by Pamela Aares
Jake’s stomach rumbled. Parker had a reputation for providing great food. Grub to Parker was probably a feast to anyone else.
They rode the winding trails through oak forests and ancient and spreading bay trees. Some of the tension that had riddled him for the past month eased up. They stopped at a spring-fed stream to let the horses drink before heading farther up the mountain. After about an hour they came out on a plateau that offered a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree vista. A crescent sliver of San Francisco Bay sparkled in the south, and the deep blue of the Pacific reached toward the horizon in the west.
“I may never leave California,” Jake said.
“Why on earth would you?”
“Depends. My contract’s up. I’ll know in the next few weeks if the Giants renew it.”
“You can’t possibly have doubts about them keeping you; I’ve seen you play. And I’ve heard what Alex has to say.”
But he did have doubts. Sure, his stats were good, bordering on great. But he couldn’t explain to a guy like Parker the doubts that scrapping all your life for every achievement could plant, and plant deep.
“There are plenty of guys with good chops in the game.”
Parker stopped unloading containers of food from his saddlebags and eyed him. And then he laughed, surprising Jake.
“Contrary to popular opinion about me, I respect humility. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about life, it’s that if you’ve been given a gift—especially if it’s accompanied by the magic that passion and allurement and attraction fire up—and you respect that gift, the universe will conspire to help you give it back to the world. Your contract’s a sure thing. Trust me.”
His words landed true, spreading in Jake’s blood like an infusion of extra oxygen. This was the side of Parker Tavonesi that baffled Jake. To the outside world, he might read as a carefree, partying rich guy. But with every interaction, Jake saw that Alex’s cousin was so much more than that.
“You’re built for the game,” Jake said. Parker, with his six-foot-four frame loaded with well-honed muscle, would’ve made a great right fielder. Or a pitcher. He had the strength.
“Never got bit by the bug. Alex tried to interest me when we were kids, and I played some Little League. But polo, horses and the thrill of the ride got in me, and I never looked back.”
True to form, Parker had brought food that the finest restaurant would have been proud to serve. Grilled eggplant sandwiches on crusty bread. A melon salad with some sort of herbs. And hand-sized cookies with hunks of chocolate and macadamia nuts.
Jake bit into one of the cookies. And moaned as the flavors of fine chocolate and roasted nuts—and something he couldn’t name but was damn delicious—melded in his mouth. “If I was into guys—or marriage—I’d ask you to marry me. Just for your cooking.”
Parker shrugged. “If I was into guys, maybe I’d consider your proposal, just for your riding skills.” He took a bite of a cookie, stared at it. “Women captivate me. Everything about them. But lately I’ve become convinced they were created to torture me.” He waved the cookie toward Jake. “And if it’s the cookies that inspired you, I didn’t bake them. I bought them from my cousin Adrian’s fiancée. Her boy baked them for a fundraiser. An entrepreneur in the making.”
“We should hire the kid, start a franchise.” Though he said it with a laugh, Jake’s thoughts had been hijacked. Women had never been instruments of torture for him. Not until Cameron.
They ate in silence, the only sounds coming from the rustle of the breeze and the distant sound of an airplane passing overhead.
The afternoon wind had picked up, cooling the day as they rode back to Trovare. At the crest of the hill overlooking Alex’s place, two riders approached them.
Parker cursed. “Coco shouldn’t have her friend on that mount. The woman clearly doesn’t know how to ride.”
Jake squinted into the sun. And did a double take. Cameron? What the hell was she doing there?
His gut lurched when her horse reared its head. But Coco put a hand to the bridle, and the horse calmed. Jake didn’t.
“You left without me,” Coco said as she reined up beside Parker.
“We left early. You were still deep in beauty sleep, I’m sure.”
Cameron stopped her horse a few feet behind Coco’s. She didn’t meet Jake’s eyes. He noticed she had dropped her reins and they lay slack against her mount’s neck. It was all he could do not to reach over and hand them to her.
“Hello, Jake,” Coco said, shaking her gleaming dark tresses in the sun. “You’re forgiven. But Parker knows better than to leave me behind on a day like this.” She turned to an increasingly stony-faced Cameron. “I believe you know Cameron.”
Cameron lifted her eyes to Jake’s. Her lips stayed seamed in a firm, hard line and unreadable emotion flickered in her eyes. He put two fingers to the brim of his hat, acknowledging her silent greeting.
“And, Cameron, this gentleman lacking a gentleman’s manners is my cousin Parker.”
Parker eased his horse over to Cameron and extended his hand. “We’ve met. In Rome. I was the dancing fool after Zoe’s gallery opening.”
“I believe I was a fool right along with you. It’s good to see you again,” Cameron said with a wavering smile.
Parker glanced from Cameron to Jake and then to Coco.
Jake couldn’t read the look that passed between the cousins.
“Do you ride much?” Parker added.
The answer was obvious. Jake admired Parker’s subtle way of letting Coco know that she should pay better attention and that he was displeased.
“No,” Cameron answered, shaking her head. “Just a few times for films. But I do love animals. And Coco swore she could handle me and her horse. So far, she’s been right.”
She’d said it in a joking tone, but Parker scowled. Jake tried not to. He shouldn’t be worrying about Cameron. Coco could outride any woman he’d met except for her sister Zoe. Likely she could handle any problems Cameron might have while out riding.
Coco clucked her tongue. “Always the bossy older cousin. This is a fire road, for goodness’ sake. A ten-year-old could ride it blind.” She leaned from her saddle and tapped Parker lovingly on the arm, her action a contrast to her tone. “We’re headed up to the lake. You two up for a swim? Alex said the thermals have kept it on the warmish side.”
Parker looked at his watch. “No can do—I have a match at five. Jake?”
Was Parker trying to throw him to the lions? Or maybe he thought Jake would want to go swimming with the ladies. Nothing doing.
“I have...” Hell. What he had was a very strong urge to pin Cameron down and have a few questions answered. But before he did that he needed to get his head on straight. Just seeing her rattled him. Since the night at her beach cottage, he’d tried to force himself to tamp down his fantasies, to stop trying to sort out why he gave a damn, but his efforts just ramped up her visits to his dreams and the incessant tangling of his thoughts. “I’ll have to pass,” he finally said. “I’m heading over to the batting cage this afternoon.”
“You beauties have a great swim,” Parker said as he turned his horse down the fire road. “And by the way, Cameron, if anyone asks—you’re on my charades team on Friday night. I need all the professional help I can get.”
Jake was dying inside, and Parker was talking about charades? What a helluva twist to the day.
When they reached the valley, Parker challenged him to a race back to the outer pasture. Even the thundering hooves of the fine horse below him and the focused riding didn’t erase the shock of crossing paths with Cameron.
He considered leaving Trovare. But this was his vacation, dammit. Probably the only break he’d have all year.
As he brushed down his mount and spread fresh straw in the stall, he couldn’t lie to himself. The flicker in Cameron’s gaze had made him want to stay.
Chapter Twelve
Even with underground thermals feeding it, the cool lake
water shocked Cameron’s breath from her lungs. Still, the quick, bracing swim hadn’t cut through the heat searing through her. In between dips in the lake, Coco had chattered about her calendar project, about her plans to get big-name athletes who lived locally to pose for it. Cameron listened, but had trouble focusing. She wanted to ask Sabrina’s lively cousin how Jake had ended up at Trovare, but her better sense had her waiting to talk with Sabrina when she returned from her publicity shoot in the city later that evening.
Two hours later, Cameron washed off the dust of the ride in the marble-tiled shower in her guest room at Trovare. But the sting of Jake’s accusation that she would seduce him—or even consider manipulating him with sex—wouldn’t wash away with soap and hot water.
His greeting had been cold. She hoped hers had come across as colder. She had every right to be angry.
How could he think she’d slept with him just to get him to do the press for the Dominia project? Use her body to influence him? Boy, her instincts had been way off.
Grabbing the washcloth, she soaped it up and then scrubbed her shoulders hard. She’d thought he’d felt the same deep energy of their connection that she had. That there’d been a magic to their coming together. She was never going to believe in all that mumbo jumbo ever again. Those sorts of stories were the stuff of fairy tales. And the worst thing? He’d eroded her trust in herself, in her ability to read people—to read men—that had been healing, strengthening, since the fiasco with Elliott.
Clutching the warmed towel she pulled from the rack, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Damn, she’d never see her body the same way after the night with Jake. Okay, so he’d clued her in to the sensual potential of her body. Fine. Great. Tuck that happy memory away, right? Pull it out someday when she was over him.
She shook her head. She was already over him.
Right.
She’d sworn she’d never lie. Not to herself or anyone else. Well, she might not be over him, but she was well on her way. And maybe he’d leave in a day or two.
But what if he didn’t?
She could head back to LA. Have a quiet holiday down at her cottage. Sabrina would understand. But the fighter in her spoke louder than her angry spirit. She wasn’t going to run. Not this time. She’d stand her ground.
The guys didn’t return for dinner. Spencer, the Tavonesis’ elderly butler, had apologized profusely about her having to eat solo in the cavernous Great Hall. He’d offered to have her meal set up in the breakfast parlor or sent up to her room, but she hadn’t wanted to put him to any trouble. Sabrina sent a lamenting, apologetic text explaining that there’d been an accident on the freeway and that she’d be there soon.
Cameron faced the elaborate dinner the hired chef had prepared. Was this what women in the eighteenth century had felt, sitting in huge rooms, eating meals meant to be shared but ultimately eating alone? All during her childhood her mother never ate dinner. She claimed it put weight on her if she ate past three in the afternoon. Cameron had eaten way too many meals alone. A shiver ran through her. She loved her work, but she also wanted a family. Children. To get right what her parents had botched so badly. To have laughter and energy and love in her life. To have people she loved to eat dinner with. To play with. To grow and share with. Children to teach and tease, watching as they matured and discovered themselves and the world. Loving them through boo-boos and traumas and dramas.
Her racing thoughts made it hard to focus on the beautifully prepared meal. But she wasn’t going to let maudlin thoughts about her childhood or worries that she might not achieve her dream family—and especially not angry thoughts about Jake—ruin her time with her friends. Sabrina and Alex were her community, her lifeline. She and Sabrina had managed to spend precious little time together between films over the past two years. Life had to be squeezed in between shooting schedules, and it often got squeezed out.
A deep breath helped her center. With her eyes closed, she tasted the mixed flavors of the spiced cioppino. A vow came to her lips. She was going to enjoy her time at Trovare, enjoy her friends. Jake Ryder and his accusations could freeze in hell for all she cared.
But Sabrina didn’t make it back before Cameron turned in for the night. Neither did the guys. After a few glasses of wine following dinner and a long perusal of the Trovare library, Cameron gave up and headed to bed. Her head was fuzzy as she tucked the soft, linen-covered duvet up to her chin. Tomorrow would be a better day. Her plan was clear for the first time in weeks. Tomorrow she’d sink into the fun of life. Hadn’t one of the self-help books she’d read said that freedom depended on how much a person could ignore? She’d ignore Jake and enjoy her holiday with her friends.
But as she slipped into sleep, her dreams didn’t heed her vow. She was back in her cottage. In her bed. With Jake. And soaring with the ecstasy he stirred so well.
“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” Sabrina said as she dropped onto the bed beside Cameron. “Not only was there an accident, but halfway back from the city I realized I’d left my computer in the café. I had to go back to get it. All my passwords, bank accounts—everything is on the dratted thing. Luckily, the owner knows me. He stashed it in his office.”
“What time is it?” Cameron moaned. One too many glasses of wine after dinner had fogged her brain.
“Nine thirty. I was dying to see you.” Sabrina wrapped her in a hug. “Alex said Coco entertained you yesterday?”
“Mmmm, yes. We swam in the lake.” More awake now, Cameron sat up. “Did you invite Jake Ryder up here?”
Sabrina laughed. “Nope.”
“Sabrina.”
“Cross my heart. Alex invited him. They are teammates, you know.”
“Sabrina.”
“I didn’t try to dissuade him, if that’s what you’re asking. Besides, you said you were over him.” Sabrina crossed to the windows leading to the balcony and threw open the drapes. “Or am I remembering wrong?”
“Is this coffee for me?” Cameron didn’t want to lie to her friend. If her dreams had been any indication, maybe she wasn’t as over Jake as she’d tried to be.
“Spencer said you might need a strong brew. After your expedition in our library last night.”
“Spies. This castle is full of spies.”
“Wouldn’t be a castle without intrigue. You’re needed in the kitchen, by the way. We’re making cookies for Christmas. I want our team to win. Parker won’t be getting off easy this time around; working in LA has honed my competitive spirit.”
“Win?” Cameron took a huge slug of coffee, and finally her brain started to kick into gear.
“Men against the women. The kids get to judge—blind tasting, so they can’t cheat. And afterward we’ll head out and hunt for a Christmas tree in the back acreage.”
“Tell me there aren’t teams for that too.”
“No, just a race to find the best tree.”
Cameron dragged her hair away from her face and slid her feet out from under the duvet. “I’m awful in the kitchen.”
“It’s just cookies, Cameron. Even you and I can’t mess those up.”
“You guys take competition seriously. Parker already asked me to be on his team for charades.”
“He’s a class-A rat for doing that—you were supposed to be on my team. But like the rest of us Tavonesis, he hates to lose at anything. And I warn you, he’s been known to bend the rules a tad when there’s any wiggle room at all. I’m keeping my eye on him. Looks like you and Jake will be on the same team, then.”
Cameron wrinkled her nose. “In that case, can I catch a flight out this morning for LA?”
Sabrina smiled. “I didn’t think you were over him. Might as well go through rather than around. In my experience, avoidance just leads to locked-up pain. You can do it. And I’ve got your back.”
But it wasn’t her back Cameron was worried about. Her dream of being with Jake had revved up every flaming cell in her body.
After Sabrina left, Cameron dug through her suitca
se for her jeans. What exactly was the uniform for cookie-baking contests and Christmas-tree outings and, for God’s sake, charades? And what about for trying to look like she was ignoring a guy who hijacked even her most carefully routed thoughts?
She dragged on her jeans and then threw on a white oxford button-down and a pair of suede moccasins. Good enough.
If only it were.
Her phone pinged. Linda had texted her thanks for the tabloid article. She had to be kidding. Cameron almost texted back an apology about the paltry information about the UNICAN project, but thought better of it. Instead, she emailed her PR team and asked them to get her a newspaper interview or even a spot on Entertainment Weekly. She wasn’t giving up. At least not on the water project. Or on the people of the bateyes.
Chapter Thirteen
“You are officially banned from the kitchen,” Sabrina said as she herded a protesting Parker past Cameron and toward the kitchen door. “We’ve changed the rules and decided you can judge, but you can’t help the guys make cookies.”
Parker crossed his arms. “You can’t just rewrite the rules.”
Sabrina eyed him with a tight glare. “It’s my family’s kitchen, and you better believe I can. Rules are only useful if they enhance peace and harmony. And fairness.” She swept her arms to where Cameron stood leaning against the other side of the massive granite-topped kitchen island. “You’re practically a professional chef, so it wouldn’t be fair to the rest of us. The kids can be on our teams.”
Parker pointed to Cameron. “She’s still on my charades team.”
“Fine. Now go. You can judge our results after we set up the Christmas tree this afternoon.”
“You agreed to this?” Parker asked Cameron.
“Hey, with me on the team, we’ll need every advantage.”
Jake entered the room with a young boy at his side. “What’s this about a rule change?” Jake asked.
