His shoulders bunched and then he turned to face her. He didn’t smile, but then again, what exactly did Lydia expect? She had run out on the guy that morning as he was about to ask her out. It was a wonder he was able to chat with her over coffee that afternoon so casually. “Sorry it’s so late,” he said. He held Tupperware in his right hand and a carton of milk in the left. “Thought you might want some dessert.”
Lydia stepped to the side as he entered into the small kitchen. She lifted the lid, peeking in. “Cookies?”
Two spots of color flashed on the apples of his cheeks, beneath a layer of stubble. “Yeah, the ones I tried to make last night. Except they all sort of baked together in one giant uneven sheet.”
“Like a giant cookie cake,” she said. But when she turned around, his eyes weren’t on the pieces of cookies. They weren’t even settled on her face. They were locked onto her body. And slowly, that gaze raked up from her ass, pausing at her breasts for a moment before they lifted back to her eyes. She felt the rise and fall of her chest with each breath and as the tingles surged down her body, they flared between her legs. She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. Even though it was well below freezing outside, she wore a fitted t-shirt and gauzy cotton pajama pants. And with no underwear beneath, she felt utterly exposed.
He turned to the fireplace and grabbed some logs, tucking them in. While Lydia appreciated his attempt to diffuse the tension, the way he bent over, revealing just the slightest strip of boxer briefs beneath his carpenter jeans, only made her desire flare more. Damn, he had a good ass. “It’s supposed to drop really cold tonight,” he said, tearing up a newspaper and stuffing it between the logs. “You should keep the fire going until you fall asleep. That, plus the heat, will keep this place nice and toasty.”
“Isn’t it dangerous to fall asleep with a fire burning?”
“Not here. This fireplace is built to keep homes warm. It’ll just burn out on its own in the night.”
Man, she was completely out of her element here. “Want to split a cookie with me?”
“Hell no. But I’ll have one of my own with you.”
“You must have failed kindergarten,” she joked, breaking off two pieces from the makeshift cookie cake. Cam slid next to her, pouring two glasses of milk.
“Cookies are way too good to share. And you’ve been working hard. You deserve a whole one.” He dipped a chunk into his milk, taking a bite. Crumbs caught in his stubble, not that he seemed to care.
“Pretty good,” Lydia said, taking a nibble.
He shrugged. “For a slice and bake. My mom used to make some mean chocolate chip cookies though. They were the best. She and my sister made them all the time before she went all hardcore on her diet.”
Lydia leaned against the counter, crossing one leg over the other. “Must have been nice to have a mom who baked.”
“She did what she could. If I think my life’s difficult as a single dad, she did the single parenting thing with five kids.” He gave a single head shake and took another bite of cookie. “She’s remarkable.” Then, pausing, he met her eyes once more. “Your mom didn’t bake?”
“Nope. But she did go through a phase of brewing her own beer. As a teenager, that was fun to sneak out of the house with.” Lydia broke off another piece, licking the melted chocolate from her finger. “When I was about Maddie’s age, I used to try to bake for myself. Just so that when friends came over, it would look like I had a mom who cared enough to make an after school snack.”
Cam remained silent, for which she was entirely too grateful for. She couldn’t believe she told him that. There must be truth serum in the water up here, with how much she was sharing lately. She was embarrassed to even think about her mom, let alone admit all that aloud. “Anyway…” With a low laugh, she broke the silence.
He stared at her thoughtfully for another moment before he popped the remaining cookie in his mouth and took a long drink of milk. “Anyway,” he repeated, letting the next thought hang in the air between them.
“Why do you hate reporters so much?” she asked once more. “You never explain yourself outside of general accusations.”
His jaw jumped as he set the empty glass of milk in the sink. “Let’s just say, they’ve never been kind to me and my family.” He held his poker face, eyes locked onto hers.
Lydia’s mind immediately went to her stupid article of Noah Blue. The article she barely wrote a single word of and yet, still got all the credit for. No, credit was the wrong word. Blame. She got the blame for it. Because even though it was a ‘he said, she said’ case of whether or not his information was off the record, celebrities trust each other. When someone claims that a reporter is dirty, none of them want to talk to you. She’d been working for months to reclaim that trust. And that was with people she didn’t even know. To tell Cam who she was… that she was the journalist who, at least by name, was responsible for dragging Noah Blue and Cam’s wife into a trashy magazine? He would never forgive her. And she’d never gain that trust back from him. It would be damn near impossible.
“I should get to bed,” Lydia said, turning away and closing the Tupperware for him. Holding it out, he waved it away.
“You keep it. We have a whole other half cookie-cake at home.”
As he walked past her and reached for the door, she got that whiff of cedar chips again. That smell of smoke and campfire that seemed to follow Cam everywhere. And it smelled spectacular. She moved to follow him toward the door as he spun around to say something and crashed into her.
His hands landed on her hips, steadying her until she caught her balance again, and her fingers trailed up his chest—because, well, where else were they supposed to go with their bodies pressed flush against each other like that? His muscles weren’t flexed beneath her palms and yet, they were hard. A smattering of wiry, course hair pushed against the soft fabric of his shirt.
He gave a soft laugh and chuckled his way through an apology. And yet, he still didn’t let go of her hips. His thumbs moved over the elastic band of her pajama pants and Lydia curved hers into fists around his collar. Their bodies were hot despite the cold, and they molded perfectly against each other.
“What were you going to say?” Lydia asked.
He swallowed hard and wet his lips. “I was going to apologize for coming on too strong earlier. And I was going to tell you I’d back off if you want me to.”
White hot sparks fired off in her belly and she pressed herself harder against him. The sweet friction of his body against her breasts made that ache between her legs grow harder. Before last night, she hadn’t been held by a man, kissed by a man, in months. She hadn’t even had the urge for it. And now, it was like Cam had awakened some sort of sex-craving beast inside of her. “What if I don’t know?” she finally answered. “What if my body says yes, but my brain says no?”
“Then I’d say we’re on the same page.” But before he could even get the entire sentence out, he lowered his mouth to hers. He didn’t have to dip far, because Lydia pushed onto her toes to meet his lips halfway. His tongue slipped into her mouth, stroking hers in long, luxurious movements, and he moaned, the sound coming from deep in his throat. His arousal was pressed up against her and through her thin pajamas, she could nearly feel every bit of him.
His hands scooped from her hips, up her back, until they were tangled in her hair. And then, the kiss ended as abruptly as it began. “If I don’t leave now, I don’t know that I’ll be able to at all.”
She brushed her fingertips across her swollen lips, stepping back. Did she want him to stay? She absolutely did, but whether or not it was a good idea was a different story. His blue eyes were warm and bright with the roaring fire crackling behind them. It cast an orange glow to his already sun-kissed skin. She had to tell him the truth about her involvement with Noah Blue’s article. She couldn’t ignore these feelings, but at the same time, she couldn’t lie to Cam. Not after knowing his history with the press. As much as it would hurt, she h
ad to be upfront with him.
“Good night, Lydia,” Cam said, pulling the door shut behind him.
“’Night, Cam,” Lydia whispered to no one. Tomorrow. She’d tell him first thing tomorrow.
‡
Chapter Fifteen
The next day flew by in a whir. The first half of the day was spent sending curious glances at Lydia as she worked photographing each kid in front of their artwork. But every time she attempted to get him alone, it failed miserably. Granted, it wasn’t the easiest task when you were surrounded by dozens of kids. But then she got a call from her editor. And when she came over to him, he got a call from his construction site.
But now, the work day was done. His mom was taking Maddie for the night. And he had an entire evening to himself. Which would hopefully be spent mostly with Lydia.
He turned his truck down their dirt road driveway and parked. “Go clean your room and pack, Mouse. Grandma will be here soon.” She ran off inside, and he opened the back of the truck bed, pulling groceries from the back.
Cam swallowed the lump in his throat as Lydia walked his way from the edge of the lake. How she made an oversized sweater and leggings look sexy enough to tear from her body was beyond him. She raised her gaze, pausing lakeside, and gave a little wave before heading his way. His pulse raced and he could feel it in his blood. He had actually kissed her last night. Or had she kissed him? Either way, it was pretty damn close who initiated. And she certainly hadn’t been the one to stop it—that was all him. Stupidly, for that matter. He could feel his arousal stirring once more and cursed this new found sex drive. Wiping his sweaty palm across his jeans, his finger caught on the ripped edge of his pocket, tearing the damn thing nearly off entirely. A square of denim hung off his ass like a tail. Sexy. Really hot, Cam… way to go. He shook his head, lifting the next paper bag onto his hip. The bottom of the bag gave out, sending half a dozen cans of soup, a box of macaroni and cheese, and a bag of chips spiraling to the ground. “Shit,” he said, dropping the other two bags back into the car and bending to gather the items.
“Here.” Lydia’s voice was quiet and husky. As though she hadn’t spoken to anyone in hours. She crouched with him, picking up an armful of stuff.
They both reached for a box of mac and cheese, and her fingers grazed his. The touch registered directly to his groin. Even her hands were softer than anything he had touched before.
She lifted her gaze to him with the slightest gasp. Her rose-colored lips curved and they were moist, as though she had just run her tongue across them. The sun was in that perfect spot where the golden hue hit her caramel hair and lit her like a halo. Her nervous smile sent a flutter of emotion through him. God, he hated that she had this effect on him.
She pulled her hand back and stood, placing the groceries in the other two bags. “Let me help,” she said, taking one of the bags and propping it on her hip.
“You don’t have to do that. You probably have work to do.”
She cut him off with a dismissive wave. “I’m actually waiting on notes from my editor. I’ve got a little time.”
His stomach turned and a wave of nausea hit him. Isn’t this just what he had been after all day? Some alone time with Lydia so he could ask her to dinner? Then why did he feel so sick? And what was he waiting for? Why didn’t he just blurt the damn question out? “Come on in.” He grabbed the other bag, shut the truck and opened his front door. And here he thought that asking a girl out would get easier as a grown man. Somehow it was a billion times worse than any time he had hit on a girl in high school and college. What was the big deal? The worst she could say was no, right?
She brushed past him and headed directly for the kitchen. Setting her bag down on the counter, she pulled out various items, turning to the fridge.
“I can do that,” Cam said.
Lydia shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’ve been wanting to see you all day.”
His heart jumped. Diving her hand into another one of the grocery bags, she pulled out a box of blueberry muffins. Smiling, she ran a hand down the label. “Remember the first time we met? You bought that little girl the last blueberry muffin before someone else could.”
“I did. Maddie once had a similar tantrum in a coffee shop once. It’s hard enough being a single parent without embarrassing tantrums in public. I mean, the dirty looks some people give you—” He looked up in time to catch Lydia’s face sag into a frown and stopped talking, pressing his lips together.
“Like the look I was giving her that day?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t know what to do in that situation. There was a screaming kid and I had just found out I couldn’t have children…” Lydia’s eyes settled somewhere over his shoulder, gaze drifting off. “Not that it’s any excuse, but that was a really bad day for me. I just have no idea how to talk to kids.”
Lydia turned to leave and Cam’s heart squeezed. “You know how to talk to Maddie.”
She snorted. “Yeah, but Maddie’s easy. She could charm an ogre.”
“If you’re an ogre, what the hell does that make me?”
She tilted her chin to the floor, hiding a grin. “My beanstalk?”
His laugh shook in his chest. “Lydia, I’m not gonna argue with how awesome my kid is, but trust me. You could be just as good with any kid as you are with Maddie. You just—you just have to talk to her like your mom used to talk to you. You know, with authority, but—”
“Yeah, right,” she whispered and ran a hand across her eyes. “My mom didn’t even acknowledge my existence half the time. Probably not the best example of how I should treat a kid.”
Cam swallowed. “Oh, c’mon. I’m sure that’s not true. Just because she didn’t bake for you—”
Lydia shook her head. “It wasn’t just the baking. It was everything. She hated being a mother. But she loved my father and he wanted kids. Or at least, he thought he did.” Lydia swallowed and stared at the floor. “But he left us when I was little. And then I was just this constant reminder of everything she had compromised.” Lydia laughed, but it was hollow. “I would lie to my friends. Make my own curfews, ground myself. Just so that it looked like I had a parent who gave a crap about me.”
Her face tensed with sadness, twisting in an effort to hold back an emotion that she had so clearly kept bottled up for years. Cam was breathless. God, she was beautiful. Happy or sad, laughing or tearful—she was beautiful. “I’m sorry,” he said and brushed his hand through her silky hair. He tilted Lydia’s jaw, bringing her gaze to his.
“Well. There you have it. So, no—you probably don’t want me using my mother as an example of how to treat Maddie.”
It explained so much, Cam thought. Of course she had no idea how to be around children. If she practically raised herself, she never even had a chance to be a child. “Do you see your mom anymore?” he asked.
Lydia shook her head. “She died a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry. It seems you and Maddie have more in common than I thought.”
Lydia wet her lips. “I don’t ever want to give Maddie the same false hope that I had as a kid.”
Everything about this woman was wrong for Cam. Still, he wanted those lips on him. He wanted her in his arms. And he desperately wanted to bury himself deep inside of her. “Go to dinner with me tonight?” The nerves were gone. His palms were dry. And more than anything, he wanted a night alone with this woman.
She blinked slowly up at him. “Cam,” she whispered. But before she could say any more, he sloped his mouth against hers, nibbling that full bottom lip. She gasped against him before melting into the kiss. Her soft breasts pressed against his chest through the silky fabric of her shirt and Cam slid his hands down to her ass, cupping the firm round mounds as she slid her knee up the outside of his leg. Diving her hands into his hair, she tugged on the ends. Her moan vibrated against his tongue and he pulled her body flush against his, tighter. Her soft curves nestled perfectly against his b
ody.
As the kiss ended, she lifted a hand and brushed it down his temple, across his cheekbone. “I should go,” she whispered. “I have a conference call.”
Cam nodded and broke free from her. “Okay.” She still hadn’t answered him about dinner, but then again… maybe her lack of response was her answer.
‡
Chapter Sixteen
Even if Lydia wasn’t going to join him for dinner, Cam still needed to get Maddie ready to leave for his mom’s place. He rushed around the house, tidying up. It didn’t matter that he and Maddie had cleaned two nights before, somehow this house was just a magnet for dirt. Not that his mom truly cared. He just didn’t want her feeling as though he needed her help. God knows, she had done enough for him since Hannah passed. Babysitting, cooking, cleaning… you name it, and Marty Tripp had helped.
He ran both hands down his face, taking an extra moment at his eyes. What was Lydia so hesitant about? Was it because she was on the job and didn’t want to blur the lines? That pretty much went out the window the first night she came over for dinner.
He grunted and threw down his dust rag. “Maddie. Are you almost packed?” Guilt burrowed deeper into his stomach. It was a school night, and Maddie had a sleepover tomorrow night too, after the Founders Dinner. Spending the night at her grandmother’s house might not be the best idea.
But his mental health was equally important. A little space to clear his head might do him some good.
Even though he had no doubt that the pen pal friendship between Lydia and Maddie would falter… a few e-mail exchanges at first, but then they would wane. That’s how it went with long distance relationships, right? Exciting at first, but they grew tiresome fast. He could only hope that it was Maddie who grew bored first.
There was a quiet rap at the door. He muttered a curse under his breath, eyes scanning his grazing across his living room and kitchen. It was as clean as it was going to get tonight. “Maddie! Your grandmother is here!”
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