A Cinderella Affair

by A. C. Arthur

  “Dammit, you’re shaking,” Adam said as he spun her around to face him. “What’s wrong with you? And don’t tell me nothing because I’m not going to believe it.”

  He was speaking loudly now. That deep voice that she’d initially thought was sexy was now too loud and causing a pounding in her head. “Stop,” she said slowly. “Please let me go.”

  “No. I’m not going to let you go until you tell me what’s wrong.”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Maybe you should just leave. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She tried to pull away from him but she was really shaky and the next thing she knew he was scooping her up into his arms and carrying her to the couch.

  He set her down gently and Camille closed her eyes in supreme embarrassment. Her insides were on fire and she felt the sweat beginning to prick her forehead. She thought she had these episodes under control. She hadn’t been to therapy in two months because she’d felt okay with herself. Why was this happening now, in front of him?

  “Baby, what can I do? Do you want me to call a doctor or something? Talk to me, Camille.”

  She sighed heavily. “I don’t need a doctor.”

  “Okay. Then tell me what you need. Whatever it is I’ll get it for you.”

  Camille opened her eyes and wanted desperately to tell him what it was she secretly longed for. She wanted to tell somebody, anybody who would listen to a young girl’s foolish dream. She’d had that dream for so long it had become a part of her life. And while she knew it would never come true, it was comforting just to have it.

  Adam Donovan and his warm brown eyes, his easy smile and even easier charm had made her think of that dream again. He’d made her think of all that she wanted and would never have.

  “I just need to be alone, that’s all.” She turned away from him then, burying her face in the back of the couch, hoping like hell he’d think she was a waste of time and leave her there.

  She wasn’t prepared for the gentle touch to her cheek or the soft whisper coming from him. “I won’t leave you like this. Even if you don’t tell me what’s wrong I’m going to stay until you’re feeling better.”

  Camille turned back slowly to find his face only inches from hers. He smiled and she wanted to cry at his sweetness. Instead she chuckled nervously. “You must think I’m some type of lunatic. First, I walk out on you in the restaurant and now this. I’m such a mess.”

  Adam laughed with her but continued to stroke her cheek with his fingers. “You’re definitely not an ordinary date. But I’ve seen stranger things happen.”

  “I don’t date often,” she blurted out, then watched as his eyes grew in surprise.

  “Really? I would have guessed you had a string of boyfriends back in L.A.”

  She didn’t know why she’d admitted that to him but couldn’t take the words back so instead she answered, “No boyfriends.”

  “Since how long?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I had a date for my last showing, which was earlier this year. But that was only the one night. I didn’t see him again afterwards.”

  He looked at her quizzically. “Have you ever had a real boyfriend?”

  Feeling a little steadier, Camille struggled to sit up. Adam accommodated her by moving back and lifting her legs onto his lap as he sat down. “I’m not a puritan,” she said dismally. “I just don’t have a lot of free time.”

  “That didn’t answer my question,” he said as he slipped off her shoes and began rubbing her feet.

  Camille thought to protest then figured she would have to be out of her mind to stop sensations this good. “I had a boyfriend in college.”

  “College? That long ago, huh?”

  “I told you I don’t have a lot of time. I’m trying to get my company off the ground.”

  “Your company is doing great. I told you I had a few suits and my mother is a huge fan. My brothers were even talking about you earlier tonight.”

  His hands moved up to her calves and Camille almost moaned. “Your brothers? Why would your brothers be talking about me?”

  “My family and I are very close. So close that sometimes I can’t have a thought without them knowing it.”

  He looked a little stressed by this admission. “You sound as if that bothers you.”

  “Not really.” He shrugged. “Well, sometimes I guess it does.”

  They grew silent and then his hands rested on her thighs. “Are you ready to tell me what happened now?”

  Camille sighed. Her father used to do the same thing. He’d rock her and talk to her about nonsense and then he’d approach the problem. Why did that endear Adam Donovan to her more? “I have panic attacks sometimes. I get really worked up and then I have a meltdown. But I’m okay now.”

  Adam stared at her seriously. “You’re not all right. You haven’t had the meltdown yet.”

  Camille smiled then broke out into laughter as she watched his eyes lighten and his lips spread into a wide grin. “I guess you’re right but that’ll have to wait until I’m alone. I absolutely refuse to melt down in front of a stranger.”

  “Hey, I’m no stranger. I’ve fed you and massaged your feet. That has to make me more along the lines of a friend.”

  Camille grew silent. “I don’t need a friend.”

  Adam cupped her chin in his palm. “But you do need something, Camille. If you stop denying it maybe you’ll find it soon.”

  Camille sighed contentedly and rolled over, snuggling into the soft sheets. Her body felt rested, her mind clear as she dropped an arm over her forehead. Her internal body clock said it was time to get up so she looked to the nightstand to gauge the time. She was a habitual early riser, sometimes too early. Today, she vowed if it were one of those too-early mornings she was going to lie in this comfortable bed a little longer.

  It was nine-thirty. Camille shot straight up in the bed in horror and looked at the clock again. Surely she wasn’t seeing clearly. She never slept this late. But it was nine-thirty—in fact it was now nine thirty-three. Pushing back the sheets she scrambled off the bed and was about to make her way into the bathroom when she realized she wasn’t at home.

  The peach curtains and emerald-green carpet was a dead giveaway. She was a fan of more subtle colors and so her bedroom was decorated in shades of gray and navy. For a minute her heart beat rampantly, then memories of yesterday came flooding back and she calmed. She was in Las Vegas. She’d come here to stop Moreen from selling her father’s home. And she’d seen her dream guy again.

  She fell back on the bed remembering the way he looked in that suit, like a male model posing in a boardroom. He was gorgeous. Hell, he was beyond gorgeous, but then she’d known that the first night they’d bumped into each other. She’d also known he was not on her menu. That’s why she had resigned herself to only dreaming about him.

  But fate seemed to have another plan. Adam Donovan was no longer only in her dreams. He was now officially a thorn in her side. He should be her enemy, considering he wanted to buy her father’s house and she refused to sell it. She should probably despise him as much as she despised Moreen. But she didn’t.

  In fact, as she remembered him coming to her room last night and consoling her, she was dangerously close to liking him, a lot.

  Camille groaned as memories of her falling apart in front of him rushed to the surface. He probably should have been disgusted by that display, but instead he’d stayed with her. What surprised her most about that little exchange was that he actually had been successful in calming her. Nobody had ever been able to calm her through an attack that way except her father. His gentle touch remained as her cheek tingled. Then with a start she sat up and looked down at herself. With a relieved sigh she noticed that she still wore her slacks and blouse from yesterday. So nothing had happened between her and Adam. At least nothing that she would be forever embarrassed about. The episode was small fries compared to what she’d been thinking in the last few minutes.

  Now aware of h
er surroundings and the reason for her being there she did get up with the intention of going to the phone to find out how early the shops on the first floor opened. She hadn’t planned on staying in Vegas so she hadn’t brought so much as an overnight bag with her. She paused at the note placed on top of the phone.

  Meeting’s at noon. A car will be downstairs to pick you up. Patrice, in the gift shop downstairs has been instructed to take care of whatever you need. She assured me that she had a huge selection of CK Davis Designs in stock.

  Adam

  Camille had to smile at that last sentence. She really did want Adam Donovan to be her enemy. It would make her decision not to sell her father’s house a lot easier. But Adam had been nothing but nice to her, probably too nice.

  Her cell phone chimed as Camille held the note in her hand, contemplating her feelings. She still held the slip of paper as she moved to her purse and retrieved the phone.

  “Camille Davis.”

  “Where are you? I’ve been calling your apartment all night. I wanted to find out how things went with Moreen,” Dana said in one breath. For years Camille had wondered how a person could talk so fast without being winded.

  Moving to the couch Camille plopped down and laid her head back. “I’m still in Vegas.”

  “What? Why? Did she kidnap you?”

  Camille chuckled. “You are so dramatic. No, she didn’t kidnap me. I interrupted the meeting before anything could be signed but then one of the buyers asked me to dinner to discuss the deal further.”

  “He asked you to dinner?”

  Camille wondered why Dana assumed the buyer was a man and could hear the shift in her friend’s tone.

  “Was he cute?” Dana asked with growing excitement.

  Camille couldn’t resist a smile. “Yes, he’s cute. But that’s not why I went to dinner with him.”

  “If he was cute then that should have been the only reason you went with him. You already know you don’t want to sell the house. Why even entertain his offer?”

  Camille was asking herself the same question. And the only answer she could come up with was that she wanted a chance to be with Adam Donovan again. “As it turns out I knew him.”

  “Really? Who is he?”

  Camille groaned inwardly, knowing that the moment she released this tidbit of information Dana was going to flip her lid. “Remember the guy we saw in the casino, the one you wanted me to do?”

  “Stop playing! Girl, that fine-ass man is the one trying to buy your property?” Dana practically squealed. “I’d sell him something all right.”

  “I just bet you would. If you weren’t happily married, that is. Speaking of which, is Carl back from Phoenix?”

  “Yeah, he got back last night. But I don’t want to talk about that. I want to hear about the dinner you had with that hunk.”

  “The hunk’s name is Adam Donovan,” Camille said, trying to hide a smile. Although she was only on the phone with Dana she was smiling so hard it was bound to be heard in her voice. “And he seems really nice. It’s a shame I have to kill his deal. But he’s not starving for money so I guess he’ll be okay.”

  “Maybe you should prolong your decision, spend a few more days in Vegas getting to know Adam and…” Dana’s voice trailed off.

  Camille quickly picked up her drift. “Not happening. I’m meeting with him and his partner at noon. I guess Moreen will be there, too. At any rate, I’m going to put an end to this deal once and for all. I should be back in L.A. tonight.”

  “What you should do is cancel that meeting, have a little fun with Adam, then kill the deal and come home.”

  “That’s cruel.”

  Dana chuckled. “That’s life. Men do it all the time, Camille. Stop being so uptight. You know that guy was feeling you when we were at the bar that night and I’m sure he’s more than happy to have run into you again. Get yourself a little somethin’ somethin’ and then go back to business. You deserve it.”

  “And what about him? Does he deserve a one-night stand?” Not that Camille was even considering this idea.

  “Like I said, men do it all the time. I’m sure he’s done it a few times, as well. And I’m not saying it has to be just a one-night stand. I know how you are about sex and commitment. I’m just saying you should explore your options with this guy and see where things might lead.”

  Camille sighed. “They might lead to him cursing me out since he paid for my hotel stay and is apparently footing the bill for my wardrobe for the day since I didn’t plan on staying here. I’m sure he could say it was just business and write it off as that but it’s going to be crappy that I’m not going through with his deal after all this.”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, Camille. Why won’t you sell the house? You have no plans on living there. Is it just to get back at Moreen?”

  “No!” Camille answered quickly. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “It just seems like it’s too soon to let it go. To let him go.”

  “But he is gone, Camille. Keeping that house isn’t going to bring him back.”

  “I know,” she said sadly. Her stomach growled and Camille instantly thought of the meager dinner she’d had and the breakfast she craved. Scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes and orange juice sounded divine. Then she let the hand with the note from Adam fall to her stomach and felt the cushiony softness. Yogurt and fruit would have to suffice.

  “I’d better get ready for the meeting. I’ll call you later with my flight info so you can pick me up,” she told Dana.

  “Okay, but remember what I said, Camille. Take a chance for once, give yourself an early Christmas gift.”

  Camille disconnected with Dana with every intention of ignoring her friend’s advice.

  She’d tried on a dozen or so business suits and an equal amount of dresses and wasn’t totally satisfied with any of them. While the boutique was very well stocked and carried a lot of her designs, Camille just couldn’t seem to find the right outfit. Everything made her look fat. A part of her knew it was just the complex she’d had all her life and that the size twelve outfits didn’t look that bad on her, but then another part remembered that Moreen would be at that meeting.

  Moreen would be dressed in something chic and expensive and she’d look gorgeous and skinny with her svelte size-six body. Today, of all days, Camille needed to be one hundred percent. She needed to feel like she owned the world along with half her father’s house. Moreen would be angry and that would make her sharper, more vindictive and nastier than usual. Max Donovan would no doubt be on point after having spoken to his company lawyers and real estate appraisers again. And then there was Adam.

  Adam would be handsome and debonair and charming. All the things he’d been last night and then some. Yeah, she definitely had to be ready for this meeting. And a glance at her watch told her if she didn’t pick an outfit and hustle upstairs to her room she’d start off by being late, which wasn’t a good thing.

  An hour later and twenty minutes ahead of schedule Camille stepped out of the Gramercy to a seasonably warm October day. She’d settled on the charcoal gray silk suit with the knee-length flared skirt and fitted jacket that covered her too-round bottom. Sassy Milano pumps gave her height, which ultimately made her appear slimmer, while the excellent cut of the jacket concealed any bulging at her waist and accented her generous bosom. She felt professional, yet attractive and sure of her appearance for a change.

  One of her company’s mottos was to do just that. To provide clothes that appealed to every woman of all sizes and classes, to make each woman feel sexy and self-assured. The weird thing was that for the majority of her life, Camille hadn’t felt any of those things herself. It had been only in the last five years that she’d begun to gain some sense of confidence. And while it wasn’t much, she had learned to take her victories in small doses.

  Besides, this meeting would be over quickly and then she’d be on her way back to L.A. She had a show to do in two weeks. This little trip was putting her b
ehind schedule and that too was beginning to worry her. There were so many things that still needed to be done. Meetings with the technicians at the theater where the fashion show was being held, last minute alterations and changes to the lineup, model contracts and the reception for three hundred of L.A.’s high-class society and the press. She could not afford these two days away from her office, yet it was necessary.

  They arrived at the building before Camille had her game plan in order. On the ride over, after she’d pushed aside CK Davis Designs business, she’d begun to think about why she was here in Vegas. Her father’s house. The house where she’d grown up, where she’d had the best times with her father. Now her father was gone and if she didn’t stop it, his house would be, too. How did she really feel about that? Extremely sad, she admitted. Tears stung her eyes and she tried to take deep breaths to hold them at bay.

  She stepped onto the elevator and let her head fall back against the wall. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry,” she chanted over and over until she thought she had herself under control.

  The meeting was starting in ten minutes and she still hadn’t arrived. Adam had tried not to appear nervous. He wasn’t nervous. She was just a woman, just a client actually. And after today, after she signed over her share in the house, she wouldn’t even be that. He could stand here and try to convince himself that this would be the end of their involvement but that would be stupid and a waste of time. And if there was one thing Adam Donovan did not believe in doing it was wasting time.

  Last night she’d appealed to him on a level he hadn’t even known existed in his mind. She’d needed him in a way he’d never been needed before. She was having some type of breakdown and he’d been there for her. He hadn’t a clue what he was doing at the time, however. All he knew was that she was in trouble and he was determined to help her. Afterwards she’d seemed to open up a little more. She laughed and she talked—not too much about herself—but she’d seemed very interested in his childhood and his family life. They’d talked for a while until she just about collapsed from exhaustion. He’d watched her sleep for a few minutes there on the couch with her legs in his lap, her head cradled by her arm resting on the back of the chair.