More Than a Playboy

by Monique DeVere

  “Look, Cam, you don’t have to explain anything to me.”

  “Yes I do, Sandy.” He stopped pacing to look at her with a pained expression. “I don’t like who I am in your eyes. How can we move forward when you can’t see past the packaging? So yes, I think I need to explain.”

  He continued pacing, taking it to the glass wall. “As you know, Tracy is a single mum. She’s having problems getting a job, because every time she secures an interview, her ex promises to babysit the kids then lets her down at the last minute. We got talking at her son’s award ceremony, and she confided in me. I told her I’d help her out if she were ever in that position again. She was, and I did.”

  “If she hasn’t got a job, how does she get the money to hire you?”

  “Not everyone who comes through TDA’s doors is a paying client. Yes, Jamie capitalised on a niche market catering to the rich who’re too busy to show up to their children’s events, and would rather hire someone to fill in for them. But since we started the charity, we’ve taken on money-strapped clients also—women whose children are fatherless. Children who have never had a father show up to any of their events. Have you any idea how heart-wrenching it is to have a little boy look at you when you’ve stepped in as father, so he can go to a father-son camping trip with his friends, and tell you he wished you were his real dad?” He ran his hands through his hair, leaving the dark strands in disarray. “Melissa needed financial advice, and Abby? Her son is Jake. You met him on the zoo trip. You couldn’t have missed how mad he is about helicopters. I have a friend at the local airstrip. He let me bring Jake to have a ride in one. Satisfied?”

  Stunned, she couldn’t seem to pull her gaze from him. Not because he was so sexy her mouth watered, but because Sandy had just fallen deeper in love with Cameron. She’d misjudged him. Had labelled him a shallow pleasure-seeker, when, in fact, he was deep and caring—a man of worth.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He came back to the sofa and sat, keeping the space between them. “Now that’s cleared up, you can get back to telling me why you’ve never had a serious relationship.”

  Sandy kept her gaze on him, wanting to witness his reaction when she told him. “My mum fell in love with a rich man. Tall, handsome, blond—he was a playboy who didn’t know the first thing about taking responsibility.” A frown creased Cameron’s brow and his jaw clenched as understanding flickered in his eyes, but he didn’t interrupt. “When she got pregnant with me he said he didn’t want to be lumbered with a wife and child, and dumped her.” Sandy paused for a moment as her chest tightened with sorrow.

  The urge to throw herself into Cameron’s protective arms was overpowering, but she didn’t have that right. She’d rejected it when she’d run from his declaration of love. “Mum was heart-broken. She never recovered from the blow of losing him. To make a long story short, she ended her life when I was twelve.”

  The antipathy Cameron had displayed since she’d arrived disappeared. “That must have been rough.” He stood, pulled her into his arms, then hugged her tight.

  “It was.” Sandy closed her eyes against the devastating memory of being told by the police that her mother was dead and that her grandparents were coming to Prague to collect her. The weeks that followed had been a haze of overwhelming anguish so deep she couldn’t even cry.

  Sandy wrapped her arms around Cameron’s waist and leaned her cheek on his chest, comforted by the tickle of his silky chest hair against the side of her face and his strong heartbeat. “I’ve spent my childhood watching my mother flit from passably happy to deep depression, all because of a man. I vowed I’d never let the same thing happen to me. Then you came along with your charm and money. To me you were cut from the same cloth as the rich playboy who broke my mother’s heart. That’s why I ran away.”

  “Aw, princess. You think I’d love and leave you?”

  She nodded. His warm half-naked body against her sucked the oxygen from Sandy’s lungs and made her tingle in a jittery way that had nothing to do with comfort. “A conviction that got fixed in my mind when I thought you were sleeping with those mums.”

  Resting his cheek against her head, he puffed out a breath. “Listen to me, sweetheart. My feelings for you will never change. I know that because I’ve never felt about any other woman the way I feel about you.” He stroked her hair. “I’m not about to pretend you running away from me didn’t hurt, or that you didn’t dent my pride because you did both. I can’t promise a relationship between us will be smooth sailing, but I can promise to love you for as long as I live.” He spoke in a low, soothing tone. “I’m not going to pressure you, Sandy, but I need you to know I still want to pursue a relationship with you. Where we go from here, though, is your decision.”

  For several seconds, the only sound between them was their breathing. The only scents, her perfume, and Cameron’s sexy masculine fragrance.

  The longer Sandy mulled over the thought of a serious relationship with Cameron, the more nervous she became. “Just give me a little more time to get used to the idea, okay?”

  “Take as long as you need.”

  “What if I take months to decide?”

  “Then so be it. I’m prepared to wait for you to get used to the knowledge that I love you, Sandy. But I’m not going back to the games we played before the ball.” He hooked a forefinger beneath her chin, tilting her face up so he had an unhindered view of her eyes. “Understand?”

  Cameron masterful was a side she could like a lot. She nodded, and smiled up at him as her heart did a happy dance. He still wanted her!

  “Understood.”

  His gaze dropped to her mouth, he slid the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, his gaze growing dark, glittery.

  At the first indication that he was going to kiss her, Sandy’s heart skidded then tripped. Her eyes drifted shut in anticipation of his lips meeting hers, but the kiss didn’t materialise.

  She opened her eyes to find Cameron staring down at her with regret.

  He released her and stepped out of her personal space. “Will you have dinner with me tonight? There’s something I need to share with you.”

  Still reeling from the unfulfilled expectation of Cameron’s kiss, she could only nod. “What time? Where?”

  “Seven.” He cleared the husk from his voice. “I’ll pick you up.”

  He opened the door to let her leave.

  Sandy paused inside the doorway, so close to him his naked bicep touched her shoulder. “Cameron, why—?”

  “Didn’t I kiss you when I know you can sense how much I want to?”

  Not wanted to, but want to. She took small relief in the word. Cam still wanted to kiss her. Even now, she could see the desire darkening his eyes to cobalt, yet he held back. Why?

  “I won’t deny it; I’m dying to kiss you again. But there’s something I must tell you first, and I need some time to prepare.”

  She started to suspect she wasn’t going to like whatever it was he wanted to share with her. For that reason, she was more than happy to put off finding out. However, she knew whatever it was he had to tell her she’d be able to handle it. Armed with Cam’s love she felt ready to take on the world.

  “Seven o’clock would be fine.” She brushed past him, liking his sharp indrawn breath when she paused for a moment to kiss his cheek. Then without another word, left him standing in the doorway.

  9

  Sandy had expected Cameron to pick her up in his sports car. The misgivings had started when a chauffeur turned up instead. Now she sat in the same Limo she’d driven in with Jamie and Daniel on the night of the ball, pulling up in front of the same palatial residence.

  After their talk earlier, she knew Cameron was serious about her, and the longer she considered a relationship with him the more relaxed she became with the notion. What she needed to discover was whether she could look beyond his outer packaging as he’d suggested. Or did she have him so stereotyped as a man like her father she wouldn’t be able to find th
e faith to release her fears, and accept Cameron for himself.

  If she loved Cam as much as she believed she did she’d have to risk it, or break his heart in her endeavour to preserve hers.

  The chauffeur opened the door for her, offered his hand in assistance. As she accepted his help, Sandy’s gaze took in the beautiful grounds again. She envied the people who lived here.

  The scent of various flowers perfumed the night. She paused for a moment to inhale a deep lungful of the wintry air. Her mum used to keep a flower garden filled with a wonderful higgledy-piggledy array of flowers. The smell of flora guaranteed memories of her mother—always caked in mud and the scent of flowers.

  “Miss?”

  “Sorry.” She turned from the awe-inspiring view. The house wasn’t lit up like it’d been on the night of the ball, but the grounds were, and left Sandy with a sense of longing. She wished Cameron had warned her they would be having dinner with his friend. After this morning, she’d found herself counting the hours until she saw him again. How long would they be expected to socialize before they could be alone? “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a house quite so lovely.”

  “Master Cameron is expecting you at seven, Miss,” the chauffeur reminded her.

  “Of course. Thank you.” Sandy headed toward the gilded double doors, glad she’d chosen to wear her most stylish little black dress.

  As they had two weeks ago, the doors opened as Sandy approached, but instead of the door attendant who’d taken her invitation, Sedrick, Cameron’s thin, elderly butler invited her to enter the warm hall.

  “Good evening, Miss. How was your journey?”

  A little taken aback, Sandy hadn’t expected the stern-faced butler to make small talk. “Um...it was pleasant, thank you.”

  “Might I take your coat and bag?” He held out a wizened hand for the black wool garment.

  Sandy scrambled out of her coat and handed it over. “Thank you.” She smoothed her damp palms over her hips in an effort to dry them, surprised by how shaky her hands were. She was more flustered at the prospect of seeing Cam than the time her Gran had caught her trying cigarettes behind her Grandfather’s shed at the end of their garden.

  Sedrick offered her a small bow, then placed the garment into the cupboard to the left of the front doors. “If you will follow me, Master Cameron is waiting for you in the dining room.”

  She followed the regal old man, almost tempted to tiptoe when her heels echoed a staccato behind him. The room was as extravagant as the rest of what she had seen of the residence. White, grey-veined marble covered the walls, lead crystal chandeliers hung from the high gilded ceiling, and gold leaf covered the mouldings. But it was the sight of Cam that stopped her feet from taking another step.

  He stood before a row of tall white French doors, positioned so he’d seen her arrival. He wore another stylish black tuxedo, but this one had a hint of military to it, and tails that added a touch of sophisticated elegance. A blue sash crossed his body from his right shoulder, a Coat of Arms crest pinned to the left side of his chest. Sandy had seen the Coat of Arms before; it was the same as the one hanging above the front doors.

  Cameron turned, the suggestion of a smile kicked up the corners of his mouth as Sedrick said. “Miss Donovan, may I present, Serene Highness, Prince Nicholas Cameron de Monaco.”

  Sandy gasped, her hands hurried to cover her mouth in an effort to hide her dropped jaw. She knew her eyes were as wide as her mouth. The pulse in her throat fluttered, then sped to a gallop.

  “Prince? You’re a Monégasque prince?” The realization hit her. “You own this house.”

  He bowed. Just as she’d imagined the gallant princes from the romantic fairytales her mum used to read to her at bedtime would. “Prince Cameron at your service, Fair Lady. Yes, the house is mine.”

  Cameron was a prince. A real-life, handsome prince. The comprehension was unbelievable, but still it brought sad tears to Sandy’s eyes. They’d known each other all this time, and he never deemed her worthy to know he was royalty. Why had he allowed her to think the worse of him?

  “You let me think you were shallow. That there was nothing to you but your pretty-boy looks and your trust fund. I don’t think I can trust you after this, Cameron.”

  He flinched. “You wanted to think that, Sandy. It kept you safe, gave you an excuse to cower from the attraction between us.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  “Would you have fallen into my arms, had I waltzed into TDA dressed in my princely finery, and asked you out?”

  “I don’t know.” She paced a couple of steps, paused. “I can’t answer that.” Then continued her pacing in an effort to clear her cluttered thoughts. If Cameron had approached her dressed as he was now, could she honestly say she would have welcomed him into her life?

  He’s a prince.

  She had her answer. “Maybe not, I would’ve been too intimidated. But one thing I can tell you, I would have trusted a prince far more than I’d ever trust a playboy.”

  “A playboy. A prince. Why do you insist on seeing me as a title?” The sadness in his voice tinged with frustration reached out to her.

  She took a half step toward him then threw a glance over her shoulder at the inconspicuous butler, who stood pillar-straight with his hands clasped in front of him as he took in the scene between the two of them. Maybe Cameron was used to conducting conversations in front of his butler, but Sandy preferred to do her battles in private.

  As if sensing her unease, Cameron spoke in French, directing his voice to the butler.

  “Leave us, Sedrick. She looks ready to explode; I doubt your heart can take that much excitement.”

  Sandy rolled her eyes. He didn’t expect her to speak the language. She spoke it fluently. As a young teen, she’d discovered a passion for foreign language, and had gone on to achieve her masters in Languages. She was now fluent in six besides her native English; French, Italian, Greek, Hebrew, Spanish and Monégasque—the Genoese Italian and Provincial French dialect spoken in Monaco. She loved to travel. After university, she spent several years travelling and working around the world until she returned home to the UK and accepted the job at TDA as a favour to Jamie. Once she saw the difference TDA made in some children’s lives, she couldn’t imagine working anywhere else.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to scare you away.”

  “Why would finding out you were a prince scare me away?”

  He clasped his hands behind his back. “I imagined you’d be intimidated by my title. Think I was out of your league. You admitted as much a few moments ago.” He spoke without arrogance or conceit, but with an honesty that showed her his own doubts. He wanted her, and was afraid that if she found out about his title before she got to know the man he was, she’d never give him a chance.

  And she almost hadn’t. Because she’d measured him by the same standards she’d used to judge her father when, in fact, Cameron was a prince among men—with or without his title.

  She moved toward him, more nervous than she’d ever been because she knew what she was about to do could change her entire life. With a boldness she could only dream she possessed, she stopped in front of Cam, rose onto her toes, and kissed him.

  His arms enfolded her in an embrace that yelled WELCOME HOME. She felt as if she had come home. When the kiss ended, she was glad he continued to hold her because she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand on her own.

  Two uniformed serving staff walked into the dining room, pushing an onyx and gold serving trolley. They pulled to a sudden stop when they noticed Sandy locked in Cameron’s arms. “Sorry, sir. We thought you were ready for your meal. We can come back when—”

  “It’s all right, we’re ready now.” He gave Sandy a look that made her think he’d forgotten about their dinner as he led her to the table.

  She smiled a shy thanks and sat on the high-backed chair he held for her midway down the wide twenty-four-seat table. If he planned to
sit at the head, he probably didn’t expect them to carry on much of a conversation.

  To her surprise, he walked around the head of the table and down the other side until he came to the chair opposite hers. Taking his seat, he grinned as if he knew what she’d thought. Would she ever get to the point when she didn’t underestimate this man?

  With the first course set out on white china plates, the efficient serving staff left them to eat in private.

  “So what do I call you?” Sandy asked as she unfolded her blue cloth serviette and placed it on her lap. “Your Highness?”

  He did the same, flicking her a wry glance as he laid his serviette across his lap. “Cameron, same as always. Or Cam.” Then he smiled, erasing the mockery from his eyes. “Maybe even my personal favourite...trust-fund baby.”

  She gave a grudging smile. “Trust-fund baby, it is, then.” She forked a piece of succulent tuna into her mouth; the coriander Pesto complimented the fish to mouth-watering proportions. “Mmm. My compliments to the chef.”

  “Thank you.”

  She wasn’t fast enough to hide her surprise. “You cooked this?”

  “I did.” Pointing his fork at her, he winked. “No need to raise your brows quite so high. I’m a dab hand with a piece of fish and a stove.”

  “You are full of surprises.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment also.”

  “You should, I would have never taken you for a foodie.”

  His smile shot straight to her heart as he sliced into his fish, his gaze never leaving hers. “As long as you do take me.”

  Over the course of the meal they relaxed, neither of them seemed to notice when the conversation moved from frivolous everyday issues, to more personal topics. By the time they’d reached the coffee stage, Sandy found herself talking about her mother again, sharing the good times and the bad with Cameron. She’d never told anyone about her mother’s battle with deep depression until this morning when she’d shared it with him.

  “Enough about me. I want to get to know you, Cam. Coming here tonight showed me that I hardly know you.”