by Judith Bowen
But he didn’t. He raised his head and grinned down at her. “I think we do a lot better together, you and me, when we don’t talk.”
“That’s—that’s preposterous!” she breathed, not meaning it at all. She liked him kissing her, just as she’d liked it before. Stubborn, she kept reminding herself. Don’t be stubborn, keep an open mind.
“Your favorite word. Preposterous.” He released her and turned to check on his coffee, leaving her body tingling, aching for more. She turned quickly to the cake batter. Now, where was she? Had she put in the vanilla? Her mind was racing. What was this? What was going on here? Why was he doing this?
“Cameron. I—I think you should remember that business last night was only a game,” she said, not quite as firmly as she’d hoped. “You shouldn’t be—you know, kissing me like this. It’s not right.”
“Bullshit,” he replied agreeably. “Want a cup of this?” He held up the full pot of coffee.
“It was a game, that’s all!”
“I told you I don’t play games. I asked you to marry me last night and you said you might. That’s pretty close to a ‘yes.’ I figure it’s my job now to convince you that you want me as much as I want you. Because I do. There’s different ways of making my case. There’s words, like last night, and there’s action, like right now. I’m just reminding you that we have chemistry.” He took down two mugs from the cupboard. “Major chemistry.”
“I was only playing Scrabble last night. That ‘maybe’ was just a word!”
“Please, Zoey. I hate to curse in front of a lady, but you drive me to it. Do I have to say ‘bullshit’ again? It’s only a word, too.” He seemed very pleased with himself. She noticed that he had a vacuum flask on the counter and after he’d filled the mugs, he poured the rest of the coffee into the flask.
“Are you taking that somewhere with you?” she asked. It was something to say, at least. Something ordinary.
“I’ve got work to do. I’d love to stay here all day in a nice warm house and convince you that I’m a serious man and when I ask a woman to marry me, I mean it, but unfortunately I’ve got cows to look after. Any woman who marries a rancher knows that sometimes she has to take a second place to his cows.” He looked up and gave her a devilish grin and she couldn’t help smiling back. Nothing fazed this man—nothing!
“And his horses and his dogs and—oh, my cake!” Zoey ran to the wall oven and opened the door.
The most enticing aroma drifted out. Caramel, vanilla, butter. Thank goodness, they hadn’t burned! If she’d wrecked the cakes…. There were two weddings at stake.
He carried the coffee to the table and watched as she lifted out the cakes and set them on a rack to cool. She was conscious—too conscious—of his gaze on her back, her legs, maybe even her bottom.
She put down the pot holders and came to the table, standing as she put cream and sugar into the mug he indicated was hers. “I haven’t got time to stop for coffee. I have too much to do.”
“Fine. I’ll just drink mine then and watch you while you work.”
Zoey regretted her refusal to sit with him. She’d thought it would be too difficult, sitting across from him, as they’d done only yesterday. She hadn’t realized how much more difficult it was to work in the kitchen, with his eyes on her every move. She had some dishes to clear up, so she filled the sink with warm soapy water.
Then she leaned against the counter, her mug in her hand, and faced him, but that was a mistake, too. The look in his eyes made her knees melt.
She set her cup down and began to wash the dishes. She took her time, rinsing them carefully before stacking them in the wire rack. Anything to keep from looking at Cameron.
Finally, after what seemed like an hour but was probably more like ten minutes, he stood, brought his empty cup over to her at the sink and slid it into the water.
He dropped a kiss on her nose, then lightly touched her mouth with his, picked up his coffee flask and left.
She watched him get into his truck and drive away, oblivious to the dishwater she was dripping onto the linoleum floor. Her face was hot, her lips burned, her body ached.
She wanted him. She desperately wanted him.
No point being stubborn. No point denying the obvious. No point pretending it couldn’t happen to you, at least not twice in as many weeks. She loved him.
Not Ryan. Forget Ryan. That had all been a made-up, cooked-up plot hatched by that crazy idea of Jenny Springer’s at the Jasper Park Lodge reunion last spring. First love, first crush. She’d made up her mind, but her heart had disagreed.
Since she’d arrived at the Triple Oarlock, there’d only been one man in her thoughts, in her dreams and in her heart.
Cameron Donnelly.
WHEN CAMERON RETURNED to the house for supper, Zoey wasn’t there. Marty said she’d gone home an hour earlier to take a nap and get herself organized to decorate the cakes, which she planned to do that evening after Marty had cleared away their supper. She was running late.
Cameron ate with Marty and Lissy. Ryan wasn’t around, and Gabe only deigned to join them on Sundays. Cameron couldn’t stop thinking about Zoey. Earlier, when he’d left the house with his coffee, he’d worried that he was pushing her too hard, that he shouldn’t have come on so strong. Still, what choice did he have? There wasn’t much time. Only tomorrow and that was the wedding. She’d be leaving early Christmas Eve for the long drive back to Vancouver. Icy roads, too.
Then Toronto, and out of his life.
He didn’t know what he ate. Chili? Marty was a good cook, but his mind was elsewhere. What should he do now?
He was half tempted to offer to help her finish up the cakes. That was a joke. He’d be about as much help as Lissy with a job like that. Fiddly stuff. He hated fiddly stuff.
No, it was best that he stay out of her hair. She was flustered enough with having to decorate two cakes instead of one. He knew she’d wanted him this morning: he could feel it in his bones. The chemistry, as he’d said, was there. Did she believe him about the other part? He’d never out-and-out told her he loved her. Was it too soon? He had to show her, not tell her. She’d heard enough words from enough other men, probably plenty of those fancy Toronto types she usually dated. Why in hell hadn’t one of them snagged her by now? It was a miracle.
He thought back to the wonder of that night they’d spent together. She’d taken a big chance. She’d risked everything. Then she’d felt used, humiliated by what had happened. She couldn’t see that what had happened might have seemed accidental but, really, it was precious. Beautiful. Meant to be.
Fate.
Then it hit him. Risk. It had worked before. Why couldn’t it work again?
ZOEY FINISHED the cakes at ten o’clock. Marty had helped her with the first one, rolling out the fondant and helping her position the layers, but then she’d had to retire to her room to knit the last cuff on Lissy’s sweater.
Lissy watched a video, her kitten curled up beside her.
Cameron had not shown up all evening. Zoey felt vaguely depressed. First you don’t want him, then you do—make up your mind! She’d felt a little better after her nap and a bowl of soup. She’d been exhausted in more ways than one. The cake was a big responsibility but it was going well and she could handle that. Cameron was another story.
She’d thought maybe they’d have a chance to talk again that evening. There were some things that needed to be said.
But he hadn’t even shown up.
Zoey washed the last of the utensils she’d used. The wedding cakes looked absolutely glorious. One was topped by a schmaltzy couple, gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes—that one was for Edith and Tom. The other, looking slightly different with the decorations tinted and with different pedestals, was topped by a plaster couple dancing. She’d picked up several cake toppers in Vancouver, not sure which she’d use.
Tomorrow Mary Ellen, her best friend from childhood, would be married to the man Zoey had lost her heart to when she
was sixteen.
Where was the man she’d lost her heart to at twenty-eight?
Zoey knocked lightly on Marty’s door to tell her she was leaving and that Lissy was ready for bed. Cameron was so fortunate to have a loving, caring aunt like Marty Hainsworth to help him raise his daughter.
Zoey kissed Lissy on the top of her blond head as she passed her in the family room. The little girl was sound asleep. “Sweet dreams, pumpkin!” she said softly.
The night was clear and dark. A million stars gleamed overhead and the moon was nearly full, throwing a smooth, even glow over the land—the fences, the buildings, the pastures beyond. Funny, in the few weeks she’d been here, she’d become very familiar with the landscape. Very comfortable. Would she miss it?
Who knows.
Who knows what life has to offer?
She let herself into her apartment and hung up her coat. She’d left a light on in the living room, which had become habit. She hated going into a dark apartment. At least the place was warm. To think that she could partly attribute one of the strangest, most earth-shaking nights of her life to a power outage!
She made a cup of tea—her usual chamomile—and left it on the counter to cool as she brushed her teeth.
Then she went into her bedroom to get her bathrobe, turning on the light as she entered.
“Pleased to see me?” Cameron was lying back on her pillows, chest bare, a broad grin on his face.
“Omigosh! What are you doing in my bed?” It was a stupid thing to say, but it was the first thought that entered her mind.
“Waiting for you.”
“Me?” she squeaked.
“Is there someone else in the room?” he asked, patting the blanket beside him. “It’s your choice, Zoey—either you throw me out or you take off your clothes and join me.”
Zoey stared at him, eyes wide, one hand over her mouth. She wanted to laugh.
“So—which will it be?”
With a squeal of laughter, Zoey launched herself at him. Somehow, in the tumultuous welcome, their mouths connected and in that connection, Zoey knew their lives were joined, as well. Joined forever.
Cameron helped her take off her clothes, which could have taken about ten seconds, but which took him a good two minutes as he kissed every inch of skin he exposed.
Finally, she was beside him in bed, in his arms. Where she belonged. Her heart was his. And so was everything else.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
THE WEDDINGS WENT without a hitch. At the last minute, Zoey and Cameron were called in by the magistrate to witness Ryan and Mary Ellen’s marriage. After all Mary Ellen’s planning for her stepmother’s wedding, she hadn’t thought to take care of the details for her own!
The reception was a total surprise to Edith. She wept when she saw the hall full of friends, the wedding cakes—two of them!—the band, the flowers. When the band played its first waltz, for the wedding couples, she managed to leave her wheelchair and waltz slowly around the room in the arms of her beloved Tom.
Zoey felt the tears run unabashedly down her cheeks. “Isn’t that wonderful, Cameron? Look at them—they’re so in love!”
He gave her a smile and pulled her close. “Next dance is mine, sweetheart. I’m not much on the fancy stuff, but I can handle an old-time waltz or a two-step.”
She nestled against his jacket and smiled up at him. He was as dressed up as she’d ever seen him and the handsomest man in the world—how had she ever thought his brother was better-looking? “Those are the really important dances,” she assured him. “The rest is—”
“The icing on the cake,” he finished. “Yeah, I know.”
It was their private joke. They’d laughed the night before, after they’d made love, that their little tryst in her bedroom was indeed the icing on the cake.
Since he’d found a piece of fondant in her hair the next morning when he was kissing her, the phrase definitely applied.
“You’re an excellent dancer!” Zoey said, when they took to the floor with the rest of the couples, after the first dance.
“And you, my dear, are an excellent liar,” he said, grinning. “I have other talents, though….”
“You do,” she murmured, blushing.
She’d never been happier. Marty was sitting at a table to one side, talking with some of their neighbors. Lissy was running around the adults’ legs, with Becky and Tessa and several other children, getting in the way and having a wonderful time.
She met his gaze; their bodies moved as one to the music. He really was a very good dancer.
“Marry me, Zoey Phillips,” he said, his voice gruff. His eyes were loving, warm, proud. “No more maybes.”
“Why would I marry you?” she asked archly.
“Because I love you?”
“And?”
“Because you’re the woman I adore?”
She missed a beat and he caught her in strong arms. “And?”
“Because I’ll never meet a funnier, stronger, smarter, more beautiful, sexier woman?”
“And?” She caught her breath at his look and leaned forward to kiss him softly on the mouth.
“Or a more stubborn one. Marry me, Zoey!”
“Yes,” she said, “Yes, yes, yes!”
The music didn’t stop, but they did. Cameron pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Her man! Her everything!
When they parted, the crowd clapped and there was a roar of laughter.
They looked at each other and laughed, too.
Ryan and Mary Ellen danced by. “Does this mean what I think it means?” Ryan asked.
“You bet it does,” Cameron growled, his arms tight around her. “Now and forever.”
“Forever’s a very long time,” she whispered.
“Didn’t I tell you, Zoey?” He smiled down at her. “I play for keeps.”
Dear Lydia,
You’ll never guess—I’m getting married! And, no, not to my first love. To his brother! This is the best and craziest thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m bringing my cowboy with me for our annual New Year’s Eve get-together. I can’t wait to see you and Charlotte next week and tell you all about it. I know you’ll love him—I do! I think this New Year’s will be one we’ll never forget.
Who knew where this ridiculous search for first love would lead? I sure didn’t. Don’t know when the big day will be, but soon. Valentine’s Day? The sooner the better. One thing I do know, I’m having the biggest wedding ever. I deserve it, don’t you think? I’ve fielded more than my share of long shots. This is the last curve romance is tossing me—guaranteed!
Luv,
Zoey
ISBN: 978 1 472 02661 3
ZOEY PHILLIPS
© 2001 Judith Bowen
First Published in Great Britain in 2001
Harlequin (UK) Limited
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