confused.
Sighing, I inhale deeply. “Okay, let’s try this again. Your preferences.”
He rises to his feet and leans over one side of my desk, fiddling with my unicorn mug that serves as a pencil holder. “Size doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, come on.” I roll my eyes and snatch the mug from his hands. “That’s just a lie women tell men; you don’t need to perpetuate it. Trust me; size matters.”
“Fine, does this help? I’d much prefer a Kim Kardashian body type than a Kate Moss.”
Okay, so he likes curves. “Yes, it does, actually.”
My round, size-eight ass and full breasts usually feel like too much, but with that one statement, my constant the diet starts Monday mentality suddenly seems insignificant. I set down the mug on the far end of my desk and jot down a note, then press on.