The Time of His Life (Camp Firefly Falls Book 5)

by Jamie Wesley

  He refused to let her look away. For a moment, she forgot where she was. What she was supposed to be doing.

  But that was unacceptable. She was here to entertain the campers, and she hadn’t given them nearly enough yet. She twirled around the pole, away from Lingerie Guy’s intense gaze. It didn’t help. When she returned to her previous position, he was there waiting. Watching her with hungry eyes.

  That morning, in his suit, he’d looked out of place in this rustic setting, but no less in charge of his kingdom. He’d changed clothes, but still commanded the space. How could he not, sitting at the head table with his loyal subjects behind him?

  What was she doing? She, who’d stopped believing in fairytales long ago, was being fanciful about some guy. That needed to stop. Right now.

  Val poured all her mental resources into finishing her routine and dazzling the audience with her theatrical and athletic moves around the pole. Except it wasn’t the end. The aerial portion was only part one of her act.

  She dismounted from the pole and skipped down the stairs into the audience, her hips and arms swaying to the music. She moved to the left away from Lingerie Guy to a table of women who were clapping along to the music. Perfect. It was her job to get the campers involved. She tugged one woman out of her seat and paired her with a man at the next table. She continued dancing across the room. As she urged people out of their seats, she couldn’t resist sneaking peeks at Lingerie Guy. Each time she did, she found his attention was focused squarely on her. Every time.

  Against her will, her breathing quickened. When she neared him, she pirouetted to a position behind his chair. Unable to help herself, she brushed her hands across his wide shoulders.

  “Hi,” she whispered in his ear. “We meet again.”

  He took hold of her hand. For just a moment. For just long enough for her to wonder if he had any intention of letting her go. For her to wonder if she wanted him to let her go. But then he did and she instantly missed the connection. The sensations that danced along her skin when they touched. It was her job to be aware of her sexuality, but she’d never felt so aware of a man she hadn’t met yet.

  Val executed another pirouette, a move that put her directly in front of him. His gaze dared her to look away. To deny the electricity arcing between them.

  She’d underestimated him. He had an edge she hadn’t considered before.

  Val let her lips curve into a flirtatious smile, then made her way back to the stage to thunderous applause from the campers. And yes, she put a little extra sway into her hips as she climbed the stairs. Why not? He wasn’t the only one who could issue a challenge.

  TWO

  What the hell was he doing out here waiting for a woman he hadn’t actually met like some damn stalker? With nothing but the sound of crickets and the gentle laps of the lake water off in the distance to keep him company. He’d assumed—okay, hoped—that she’d make an appearance in the hall after her set, but she hadn’t. So here he was. Waiting to see her. Unable to stay away. Feeling like an idiot. Doing something that made no sense.

  He should have returned to his cabin to get some work done. That would have made sense. Because everything he did made sense. Until her. So here he stood. Waiting.

  At least now he had a name, thanks to the program. Valerie Shaw, who performed under the name Val Vixen in Las Vegas. A sexy name for a sexy, talented woman. He just wanted to talk to her. Well, no, that was a lie. But he did want to see her. Be in her presence.

  The door to the lodge opened one more time. And there she was. Laughing and talking with another woman. Her laughter cut off when she spotted him.

  She’d washed off the dramatic makeup that highlighted her gorgeous eyes. Like the natural look was any less sexy. She was a beautiful woman. Her hair was caught up in the sleek ponytail she seemed to prefer. His gaze slipped lower. Foolish of him to expect her to still be wearing the black stockings that stopped at mid-thigh and the red, sequined leotard with its strategic cutouts, but he was a man. Sue him. Though the skimpy blue tank top and shorts she currently wore definitely had their merits.

  Malcolm straightened to his full height from his perch against the building. “Ms. Shaw. A moment of your time, please.”

  She studied him for a moment. Though she stood in a pool of light thanks to the lamp above the entrance, he couldn’t read her expression. Was she going to dismiss him like a schoolboy? Like he’d let that happen.

  She murmured something to her companion, then said, “Sure.”

  Long, muscular, graceful legs brought her closer to him. She looked him in straight in the eye. “What can I help you with?”

  “I think we’ve reached the point where formal introductions are in order.”

  Her lips curved. She no longer wore the fire engine red lipstick she’d worn on stage. Didn’t matter. Her lips were still plump and as far as he could tell, extremely kissable. “You think so?”

  “I do.” He held out his hand. “Malcolm Turner.”

  She hesitated a second before taking it. As though bracing herself for the charge that was about to hit her. Her caution didn’t help. The bolt of electricity hit him like it hit her, if her quick inhalation of breath was any indication. “Val Shaw, although apparently you already know that.”

  He held up the program.

  She nodded. “I see. It’s nice to officially meet you, Malcolm Turner.”

  The way she said his name, caressing the syllables in her sexy tone, made him want to hear her say it over and over. “Likewise. Can I walk you to your cabin?”

  Her head tilted to the side, while her hands landed at her trim waist. “Like a gentleman?”

  Malcolm stepped closer, the urge to touch her nearly overwhelming him. “You sound skeptical.”

  “With reason. I’ve kissed plenty of frogs. Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure of dealing with a prince.” She began walking as though expecting him to follow.

  “You haven’t dealt with me. Or kissed me.”

  That stopped her in her tracks. She looked over her shoulder. “Confident, are we?”

  “When it comes to things, or people, I want, yes.”

  Her eyes narrowed, as though trying to figure out what was going on inside his brain. “Am I supposed to be flattered, Mr. Turner?”

  “It would strengthen my case if you were.”

  A surprised shout of laughed filled the air. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She waved him toward her. “Let’s go.”

  A small victory, but he’d take it.

  She led the way, turning down a trail. A sign marked “Staff Only” was hammered to a tree at its entrance.

  “So you’re here alone,” she said.

  “Yes,” he said. “You sound surprised.”

  “I am.”

  “Why?”

  She halted and met his gaze. “Because you’re hot as hell, and I can’t imagine you not having a woman at your beck and call.”

  Was that unvarnished bit of honesty an effort to keep him off-balance? He couldn’t let her see that she’d scored a direct hit. He had the sense she’d relish it way too much. That it was her standard operating procedure with men. “Are you volunteering for the position?”

  She laughed again, a soft sound that sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine. “In your dreams.”

  They continued down the path with only a few in-ground lights illuminating the way, creating an intimate vibe. Malcolm smiled to himself. He definitely approved. He could only hope her cabin was the last one on the trail.

  Val glanced his way. “At this point, I have to assume you came here alone.”

  Malcolm inclined his head. “I did.”

  “Which leaves me wondering why you were carrying a big box of lingerie. Do you have some kind of fetish?”

  That morning he would have answered with an unequivocal no. After seeing her, he’d imagined her in the pieces more than once. A lot more than once. His lips curved in a small smile. “No.”

  Her head tilted to the
side. “No? You didn’t sound one hundred percent confident. You sure?”

  He laughed. “I’m sure. I own a lingerie company.”

  “Lingerie company?” Her eyes widened, while a teasing grin played across her lips. “Wow. Are you sure you don’t have a fetish? Like I said earlier, if lingerie’s your thing and you like to fondle it or watch women model it in private or whatever, I’m cool with it.”

  Just like that, images of her wearing—not wearing—Satisfied Lingerie bombarded his brain for the millionth time that day. “Are you now? Are you sure you’re not volunteering your services? If that’s your thing, I’m cool with it.”

  “You’ve got jokes, I see. I’m—” She trailed off.

  “You’re what?”

  “Surprised.”

  “About what?”

  “You. This morning you were in a dress shirt and slacks. Stiff and formal.”

  Malcolm shook his head. “I drove straight here after I arrived at work this morning only to have my sisters, my co-owners by the way, tell me I couldn’t come inside. They handed me a suitcase and a box of our products and sent me on my way.”

  A mixture of surprise and delight spread across her face. She snickered. “Your sisters made you come here? I think I love them already.”

  Malcolm harrumphed. “I’m happy you can find amusement in my suffering.”

  That only made her laugh harder. “Sorry,” she said in between giggles. “What I meant to say was I think it’s so cool that you have a family-owned business.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I accept your apology in all its insincerity.” They shared a grin. A moment of connection that went beyond the sexual. He liked it. He liked her. “I enjoyed your show, by the way.”

  Val shrugged. “Being sexy is my calling card.”

  He stopped her with a hand on her arm. Ordered himself to let her go and not draw her closer instead. “I’m not going to BS you and say I didn’t think you were sexy.”

  “Good. I hate bullshit.”

  “But what I was also going to say was that I was impressed with your talent. It takes mad skills to do what you were doing.”

  Her lips spread in an enthusiastic smile. “Thanks. You gonna come to a class?”

  Malcolm blinked. “A class?”

  She wagged her index finger. “Tsk, tsk. I see someone hasn’t gotten around to reading the weekly camp activities brochure. I teach a pole-dancing class and a ‘get in touch with your inner vixen’ dance class.”

  “You teach people how to flip and fly in the air like that?” He didn’t bother keeping the skepticism out of his voice.

  She laughed. “It’s not quite as advanced as what I do, but I give the women—and the men who come—some tips and try to help them tap into their inner sexy.”

  Malcolm studied her, wanting to know everything about this woman who’d fascinated him from the moment he literally ran into her. “How did you learn?”

  “A lot of training. Falling on my ass. Working as a pole dancer at a strip club for a bit. Whatever I could do to pay the bills and have money left over for dance classes.” She waved her hand. “Enough about me. How did you end up in a fancy suit working with your sisters?” Val’s gaze swept his figure. “Wait. Don’t tell me. You went to some fancy college, didn’t you? You have fancy college written all over you.”

  He saw no reason to lie. “Harvard, for both undergrad and grad school.”

  She shook her head and chuckled. “Called it. You’ve seen me to my door.”

  Malcolm looked around. He’d gotten so consumed with their conversation, with her, he hadn’t paid attention to how far they’d walked. But they were definitely at the door of a cabin with only the moonlight offering illumination.

  “So I have.” He stared down at her. She met his gaze unflinchingly. The desire to reach for her and taste her lips consumed him. But she expected that. She thought she had him figured out.

  But that wasn’t the only thing that stopped him.

  If he were being real with himself, he needed a moment to figure out what the hell was going on. Being here with her, not thinking about work, was not what he was supposed to be doing. He didn’t come here for a fling or a one-night stand. He had a feeling if he indulged himself with Val, his concentration would be shot to hell and back for the rest of the week. He always weighed the pros and cons before taking action. He couldn’t change his mindset now.

  She rose on her toes and whispered in his ear, her closeness, her scent nearly undoing him and his conviction. Her hand landed on his chest. “Now what?”

  Certain she could feel the thundering of his heart, he clasped her hand against his chest, unwilling to break the connection. Still, he needed to extract himself from whatever this was as gently as possible. “I see you tomorrow.”

  Not what he’d meant to say. He waited for regret to come. It didn’t. Telling her goodbye wasn’t an option. Not yet. Not until he figured out why she had such a hold on him. Why his logical mind deserted him the moment she stepped near.

  She let out a soft snort of disbelief. “You think so?”

  “I know so.” His tone dared her to disagree.

  “We’ll see.” Val stepped inside her cabin and shut the door in his face.

  He stood there, grinning like an idiot.

  What the hell was he doing? He didn’t know, but he couldn’t wait for tomorrow to get here.

  ***

  The next morning, Gabby rushed into the dance studio, dropped her duffel bag on the floor like she couldn’t bear its unimportant weight any longer, and plopped down next to Val on the floor. Excitement shone in her brown eyes. “Oh my God. Tell me everything. Like did you prove up close and personal how flexible you are?”

  Val reached for her toes, continuing her pre-class stretches. “Gabby, really.”

  Her friend’s eyes widened. “What? I saw the way he was looking at you. I have to live vicariously through you. You know I won’t be getting any anytime soon.”

  Val side-eyed her longtime friend, who’d never had trouble attracting male attention. “This is Get Your Groove Back Week. I’m sure there’s someone here who would be more than happy to offer his services.”

  Gabby rolled her eyes. “Please. You know I’m not ready. I came here to relax. No more, no less. And stop deflecting. Give me the details. Every last juicy one.”

  Val drew her hands together, raised her arms above her head, and arched her back. “He didn’t try anything.”

  Gabby nodded. “Playing hard to get. Smart move.”

  Val jerked to an upright position and stared at her friend. “What?”

  “He left you wanting more.”

  Wasn’t that the truth? Last night, she should have worked on her proposal for the Sex Sells contest. She’d been named a finalist last week. Winning the contest and the prize money that came with it would go a long way to making her dreams come true and forgetting about the money and time she’d lost thanks to her ex. Instead, she’d found herself daydreaming about Malcolm like some schoolgirl who didn’t know all the shit men could and did put women through on a regular basis. At least she hadn’t stooped to doodling his name in her notebook. Although it had been close.

  He didn’t try anything. Like what was that about? Guys always tried something. She’d used that fact to her advantage more than once. She’d wanted to jump his bones. At another time, she would have done so and damned the consequences. She loved sex and saw no reason to deny it. But she had a history of letting physical attraction overrule her good sense, so she was on a much-needed hiatus. Harvard included. But it still stung that he hadn’t even tried to kiss her. “He must be up to something.”

  Gabby shrugged. “As long as the right part of him stays up at the right time, that’s all that matters.”

  Val choked on her laughter. “Ma’am.”

  Gabby’s eyes opened wide in mock innocence. “What? I’m only speaking the truth.”

  Harvard was sexy and not quite as full of spray starch as she’d in
itially thought. Was that why she was lusting after the man because frankly that’s what she was doing. Did she want to get him a little dirty?

  “Have you considered that maybe he is a gentleman?” Gabby asked. “That would be something new and different for the both of us.”

  Malcolm Turner practically vomited “upstanding.” But Val knew, more than anyone, that looks could be and often were deceiving. She’d thought her last boyfriend was upstanding, and look how that had turned out.

  She held up a hand. “Girl, stop. Don’t go weaving fairytales around this guy. Men always show their asses at some point. It’s only a matter of time.”

  Gabby frowned. “Yeah, but—”

  The door opened and two campers basically tiptoed into the room, looking equal parts terrified and excited. Val hopped up and waved. “Hi. Come on in.”

  She got to work, welcoming the campers and giving them an introduction to the class. Still, she couldn’t banish thoughts of Malcolm completely from her mind. What if he was different? She shook her head. It. Did. Not. Matter. He was here for a week. He was a Harvard grad for God’s sake. As the saying went, she’d graduated from the School of Hard Knocks. They were not compatible.

  She was here at Camp Firefly Falls to regroup, and she was happy to be here. Yeah, the camp was a lot different than Vegas, but she was starting to love the place, bug bites and all. She did not have time for anything other than entertaining the campers and preparing for the Sex Sells contest.

  After class, she returned to her cabin, which luckily she didn’t have to share with anyone, thanks to her late arrival at camp, and checked her email. Oh crap. The Sex Sells judges would be paying her a visit in a few days. Which meant only one thing. She needed to work on her presentation. She was in the middle of choreographing the best routine she’d ever done for the presentation, but that wasn’t what was keeping her up at nights. She also had to make a solid—no, make that, terrific—business proposal if she was going to wow the judges.

  At that thought, a twinge of uncertainty pinched her chest. A couple of intro business classes at community college did not make her an expert. At one point in time, she hadn’t thought that mattered. She’d made a good life for herself in Vegas. She didn’t qualify as one of the top headliners, but she had her own show and a strong following that grew every week. Until she learned her business partner and boyfriend had stolen all her money and signed some ridiculous contracts on her behalf before he skipped town. She’d had no idea until it was too late, leaving her no choice but to close her show.