Attractive Nuisance (Legally in Love Book 1)

by Griffith, Jennifer

  “Or I can let you sleep with this teddy bear.” He tossed it in her lap with a little, low growl. “Now you can say you got attacked by a bear while you were in the woods.” He got that twinkle in his eye, accompanied by a little bit of a hungry look. Falcon had referred to Zane as a bear. Maybe that was the bear attack Zane had in mind. Oh, geez. Now her mind was running away with her. She’d better rein it in. Falcon was sharpening his talons to use on her. He’d picked up his Santa bag, now looking limp and nearly empty, and tossed it between his left hand and his right. What was he planning to chuck at her? She shuddered.

  “Which brings me to my final prey for the evening.” Falcon took a bow as the crowd at last cheered with some sincere enthusiasm. “The prettiest single girl in the office, Camilla Sweeten.” A wolf whistle sounded from the back of the group, and Camilla felt her face blaze—and not from the heat of the fire. “Where do I begin?”

  Falcon rubbed his palms together. “Let’s see. Where to start. So much material to work with.”

  Hey. Not nice. Camilla let her hand drop from Zane’s and folded her arms. He reached his arm over her shoulders. “You want me to stop him?” he murmured.

  She just shook her head. Wouldn’t that be worse? Everyone else could take whatever Falcon dished out. And so far, the couple she’d heard had been in good spirited fun. Right?

  “First, we all ought to apologize to Camilla. We never should have started that rumor about her being the Judge Whisperer. Because it’s not true. With her long legs and short skirts, she’s the judge distract-er.”

  Hey, that wasn’t nice. And Camilla’s skirts were not that short. Nor were her legs that long. Come on. She was only five-foot-four. The back of her cheek stung in her mouth, like she’d just eaten one of those sour apple gummy ring candies.

  “It’s not true. You always dress professionally.” Zane pulled her tighter to him with his arm. She felt protected, even though she also felt mad. Why would Falcon call her out on her wardrobe? At least it wasn’t Birkenstocks.

  “But seriously, let’s just all bow to her work ethic. Ready? Everyone bow. She’s easily the hardest working staffer I’ve ever hired. Come on, everyone. Bow.” Falcon motioned for everyone to swivel toward Camilla and bow. They did. It was reluctant. Camilla inhaled deeply and stared upward. Let this end soon, please.

  “Nobody stays later. Nobody comes in earlier. Nobody clocks the hours like Camilla.”

  “And so finally—” At this phrase from Falcon, the crowd erupted in applause and cheers. “Okay, okay. I’m almost done here. Then you can roast yer little marshmallows and eat your sticky s’mores. I’ve only got one last thing for your pretty colleague.” The boss reached in his pack and pulled out a brown bottle. Spray tan. “Since she spends so little time outside that some of the out-of-town defense attorneys have asked me if she’s a vampire afraid of sunlight, the tan that comes in a can. Wear it, Sweeten, and stop creeping out the boys from Phoenix.” He guffawed at his joke, and it made Camilla cringe. “Haw, haw. Maybe if you didn’t terrify them by looking undead, one of them would ask you out and I wouldn’t have to force Zane Holyoake to take you on pity dates.”

  Pity dates! What— Camilla’s confidence came crashing down all around her like a building in a Haitian earthquake. Hurt erupted in her heart, spreading all through her core and out to her fingertips and toes. She wanted to leap up and run away from the wincing, pity-filled faces of the other staffers, but the moonless night would have eaten her up, crashing her into trees or tangling her feet in bulging roots. She’d trip, hit her face, and disfigure herself, making herself even more undateable than she apparently already was.

  So all she could do was sit in frozen pain.

  Shouts erupted from the perimeter.

  “Somebody. Hey, help. My daughter is missing!” Panicked gasps rose from the group. Camilla shot to her feet, and she ran toward the voice, which she found belonged to Lydia, Sheldon’s wife.

  “Lydia. I didn’t know you even brought Destry. When did you see her last?”

  Lydia had started crying, and Camilla put an arm around her, holding her tightly.

  “Come on.” Camilla fumbled in her pocket for her flashlight, her legs moving fast. “Let’s go.” She started shouting Destry’s name, as did everyone around them. The air rang with voices. Destry wasn’t some three year-old who’d be afraid of the dark or just toddle off. She was fifteen, and generally a great kid. Camilla adored her.

  “Destry! Destry!”

  Lydia breathed hard beside Camilla as they covered ground fast. “I saw her an hour ago. She said she had to find an outhouse, so she was going around the lake.”

  Camilla groaned. Falcon! He could have prevented this by picking a better campsite. Camilla should have spoken up—she knew last year this was a problem.

  They headed for the road. “Would she venture into the woods?”

  “Only if she couldn’t find another option. She’s not too keen on the woods. I had to bribe her with promises of boy band concert tickets to get her to come up here.”

  “Destry!” Lydia’s voice cracked. “Sweetheart?”

  Echoes of other voices begging for the girl to appear floated above the trees in the otherwise silent night—up toward the cold stars. Everything felt darker now, and Camilla realized how petty her own little hurt inflicted by Falcon really was.

  “My dad used to bring me up here. I know the area pretty well.” That was a stretch. She’d stayed by the lake, fishing. But she had to say something to buoy up Lydia’s faith.

  They rounded a bend in the dirt road and emerged onto the asphalt near the lake. “Would she come this far?” Camilla paused, and Lydia stopped beside her. “Which direction would she veer?”

  “I don’t know.” Lydia sniffled, and Camilla pulled her tight.

  “It’s going to be okay. Really.” She tried to hide the tremor in her voice, but images of vicious bears floated in her imagination. She batted them away. “Listen. Zane Holyoake—he’s a serious Boy Scout, even a Scout leader. It’s going to be fine. He’ll know what to do.”

  Just saying this aloud did wonders to calm Camilla’s own fears—because she believed it.

  “Destry?” Camilla called again.

  Suddenly, cheers and whistled erupted from back at camp. A horn honked in rhythm of “Shave and a Haircut.” Camilla and Lydia exchanged glances.

  “Could it be?” Lydia hiccupped.

  “They’ve found her!” Camilla grabbed Lydia’s hand and they raced like their feet had wings back to camp, where they found Destry rubbing her head and being embraced by Sheldon in a pure dad-hug. Lydia fell into them and broke into tears.

  “Sweetie. Oh, thank heaven!”

  Destry chuckled. “I don’t know what everyone was so worried about. Sorry—I never meant to go into the wrong tent. I was just so tired of Mr. Torres’s annoying stories I fell fast asleep on that sleeping bag. Thought it was mine.” She shrugged, and almost everyone else walked off, leaving just Camilla, Zane, Falcon and Sheldon’s family. Camilla came and hugged Destry, then hugged Lydia again, whose breathing had appeared to return to normal.

  Destry apologized again as they walked back toward their real tent. “I didn’t mean to cause all this hullabaloo. But I didn’t mind waking up to see the face of that search and rescue worker.” She aimed a thumb at Zane. “Not a bad reason to fake a need for a rescue.”

  “In a few years maybe I’ll assign him to take you on a pity date. Heh heh.” There went the Falcon Camilla knew and hated so much right now, shooting off his mouth, as if the joke would be funnier the second time. Camilla stopped in her tracks, as did Zane, putting a hand out against Falcon’s chest to stop him too. In embarrassment, Lydia shuttled her family away.

  “Hey, Falcon. That’s a lie and you know it.” Zane crossed his arms over his chest in defiance. What was he doing? He’d better not take on Falcon. There were consequences—big ones, career and personal, if Zane really was the son of Falcon’s college buddy.
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  “Oh, simmer down, Holyoake. You’re just like your dad. You can’t take a joke. What’re you going to do, go all PTSD on me?”

  Oh, shoot. That was a low blow. Some people should not drink. Camilla hugged herself against the wretched words that fell from Falcon’s flesh-tearing beak. She’d always wondered what it would be like to be on his bad side, and now she was seeing the fearsome possibility.

  “You don’t want to rile up a former soldier, Falcon, and you know it.”

  “You only went in the army to run away from your dad.” All the air sucked out of the sky and atmosphere. Camilla didn’t dare move. Someone might throw a punch here soon.

  “I did not. And that’s not the point here. Let’s stick to business. I’m on a date with Camilla Sweeten because she’s gorgeous and smart and has the best legs of any lawyer in a thousand mile radius. It’s not a mercy date, even if you did have to con her into it.” The tension in the air started to ease. “Otherwise she’d never have anything to do with a loser like me, and you know it. You tried before to get her to go out with me, and she wouldn’t. So I begged you to take me on as staff. I’d been here ten weeks before she’d even give me the time of day. It’s ridiculous. Usually I’m fighting girls off with a stick.”

  Camilla, frozen a moment ago in pain and fear, thawed, then warmed, then her insides turned to hot lava. Zane Holyoake, defender of feminine virtue! Bless him! The tears that stung her eyes from Falcon’s insults now stung from relief. And—was that?—a first blush of what felt like it might be love?

  She definitely loved being defended. She loved being protected. She loved being praised and having the best looking guy she’d ever seen announce that she was gorgeous and smart. She stared up at him as he stood there, fists still balled and ready to fight more if he needed to. Zane’s eyes locked on Falcon’s. Falcon stood two inches taller and had fifty pounds on Zane, but Zane had the advantage of youth and all that time hiking with the Boy Scouts.

  Camilla bated her breath, watching the sparring pair. Finally, Falcon spoke.

  “Okay, okay. Maybe I went too far. And fine, it did sound mean. But the other part, the spray tan part, I meant. She spends too much time in the office. Get the girl out into the sun somehow, Holyoake. Take charge.” All the electricity arcing between them settled.

  “No one takes charge of Camilla Sweeten other than Camilla herself.” Zane turned to look down at her. Now the electricity had shifted and was fizzing between Zane and Camilla. Her skin crackled and the air zapped. If she reached out and touched him, would it ground her, or would it electrocute her? She couldn’t tell.

  But then Zane blinked and frowned. He turned back toward Falcon and stopped him from leaving. “And I’ll have you know, Camilla’s not some recluse avoiding the sun. This girl can fly fish. In fact, she holds the state record for catch and release, biggest Gila trout. Sixteen inches, caught—and released—right here in Horsethief Lake. So lay off the vampire comments.” He looked back at Camilla. “Besides. Everyone knows too much sun’ll give ya cancer.”

  Oh, the cheesiness returned. And all the tension between them and Falcon melted like that same cheese on top of a pizza. Except the tension between Zane and Camilla went up and was peaking at an all time high—like a tight rope strung between them.

  “That’s it, folks.” Falcon clapped his hands and stumbled toward the bonfire’s embers, leaving Zane and Camilla alone in the flagging firelight.

  “We missed dinner here. But I brought something just in case. You hungry?”

  Oh, yeah. She was hungry. But maybe not for food.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Own Recognizance

  Camilla took Zane’s offered hand, and with his flashlight cutting the darkness he led her through the tangle of fallen branches and roots safely toward the truck. The touch of his hand on hers sent pulses of that earlier electricity through her hand, up her arm, to her core, where it radiated outward, making her tingle everywhere. He blazed the trail so confidently—he was such a man. A man she craved like she hadn’t craved the attention and affection of in years. Not since college had she met anyone she wanted the approval of so much.

  “How did you find Destry? Tracking skills you learned in Boy Scouts?”

  Zane chuckled. “No, just logic. If I was a kid in the dark and all the tents looked alike, I’d go into the wrong one. Happened four times to me or my friends back on campouts over the years. Not exactly rocket science. I just poked my head in all the tents that were the same color as Sheldon’s.”

  Zane unzipped the tent flap and held it open so she could enter. To do this, he had to let loose her hand, and she instantly felt its absence, like someone unplugged the microwave mid-nuke. All she could think was how much she wanted him to be touching her again.

  “I hope you like Kentucky Fried Chicken.” He opened a large camping cooler he’d dragged inside here when she was arranging her bedding in the truck earlier. “Forgive me for saying that stuff about the Colonel. You were right—it’s much better than Church’s, or Popeye’s, or…”

  She took his hand and shut the cooler. He stopped talking and looked up at her. The lantern hanging from the arched peak of the tent swayed, sending his shadow dancing back and forth against the tent’s walls and reminding her that anything they did would be visible in silhouette to anyone passing by. And at this moment she didn’t care.

  “Camilla.” He pressed his hand against hers. “I—”

  She reached up and stopped his protests with a single finger over his lips. “Shh.” She left her finger touching those lips. They had the same softness with an outer crust as the palms of his hands. Maybe that was his whole deal. Crusty with a soft layer just beneath. It was masculine. She leaned in closer. He smelled like a fresh pine campfire and those intoxicating diesel fumes, and she tugged for him to sit beside her atop the cooler.

  “No chicken for now?” He whispered. It came out a little husky.

  She shook her head. “You defended me. Thank you.” There was so much more to say about this, but how to convey it, she could only think of one way—to show him. With a gentle press of her lips to his cheek, she kissed him, right on the chicken pox scar beneath his right eye. When her lips touched it, his eyes closed and a tiny sigh escaped him. Pulling back, she watched his face, and his eyes opened and looked right into hers.

  “It was my honor.” He slid one arm around her waist and touched a finger under her chin, lifting it. Her lips parted slightly, and in the dim of the tent, she could still see the flash of his eyes. They fluttered closed, and he pulled her body to his with his strong arm and slid the other hand around behind her neck. Then his lips were on hers, and their dryness first scratched but only for a second because the softness came through as he became a little less gentle and coaxed her into a return of the affection that might have lasted ten seconds or an hour. She couldn’t know. Time warped, and the only thing that existed was the two of them, the smell of pine smoke and this kiss. Something like a little bird that’d been caged inside Camilla’s heart suddenly released, its cage door flung open, and it soared outward and upward into the starry night toward Orion and Scorpius.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this since I first laid eyes on you last year.”

  “Last year?” she murmured, her head pressed against Zane’s chest. The thumping of his heart echoed in her ear. It matched her own pulse. “You only met me two months ago.”

  “No, I mean at this campout. Falcon invited me. But you showed up with someone else, and I hung back, waiting for you to have a free minute, but you left early and I didn’t get my chance.”

  “You were at this picnic last year?” When she’d been occupied with Statutory Sam? Her face burned at the memory.

  “Yeah. When Falcon told me later you and that dirtclod you came with, sorry for the derogatory term—”

  “No, you’re absolutely right. That guy was a dirtclod.”

  “—that the two of you weren’t a steady thing, I started trying to figure o
ut a way to meet you again.”

  He did? She got warm inside. Zane Holyoake wanted to meet her? After one glance—and a bad one at that?

  “When you were arguing with Falcon, he said you were his friend’s son. A fraternity brother’s son?”

  “Yeah. We’ve known the family for years.” Zane reached around behind him and grabbed one of the sleeping bags. He untied it and threw it out on the ground then pulled her down to sit beside him on it. It was much softer than the top of the ice chest. “He and Dad stayed close after college.”

  “You’re close to your family?”

  “Sure. Are you?”

  “Like I said, my parents aren’t with me anymore.”

  “Of course, but I guess I meant siblings, grandparents.”

  This was ground Camilla trod too often mentally shortly after losing them, but which she’d avoided walking for the last few years, each step too painful.

  “They married young, you know? High school sweethearts. But then they both started on these careers. Dad was an attorney. Mom was an architect. They kept saying, ‘Next year we’ll start our family,’ and then next year never came and never came. And then, when Mom was forty-five, she went into a panic about her biological clock and realized she’d probably missed the window. It took two and a half years, but they finally conceived me. And I was loved. Really loved.”

  Zane didn’t say anything. He started drawing circles on her back with his fingertips with just the right amount of pressure to soothe her. If she hadn’t been in such an emotional time machine thinking about her parents it might have made her shiver with longing for him. But not just now.

  “They died, you know? At a regular age. Dad was sixty-eight. Kind of early, I know, but even fly fishing didn’t help him unwind from the stress of the legal office, and his heart gave out. Mom went the next year. She gave up after he left. I was gone to college, and she was alone. And she just missed him too much is what I think happened.”