by Fox, Addison
She hadn’t paid any real attention.
But maybe it was time to start.
…
Booth avoided the temptation to touch Camryn in public…barely. “You were amazing.”
“It’s your team who’s amazing. They were so engaged in the presentation and their questions were really fantastic.”
“They were responding to your energy.”
Her eyebrows rose and she shot him a saucy grin. “You already got me here. No need to butter me up any longer.”
Booth lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Although you did just give me an idea for later.” He let the comment hang there, pleased when that cute blush heated her cheeks.
“You’re terrible. Besides, everyone here wants a few minutes of your time and you’re spending it all with me.” They’d moved into the hotel’s large lobby bar, the day’s workshops completed, and the jubilant sounds of happy revelers surrounded them like a wall.
“They see me all the time.”
“Well, I don’t exactly live far away from you.”
“Does this mean you’ll keep seeing me when we get back to New York?” Booth asked the question, not sure why he’d chosen that precise moment to probe such a serious topic.
Or why he waited with bated breath, hoping for a yes.
“I’d like that.”
“Me too.” He suppressed the urge to kiss her, instead running his hand once more over the bare flesh of her arm. It was hardly enough, but it would have to do for the moment.
They were quickly assimilated into a conversation circle, Camryn’s comment that his team all wanted a piece of his attention more than evident. He watched how easily she fit into the conversation, sharing thoughts, listening as others shared theirs.
She was the perfect partner, both in and out of bed.
The realization of where his thoughts headed smacked him in the head like a ton of bricks. While he knew his thoughts about Camryn had grown increasingly more insistent, thinking of her along those lines—permanent lines—was a heady surprise.
And one that felt 100 percent right.
His gaze drifted toward her as he allowed thoughts of a shared future to take root in his mind. She’d been pulled into a nearby conversation and he took the moment to observe how others responded to her. Whatever she’d battled in her past was nowhere in evidence as he watched a vibrant woman hold court with her admirers.
The content of her speech was still at the forefront of people’s minds, evidenced by the questions he heard floating toward him. She answered each and every one, asking questions of her own in kind. She also listened when others spoke, giving them her full attention. And she had a tremendous ability to disagree with an idea without disagreeing with the person.
People were comfortable in her presence and because of that they gravitated toward her.
“Careful, my boy. You don’t want it getting out that you’re smitten now, do you?”
Booth turned to stare at his father, unwilling to give an inch on the subject of his personal life. West had a tumbler of bourbon in his hand and a gleam in his eye and Booth knew his ability to avoid talking about Camryn was likely a pipe dream.
“Now why would that happen?” Booth took a sip of his scotch and gave West his full attention.
“They’ve got eyes, Booth. Everyone here does. And no one’s missed how yours have been trained for two days on Camryn.”
“She’s a beautiful woman. I’m certainly not the only man who’s looked at her more than once.”
“I’d say it’s the intensity of your interest that really gives you away. Be careful, son. Intense attraction can make a man distracted. You’ve got some important deals going down, namely the big one with your brother.”
“I’m well aware of my responsibilities.”
Booth found it odd his father thought it was not only his right to pry, but also his duty to offer advice the man hadn’t followed in his own life. Between a failed marriage with Booth’s own mother, an affair with Nathan’s mother, and a rather acerbic relationship with his second wife, West was hardly the model of personal restraint.
West shrugged, the motion philosophical. “On the other hand, her family’s been good to your brother. No reason to think it couldn’t be equally good to you.”
Booth kept a tight rein on his temper, but even he wasn’t immune to the curiosity that welled up at his father’s words. “While I’m not even sure why we’re having this conversation, would you care to explain that remark?”
“Nathan’s business has doubled since he hooked up with the McBrides. No reason to think yours—ours—wouldn’t do the same if you and Camryn got together.”
“Why would that matter?”
“Common assets. Common goals. It’s a perfect match.”
Although Booth’s thoughts had run to just how perfectly matched he and Camryn were mere moments before, even he couldn’t believe his father had leaped to such an odd place. What the hell was this? The 1850s when people were still arranging marriages to build their prosperity?
“Since I’m hardly looking for an arranged marriage, there’s nothing perfect about it.”
“But you are looking at her.” West nodded his head one last time in Camryn’s direction before he moved on to another conversation. “Think about what I said.”
Booth proceeded to do just that.
…
Camryn did her best to avoid staring too long or too often at Booth, but it was hard to feign a lack of interest when his father joined him for a conversation. Even harder, she mused, when it was clear by their subtle glances that she was the object of that conversation.
The stormy look that had ridden Booth’s features—and still did—offered up another clue that West was likely up to his antics again. He’d been less than supportive of her sister’s marriage to his son, although his recent efforts, such as their family dinner, suggested the winds were changing on that front. Regardless, she didn’t need the man speculating about her and certainly not about a relationship—no, a fling, she corrected herself—she was still trying to get a handle on.
“You’ve been turning amazing profits at McBride. Mind sharing some of your trade secrets?”
Camryn refocused on her conversation partner, a woman who managed the financial projections for the advertising sales team at the FJ. “You give me far too much credit, Ann. It’s less a trade secret and more giving the editorial team what they need to put out a good product, which you have in spades with the paper and all its multimedia formats. When you have that, advertising revenue follows quickly.”
“We’re not seeing nearly the same bumps you are.”
“That’s surprising. I assume you’ve negotiated down your printing and shipping costs?” At the woman’s nod, Camryn tried to take a stab at another possibility. “Is it because your audience is a business target instead of a consumer target? I know our business publications run on tighter margins, just due to the number of advertisers who make sense for those environments.”
“I don’t know.” The woman shook her head and Camryn sensed real challenges underlying her words. “It’s like we should be doing better but every time I look at where I’m forecasting versus my actual revenue I come up short.”
“Do you think your sales teams are sweetening the deals too much? I know there’s a temptation to close the deal at any cost, but when you’re the one looking at the costs it’s not that clear-cut.”
The woman shook her head once. “Not that I can tell, but I’ve got it on my list of things to discuss during our break-out sessions this week.”
“Well, good luck with it.”
Camryn knew the frustration when you were trying to make every penny count—and forward progress seemed like it was taking forever—but she still couldn’t shake the same strange feeling that had gripped her about Jeff’s ad problem earlier.
How was the FJ managing its books?
Her glance drifted once more to West Harrison as he str
ode around the room, glad-handing all the way, and she couldn’t dismiss the very real feeling the man was up to something.
Was it possible Booth was involved as well?
He managed the FJ, so it would stand to reason he had a good handle on the profits and loss. As group publisher and CEO, Keira was well-versed in the details of all McBride Media’s financial transactions and profit-and-loss statements. Camryn knew she was trusted to manage McBride’s financial processes, but at the end of the day, her sister needed to understand how profitable the business was in order to run it.
Wouldn’t Booth be the very same?
A waiter passed her with a tray of full wineglasses and she took a chardonnay. Light glinted off the rich, buttery yellow glow of the wine and Camryn stared down into her glass, contemplating the implications.
This was an incredibly lavish trip. The food and drink had flowed freely and, by all expectations, would all week. The sheer cost to fly a staff of people out to Hawaii was extraordinary. Was there something else going on?
She walked the perimeter of the room on her way to a seat at the bar. Maybe it was time to talk to a few more people and see if she could get a better sense of what wasn’t being said.
…
Camryn scrolled through her computer screen once more and jotted another note on a legal pad. Her time in the bar hadn’t proven fruitful and she finally decided to assuage her curiosity another way.
As a subscriber of the FJ, she had access to all its editions online. With the meticulous eye for detail she was known for—or teased for when it came from Keira and Mayson—Camryn had made two columns on her legal pad: what major companies had been the subject of overly favorable editorial in the last three months, and did those same advertisers place ads in the Financial Journal.
Sadly, she’d found four matches and she’d only been at it for about an hour and a half and roughly a month’s worth of issues. Deciding to shift tactics, she did a search of the FJ’s archives for all stories relating to the companies on the list.
“And gotcha.”
Camryn clicked on the first article she came to—a report detailing quarterly results for a major financial organization—and saw glowing praise for the way the company managed its finances. While the journalist didn’t go overboard with praise, anyone who read the article would be left assuming this was a strong partner to invest with. Several other article links led to comparably favorable reporting.
Camryn shut down the web page and powered down her laptop. The news was curious, but as of yet she hadn’t found anything truly incriminating. Hell, she could likely find comparable circumstances with McBride’s advertisers.
Would she find the same? Whether by overt intention or simple coincidence, could someone possibly infer the same things about McBride’s editorial product as she was assuming about the FJ?
The urge to call Keira was strong, but a glance at the clock—11:00 p.m.—meant it was the middle of Keira’s day in Europe. Camryn opted for a quick text instead, then stood and stretched, working out the kinks in her back from sitting hunched over her computer.
The ding of her phone stopped her midstride and she glanced back, oddly hopeful her sister had sensed her need to talk through the miles. Instead, a broad smile broke out when she read the text.
How’d it go? I’m dying here for an update even though I already know you knocked ’em dead.
Sinclair.
An impish urge filled her and she tapped back a quick reply. Totally bombed. Am laughingstock of New York ad community. And they all hated my dress. Tough crowd.
The phone rang so fast she couldn’t believe the cell signal had already carried her text back to New York.
“That was fast.”
“You are such a liar!” Sinclair’s voice echoed through her ear, a few decibels above the screeching halt of the subway.
“Of course I am. I looked fabulous, thanks to you—”
“Thanks to yourself and those legs of yours.”
She smiled at his rigorous defense. “And the FJ’s staff was warm and receptive to the presentation.”
“I knew it! I absolutely knew it.”
“Speaking of what I don’t know, why aren’t you here?”
“I’m working on an upcoming event that came in last minute. We snagged an interview with several economic bigwigs when they’re all in New York next week and I’m juggling schedules like they were chain saws.”
“Is that why you’re up in the middle of the night?”
“Bingo.”
The camaraderie was easy and friendly and she had the momentary urge—no, madness, really—of asking Sinclair what he knew about the FJ’s editorial coverage before she stopped herself. Whatever instant rapport they’d developed would likely fall flat if she started questioning him about his employer.
If she had questions, she needed to ask Booth. He deserved to hear her suspicions and answer them for himself.
Even if it ruined whatever tenuous threads had begun to hold them together.
“Earth to Camryn.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“I know it’s been a long day so I’m going to let you get back to paradise. I just had to call bullshit on your texts.”
“I’m so glad you did.”
There was a sudden quiet on the phone before Sinclair’s voice dropped, his tone serious. “You sure everything’s all right?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“Okay. Well I’m holding you to lunch when you get back and I get these old cronies interviewed. I’ll get a full download then.”
“It’s a date.”
She hung up, the smile not quite fading, even in the face of what she suspected. Sinclair had become a true friend in a short period of time and she was grateful he was a part of her life.
Just like Booth. He’d become a part of her life in a short time, too.
Her smile dropped, the thought of what might happen after they got home giving her a good solid kick in the chest. Hell, she was the one who’d stressed the notion things were temporary.
So why was she suddenly rethinking that stance?
The soft knock at the door had butterflies leaping in her stomach in a crazy dance. Her gaze alighted on the legal pad where she’d scribbled notes and she quickly shoved it in her tote before crossing to open the door.
Booth.
“Hey stranger.”
The suit he’d worn all day was still neat, but he’d eliminated the tie somewhere along the way. Golden skin peeped out through the opening at his collar and Camryn tamped down hard on the wash of lust that shot straight to her core. “Hey back. Did the party break up?”
One lone eyebrow rose over those vivid blue eyes. “What do you take my staff for? Amateurs? These are ad people. The party is still going strong and it finally veered into stupid.” Booth edged his way through the door. “Which meant I could finally make my escape.”
“You mean you don’t want to party until you’re stupid?”
“I’ve done my fair share of that over the years. It only ends in one thing.”
Camryn gestured him into the room. “What’s that?”
“Feeling stupid. And hungover. Neither of which I’m in the mood for.” He pushed the door closed with his foot as he shrugged out of his suit jacket, then drew her into his arms.
“What are you in the mood for?”
“You.”
It was one word, one simple syllable, but it was filled with such promise Camryn nearly forgot to breathe. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “How can I argue with that?”
“You can’t.” He pressed his mouth to hers while moving them until her back was flush against the door.
Based on the way she’d spent the last two hours, Camryn knew she should stop him. Knew she should explain her concerns and give him a chance to answer her honestly about his company’s editorial practices.
She knew this, but as his mouth devoured hers and his large body pressed against hers and he whispered sexy
words that were all hers, Camryn allowed herself to be swept away.
…
The concerns of the day faded as Booth pressed himself against her, lost in the taste and feel of her skin. He’d always loved their annual sales conference, but today the hours had seemed to pass with interminable slowness as he dreamed of this moment.
Being back with Camryn and holding her in his arms.
He ran his hands over her body in a wash of mindless need. She’d changed into a thin nightgown and robe and he made quick work of both, anxious to feel her soft skin. Her hands were as fevered as his and he heard the pop of a button on his shirt where she tugged too hard.
“Oops.” With gentler motions, she slowed down as she worked the rest of the buttons, and he nearly ripped the shirt off for her.
She pushed the shirt down his arms, then lifted his thin undershirt over his head. Her hungry gaze captured his as his head came free of the soft cotton, and Booth wasn’t sure he’d ever been that aroused by a simple look. “You have the most beautiful body. All these hard angles.”
As if punctuating the thought, she ran her hands over his skin, painting him with her fingertips and the heat of her gaze.
Booth captured her mouth once more, the light taste of mint tingling on his tongue from her toothpaste. “Mmmm. You taste good.”
“Who knew Colgate was an aphrodisiac?” She murmured the words against his lips and he couldn’t hold back the bark of laughter.
“Baby. Everything with you is an aphrodisiac.”
He shifted away from her slightly to remove the rest of his clothes, then moved forward, dropping to his knees.
“Booth?”
“Hmmm?” He slid his fingers inside the waistband of her panties and dragged them down her body. She lifted each leg for him and before she could fully get her balance, he moved forward, capturing her hips with his hands and pressing his mouth against her core.
“Booth!” His name came out on a long, low moan.
He drew one slender leg over his shoulders to give him better access. “Shhh. Let me love you.”
“We can’t. Not here.”
“You have a better suggestion?”
“The walls are thin. Someone will hear us.”
With a smile he knew held as much promise as it did wicked intent, he pulled her closer. “Then I guess you’ll just have to be quiet.”
