by Pamela Aares
“Look at that tree!” Cara’s eyes lit up. “God, it’s gorgeous.”
“A feat of engineering,” Alex said as he strode over to them. “Thanks to Jake and Dimitri.”
Dimitri gave a crisp nod to Jake. “I just made a few design suggestions; Jake made it work. You know how hopeless I am with the practical elements of the world.”
Dimitri’s confessional words said one thing, but the message underneath needled into a place Jake usually kept a pretty tight lid on.
But maybe the guy really was as hopeless as he said he was. Maybe his confession was a simple truth with no hidden message. The unfamiliar environment and the feelings he wrestled every time Cameron was within twenty feet had thrown him, making his normal reactions go haywire.
Jake wished he hadn’t left his whiskey glass on the sidebar. If he couldn’t gamble to clear his head, at least he could smooth the way with more of Kentucky’s best.
Parker gathered the group. “Our hostess has insisted that we have a blind method for picking teams tonight.” He smirked at Sabrina. “Of course, I am putty in her lovely hands. So, inelegant as it is, we’ll draw straws.” He drew a straw out of the silver beaker he held and waved it at the group. “Long straws are on my team.” He handed the beaker to Brigitte. “Give Lady Luck her due.”
They each drew a straw.
Brigitte made a show of matching her short straw to Jake’s. “And here I once thought that drawing the short straw would be a bad thing.” Her sultry accent punctuated the saucy look in her eyes. “Perhaps there is a God.”
Jake’s gaze shifted to Cameron.
Dimitri took Cameron’s straw from her fingers and matched his against hers. “Perfection,” he said. He wasn’t looking at the straw. Cameron blushed. Jake ignored the impulse to choke Dimitri.
“Short straws begin.” Parker handed out slips of paper and pens. “Write your book, song or film title on these papers and then fold them like so. Short-team papers go in this basket. Long-team entries go in this bowl.”
He moved a chair from the two lines of chairs and then rearranged them so that they’d all be able to see each other.
“Five against six?” Ryan asked.
“I’ll count as two,” Parker said without a trace of smugness. “And we each have one Oscar winner in our ranks. Should be just about right.”
“Confidence was not spared in the DNA of my cousin,” Alex said.
Jake angled for the seat next to Cameron, but Dimitri got there first. Brigitte slipped into the chair next to her and then patted the chair on her other side, flashing a come-here smile. Resigned, he was sandwiched between her and a stony-faced Matt.
Alana patted Matt’s knee and glanced over to Jake. “Matt was a virgin last year. You’ll catch on.”
Sabrina stretched her legs out in front of her and crossed her arms. “Who goes first, Mr. Rule Maker?”
“Let our pros start,” Parker said. “Sets the standard.”
Sabrina looked at him blankly.
“Cameron and you. Actors, remember?”
“Oh, no,” Cameron said.
“Oh, yes,” Parker insisted in a tone that said his rules weren’t to be toyed with.
He went through the hand signals for the game. Jake lost track after the signals for book, film and song.
The way Cameron was watching and repeating Parker’s signs so studiously brought the damnedest sweetness to her face. She was always trying to do the right thing.
Maybe he’d judged her too harshly. Deep down, he admired her dedication to the Dominia water project. In a fit of inspiration, he reached to whip out his phone so he could text his accountant and follow through on the impulse he’d had earlier that morning. But then he remembered—no phone. He’d call the next day from Trovare’s landline. He had the Nike advance; he could afford to help. Even if he wasn’t up for all the political and public hoopla, a hundred thousand dollars should move the needle.
“Makes baseball signs look simple,” Matt grumbled, drawing Jake’s attention back to Parker’s exacting instructions for the game.
Cameron made a show of drawing a slip of paper from the bowl Parker held out to her. She read it. Then grimaced.
“Can I try a different one?”
“No, darlin’,” Parker said with a broad smile. “Rules are rules.”
Sabrina squinted at him and pursed her lips. “Except when they’re not. C’mon, give my colleague a break.”
“She’s on the other team, Sabrina.”
Sabrina settled back in her chair. “Point taken. Proceed.”
Cameron studied the slip of paper and then tucked it into the pocket of her jeans. Jake tried not to remember taking those jeans off her. No success. He saw delicious skin as the jeans slid down her hips and—
“Book!” Brigitte cried out, startling Jake from his fantasy.
Cameron shook her head and made a winding signal near her ear.
“Film,” Alana said.
Cameron touched her nose.
“Nose,” Jake said, unable to resist teasing her.
Cameron shot him a glare. She held up one finger.
“One word,” Alana said. She elbowed Matt. “You’re not helping.”
Matt grinned. “I’m preventing confusion.” Alana leaned over and kissed him. He drew her closer. They’d been married for some time, but the energy crackling between them had hot written all over it.
“I think I’ll use that tactic,” Ryan said from where he sat across from them. He planted a kiss on Cara.
Cameron crossed her arms. “Hello? Movie. One word.”
“No talking,” Parker said.
Cameron raised her hands in the air, outlining a pole.
“Flagpole,” Dimitri said, looking very satisfied with himself.
Cameron shook her head and repeated the gesture.
No one said anything.
She turned her back. Whirling, she marked an oblong shape around her on the floor and then made a rowing motion.
“Boat,” Jake said.
The grateful smile Cameron shot him as she touched her nose melted into his body with force.
“Das Boot,” Dimitri guessed.
“One word,” Cameron said.
“No talking,” Parker barked.
“But Das doesn’t count; it’s an article.” Dimitri eyed Cameron like a bear wanting to lap up honey.
“Clearly it’s not the name of the film,” Jake countered in a cutting tone.
Cameron stomped her feet.
“Marching,” Brigitte said.
With a look of pure exasperation, Cameron shook her head.
Brigitte leaned close to Jake. She smelled of exotic flowers. Too exotic for Jake’s tastes.
“Our colleague is impatient with us,” she purred. “How unfortunate.”
In front of them, Cameron pointed to herself.
“Woman,” Matt said proudly, as if he’d coined the word.
“Gorgeous woman.” Dimitri crossed one leg over the other and loosened the bow tie at his neck. “Very gorgeous woman.”
Cameron ignored Dimitri—keeping Jake from strangling him—and pointed to herself again, then pivoted and pointed at Sabrina.
Brigitte slid her hand to Jake’s thigh.
“Friends?” Jake guessed. He grabbed Brigitte’s hand to remove it from his thigh. Cameron focused on them, her face clouding. He dropped Brigitte’s hand and slid a couple of inches in the opposite direction.
“Or fiend?” Matt said, sending the other team into laughter.
Cameron shook her head. She put her hands to her hips. After a moment’s thought, she pointed to her head and made a sign that looked to Jake like a signal to steal a base.
“Actress,” Alana supplied, stifling a laugh.
Cameron waved both hands toward her body—the universal sign for take the next base. He’d like to take the next base. With her and right then.
With an exaggerated gesture, Cameron drew a line around herself and then stood a
t the apex of the angle she’d drawn and spread her arms wide.
When no one made a guess, she broke out in a wild laugh. It was impossible not to join in, her laughter was that infectious. Still laughing, she put her hands to her forehead and hauled in a breath. Stomping her feet to focus their attention, she threw her arms in the air and appeared to be floating, flying or rowing.
“Boat?” Jake guessed again through his laughter, trying to help her out.
Cameron nodded vigorously and put her hands in the sign of a prayer of thanks. The soft look she shot him sent him over the edge.
He wanted her. And not just in his bed.
He wanted her as he’d never known want before.
She stifled her laugh and ran her hands down the front of her body. Was she trying to torture him? But she looked to Dimitri, drew the angle again and pantomimed stepping up, her arms moving out to her sides.
“Boat,” Dimitri said.
“I just said that,” Jake bit out, his acid tone surprising himself.
“Indeed.” Dimitri’s heavy-lidded blink was unreadable.
Right then, Jake was sure he did not like princes.
Cameron stomped her feet and made the gesture again, then lifted her hands to her hair and flung it out as if it were flying in a strong wind.
“Titanic!” Alana cried out.
“Holy crap on a cracker,” Cameron said as she raced over and hugged Alana. “My savior.”
“I never saw that movie,” Jake said.
All eyes turned to him.
“It came out during the playoffs,” he said, trying not to sound defensive. “Right, Alex?”
Alex grinned. “It came out about twenty years ago. You weren’t in the playoffs then.”
“Does Little League count?”
There hadn’t been a movie theater in Jake’s hometown. Even if there had been, he probably wouldn’t have gone to see a sappy movie. Not unless his sister begged him to drive her to the nearby town. He smiled at the memories; he’d exacted a few good paybacks for those outings. One time she’d had to do his chores for a whole week.
Brigitte tapped her hand to his thigh and let it rest there. “In French it has a completely different title. I always found the film a bit drawn-out myself. Rather unbelievable.”
“You missed a great love story,” Alana said.
Brigitte winked at Jake. “Americans—they love their fictions. I prefer the real thing.” She ran the pink tip of her tongue over her bottom lip.
“Seven minutes and thirty-five seconds,” Parker said from where he sat, holding a stopwatch.
“I prefer drawn-out sessions of passion,” Brigitte said without taking her eyes off Jake’s.
Jake didn’t miss her bald invitation. He was pretty sure no one in the room did.
“It’s our score,” Cameron said as she sat back down in her chair. “Not that anyone appears to be paying attention.”
“I am,” Dimitri said. “Well done, Cameron. I believe we are ahead.”
“No one else has played yet,” Jake said. Did it count if you murdered a prince in a castle in the dark of night? Maybe no one would miss him.
“Being ahead early is one of my favorite moments,” Dimitri said with an unmistakable glance to Cameron. “While I love competition, I truly prefer having an early lead. Sets the pace of the game, don’t you think?”
Dimitri’s flirtatious tone set Jake’s teeth on edge. “I prefer to keep the long run of the game in mind.”
“Ah, yes.” Dimitri shot Cameron a smoldering look. “There is always that strategy.”
Cameron flushed, two spots of deep red coloring her cheeks. She pressed her palms to her jeans as if to smooth some hidden force and stood. “I’m as parched as if I’ve done forty takes of the same scene under hot lights.”
Dimitri sprang up. “Allow me to pour for you, Cameron. Where I come from, it’s bad luck to serve your own champagne.”
“Bring me one too,” Alana requested. “Games of any kind make me terribly thirsty.”
First points to the prince, Jake thought as he watched Cameron walk with Dimitri to the buffet. They were cut from the same cloth. Cameron was Hollywood royalty with all the glitz and privilege that came with that sort of fame. And Dimitri? Whatever sort of royalty he was, he set Jake’s revolutionary urges roaring into high gear.
As Parker got the game underway again, Jake made a vow. He wasn’t going to let some silly-assed, inherited-gene-pool dude stand in the way of exploring the territory that Cameron had cracked open. She lit him up, and he wasn’t anywhere near ready to shut that light down.
Chapter Seventeen
Sunlight danced on the waves of San Francisco Bay as the ferry cut around the east side of Alcatraz Island and headed for the city. Jake made his way to the bow and peered up at the once formidable penitentiary. The sun bleached the walls white, and the towering lighthouse cut the blue of the sky like a sword thrust up from the bowels of the island.
Names of famous prisoners floated through his mind: Capone, Machine Gun Kelly and crime boss Whitey Bulger.
“You appear lost in thought,” Sabrina said as she leaned on the rail beside him.
He zipped his jacket up, a shield against the cold December wind. “I was just wondering how many bad decisions and wrong-minded plans landed inmates behind the walls of that place.”
“Not a very cheery thought for such a festive outing. It’s a National Recreation Area now. Not so bad.”
What could he say? He felt as tumbled by the activities of the past week as if he’d been thrown into a cosmic Cuisinart and someone had pressed the pulse button. He hadn’t slept well. The beds at Trovare were comfortable enough, but thoughts of wanting to share his with Cameron ate at the edges of his control.
“I understand you’re pretty good on the ice,” Sabrina said.
He knew that tone. His sister used it when she wanted to draw him out from the loops he ran in his head.
Buck up, dude, this is a holiday party. And you’re a guest. “Not as good as our man Gage over there,” he said, nodding to where Jackie’s assistant veterinarian was giving pointers to Sophie and Tyler.
“He’s a hockey player,” Sabrina said. “He grew up scrapping on the ice in Canada. But he told me you skated as a kid.”
Alex’s wife Jackie’s hard-working, hard-partying colleague had won Jake over from the time he’d met him at Kaz and Sabrina’s wedding. That morning as they’d dealt with the logistics of getting their happy group of kids and adults to the ice rink at the Embarcadero Center, Jake had confided about his skating experiences as a kid.
“The rink is about ten minutes from my condo,” Jake said. “But this’ll be the first time I’ve been on the ice here.”
“Life got in the way of fun?” Sabrina asked. Before he could come up with an answer, she added, “I’m reserving a skate with you. Once around the rink. And maybe you can give Cameron a hand since Gage will have his full with the kids?”
He angled toward Cameron. Dimitri had parked himself beside her when they’d left the dock at Larkspur and hadn’t budged from the bench. “Dimitri appears to have Cameron well in hand.”
A slow smile spread across Sabrina’s face. “Hmmm... guess you’ll be free to practice your figure eights.” She pushed away from the railing. “I’m going down to check on Max. His mother will throttle me if he downs too many of those chocolate-chip cookies from the snack bar.”
As Jake watched, Dimitri removed his jacket and wrapped it around Cameron’s shoulders. He glanced at Jake and raised a brow.
Jake turned into the wind and tried to focus on the skyline bordering the city dock. But though he saw the buildings growing in size as the ferry approached the landing, the looming city and the prospect of ice skating couldn’t compete with the riot taking place in his head. The cries of gulls overhead mocked his agitated thoughts.
When had Cameron become more than the rush of a game, more than the prize to be won? More than a thrill to fill the void he
hadn’t even admitted was in him until he’d met her? And when had desire turned to an unnameable force beyond the primal, to a pull that was more than attraction, a force that compelled him forward even though he knew there was no possible future with Cameron? What she had confessed to wanting—relationship, family, kids—was out of his league. He wasn’t cut from that cloth. But he was drawn. Oh man, was he drawn.
The thud of the boat as it docked drew him back to the day and the activities ahead. He glanced to the bench.
Empty.
Cameron and Dimitri had disappeared.
Jake helped Sabrina and Gage herd the kids across the double-lane road that fronted the Ferry Building, but watching out for kids in traffic didn’t pull his thoughts from Cameron. He remembered the way she’d knelt at the bedside of the little girl in the clinic in the Dominian village. The way she’d smoothed the girl’s hair and, through the help of the interpreter, told the girl a story. He didn’t remember the story, but he bet the little girl did. The smile that had lit her tiny face had hope and renewed fight written all over it. Cameron had been fortunate, but she wasn’t selfish. She gave back to life as good as she got. Wasn’t that one of his own damn principles?
“The Giants’ stadium is right down there,” Tyler said as they reached the sidewalk fronting the rink. “Can we go there after skating?”
“Yeah,” Max chimed in. “Way more fun than ice skating. Skating is for sissies.”
Jake admired Max’s spunk, but the boy’s bravado had nearly ended his life the previous year when he’d had an asthma attack while running the bases during a Little League game. If Ryan and Cara hadn’t rushed him to the hospital, Max might not have made it. He was doing great, his mother had told them when she’d seen them off that morning. But everyone in the extended Tavonesi community kept an eye on him.
Gage swept Max up off the sidewalk with his beefy arms before anyone could blink. “We’ll see how sissy skating is. I bet you can’t catch me on the ice.”
“Or me,” Jake said, supporting Gage in his attempt to keep the planned activity on track.
“Don’t go daring the children, you two,” Sabrina said. “They’re feisty enough as it is.”
Sophie scowled. “We are not children.”
