“I’m rippling. Who knew?” He laughed, turning towards her.
“Me too. I can’t sleep.” She reached between them, taking his hand. “Who’s Melinda Kramer?”
Cameron sat up so fast his hand jerked from hers. He flipped on the bedside lamp and turned back to her. “What?”
“She called me.” Lauren squinted until her eyes adjusted to the light, then found his hand again, holding it tighter this time.
“What did she say to you?” Anger laced his voice.
“She said you went to New York to be with her.” Lauren propped herself up on one elbow.
“I didn’t even see her. Why in the world would she call you?”
“Some nonsense about wanting me to know my boyfriend came with a mistress in New York.”
“But I—” Her finger on his lips silenced him.
“I know, Cam. I’m not accusing you of anything. You’re not exactly an easy lay.”
“What does that mean?” A muscle twitched in his jaw.
“I painted your house to get into your pants. I doubt another woman could do better.” She traced a finger along his tense arm. “I just need to know if she’s jealous, or crazy.”
“I don’t…I didn’t…” Cameron rubbed his hands over his face and let out a frustrated groan. “I haven’t seen her in a year at least, since she got engaged. We had an understanding that whenever we were single, we’d…I don’t like talking to you about this.” Cameron bolted from the bed, marching into the bathroom.
That was not in the script. Lauren threw off the covers and marched right after him. Realizing she was naked she pulled the chenille throw from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her body. Satisfied she’d covered anything he could use to distract her, she pushed open the bathroom door.
Cameron stood at the sink, a glass of water in hand. He caught her gaze in the mirror and shook his head. “I’ll talk to her. She won’t bother you again.”
Lauren shook her head. “I don’t think you should contact her at all. If she’s dangerous, you should get a restraining order. If she’s trying to get a rise out of you, it’s best to ignore her completely.”
“I won’t let her harass you.” He plunked the glass down and turned. “You didn’t sign on for that.”
“I agreed to be a fake girlfriend for one night. Anything beyond that had been my choice.” Lauren stepped closer taking his hand and tugging him towards her. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was worried she might be nuts.”
“She wanted to resume things while I was in New York.”
“I can’t blame her. You are amazing.” She let go of his hand and unwrapped the throw, crawling back into bed and pulling the covers around her.
“That doesn’t upset you?” Cameron shut off the bathroom light and leaned against the doorway, blissfully naked.
“Dating a sex god? Can’t see the downside.” Lauren snuggled into her pillow.
All at once Cameron was on top of her, using the blankets to keep her from moving. His vibrant blue eyes stared down at her. “Aren’t you worried?”
Lauren shook her head. “If you wanted her, you would have had her.”
“You know I didn’t?”
“A woman knows.” She closed her mouth to keep her lip from trembling and giving her away, but by the way his expression softened she knew he’d seen it.
“How do you know?”
“You still kiss the same.”
Cameron looked at her for a long moment, then shifted to his side of the bed and shut off the lamp, crawling beneath the blankets. “I don’t think it works that way.”
“Not if the guy’s been cheating since the beginning. But otherwise, it’s a good barometer.”
Lauren listened to the rhythm of his breath, using it to calm herself to sleep.
“From the beginning?” The lines of his face hardened, and she felt him pondering. If that’s what happened to him, he never felt the difference.
“If they were never really with you from the start, then nothing would change.”
“Sometimes I read these articles in magazines,” Cameron said just before she drifted off. “And I’ll try things. Just to see.”
“It’s not a technique, it’s the feeling behind it that changes,” she mumbled, trying not to yawn. “Let me know if there is something you read for me. I find fun stuff all the time. Like this article on what underwear says about your relationship.” She couldn’t hold back the yawn. “It had me spending way too much time in a lingerie boutique.”
“You bought lingerie?” Cameron scooted closer, placing a hand on her bare thigh.
“You saw some of it earlier.”
“Thank goodness. I though that was a dress.” He chuckled, tucking her head beneath his chin and drifting off to sleep.
Thirteen
“Is that a dress?” Couldn’t be. But why was she coming out of the kitchen wearing lingerie ten minutes before the guests arrived?
“Vintage Donna Karan, if you can believe it.” She turned from loading CDs in the stereo. “And from your expression, I can tell the importance is lost on you. Trust me, the other wives will drool.”
“It’s really short.” And low cut, with a sparkling pendant drawing attention to just how low the gauzy fabric dipped between her breasts.
“You’re telling me.” She returned to her work on the stereo. “I couldn’t wear the thigh highs I planned, so I’m stuck with pantyhose, and I hate pantyhose.” She turned back around with a smile, but her face fell instantly. “You don’t like it?”
She nervously smoothed her hands down the black crepe of the draped pleats. Guilt crept in. She looked amazing. From the low ponytail she’d coaxed her hair into, to the dress, to the sparkling heels on her feet. And bright red toenail polish. That hadn’t been there last night.
“I’d like the dress better if we were alone.” Stepping to her, he placed a hand on the textured material at her hip, grazing her cheek with a kiss.
Her smile showed her relief. After all she’d done for him, he didn’t want to make her self-conscious. Thanks to jet lag he hadn’t woken before her, instead he’d opened his eyes to a note detailing her busy day. Somehow, she and her team managed to cater a retirement luncheon, deliver thirty prepared dinners, and set this party up.
“Promise me you’ll eat tonight, Cam.”
He thought about pointing out he ate last night, but didn’t want to steer the conversation down a road they couldn’t travel with a dozen people about to descend on their privacy, and another handful in the kitchen.
With a sigh, Lauren turned on the stereo and stepped to the dining room, now warm and inviting with rich earth tones everywhere. The sounds of a demanding orchestra opened, fading to opera.
“I’m not an opera fan.” Cameron’s lip curled and he thought about changing her music selection. Would have if there’d been investors coming tonight. But since the guests included a hydroelectric lobbyist, wind power aficionado, two junior partners from the firm, and an environmental journalist, he knew he didn’t have to impress. They had to impress him.
“Opera isn’t my jam either. We’re going Italian tonight, so it fits.” Lauren grabbed a bowl of grapes, setting a bunch in front of each place setting and nestling a name card between the grapes.
She was more comfortable in his house than him. He knew she’d stepped into the agreement for her business, but if he could keep her interested in him with sex, all the better. Because he felt something for her.
Not the scars of suspicion and jealousy that usually kept him form investing too much in a relationship, but a comfortable playfulness he’d always envied in others. A compatibility and understanding he’d never known. He warned himself not to get too used to it. Like every other woman who traded up for a bigger fish in the sea, she’d move on to the next man who could do more for her.
Except, he had more money now than ever before, and in a few years he’d be running a venture-capital firm with the best record in the country. Tamp
ing down the wave of insecure speculation, he vowed to do what she’d asked. Try them out and see where it went.
Cameron leaned against the entry and watched Lauren and her team flutter about the room. Laying a brown runner down the center of the mossy green tablecloth and putting small bowls of olives with curls of lemon on top. Next came two baskets of artisan breads with sprigs of rosemary tucked between. Diego emerged from the kitchen, decorating the wet bar near the entry with bottles of wine, a large salami, red grapes, and wedges of cheese.
He didn’t know how to feel about Diego, about any man working so closely with a woman as stunning as Lauren and not considering taking more from her. But then, he worked with women and never thought of them as such. Maybe Diego saw Lauren the same way. Or maybe he was gay. That would be great.
“Did you buy her that dress?” Diego asked once Lauren disappeared into the kitchen. He didn’t look up, too busy arranging his salami.
“No. She says it’s vintage and the wives will like it. I say it’s too damned short.” Cameron stepped to the entry table and poured himself a glass of wine.
“She never dresses like that,” Diego said next to him, adding a clear vase filled with skinny breadsticks to the arrangement. “Did she dress that way in New York?”
Oh yes, their web of lies. “It’s a classy dress, there’s just not much too it.”
“I never see this side of her, so it shocked me.”
“Do you want to see this side of her?” He had to know. Just because there was nothing on Lauren’s side didn’t mean the man wouldn’t become a problem later.
He actually laughed. “I’m not a masochist. We work well together, but beyond that we’d be disastrous. She always has to be right. And in control. Every second of her day is planned so she can get the most done. It exhausts me to look at her sometimes.” Diego gathered his empty bags. “I wish you luck.”
“I need it. Turns out she can’t be with a man who doesn’t own an espresso machine and an ice cream maker. Do you know where I’d get those?”
What a boring clutter of people. Absolutely no interesting flirt factor. The lobbyist couple was almost predatory in their attentions to the other guests, and it put a pall over her party. She’d told Cameron not to invite them.
Trying to revive the night with tiramisu, Lauren flitted about the room like a butterfly, trying to keep each swirl of conversation light, fun, and on task.
“Lauren, tell me how the wedding plans are coming,” Denise, the wife of Cameron’s associate, Rich, asked.
“No wedding.” Lauren shook her head with a broad smile, enjoying as Cameron seemed to choke on his tiramisu. “I hate weddings, all the pretense and politics. I think everyone should find a nice warm beach to elope, take at least two weeks for the honeymoon to relax and enjoy, then come back and throw a party.”
“Two weeks,” Denise exclaimed. “I don’t think Rich has ever had two weeks off in a row. Surely you can compromise.”
“Lauren refuses to compromise on the kind of man she’ll marry.” Cameron said with a smile. “You wouldn’t believe the list she gave me. I’ll be eighty before we set a date.”
Everyone enjoyed the dessert, her specialty thank you very much. But the lobbyist leered at her, and the other wives looked at her like some kind of high maintenance trophy. Lauren escaped to the kitchen for a breather.
“What a night.” She leaned against the spotless countertop and watched her crew packing the items they’d finished with. “I swear, it was like trying to keep a campfire going in a rainstorm. The second I walked away from a group all conversation stopped. And if this creep Cameron invited accidentally touches me one more time, I’m going to stab him with my heel.”
Anne snickered and sat in a kitchen chair. “It’s the dress.”
“You like it?” She twirled for effect. “I borrowed it from my mom’s closet.”
“Every man in that room liked it, so much so their tongues hung out of their mouths when you walked away. Their wives had to slap them to stop the drooling.” Anne tapped a finger against her lined cheek.
Lauren sat in the chair next to Anne and lowered her voice. “Come on. Surely this dress isn’t that scandalous.”
“It’s gorgeous. And so are you. You’re also a good decade younger than any other woman in that room. The husbands didn’t want to say the wrong thing, and the wives didn’t want to say anything at all.”
“That’s so…archaic.” Lauren wrinkled her nose and smoothed her hands against the skirt of the dress.
“Some people never evolve.”
Abruptly, the music piping through the house shut off. Muffled voices from the living room sounded strained. Anxiety coursing through her, Lauren returned to her guests, watching as they collected their coats at the door.
“Why is everyone leaving?” She ask the wife of one of Cameron’s employees.
“Cameron said he wasn’t feeling well and the party was over, then he went upstairs.”
Lauren ushered the guests out of the house as quickly as she could. She could only guess that the annoying couple who upset the swirl of her party had done something to set Cam off. Of course they were the last to leave.
“We’d love to have you over for dinner.” The wife reached out and touched her face, making Lauren take a step back.
“We’re really quite busy with work and the holidays right now. I need to make sure Cameron is all right.” She opened the door wider, and waved her hand in suggestion they get the hell out of her house.
“I hope he recovers quickly.” The lobbyist started in as Lauren tried to close the door. The back of his hand brushed against her bare arm and she stepped part way behind the door.
It was one thing to shrug off his too familiar touches for the sake of a smooth party, but if he laid a hand on her again she’d slam it in the heavy solid wood door.
“It’s been a long night. If you’ll excuse me.” She slammed the door, wanting to open it just to slam it again in their faces. What had the man implied to Cameron that had him bailing on his own party?
She’d promised. Cameron shook his head, realizing her hormone driven promise held as much power as a pinky swear, as much weight as the flimsy curtains blowing in the frigid December breeze. He could still hear the murmur of voices downstairs, the clatter of decorations being packed and carried away.
Sinking down onto the bed, his aching head fell into his hands. He’d known better than to try for more than casual. Her empty promise couldn’t shield him from the reality he’d witnessed. He’d been blind to it the first time, but he wouldn’t be in that situation ever again.
He’d noticed the other men’s appreciative glances, but had felt proud, not threatened, had found it amusing she never seemed to notice the way men looked at her.
Until he’d seen red. The lobbyist couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself, and Lauren did nothing to brush him away. Cameron knew better than to open himself up to this.
“Are you okay?” Lauren’s voice tried to break into his thoughts.
Cameron said nothing, willing her to disappear and praying for the strength to let her go before he got in any deeper.
“What happened?” She stepped closer, putting a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, shifting out of her reach. He looked up at her, praying she couldn’t see the painful yearning he felt for her in his gaze. Uncertainty flickered briefly in Lauren’s green eyes.
Taking a breath to steady himself, Cameron looked her in the eye. “I can’t do this, Lauren. You need to leave.”
“No.” She crossed her arms across her chest, intensity etched on her face. “Tell me what happened.” She kept her distance and her protective stance.
He wanted her to go. Knew she would bolt as soon as he confronted her with what he’d seen, so he hit her with it. “I saw you with him.”
“Who? That political cretin I told you not to invite? I didn’t—”
Cameron shook his head and tapped his temple. “I saw you. The way you flirte
d tonight, saw their hands on you. You never once brushed them off.”
“I didn’t want to make a scene.”
“Unless it’s what you wanted. To draw their attention, catch a bigger fish?”
“That’s gross. And you’re jealous.”
“Maybe I’m just seeing you for what you are. Moving up, looking for a better deal.”
“If you really believe that, I will go.”
She leveled her gaze at him, chastising him with a glare. In light of what he’d seen, from her tonight and women who’d left before, he knew better than to trust her. Which was the real reason he couldn’t have more than a relationship in passing. After that night, he learned not to trust anyone but himself.
“This isn’t about tonight. You want to tell me what kind of flashback you’re having here?”
He closed his eyes. The scenes in his mind changing from imaginary to vicious memories. His stomach reeled and his mind went blessedly blank.
“I need to know what is going on so I don’t pull this trigger again.”
“When you realized your ex wasn’t who you’d thought, what did you do?”
“I ran away to Europe. I highly recommend it.”
“No, not after. What did you do in that moment?”
Her mouth moved, but no words came. He watched the pain cross her face before she swallowed and spoke. “I froze. I heard his words, and I saw what I would become if I married him. I flashed to my brother and my father at their funerals and thought this was the first good thing about them being gone. If they hadn’t died, I wouldn’t have postponed the wedding, and I wouldn’t have slept with him because I felt empty, and I wouldn’t have known any of it until it was too late.”
She reached up and wiped her eyes of tears she refused to let fall. She’d resolved never to cry about it again. Sobbing got her nothing but puffy eyes. She met Cameron’s gaze and held it, seeing his secret was far darker than hers.
“I opened the door and saw her, and him, in my bed. She still had my ring on. But his father was a millionaire, so I should understand her choice. It was never me she wanted, but who she thought I would be.”
Cooking Up A Seduction Page 16