Hot Commodity

by Linda Kage

  He felt like he should apologize for answering, "No."

  She looked so crushed, he actually wanted to give her a sympathetic hug. Of course, if he put his hands on her—good intentions or not—he'd probably turn into some kind of lecherous octopus and play how-fast-can-Iundress-the-blonde-babe, going straight for her—

  "I can't believe it," she said to herself, her shoulders curling in around her body as she started to rock back and forth. "She's never even met you before and yet...and yet…"

  "And yet what?" Cameron urged softly.

  "She wanted me to marry you," she choked out.

  Cameron pulled back. He blinked, waited for the punch line of her joke, and when it didn't come, he cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

  Five

  Olivia sat huddled inside Cameron Banks' shirt on the king-sized bed in his sister's guest bedroom. Her 'husband' had spent the last half hour grilling her about Vivian until she'd spilled the entire sordid truth. When she was done, he merely stood there and stared in appalled silence with his eyebrow permanently quirked.

  "So you married me for my money?" he finally said.

  "No!" she screeched. "I chose you because I thought you had to be the polar opposite of this Cameron Banks guy Vivian wanted me to marry."

  But Cameron only shook his head. "Now, wait. Explain to me again. How did your mother think my marrying you would make her wealthier?"

  The way he stressed 'mother' and 'her' made her realize he didn't buy her story. His wary scowl told her he sensed something underhanded taking place. He blamed the trickery on her, though, not Vivian.

  Olivia tried once again to explain her mother, though she knew a woman like Vivian was intellectually impossible to comprehend.

  "She's heard about your reputation, and she's studied your business acumen." Olivia shrugged. "I guess she assumed that with a man like you as her son-in-law, a whole new world of opportunities would open for her. All she'd have to do is mention you're family and, presto, everyone will want to do business with her because—"

  "Wait, wait, wait," Cameron cut in. "A man like me? What does that mean, 'a man like me'?"

  He looked so insulted Olivia grinned. "She sees you as a quickminded, prospering millionaire whose wealth keeps growing exponentially."

  "So?" he asked, appearing even more baffled by her description.

  "So…you're just the type of person she wants in her back pocket. In her mind, anyway," Olivia was quick to add. She didn't want Banks thinking any of this was her philosophy. God, she hoped he caught that. "Plus, she thinks any son-in-law of hers is going to want to merge his business with Helbrock Enterprise."

  Her new husband lifted an intrigued eyebrow. "Oh, she does, does she?"

  Olivia smiled weakly. "I'm telling you, Vivian isn't right in the brain."

  Cameron eyed her intently as if to say, neither is Vivian's daughter.

  At the moment, she had to agree.

  "So." He cleared his throat. "She was counting on you to come in, totally sweep me off my feet, and keep me so blind in love—or lust, or whatever the hell you do—that I'd just hand over all my money to her?" He snorted. "Right. I so buy that story."

  Olivia couldn't help herself. She laughed. "You know, she really sounds like a presumptuous bitch when you put it that way. Oh, wait. She is." She chuckled even more. She knew she was turning hysterical. She could actually feel her head go faint and realized hyperventilating wasn't far behind. She wanted to stop. But she couldn't seem to make her body obey. It, along with everything else, had slipped from her control. Tears seeped from between her eyelashes she giggled so hard.

  Running a hand through his hair, Cameron whipped the marriage certificate off the bed where he'd dropped it earlier. He frowned as he studied it. Then he glanced up. "This is really real, isn't it?"

  She nodded and continued to laugh. There was nothing funny to snigger about, but laughter seemed like the only thing she had left to hold herself together. Or maybe it was a sign she was falling apart.

  Cameron muttered under his breath as he bent down and picked up his pants from the night before. When he shook out a cell phone and flipped it open, panic halted Olivia's laughter, choking it off abruptly.

  Oh, God, he was going to call the police and have her arrested. She licked her lips. "What—what're you doing?"

  "I'm calling my lawyer."

  Her eyes went wide. "You're going to sue me?"

  He paused to send her a dry glower. "I'm going to get this—" he shook their marriage certificate—"annulled."

  "Oh." Her shoulders slumped. "Good idea."

  "You think?" He rolled his eyes and pushed a button before pressing the phone to his ear. After waiting only a few seconds, his face relaxed. "Boston! Thank God I caught you." He paused a moment, listening and then answered, "No, uh, actually I didn't make the dinner. I—" He winced and pulled the receiver a few inches from his ear. Scratching his chin he finally added, "I kind of, ah, got myself into a pickle here in Vegas…No, I'm not in jail. I sort of, um, accidentally got married."

  This time, when he held the phone from his ear, even Olivia could hear Boston-whoever-he-was, exclaim, "You what! How in the holy hell did you do that?"

  "I'll explain everything when I get home...What's that?...Did we what?...Oh."

  Cameron glanced toward Olivia. His eyes roamed her figure letting her know exactly what he'd been asked.

  Oh, yeah. They'd definitely done that.

  He spun away, turning his back to her and more quietly said, "Maybe. Does that really matter?"

  Olivia watched the muscles in his back tense as he listened intently to Boston.

  After a few more yeses and uh-huhs, a no, and one "yeah, there was alcohol," he quietly said, "shit," and glanced at her worriedly.

  Olivia sat up in alarm. Just what was this Boston guy telling him?

  "Okay," Cameron said and nodded in understanding. "Fine. We'll work it out when I get back. Thanks, Bos."

  He hung up. When he turned to Olivia, she braced herself to hear the bad news. "Well?"

  He shrugged as if nothing was wrong. "Well, we can get an annulment because of the alcohol, which is the good news. But since all government offices are closed for the weekend and I have to be home by Sunday for an important meeting first thing Monday, we'll have to make this a complaint annulment instead of a joint petition, which will take six to twelve weeks to file."

  "Okay," Olivia answered, holding her breath for the worst part she was sure would come next. "So…?" she pressed when he didn't speak.

  He frowned. "So, we'll have to wait at least six weeks before we get this straightened out," he repeated.

  Olivia blinked, still waiting for him to drop the big bomb. When he said nothing else, she asked, "Why did you say shit?"

  "Because," he growled. "We can't get it done today, or even Monday."

  "And?" she prompted.

  He shook his head. "And what? There's nothing else. We'll have to wait."

  Olivia frowned. "Is that all?" she demanded.

  His frown turned annoyed. "What do you mean, 'is that all'? It'll take time. There's paperwork, and handling fees, and waiting periods."

  But Olivia didn't care. "As long as my mother doesn't find out we're married in that time, we're safe."

  Cameron eyed at her strangely. "What'd you say her name was again?"

  She sighed and pressed a hand to her suddenly aching head. "Vivian Helbrock-Donovan-Roark."

  Sucking the side of his cheek in between his teeth with a thoughtful expression, Cameron shook his head. "I can't place the name. I seriously don't think I've ever met her."

  "Then you probably haven't. If you'd ever run across her, you'd remember it. She's not a forgettable woman."

  "Okay, so I've never met her, yet she wants me to marry her daughter?" Cameron shook his head. "I don't—you honestly can't think I believe that?"

  Tired of trying to help him comprehend something she didn't fully understand herself, Olivia stood a
nd glanced at his cell phone. "It doesn't matter anyway. You're going to get us annulled, and in six weeks this'll all be over. May I borrow your phone to give her a call and see if she's still at the hotel? As mad as she'll be about me skipping out on her last night, she'll probably try to leave me in Las Vegas."

  ~ * ~

  Cameron's jaw dropped. "Your mother's trying to sell you off to some man she's never met—and you want to go back to her?"

  Olivia looked at him sharply. He could tell she didn't like him dragging the truth right out into the open. But, tough. He wanted answers.

  She stood unmoving and stiff. "I don't have anyone else to call," she admitted from reluctant, unmoving lips.

  He frowned. "What about your dad?"

  She snorted. "Trust me, if he was alive, he'd be just as bad as her."

  That answer caught him off guard. Experiencing a pang of sympathy he wasn't prepared to feel for this mouthy little Twinkie, Cameron paused. He wondered if he should express condolences. Her father might've passed away recently.

  Fearing he'd only make her cry again if he told her he was sorry for her loss, he was about to give up interrogating her when he remembered what his pursuit was all about. The woman had just spent a good twenty minutes telling him how awful her mom was. And here, she was the first person his wife wanted to call. It punched all sorts of holes in the very foundation of the already-shaky story she'd just fed him.

  "And you have no other family?" he asked. "Friends?"

  For a moment, she looked very alone. He suddenly wanted to reach out and tell her—what? There was nothing he could do for her if she wanted to hightail it back to her mom.

  "There's no one," she bit out from between clenched teeth.

  "Lady, you are unbelievable." He shook his head sadly. "You just sat there and convinced me your mom was Satan incognito and now you want to go back to her? I'm sorry, but I don't get it."

  "You don't have to get it. You don't know me or my mother, okay? You don't know what she's capable of—"

  "And yet you want to crawl right back into her clutches?"

  "Look, I tried to rebel and failed, okay? I'm just not cut out for a life of defiance."

  "Defiance?" he sputtered. "Just how old are you? Twelve? Since when have grown women reverted back to the dark ages and let their parents control their lives?"

  Her scowl told him he'd hit a nerve. But her calm words said, "It's safer this way. Trust me. I—"

  "Oh, well, now you're freaking me out," Cameron said, feeling a cold chill of dread race down his spine. The woman wasn't scared of her mother, was she? "What exactly is she going to do to you, Olivia? Because if you seriously think she'll hurt you—"

  "No! It's nothing like that."

  Her answer came a little too quick for his comfort. "Then what is it?"

  Olivia glowered. Remaining stubbornly closed-mouthed about the relationship she had with her sole provider, she muttered, "Will you just let me call her?"

  Cameron lifted his eyebrows and handed her the phone. "Knock yourself out, honey. Far be it from me to try to help my wife."

  He hadn't been much help to the last Mrs. Banks either.

  Feeling a swell of bitterness, he spun away and strode from the room. Stupid little twit. He didn't want to lend her a hand anyway. Helping others had only resulted in giving him eternal heartache. He was an idiot to think he could assist her with—

  Ah, hell. Never mind. It wasn't worth it.

  Cameron stalked through the house until he entered a room already occupied. As he stepped into the family den, he found Leah sitting crosslegged on the floor playing building blocks with her four-year old son.

  He paused to study the pair for a moment. When she'd married Devin, Leah wanted a big family, but the doctors thought she wouldn't even be able to have one baby. After a bad miscarriage, she lost an ovary, and a future full of children in their home looked bleak. But three years of marriage and a load of medical consultations later, little Aiden had finally entered Leah and Devin's life. And now their little ankle-biter was four.

  A pang of loneliness speared through him as he watched mother and son play quietly in the simple task of stacking block upon block. He suddenly missed his childhood and the easy, simple life he'd lived once upon a time with his parents and older sister. He missed being the jokester, the happy-golucky clown who found humor in everything and could make even the most sober of people smile with his bright, engaging charisma.

  He wondered why'd he'd been in such a hurry to grow up, why he'd gone after Sienna when everyone warned him to stay away, why it had sucked the happiness from him when he tried to make her smile.

  Swallowing, he strolled forward.

  His nephew glanced up. The way his face lit had Cameron's insides twisting even more. If only he'd stayed away from Sienna, he'd probably have his own little ankle-biter by now who would look up at him as if he were someone worthy and important.

  "Unca Cam!" Aiden called. "Come pway wiv' us."

  Cameron grinned at the enticing offer, even as his stomach clenched, making the sour alcohol inside swirl and gurgle and work its way back up his esophagus. Ignoring the heartburn, he settled himself Indian style on the floor next to his nephew and picked out a blue block.

  He glanced at his sister before stacking it. "So, what do I have to do to convince you not to tell anyone about this little incident?"

  Leah handed Aiden a yellow arched-shaped block and proceeded to ignore Cameron for another ten seconds before she lifted her face and blew out a breath. "Well, I've already called Devin at work and told him."

  Cameron rolled his eyes and grabbed a red block. Of course, she wouldn't keep anything from her husband. Great.

  "Okay, then," he said. "What do I have to do to keep you from telling Mom and Dad?"

  "You mean, you don't want them knowing you once again got married without telling anyone or even letting us meet your wife first?"

  Frustrated, Cameron ran his hand through his hair. "Look, this was all just one big accident, okay?"

  "Well, it wouldn't have happened if you'd been sober. I thought you were past that, Cam. I thought you didn't need grief counseling anymore."

  Cameron stopped cold. He didn't want to go over this again. He hated it when his family looked at him with sad, frustrated eyes and wondered why he couldn't just straighten out his act. He hated disappointing them.

  He'd been doing so well about hiding the misery too.

  "Obviously, you don't remember what yesterday was," he muttered quietly, gripping the red block in his hand so hard he was surprised it didn't crumble.

  The date would get him off the hook this time, but he was going to have to do better about keeping his problems concealed.

  Leah glared at him, setting her hands on her hips, "Obviously, I don't."

  What? He cocked her a surprised look. She seriously didn't know? It didn't seem possible. The anniversary had been glaring at him as it crept closer like a big red blinking sign. Death date approaching. Death date approaching. He didn't understand how anyone could forget.

  "Mom and Dad's anniversary is coming up," Leah mused thoughtfully. "But other than that—" She stopped cold, her eyes growing wide. "Oh, Cam," she said, sympathy filling her voice.

  Not wanting to deal with anything that resembled pity, he turned away. A fresh wave of grief gripped him. Yesterday had been the anniversary of Sienna's suicide. He couldn't believe he'd celebrated by going out and marrying some blonde pop tart who only wanted to crawl back to her mother after the woman had tried to whore her out to a complete stranger.

  "Just don't tell Mom and Dad," he said, mortified when his voice cracked. "Please."

  Leah touched his back. "I won't tell anyone. I mean, except Devin."

  He turned and hauled her into a grateful hug. "Thank you." He closed his eyes as he inhaled the scent of her shampoo. He wished he could stay there a while longer, holding a concerned loved one and drifting in a fog of pleasant—

  "Now, abou
t this alcohol."

  Groaning, Cameron pulled away. Leah's hands tighten as if she wanted to keep him closer and protect her little brother from something that couldn't be protected.

  "Bubby—" she started.

  "Leah, don't. Please. I'm not…I can't...Just don't worry about it, okay. It was one insignificant relapse. Honest to God, I haven't touched the stuff since…" well, not since the last painful death date a year ago. But he wasn't going to mention that bit of news to his sister. His family assumed he'd been dry for three years now, which was true, save for those few anniversary binges.