“They lost their hotel years ago to H. J. Camden. So maybe if you give them the Camden store that was built where their hotel was...” Gia suggested to get her point across. And to test his response and possibly learn whether or not he knew the history.
It worked, because he flinched charmingly and Gia had the impression that he knew exactly what she was talking about. “I don’t think I can do that. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to do something. And by the way, who are you?” he asked without any rancor.
“Gia Grant. I live next door to the Bronsons.”
“And you’ve taken them under your wing,” he guessed. “The guy who cuts my hair down on University had a donation jar. He said there was some little lady behind this. Is this whole thing your doing, Gia Grant?”
“We’re friends and neighbors. The Bronsons are good, good people and I can’t sit by and just watch what’s happening to them—”
“Which is what, exactly?”
Gia glanced over her shoulder at the long lunch table where the group that was left was talking. They hadn’t yet noticed that she wasn’t back from the restroom, but that wasn’t going to last forever.
“The longer I stand here, the more likely it is that someone is going to see you and, honestly, I won’t let you put a damper on Larry and Marion’s night.”
“But I do want to help,” he insisted.
“Donate, then.”
He nodded that oh-so-handsome head sagely. “We’re interested in more than just stuffing some cash in a donation jar. My grandmother isn’t too much younger than the Bronsons, and let’s say they’ve struck a chord with her. She sent me to represent the family and make sure whatever needs the Bronsons have are met.”
“Then donate a lot of money. Anonymously, or they won’t take it.”
He inclined his head as if that might be a good solution but he just couldn’t accept it. “We don’t want to just throw some money at the problem. We want to find out what all of the problems are and lend a hand getting them addressed in the best way possible so these people can finish out their lives comfortably, safely and securely.”
“You’re admitting that what your family did way back when caused the problems, and now you have a responsibility to make things right,” Gia surmised.
“We just want to help,” he said, firmly holding that line and acknowledging nothing else.
Gia shook her head. “The Bronsons are in trouble. But they’re proud people. I’ve convinced them to accept help from their friends and neighbors, their church, by assuring them that the help is coming from people they’ve given business to for decades, from the same people they’ve helped in the past or would help if the need arose even now and they could. I’ve promised them that it isn’t charity, it’s people who know and care about them just wanting to do something for them. But they hate you—I’m sorry to be so direct, but that’s just a fact. I know them—they’ll think that anything you do will have an ulterior motive. If they know you’re behind a dime, they won’t take it.”
“Maybe you can persuade them to,” he proposed.
“I don’t know how I’d do that.”
“I’ll bet you can think of a way...” he said pointedly.
“You do owe them,” Gia said matter-of-factly because it was true. And even though she knew how the Bronsons would feel about accepting anything from the Camdens, she also knew that they were in need of more help than what her efforts were producing. The Camdens’ assistance could go much further in solving the elderly couple’s problems.
“Maybe you could introduce me as a friend of yours and leave out the part about me being a Camden.”
“They’d recognize you. They might not know exactly which Camden you are, but they follow your family like fans follow celebrities, begrudging you every step of the way. And they might be old, but mentally, they’re both sharp as tacks. Nothing gets by them, and you wouldn’t, either.” With another glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was looking in this direction, Gia added, “And really, I want you to leave before they spot you.”
“I’m not giving up,” he said then, but he did step one step higher, which made him tower above Gia even more. “So how about I leave it to you to convince them to accept my help?”
He reached into his shirt pocket with his free hand and pulled out a business card. “All my numbers are on that.”
Gia accepted the card.
“If I don’t hear from you, you’ll have me knocking on your door—don’t forget you already told me that you live next to the Bronsons.”
“I can’t make any promises,” Gia said, knowing full well that she had to do what she could to convince Larry and Marion, because the Camdens—no matter how despicable—still had the kind of resources the Bronsons needed.
“I’m relying on you anyway,” he said, investing her with the responsibility despite her hedging.
“I’ll do what I can if you just go!”
He grinned again and took another step up. “I’ll tell you one thing,” he said as he did, “you’re the prettiest bouncer I’ve ever been ousted by.”
“As if a Camden has ever been kicked out of anyplace,” Gia countered.
“You might be surprised.”
“Just go!” she said, trying not to think that he was lingering in order to stare at her—which was how it appeared, because his beautiful blue eyes seemed to be taking in every inch of her and his expression said he was enjoying the view.
“Get back to me soon or I’ll come for you...” he threatened in a way that didn’t sound as if they were still talking about helping the Bronsons.
“No promises,” Gia repeated firmly to let him know he wasn’t wearing her down.
But he was. Just a tiny bit.
Enough so that, as she turned from the sight of him backing up the rest of the steps so he could go on studying her, she felt a smile come to the corners of her mouth.
Because although she had no idea why, just the way Derek Camden looked at her made her feel better about herself than the dinner invitation from the minister had.
Chapter Two
“Georgie! You feisty little beanbag, where are you?” Derek called when he went into his grandmother’s house midmorning on Tuesday.
“She’s in the greenhouse.”
“Oh, hey, Jonah. Hey, Louie. I didn’t see you guys up there.”
Jonah Morrison—Derek’s grandmother’s old high school sweetheart and new husband since their wedding in June—seemed to be working on something on the stairs. Louie Haliburton—the male half of the married couple who had worked for the family as live-in staff for decades—was helping him.
“What’s going on?” Derek asked the two older men.
“Fixing the banister,” Louie answered.
“Or trying to,” Jonah added.
“Need help?” Derek offered, even though he was in the midst of his workday and had only stopped by on his way back from a meeting with Camden Incorporated’s bankers in his capacity as chief financial officer.
“Nah, we can handle it,” Louie assured.
“I’ll head for the greenhouse, then. Holler if you change your minds.”
Derek went across the wide entryway, down the hallway that led straight to the kitchen. There he found Louie’s wife, Margaret.
“Hey, Maggie-May,” he greeted the stocky woman, who was old enough for retirement but was still on her hands and knees cleaning one of the ovens.
“Derek! Did we expect you today?”
He leaned over and kissed her rosy cheek. “Nope. Just stopped by to talk to Georgie.”
“She’s in the greenhouse.”
“So I heard. That’s where I’m headed.”
“Staying for lunch?”
“Can’t. Have to get back to the office. I
only have a few minutes.” He went through the kitchen to the greenhouse, where his grandmother was watering her prize orchids.
“Georgie...don’t let me scare you...” he said in a mellow tone once he got there, because his grandmother’s back was to him and he didn’t want to startle the seventy-five-year-old.
Georgianna Camden was the matriarch of the Camden family, the woman who had raised all ten of her grandchildren after the plane crash that killed their parents and her husband. The rest of the family called her GiGi. Derek had always affectionately called her Georgie.
“As if I didn’t hear you shouting from the doorway,” his grandmother said, turning off the water.
He crossed the greenhouse to kiss her cheek, too, putting an arm around the shoulders that—like the rest of her—felt as cushy as a beanbag chair.
He gave her a little squeeze before letting her go. “I’m on my way back to the office, but I thought I’d stop for a few minutes to tell you that I went to that church your friend belongs to last night—”
“Jean didn’t see you. I talked to her this morning.”
“Checking up on me?” he asked with a laugh. “I went but I didn’t get in. Some hot little number named Gia Grant caught me at the foot of the steps to the basement and wouldn’t let me go any farther.”
“I know that name—Jean can’t say enough good things about her. She doesn’t belong to their church, she’s the Bronsons’ neighbor and—”
“She’s the one behind this deal to help the Bronsons—I know, the guy who cuts my hair told me. But last night she was also the guardian of the gate. Your friend Jean was right about the meeting to organize the work for the Bronsons, but what she didn’t say was that the Bronsons themselves would be at the church. Gia Grant spotted me coming, recognized me somehow and wouldn’t let me out of the stairwell. She said a Camden would ruin the Bronsons’ night.”
“Oh, dear...”
“Yeah. We might not have known about what went on between H.J. and those people until you read about it in the journals, but it isn’t something they’ve forgotten.”
The man who had started the Camden empire—Derek’s great-grandfather H. J. Camden—had kept a journal while he was alive. Only recently rediscovered, it confirmed what H.J., his son, Hank, and his grandsons, Mitchum and Howard, had long been accused of—ruthless, unscrupulous business practices that trampled people and other businesses.
After reading the journals, Georgianna Camden and her grandchildren were determined to make amends for some of the worst of the wrongs done. Including what had been done to the Bronsons.
“Gia Grant says that no matter how much trouble the Bronsons are in,” Derek informed his grandmother, “they have too much pride to take anything from us. Her recommendation was that we just donate money anonymously.... And the anonymity wouldn’t be so bad for us, because then we’d be avoiding any admission of guilt....”
GiGi shook her head at that suggestion. “I know we need to keep from making any kind of open, public acknowledgment of wrongdoing so we don’t have people coming out of the woodwork to sue us for things the Camdens didn’t do—”
“Big corporations and money make for easy targets,” Derek confirmed. “And you know there are stories out there accusing us of stuff that didn’t happen—so, yeah, if we say some of the accusations are well founded, there’ll be an avalanche of see-I-told-you-so lawsuits for unfounded complaints that will tie us up in court until hell freezes over.”
“We also don’t want to come out and say that H.J. and your grandfather, father and uncle really were involved in underhanded business practices—there’s family loyalty at stake here, too,” GiGi said under her breath, because this was something that she didn’t discuss if Jonah, Margaret or Louie were around.
“So a payout would be a whole lot easier, but it wouldn’t protect us,” Derek acknowledged.
“And we wouldn’t necessarily achieve our goal of making amends with a simple payout,” GiGi added. “In this case in particular, just donating some money might not be the best answer for the Bronsons. Jean says they have no family. No one beyond that Gia girl—and she’s only a neighbor—to look after them or help them. They’re in their eighties, so there are some health problems, and Jean isn’t sure they should be living on their own anymore. And what if one of them dies and the other is left all alone—?”
“You want to just move them in here?” Derek joked.
“You know how I feel about this one, Derek. It’s going to need some involvement on our part for what remains of the Bronsons’ lives,” GiGi insisted. “And you know that just donating money doesn’t guarantee that the money will get into the right hands or get used in the ways it should be used, especially down the road. We have to know that these people have whatever they need to finish out their lives—financially and otherwise. And their needs can change depending on how their health or situation changes. We have to have some kind of presence in their lives. So you have to make nice with them. Win them over and establish a relationship with them so we can help later on, too, if need be. For their sake.”
“I touched on some of that with Gia. But I still couldn’t even get in the door....”
“Well, you’re going to have to do whatever it takes to accomplish that, honey. Maybe first you’ll have to win over the guard at the gate....”
That brought a vivid image of Gia Grant to mind—something that had been happening at the drop of a hat since he’d met her last night.
Maybe because of that hair, he thought.
That hair was just great!
Every time the memory of it popped into his head it made him smile.
Full and thick and shiny and wildly curly...
That was probably why it appealed to him. He liked things that were a little on the wild side.
And he’d loved that hair....
Plus, she had big, beautiful brown eyes the color of espresso sprinkled with gold dust.
And peaches-and-cream skin that didn’t show a single flaw.
And a straight nose that turned up almost imperceptibly and just a little impudently at the end.
And a picture-perfect mouth that was exactly the kind he liked to kiss because her lips were slightly full and sumptuous-looking....
All on top of a body that was tight but still soft and curvaceous even if she wasn’t particularly tall....
Oh, yeah, he’d done a lot of thinking about Gia Grant since last night....
For no reason he could put his finger on.
“I did ask her to intervene on my behalf, but she wasn’t too optimistic that she could convince the Bronsons to accept anything from us,” he told his grandmother when he’d pulled himself out of his thoughts of Gia.
“Like I said, win her over first, then,” GiGi advised. “The better she likes you, the more apt she is to sell you to the Bronsons. And from what I understand from Jean, that shouldn’t be too painful for you—Jean says she’s never met a nicer, friendlier, more helpful person, and that she’s beautiful to boot and doesn’t even seem to know it. So she’s humble, too. I know Jean has her eye on her for Lucas once his divorce is final, and she and the other ladies in her church committees are all worried that their pastor is very taken with this Gia Grant—”
“So wouldn’t that make her perfect for their pastor—a paragon of virtue like that?”
“Shame on you for saying that like it’s a bad thing! That’s what gets you into trouble.”
No truer words were ever spoken, so Derek couldn’t deny it. Besides, he didn’t dare. Not after his most recent blunder, the one that had really caused him to cross the line.
The one he wanted to kick himself over.
The one that had cost him a bundle and most of his dignity....
“If she’s all that your friend says she is, why wouldn’t the churc
h ladies want her for their pastor?” he asked more respectfully.
“She’s divorced.”
“And that’s an issue?”
“It’s only an issue when it comes to their minister—they want someone purer for him, I guess. Plus, like I said, Jean wants Gia for Lucas—”
“Lucas Paulie is a weasel,” Derek said, not understanding why it rubbed him wrong to think of the woman he’d spent all of about five minutes with either the church pastor he didn’t know or the guy he did know.
“I didn’t realize you disliked Lucas Paulie so much,” GiGi said.
“I just wouldn’t wish him on some poor unsuspecting do-gooder.”
“There it is again, Derek James Camden! Do-gooder—that is not a bad thing. A nice girl is what you need. You’d better start looking for one and stay away from what you’ve been bringing around here since you were a teenager. Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?”
“I have, Georgie,” he said on a sigh. “I just can’t help it if the...tame ones don’t do it for me. I like a little spice.”
“What you’ve brought around here is not a little spice. And this last one—”
“I know. You don’t have to tell me—again—how damn stupid that was.”
“And yet here you are, barely out from under the mess you were in, looking down your nose at someone doing some good.”
“I’m not looking down my nose at Gia Grant.”
He was doing anything but that, if the truth be known. He sure as hell hadn’t been thinking bad things about her since last night.
It just didn’t matter. He knew the way things went for him—regardless of how beautiful the woman, regardless of how much he might respect and admire her or what she was doing, in no time the good girls just couldn’t keep his interest. In no time they started to seem ordinary. They started to get predictable. They started to bore him to tears.
But he wasn’t a kid anymore. And he had no business letting himself be sucked into situations with the bad girls anymore.
It had been bad enough when he was a kid, but now it was inexcusable. Especially when it embarrassed the whole family right along with himself. Like this last time.
To Catch a Camden Page 2
