by Lizzie Shane
He pulled on his boxers and staggered barefoot through the house toward the impatient wail. It was still dark, but as he passed the grandfather clock he squinted at the face. A quarter to seven. He’d always thought of himself as a morning person—but apparently that only counted when morning didn’t start before he was ready for it.
“Hey, baby girl,” he said as he stepped into the nursery. Sofie’s eyes locked onto him, but she kept up her why-have-I-been-waiting-so-long cries until the second he lifted her out of the crib. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, making idle conversation as he carried her to the changing table and got her a fresh diaper.
Sofie was wide awake, and by the time Cam was done changing her, he was too. The Russell House event was tonight and Rachel undoubtedly needed all the sleep she could get—something a selfless man would have thought of last night, though he couldn’t regret the way they’d spent the midnight hours. All he could do was steal her a few more minutes now.
“Mama,” Sofie demanded—she was a strong-willed little thing. All of her words had a distinct aura of command. Just like her mother.
“Mama’s still sleeping. You wanna look at the Christmas tree?” It was one of Sofie’s primary fascinations and she agreed instantly.
He carried her into the great room and over to the tree his sisters had helped him decorate, inhaling the pine scent. “Dow!” the little dictator in his arms demanded, emphasizing the order with a bounce.
“How do we ask nicely?” he said, echoing something he must have heard Rachel say five dozen times in the last week, and Sofie’s whole demeanor instantly changed.
She smiled sweetly, actually fluttering her lashes, and chirped angelically, “Dow peez!”
“You’re a con artist, you know that?” he said as he plopped her on her feet and she toddled toward the tree, patting the presents and chattering to herself.
“You know the funniest thing is happening to my tree,” Rachel spoke from behind him.
“Mama!” Sofie shouted, running toward her mother, tripping on nothing, tumbling to her hands and knees and popping back up again to run some more.
Rachel—fully dressed now, though the dress from last night had a definite morning-after chic—met her halfway, scooping her up and giving her a kiss. “Good morning, Sofie Bear.”
“I was trying to let you sleep in.” He bent to claim his own good morning peck.
“We need to get going.” But her gaze lingered gratifyingly on his bare chest. “Mom and Yaya will be wondering where we are.”
Cam’s eyebrows popped up. “I think they know.”
She flushed, but didn’t meet his eyes, pulling on her all-business demeanor as a shield. “Be that as it may, we still need to go. I have a lot to do today to get ready for the event tonight.”
“Can I pick you up later? We can drive downtown together.”
“No, I have to be there so much earlier than you do. You’d just be bored for hours.”
“I could help,” he offered.
“You’re a guest,” she insisted. “The guest of honor. Just go and have fun. You probably won’t see much of me. I’ll be busy all night.”
“You’ll have time for a dance, though, right?”
Sofie wriggled to be let down and Rachel set her on the ground. He caught her eye when she straightened and she averted her gaze, pressing a smile between her lips. “One dance,” she promised, relenting. “After the auction. But you have to dance with the bidders too. We want them all to run up your price.”
“It doesn’t feel weird to you? That I’m selling myself to the highest bidder tonight?”
“Of course not.” She smoothed a hand over his chest, as if she couldn’t stop herself. “You’re selling a baseball experience. The winner will probably be buying you for a kid in their life. Or it could easily be a man who wins.”
“And if it’s a woman?”
“Then you will give her an amazing day at the ball park, a day she will never forget.” She smiled sweetly. “But if you so much as kiss her I will not be responsible for my actions.”
He grinned, delighted by the flash of possessiveness. “Fair enough.”
Rachel met his eyes as Sofie began patting the presents again—either admiring them or having a conversation with them, it was hard to tell which. “So we’re doing this,” she murmured, a flicker of uncertainty behind the words.
“We’re doing this,” he assured her, eliminating the space between them. He looped his arms around her, locking his hands at the small of her back and gently tugging her forward. “No regrets?”
He almost regretted asking, giving her the chance to back out—until she smiled and tipped her face up to his. “No regrets.”
She wasn’t in the heels anymore and had to go up on her tiptoes to kiss him. He bent his head, meeting her halfway. It wasn’t a hot kiss—not with morning breath and the baby right there. It was something better: a promise.
When he lifted his head, the words fell out. “I love you, Rache.” Her lips parted, her eyes widening, and he was struck by a terrifying sense of déjà vu as he blurted, “You don’t have to say it back.”
Last time she’d cracked a joke, something about how he wasn’t awful—and he’d replayed that moment a thousand times in the months after she broke it off with It’s over. He wondered, had that been the moment she decided to dump him? Or just the moment the universe had decided he was too comfortable and it was time to pull the rug out?
That tightrope feeling was back. One false step would send him plummeting and he had a nasty feeling he’d just taken that step—
But then her eyes softened, something wondering and almost awestruck lighting in them, and she whispered, “I might be somewhat fond of you too.”
She kissed him, clutching his shoulders, everything in that moment—until Sofie’s bright voice interrupted from the vicinity of their knees. “Mama! Hungry!”
They broke apart, grinning, and no moment had ever been more right.
Now he just had to smother that voice in the back of his head whispering that this, this was the moment it would all go up in flames.
Chapter Twenty
The ballroom looked magnificent. The color scheme was white and gold, elegant and opulent. Perfectly matched white flocked Christmas trees with gold garland and sparkling ornaments flanked the room. Rachel studied it all with a critical eye. The Russell House logo, in glittering gold, decorated the dance floor and she subtly ran the toe of her shoe over it for the thousandth time to make sure there were no loose edges to the decals they’d used.
The dance floor was already dotted with couples in evening wear, more bejeweled women and tuxedoed men flowing through the doors all the time. The orchestra—composed of volunteers from the Denver symphony who wanted to support a good cause—played an eclectic mix of classical music, familiar holiday tunes, and popular contemporary songs, rearranged for strings.
Servers circulated with trays of canapés and champagne, but the event seemed to have escaped the fate of being stuffy and dull. Laughter rippled through the room—thanks, in large part, to the bachelors, but also to the volunteers encouraging guests to buy into the Express Pass raffle and Mystery Bags.
The alcohol was flowing and the bachelors were mingling. Each had been assigned a table to “host” for the night and some stayed close, buttering up those who had requested to be seated with them, while others worked the room.
Cam fell into the latter group, and Rachel tried not to track his movements with her eyes. She had too much to worry about tonight to be thinking about Cam. And what he’d said this morning.
Rachel caught sight of her mother, who had begged to help out. She’d had her reservations, but she had to admit Andie was doing an amazing job. All the Express Pass volunteers had been given a golden bidding paddle with a lightning bolt on it, but Andie fluttered hers like a nineteenth century courtesan, selling tickets and leaving laughter in her wake. She just hoped her moth
er didn’t come away from the evening with another ill-fated romance.
The scene was elegant but festive, as the elite of the greater Denver area rubbed elbows—and silently compared diamond necklaces. It was exactly what Rachel had been going for. An event that would make Trista proud. This may not be her scene, this wealth and elegance, but this auction was her baby and she was going to ensure everything ran perfectly.
So far everything was going as well as could be expected. There were the usual little glitches—a bidding paddle that had been given to the wrong guest and had to be reassigned in the system, lines that were a little too long at one of the bars because the other was partially hidden by the orchestra, and pens with no ink at the silent auction tables.
If that was all that went wrong tonight, she’d count herself lucky. Reassigning paddles, redirecting guests, and replacing the pens were all easily managed.
Rachel returned a passing guest’s smile, lifting one hand to gently touch her headset as Bruno—one of her assistants for the night—spoke in her ear, asking if the veggie dinner option was vegan or just vegetarian. She moved away from the dance floor, confirming it was indeed vegan and making her way to the registration desk he was supervising in case the guest wanted more details.
After assuring that the guest’s concerns had been sufficiently put to rest, she slipped back into the ballroom, scanning the room for any potential seed of a problem.
“You are a marvel,” Cam said, appearing at her side. “I’ve already heard several people saying it’s the best Russell House fundraiser yet.”
Rachel slanted a look at him without stopping her perusal of the room. “Don’t jinx it. The night is young.”
“Come on. I thought I was the superstitious one. It’s great. Take a moment to enjoy your triumph.”
“I’ll feel triumphant when it’s over.”
She loved her job, but she never actually enjoyed these events. She was too busy making sure everything ran smoothly—and noticing every tiny little detail that didn’t. No one else would notice that the silent auction tables were a little too close together, making it harder for the guests to see all the items and get close enough to write their bids, but Rachel did.
“All right,” Cam said. “I’ll stop bugging you. But you still owe me a dance later.”
He moved into the crowd, calm and confident and perfectly at ease—and she had to fight the urge to follow him with her eyes. She certainly wasn’t the only one. The bachelors were all wearing gold ribbons on their lapels and there were more than a few women eyeing that ribbon, and the man it was attached to.
She’d told herself she wasn’t going to be jealous—he’d made it very clear he was hers and she’d told him to work the crowd—but that didn’t stop the scrape of anxiety beneath her skin. When he’d said he loved her this morning, the rightness of it had shivered through her, but she still hadn’t been able to make herself say it back. She’d literally never said those words to a man in her life and part of her was still scared of them, even if that was exactly how she felt.
Love.
God. It was terrifying. It felt so huge. And foolish. A flying leap into the unknown—and Rachel didn’t do the unknown. She liked things she could control. Things she could predict. The best laid plans. But Cam had never been one to conform to her plans.
He’d been moving the ornaments on her tree.
She’d started to accuse him of it that morning, but Sofie had distracted her. And then he’d said he loved her. But every time he came to visit Sofie or pick up Rachel at their apartment, she would notice later that a couple of her perfectly placed ornaments had migrated to a different spot on the tree. At first, she’d thought they were falling to lower branches, but then some had started falling upward and she’d become more and more certain it was Cam. Silently messing with her. Teasing her about her too-perfect tree.
And now every time she saw the tree, all she saw was him.
But she still didn’t know what the future held. They hadn’t talked about that. They’d agreed they were doing this—whatever this was—and he’d told her he loved her, but she didn’t know what that meant for the next year or even the next month. All day she’d been trying not to panic over the fact that she didn’t have a plan. What would happen when the baseball season started? They hadn’t even talked about whether Christmas morning would be with her family or his, or if they would even be together. She needed answers.
Unfortunately, answers would have to wait. Right now she had a job to do.
Her mother appeared at her side, already sold out of her Express Pass tickets, and Rachel went back to work.
* * * * *
“I’ve bought five Express Pass tickets,” the bubbly brunette in front of him bragged. “And if I win, I am absolutely picking you.”
Cam hid his discomfort behind a smile. “You’re a big baseball fan?”
“Oh, yeah, absolutely,” she gushed in a way that gave him the distinct sense she didn’t even know how many innings were in a game. “I’m sure whoever wins the Express Pass is going to pick you,” she went on, with a little pout for the idea that she might not win it.
“You never know,” Cam said. “There are some pretty amazing experiences on the auction block tonight.” He kept hitting that word—experiences—but Bubbles here wasn’t the first one tonight who seemed to want him more than the “experience.”
“Yes, but they aren’t with you.”
It’s for a good cause, he reminded himself as she put a flawlessly manicured hand on his sleeve. He would prefer to spend the night with Rachel, dancing with her, kissing her in the middle of the dance floor and letting all these eager women know he wasn’t auctioning off the role of Mrs. Cameron Cole. But that wouldn’t help the charity.
And even if he had been inclined to spend the entire night with Rachel in his arms, she wouldn’t let him. This event meant too much to her. And she was too focused for that. When he’d spoken to her earlier, he’d realized that talking to her now was like someone trying to talk to him in the middle of an inning. She looked gorgeous in a simple white cocktail dress that hugged her figure and stopped just below her knees, but she was in game mode, and he needed to let her concentrate.
Which meant focusing on what he’d come here for. Raising money for Russell House. Even if it meant letting lots of women in expensive gowns squeeze his biceps.
“Cameron Cole. What’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?”
Cam turned toward the familiar voice, the first genuine smile he’d had in hours curving his lips. “Erika. I should have known you’d be here.”
His ex-wife moved in for a hug, effectively dislodging the brunette, who continued to hover nearby, clearly hoping the new arrival would depart quickly. The orchestra began I’ll Be Home for Christmas, and Erika cocked her head as she stepped back from the hug. “I believe they’re playing our song. Care to dance, Mr. Cole?”
“I’d love to.”
He offered her his arm and they wove through the crowd toward the dance floor, past at least a dozen women who were eyeing him speculatively. He really hadn’t taken into account how much this auction was going to make him feel like a side of beef.
Erika twirled into his arms. There were only a few couples taking advantage of the dance floor, so they at least had some privacy—even if it felt like every eye was on them.
“I don’t remember this being our song,” he commented.
“You looked like you could use rescuing.”
He grimaced. “Thank you.” They weren’t dancing so much as swaying, but it was nice to be able to relax and not have to be on, if only for a few minutes. “Carly and Eddie are around here somewhere. She claims she always dreamed of selling me to gypsies and this is the closest she’s likely to come to realizing that dream so she wanted to be here to see it in person.”
Erika laughed. “That sounds like Carly. Does she still hate me?”
“She never
hated you.”
Erika arched a brow.
“Okay, she hated you a little. She takes the big sister protectiveness seriously. But things have changed recently. I’d be surprised if she’s still mad at you. I have a daughter now.”
If they’d been doing anything more complicated, Erika would have missed a step. “Seriously?”
“I know. It caught me by surprise too.”
Erika beamed. “Cam, that’s great. I’m so happy for you.”
“Her mom’s here. Rachel. She’s organizing this event. I’d love for you to meet her later. Would that be weird? I feel like you two would get along.”
Her smile twisted ruefully. “Honestly, I’m just glad you’re willing to let me anywhere near her.”
“Well, she already found out about you the hard way.” She raised a brow in question and he explained, “We started dating back when you and I were still technically married and when she found out about that things ended pretty badly. We’ve only just gotten back together and I’m trying not to screw it up.”
“So you thought selling yourself to other women was a good way to grow your fledgling relationship? Or is she planning on buying you tonight?”
“I don’t think she’s allowed to bid, since she’s running the event. I signed up for this before she came back into my life—and I really didn’t think there’d be so many women here. Or that they’d be so…eager.”
Erika laughed. “Don’t underestimate your appeal, bat boy.”
“It’s just hard to get excited about going on a forced date with some woman who’ll have her own expectations when I’m already completely gone for the mother of my child.”
“Aw.” Erika smiled, something soft and wondering filling her eyes. “You’re in love.”
“Yeah. And I’m trying not to freak out that it’s all going to go up in smoke again.”
The song ended and they separated, but as Erika hooked her arm through his to leave the dance floor, she tilted her head at him. “Tell you what. I wanted to make a big donation tonight. What if I bid on you? If I win, you can take your girl instead.”