by Ali Parker
Jackson Lee was quiet, but only for a moment. “Your parents are in the city as well, aren’t they?”
“Yes. About a half-hour drive away. Not even.”
“I don’t see any harm in you seeing them. Since they’re so close and all. But do me a favor? Make sure you and Wood are on the same page before you make plans? Yes?”
“Of course.”
“Hold on a second, Piper, sorry.” Jackson Lee must have covered the receiver of his phone with one hand because whatever he said was nothing more than a bunch of incoherent mumbling in my ear. I assumed he was talking to his children, perhaps telling them to turn the TV down, because when he came back on the line the background noise was significantly quieter. “Sorry. Where were we? Right. Christmas with your parents. Totally reasonable. Was there anything else I could help you with?”
“Um—”
“How are things going there? Wood treating you all right?”
“Um, yes.”
“That doesn’t sound convincing,” he said, sounding annoyed.
“No, no, it’s not bad. Honestly, he’s just not here much. He’s… different than the others.”
“In a refreshing way?” Jackson asked hopefully.
“I guess so.”
The fact that there was absolutely nothing between Camden and me should have been making all of this easier. It was, after all, what I’d wanted all along: a man who was easy to walk away from at the end of the month. This way, I had time to process how I felt about Max and how much I missed him.
But even though those were things I wanted, it all still felt off. Uncomfortable.
“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” Jackson said.
“He’s just not who I remember from the beginning of last year.”
That was true. Camden was not the man I remembered from last year. He was not the attentive, considerate, good-natured man who’d pulled my chair out for me at dinner or checked in to make sure I was enjoying myself all evening.
Where did that man go?
What happened over the course of the year to make him so withdrawn?
Was it something I’d done?
I frowned. I shouldn’t be made to feel this way. “Sorry, Jackson, I have to go. Thank you for your time.”
“You’re sure? I can—”
“I’m sure,” I said confidently. “Things are fine. I’m fine. It’s all going to be fine.”
“All right,” he said with obvious uncertainty. “You know my number if things change.”
“Yep. Sure do. Thank you.”
When the call ended, I marched upstairs to change out of my pajama pants. I was right. I shouldn’t be made to feel this way, like an unwanted and uninvited guest walking on eggshells in the house of a man I hardly knew.
This was an arrangement, a contractual obligation. He’d known this was coming all year long, and he could have planned better so as not to just push me to the back of a shelf like a book he didn’t want to read.
December was my month. I would not sit idly by and let it slip through my fingers without participating in some of my favorite activities, regardless of how Camden felt about them. The least we could do was be civil with one another and try to forge something akin to friendship. How hard could that be?
I changed into warmer clothes, threw on my jacket, boots, and scarf, and rode the elevator down to the lobby.
No more sitting around, waiting for things to change. It was time to take matters into my own hands.
Chapter 6
Camden
Bradley sat on the sofa in my office. He was near the fireplace and had one leg crossed over the other. His attention was on the man across from him, Mark Delling, who was speaking animatedly with his hands about a deal he’d closed this afternoon with a new client. He was riding the high of his first big deal, and Bradley was the sort of man who liked to celebrate every little victory along the trajectory of a man’s career.
I, however, preferred to save my applause for the moments that really counted. Regardless, I listened.
“You should have been there, Brad.” Mark grinned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. His hands still moved in flourishes as he spoke to add emphasis to his words. “I could’ve sworn right around the halfway point that Bordeau was going to walk. But somehow, I managed to pull him back in, and before I knew it, I had his signature. I couldn’t fucking believe it, man. You were right. You have to connect throughout the process. You can’t rely on business knowledge and stats. You have to make it personal. I’ve been doing it wrong for nine fucking months. I hate to think of the kind of money I’ve been missing out on simply because I got bored when clients started talking about their dogs. Or worse, their kids.”
Bradley and the other men in my office, all associates of the company, laughed. I didn’t find the joke all that humorous, but I chuckled anyway, preferring to laugh when something wasn’t funny rather than risk one of the others asking me why I was in a foul mood.
“Samantha Clarke’s not taking off for Mexico for Christmas anymore,” the fourth man in the room said. His name was Aaron. He worked for Bradley and me on contract and had been doing so for the last three years. We’d offered him a permanent position, but he wasn’t inclined to sit in a desk job at the same office every day. He preferred the freedom of being able to travel anywhere he wanted at any time, and he took full advantage of said luxury. However, there was one thing that kept him coming back to the company over and over again.
Samantha Clarke.
She’d worked for us for just shy of two years. She worked in communications and acted as a liaison between us and the media. She was quick-witted, Amazonian-level tall, with long blonde hair and eyes as dark and stormy as her temper.
I doubted poor Aaron Harbor was even on her radar.
“I thought she was leaving on the twentieth,” Bradley said, running a finger along his jaw. “Her plans fell through?”
Aaron shrugged. “Don’t have all the details yet. All I know is she’s going to be at the office Christmas party. And I’m going to be at the office Christmas party.”
Mark scoffed. “Are you really trying to imply that you think you have a shot of hooking up with Samantha Clarke? I’ve heard a lot of funny things today, dude, but that takes the cake. She’d eat you for breakfast.”
Aaron looked around at the three of us. “Why does everyone keep saying that? Camden, help me out here, man.”
He was asking the wrong person. I shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not trying to talk you out of making a move at the party, but it stands to reason you should approach with caution. Samantha is not a woman to be taken lightly, and I doubt any of your charming pickup lines would work on her.”
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” Aaron challenged.
“I suppose we will,” I said. I had nothing invested in his attempt to make something of the awkward relationship he and Samantha had now. She wasn’t stupid. Far from it. She’d known he was into her since the first day they shook hands. From where I was standing, it was more than a little obvious that she’d been toying with him since that time, like a cat batting around a fake mouse.
Aaron got to his feet and shrugged out of his jacket. He folded it in half before draping it over the back of the sofa and sitting back down. As he did, he undid the cuffs of his pale-blue shirt. “And what of your woman, Camden? Will she be making an appearance at the party?”
“My woman?” I asked, bemused.
Aaron’s pale blue eyes shifted around the room. He earned nods from the three other men.
“I haven’t considered it,” I said.
Bradley arched an eyebrow at me. “You were planning on coming to your work Christmas party and leaving her at home, weren’t you?”
“I never said that.”
“Prick,” Bradley said.
“I’d say,” Mark agreed.
“No decision has been made,” I said in my own defense. “She only just got here.”
“A week ago,” Bradley stated. “The party is two weeks away. And for the record, I’ve been patiently waiting to hear about this mystery woman of yours, and as of yet, you haven’t said a damn thing.” He leaned back into the sofa and draped one arm over the back of it. Then he gave me an expectant look. “What’s she like? Is she as beautiful as you remember?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course, it matters,” Mark said, slapping his knee. “Come on. Give us the goods, man.”
I sighed wearily. “Fine. Yes. She is.”
The men nodded.
I stared evenly back at them.
Aaron groaned and rubbed at his temples. “It’s useless. Talking to Camden about his personal life is like ramming your head against a brick wall.”
“I refuse to give in.” Bradley chuckled. “Come on. Tell us about her. What does she do? What are her interests? Have you kissed her yet?” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Kissed?” Mark asked incredulously. “The man is fucking pushing forty, not twelve.”
Bradley shrugged. “Yeah, but he’s never fucking home, so how could they be making enough headway to be close enough to fucking?”
Mark paused and then conceded. “Fair point. Settle this for us, Camden. Have you fucked her yet?”
“No.”
“Told you,” Bradley said.
“What is this?” I asked sharply. “Ninth grade?”
“We’re merely curious,” Aaron said. “Do you not know anything about her worth sharing?”
“She’s…” I paused, searching for the right words, but Bradley was right. I’d hardly spent enough time with her to have anything worth saying. “She’s warm.”
Mark made a face. “Dude. Creepy. Reel that shit in.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I barked.
The three of them snickered.
Rolling my eyes, I pushed up from the sofa and went to the liquor cabinet, where I fixed us all a glass of bourbon, save for Aaron, who preferred vodka. I passed the drinks around and fell back into my spot, resting an elbow on the armrest of the sofa and swirling my bourbon around in my glass. “By warm, I meant kind. Gracious. She smiles a lot. And not a forced kind of smile, you know? She’s genuinely smiling.”
They stared blankly at me, waiting for more information.
I sipped my drink to buy myself some time to think. Then, I continued. “She likes to cook.”
“And?” Bradley pressed.
“And,” I said, frowning. “Well, I don’t know much else besides that.”
The three of them snorted and laughed. Aaron chimed in first. “If I had a girl as hot as you claimed this chick was last year, I would sure as shit know more about her than ‘she’s warm’ and she ‘likes to cook.’ Jesus, man. Get your shit together.”
“I have other priorities,” I said.
“Clearly,” Mark muttered into his glass.
The three of them were still chortling to themselves when someone knocked on my office door. I called for them to come in, and my receptionist, a new intern from a local business school, popped her head in and searched for me. She smiled in a rehearsed way—a way very unlike Piper’s smile—and tipped her chin to someone waiting in the hall behind her. “Um, Mr. Wood? There’s a young woman here to see you. She says it’s important.”
I assumed woefully that said young woman would be a reporter with a local news station or online news site. So I invited her in.
Seconds later, a dark-haired vixen stepped into my office, and the heads of my colleagues spun as if on a swivel to look at her.
Piper lifted her chin and met my gaze. “Good evening,” she said. Her eyes flicked toward the clock on the wall behind my desk. “I realize you’re probably quite busy, but can we speak in private? It won’t be long.”
Bradley turned slowly back toward me. His eyes were wide, and he had that look about him that he wore when his wife was mad at him.
I gestured for the men to leave my office. Piper stepped farther inside to make space for them to slip out the door behind her, and she offered each of them one of those warm smiles I’d been telling them about.
Then she came forward and sat on the sofa across from me, setting her purse on the floor between her feet. She leaned forward and knit her fingers together while resting her elbows on her knees. Her long dark hair fell over her shoulders and framed her face. The shadows that fell across her made her eyes look even darker than they already were.
Apparently, she was not going to speak first.
“What’s this about?” I asked.
“I’m trying to decide if I should stay for the rest of the month or just go home now.”
I felt my right eyebrow creeping up my forehead. “Oh?”
That was bold of her.
She nodded. There was an air of confidence gathered around her like a cloak. “I have family and friends in the city, and I have no intention of spending the month of December alone in a cold house above the city, looking down at everyone and everything. If you’re going to be here all the time, then just say it. Please.”
I swirled my drink. Piper stared evenly back at me. I had a strong sense she didn’t like saying the words that had come out of her mouth, but I also had the impression that she’d been itching to say them for some time.
I couldn’t blame her, of course. Abandoning her in my house for the entire month was rather shitty of me.
“Camden?” she asked, her eyes searching mine. “I won’t be offended if this isn’t something you want anymore. All I’m asking is for you to throw me a bone here.”
Chapter 7
Piper
Camden hadn’t said a word in what felt like a solid minute. A minute wasn’t very long, but when you were sharing that sixty seconds with a ridiculously attractive man who was staring at you like it was the first time he’d really seen you, it was unsettling to say the least.
Camden hadn’t looked away from me over the course of that minute. I refused to look away, too. I wouldn’t let him bulldoze me with his alpha-male presence. I’d come here to speak my mind, and speak my mind, I did. I didn't feel like I’d crossed a line either. I’d kept it civil. Polite. But honest. And that was exactly what I’d been going for.
Had I rehearsed what I wanted to say on the fifteen-minute cab ride from The Laurient to his office tower?
Yes.
Was I glad I’d prepared for this conversation?
Also yes.
Had I walked in and spat out everything I was feeling, this conversation would have been one hell of a shit show. Especially with him looking at me like that. It was downright intimidating.
“Are you going to say anything?” I couldn’t stand the silence anymore.
Camden set his drink down on the glass-top coffee table between us. Then he slumped back into the sofa and dragged his hand down his face. For the first time this month, I saw weariness in him. “I’m sorry, Piper. What you’re saying has merit.”
I blinked at him. “I know.”
The corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile, but it was swallowed up by a frown as soon as it appeared. “I haven’t been the best host, have I?”
I considered using a gentle approach and responding with understanding. But I didn’t understand. And he had been a bad host. “A bit. Yes.”
Finally, he smiled. And then he nodded. “You’re right. And I’m sorry. It was never my intention to make you feel lonely. Or ignored.”
“What was your intention then?”
He spoke differently than any man I’d ever interacted with. He chose each word carefully, spoke with careful precision, and made the sort of eye contact that made me feel smaller than him. I didn’t have the impression that he was doing it on purpose. He was just a very intense man. I imagined he’d had his fair share of tough conversations with men just as ruthless in business as he was and that was where it came from. After all, he’d afforded an office tower like this one, and he owned the most expensi
ve apartment in the city.
Intensity came with the gig.
“Distance is more comfortable for me than closeness,” Camden said eventually. “And at this time of year, I have a tendency to pull away from people.”
“Christmas, you mean?”
He nodded. “Yes. Christmas.”
I figured as much. He was a Scrooge indeed.
Camden rubbed his jaw and finally looked away, casting his dark-blue gaze to the ceiling. “This year isn’t a good time for me, Piper. It was bad luck that landed you in my company for December. I suspect had we been together prior to this, things might have been different. I might have been different.”
“Well, that’s out of our control, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “It is, but the things I can control become very appealing during this time of year, and I look to distractions. It’s easier for me to bury my head in the sand.”
I nodded.
“The sand being my work,” he added.
“I get it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I don’t want to make things harder for you. But I don’t want to be isolated either.”
“That’s fair enough.”
“Thank you.” This felt like a business meeting more than anything else, like we were negotiating our terms for the month after a rather unsuccessful trial run. I clasped my hands together and stopped my anxiously bouncing knee. “So what does this mean?”
“Well,” he said slowly before finishing off the last two mouthfuls of his drink. I watched the way his Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat as he swallowed. Then I forced myself to meet his piercing-blue gaze again. “What do you want to do, Piper?”
“Sorry?”
“What do you want to do?”
“About the month?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Or right now.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. Right now.”
I licked my lips. I’d prepared for this entire conversation except for what might happen if it went well and he met me halfway. “Um. Well. Honestly? I’d just like to spend some time together.” That felt like a very vulnerable thing to say to a man who had made it clear he did not want to spend that time with me this month.
