“I’d prefer it if you just thought of me as Marti. I’m sure you’d agree, when you add on a family name like Fairchild or Knight, people automatically have a picture of who they think you are. I like to be myself.”
“Your grandmother was right about you, you’re unique. Most people, my children and family included, would use the name to their advantage. Like you, I prefer to earn respect and friendship on my own merits.”
She gave him a firm nod. “I’ll see you tonight at seven. Decadence at the Merrick International building,” she repeated to help her remember.
“Can I drop you somewhere?”
“I’ll be fine, but thank you.”
She waited while George drove away before heading for the street and hailing a cab. Soaking wet and cold, she didn’t have time to go to the Four Seasons and change. Already fifteen minutes late for her meeting, she didn’t care. George Knight was still alive.
Chapter Seven
* * *
CAMERON SAT IN his office looking out the window at the night sky and the ocean beyond. The ship from the night before had disappeared. He felt as lonely and desolate as the ocean looked without the ship.
He had to meet Shelly and Emma downstairs for dinner again. Emma never said much about Shelly on the car ride home last night and it worried Cameron. She usually talked about the people she met.
He needed to put a stop to this fiasco, and soon.
With one last look toward the sea, he rose from his desk. Still no ship. He didn’t understand why he longed to see the boat on the horizon, to know it was out there waiting for him.
MARTI WAS RUNNING late. Her uncle had indeed been long-winded and prepared to do battle over her grandmother’s estate. To his frustration and increasing anger, Marti sat through the meeting quietly refusing to rise to the bait and argue with him. Her grandmother’s will was straightforward and spelled out her wishes in her usual meticulous manner.
Uncle Anthony was given the large estate property in Marin and a cash settlement. He would continue at the company per her grandfather’s previous wishes. Marti received the sailboat and a cash settlement. Of course, there were stocks and bonds and trusts to be split between them and all kinds of other small treasures.
The icing on the cake went to Marti. To her uncle’s angry protests, Marti received all of her grandmother’s paintings. She and the lawyers would manage the pieces displayed around the world in museums and galleries, but she would also receive the entire private collection. Hundreds of paintings were stored in a special climate-controlled warehouse. Marti would be in charge of her grandmother’s legacy.
She grabbed a dress from her suitcase. Not entirely wrinkled, made of a good fabric, with a little steam it would look great. She turned on the shower in the elegant bathroom and hung the dress so it would catch the steam.
No time for her to actually take a shower. Her hair hung limp past her shoulders after her stint standing in the storm talking to George. She thought about the man and smiled. She’d missed having an elder for company.
She used the dryer to fluff her hair. She pulled the sides away from her face, clipped them, and let the rest fall down her back. She’d been at sea for a year and her hair had grown out considerably. She took a critical look at herself in the mirror. Her hair, usually a rich brown, now showed streaks of gold from the sun. The color made her tanned skin and soft green eyes glow with warmth. Five feet seven and lean, maybe a little too thin. Climbing rigging and working on the boat had made her strong. Not to mention her long swims in the ocean waves. She had a nice figure. Round in all the right places, though no one would call her voluptuous—more softly feminine.
She brushed on a soft pink blush and checked her makeup one final time. Subtle, natural. Not bad.
She took one last glance. “That’s as good as it gets,” she said to her image in the mirror.
She took the royal blue wrap-dress down from the wall hook, shook it out, and put it on. She slid her feet into the black sling-back pumps, grabbed her purse, and ran out the door to catch a cab.
If she were lucky, she’d only be a few minutes late.
DINNER STARTED OUT well enough. Shelly was attentive and interested in Emma and her day at school. Shelly and Emma went over the menu and all of Emma’s favorites. In the end, Shelly agreed to let Emma order for her. Shelly seemed pleased by the selection and gushed over Emma’s choice.
Maybe Cameron had judged the situation too harshly last night. Maybe Shelly and Emma needed time to get to know each other. As for his relationship with Shelly, he liked her. She was pleasant to be around most of the time. When they were alone together, she always tried to please him in some way. In bed, she was everything a man wanted.
He wasn’t in love with her, harbored no real feelings of affection, but that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted a good mother for Emma and a friend and lover for him. It was all he was capable of giving, and he couldn’t ask for more from someone else. Maybe his previous misgivings about Shelly were just his apprehension to being married to someone who wasn’t Caroline.
“Emma, don’t use your fingers when you eat. Use your fork.”
Shelly tried to hold onto her temper and her patience. She wasn’t used to being around small children and Emma was a nonstop dynamo. She interfered when Shelly tried to engage Cameron in a personal conversation. Emma constantly tried to keep Cameron’s focus on her and wouldn’t let Shelly have a moment’s peace and quiet. The girl was a chatterbox.
She looked across the table at Cameron. His focus remained on Emma. He paid more attention to the little girl than to her. She’d have to figure out a way to gain his focus.
“We should take a trip. Something short. I know what a busy man you are, but it would be nice to get away for a few days.”
“Let’s go fishing, Daddy. You keep saying we’ll go out on the boat, but we never do.” Emma continued making a volcano out of her mashed potatoes. She saw Shelly’s unhappy face out of the corner of her eye and didn’t care. She didn’t like Shelly. She’d be nice because her dad always told her to be nice, but she didn’t have to like Shelly in her mind. She poured gravy into the top of her mashed potato volcano and pictured herself sticking out her tongue and smiled.
“What a great idea, Emma. I was thinking about taking out the boat just yesterday. Shelly, do you like to fish?”
No. Absolutely not. You’re rich, why can’t we go to a resort in the Bahamas? “I’d love to go out on your boat. It sounds lovely.” Lovely, my ass.
Cameron smiled. This was turning around nicely. A trip on the boat, Shelly and Emma spending time together, and he’d fulfill his fishing promise to Emma.
Out on the water, he could clear his mind. That had the most appeal of all. He spent too much time in an office building and not enough time having fun with Emma.
Emma stood on her chair, grabbed Shelly’s shoulder to balance herself, and put her arms out to her aunt. “Aunt Elizabeth, we’re going fishing.”
“Emma. You got gravy and potatoes all over my new dress. You’ve ruined it.”
Emma looked down at the dress and shrugged. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“Yeah, right. I told you to use your fork. You didn’t listen, and now look what you’ve done.” Shelly stood, threw her napkin down, glared at Emma with a deep frown, and stalked off to the lady’s room.
“I didn’t mean it, Daddy. I swear.”
“I know you didn’t. It was an accident.”
“It sure was, honey.” Elizabeth scooped her up. “Let’s go into the kitchen and get cleaned up.” Elizabeth smiled down at Emma’s plate. “Nice volcano.”
“Thanks. Can I make dessert?”
“Sure you can. I have some pastries we need to dust with powdered sugar. Want to help?”
“Yes. Yes.” Emma took off to the kitchen, leaving Elizabeth to follow.
“Your girlfriend needs to learn a thing or two about children.” She left the table to trail after Emma.
Cameron rubbed the hard knot at the back of his neck, digging in his fingertips. Things had been going so well, or so he thought. He was beginning to think Shelly was a good actress, but dismissed the thought just as quickly as it formed.
Surprised, Elizabeth reappeared at the table a moment later.
“Is Emma giving you trouble in the kitchen?”
“Even if Emma wrecked the joint, I wouldn’t bat an eyelash. I just talked to one of my servers who came out of the women’s restroom. This isn’t the first time someone has mentioned this to me. Normally, I wouldn’t say anything, but Emma is involved, and so I’m sticking my nose into your business.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath to calm herself. “I don’t want you bringing that woman here anymore. If she wants to eat and throw up a perfectly good meal, she can do it somewhere else.”
“What are you talking about? Is Shelly ill?”
“Only because she made herself sick. This is the third time someone has mentioned it to me. One of those times it was a customer. I can’t have people thinking I’m poisoning my customers.”
“Why the hell would she do that to herself?”
“Let me give you some insight into that woman. She orders the most expensive meals on the menu at your expense, she drinks martinis like they’re water, and she isn’t a nice person. She gets up a few minutes after eating and goes to the restroom where she purges herself of all the food and martinis she’s had so she can keep that skinny figure of hers.”
She waited for her words to sink in before continuing. “It’s common enough among women who want to keep their weight off and have an unhealthy attitude about food and weight. I’ll bet she was a fat kid or teen and figures the only thing she has to offer a man like you is her body. She certainly isn’t smart enough to engage your mind.”
She looked past Cameron before he said anything and greeted their friend, “Hello, George. This is an unexpected surprise. I saw your name on the guest list tonight and wondered if you’d truly join us yourself.”
George frowned. “Has my family used my name to get in here?”
“Maybe once or twice. They’re always welcome, of course, but they seem to like using your name to ensure a seat. I always get my hopes up you’ll be coming.” She winked.
“They’ll get what’s coming to them soon enough. Tonight, though, I have a very special guest with me.”
“Where is this special guest?” Elizabeth asked, her eyes scanning the restaurant.
“She’ll be along soon. She said she might be a few minutes late.”
He looked at Cameron and frowned. “What’s the matter with you, son? You look downright distressed.”
“His guest turned out to be not so special.” Elizabeth stuck her tongue out at him when he glared at her.
Cameron turned his attention to his dearest friend. He held his hand out to shake with George. He’d think about Elizabeth’s remarks later. “How are you, George? You look better today than the last few times I’ve seen you.”
“That, my boy, is thanks to Marti.”
“Whatever the cause, you look great. Emma is in the kitchen making pastries or something. She’d love to see you. I hope you don’t mind if I bring her by your table when your guest arrives.”
“Not at all. In fact, here she comes.”
Chapter Eight
* * *
“THE LITTLE BITCH ruined my dress.” Shelly scrubbed at her sleeve and tried to clean the mashed potatoes and gravy out.
“God, my throat hurts. I’ll be fat as a cow if I keep eating out all the time.”
Pale, even her anger didn’t add color back into her gaunt cheeks after she’d thrown up her dinner. She hated to end a perfectly good meal this way, but with all the rich foods and decadent desserts, along with the booze, she couldn’t afford all the extra calories. Still, she couldn’t keep this up and wished she could stop. She wanted to stop, but the compulsion overtook her good sense. Too many times she promised herself it was the last time.
She set aside her concerns and focused on her immediate frustration. “When I get my hands on her, I’ll ring her neck. Two hundred dollars spent to impress a man who’s more interested in the little mess maker than me. Damn the little bitch,” she said under her breath and continued to scrub the stain.
Marti heard the woman getting sick in the stall across from hers. She’d thought the woman was ill, now she reevaluated her assumption. The woman had some obvious problems, ranting at herself in the mirror and throwing up her dinner so she wouldn’t gain any weight. Marti thought better to eat less and enjoy it than throw it up. But to each his own.
She flushed the toilet, thankful she no longer had to pee. She’d forgotten all about it after the meeting with the lawyers and her marathon getting-dressed session. She left the hotel without doing her business. When she finally relaxed in the cab on the way to the restaurant, she realized she still had to go and had forgotten all about it. She hated when that happened. She hated to keep George waiting, but better to get her business out of the way rather than say, “Hi. I’ve got to pee, back in a minute.”
She exited the stall. The other woman’s eyes went wide with surprise. Obviously, she’d thought she’d been alone after the server left. Marti washed her hands and ignored her. She left feeling sorry for whoever she confronted over the ruined dress.
She spotted George talking to some people and headed for him. “George, I’m so sorry I’m late.” She turned toward the people he was speaking to before she arrived. “Hello.”
“Cameron, Elizabeth, this is Marti.” He left out her last name, remembering their conversation earlier in the day. Cameron’s face went from distressed to intrigued in a flash. Interesting. Handsome, her stomach fluttered with nerves, but she smiled even though he didn’t.
“I’m pleased to meet you both,” Marti said and shook their hands. His was rough and warm.
A little girl barreled out of the kitchen’s swinging doors and skipped toward them. She looked so cute dressed in a dark green jumper and covered in white powder. She had it everywhere from the top of her golden head and all down her dress.
The woman from the bathroom rushed toward the girl looking fit to kill and calling to her. Marti stepped away from the table, her instinct to protect kicked into gear.
“You come here, right now.” Far enough from the table, none of the others heard her nasty tone. The woman quickened her pace toward the little girl. The girl sensed trouble and ran toward Marti.
“You come here right now, you little . . .”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Marti scooped up the little girl into her arms and glared over her shoulder at the irate woman.
Everyone behind her went silent. Marti took two steps back with the girl, who had a choke hold around her neck. Marti ran her hand over her golden hair and down her back. “It’s okay, Sugar Bug. You’re fine now. I have you.”
She glared at the other woman. Cameron stood from the table and moved in beside her.
“Shelly, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m sorry. She ruined my dress, and I just lost my head. I didn’t mean any harm, but the child needs discipline.”
“If my daughter needs anything, I’ll be the one to give it to her. Now sit down. You’re making a scene. It’s just a dress, for God’s sake. I’ll buy you a new one,” he said under his breath. She brushed past him. Her intentional rub against his chest with her breasts wasn’t lost on him. He inwardly cringed the moment she touched him, and he didn’t know why. She was a beautiful woman by any standard, but the blatant flirtation at this moment didn’t seem appropriate.
Although they stood in a private area of the restaurant, people stared through the archway and listened to the commotion.
Cameron looked at his daughter and Marti holding her so lovingly. He’d just met the woman, but he felt like he knew her, recognized her in some way. He had a hard time fighting the strange pull toward her. Especially when he saw his daugh
ter in her arms, locked around her with absolute trust.
Emma sat back, hands on Marti’s shoulders, and asked, “How come you called me ‘Sugar Bug?’”
“Because you, little one, are covered from head to toe in sugar. I thought the name was appropriate and sweet, like you. I won’t call you it if you don’t want me to.”
“I like it. It’s nice. That’s my dad.”
“I just met him. I’m Marti.”
“Hi, Marti. I’m Emma. Emma Shaw. My dad is president.”
“He’s president of the Sugar Bugs.” Marti smiled hugely, mischief lighting her eyes.
Emma giggled. “No. He’s president of this building.”
Marti looked appropriately astonished. “Wow. President of a whole building. Now that is impressive. I don’t have such a fancy job as president. I’ve been a pirate for the last year.”
“Really? Awesome.”
“Totally awesome. Sometime I’ll tell you all about it.”
Marti wiped the tears drying on the child’s cheeks. She leaned in and whispered into her ear. The little girl laughed uproariously.
Emma turned to her father. “What do you call a witch who casts spells with sand?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart.”
“A sand witch.” Emma smiled and laughed again at the joke. She turned back to Marti and wrapped her arms around her neck. “You’re nice.”
Marti closed her eyes and hugged the girl tight. “You’re nice too, Sugar Bug.”
Emma called over her shoulder, “Hi, Knight.”
Marti turned to see George looking at the little girl with pure worship. “Hello, Princess. How are you?”
“I’m better now.”
“Yes, I can see that.” He saw a lot more. Like the way Cameron watched Marti like a man who’d just discovered water in the desert.
Emma’s reaction to Marti was unusual. She was affectionate to Elizabeth and Jenna, but she was downright attached to Marti. Cameron had never seen her take to anyone so fast.
The Right Bride: Book Three: The Hunted Series Page 4
