Uncovering Camila (Wildflowers Book 3)

by Vivian Winslow

  Without taking his eyes off her, he runs his finger gently along her collarbone, lingering over the soft middle that he can’t wait to kiss. He won’t do it now though. It’s more torture for him than for her he assumes, but something that intimate cannot be done in public. Marshall slides his hand to the back of her neck. He searches her eyes for permission. When she doesn’t pull away, he draws Camila’s lips to his.

  Fuck, if his body doesn’t feel like the million pieces of himself that had been shattered the other night weren’t fused together by this one kiss. Love, lust, freedom echo through their kisses as their lips caress each other. It’s better than Marshall remembers it was, which is probably his own retelling, because he wants it to be better than last time. Everything will be better, he promises himself and Camila with this kiss.

  “That incentive enough for you?” He asks.

  “Mmmm, if we’re being completely honest with each other, that feels more like a promise than an incentive,” she replies.

  Marshall pulls her to him again. This time, as his lips envelope hers, he lowers his hand and sweeps it over her ass and between her thighs. He groans a bit too loudly into their kiss, his cock betraying his need for her. To hell with it all, he wants to scream into the balmy Miami night. Marshall hasn’t felt this alive in years. Internal and external expectations have done nothing but suffocate him. Meeting Camila made him realize that he’d been managing with so little air. Those weeks with her breathed life into him. And being this close to her again, with his lips on hers, her breath mingling with his, he feels the kiss of life.

  Camila can’t qualify the feelings running through her. Already she can feel her desire seep out of her, his touch intensifying the craving by the second. Yet, it’s the deeper feelings spiraling within and without that have captured her and made her their prisoner. They’re keeping her in place, forcing her to feel more than mere desire and lust. With every second, she’s plunged into an unfamiliar space that’s both frightening and calm. It’s where the heart lives, and it’s forcing her to feel hers so deeply and profoundly that she can hardly think about what she’s experiencing except that it must be the closest thing to Love she’s ever known.

  Neither wants to be the one to stop. Finally Marshall gently squeezes her shoulders and pulls back. He rests his forehead against hers and says, “I want to . . . .”

  “Yeah, I know,” Camila responds, swallowing shallow breaths.

  As soon as they steady themselves, he guides her back inside. Once there, she notices Shoshana chatting casually with Poppy Baron.

  “Who doesn’t your cousin know?” Marshall asks.

  “The Pope,” she quips.

  He laughs, a deep sound resonating and inviting his friends and family to turn in their direction. Suddenly, the confidence Camila had been feeling outside is diminished. Her last encounter with Marshall’s mother left her feeling misunderstood and insulted. She squares her shoulders, fully expecting a snide remark about her appearance, and resolving not to let it bother her. His mother has no idea who Camila is, where she’s from or what she does. A superficial judgment from the judge herself means nothing.

  “My apologies for that long absence. I ran into a friend from New York.” Marshall says, waving a hand in Camila’s direction.

  “Girlfriend actually,” Camila mutters, grateful to complete the dare within a minute of arriving at the table.

  Shoshana beams at her while Dahlia waves. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m glad you were able to make it after all.”

  Camila allows Marshall to finish the introductions. When they reach his mother, Norah offers a polite handshake and says, “Well, I see your choice in wardrobe hasn’t changed much.”

  Poppy slaps her friend’s hand playfully. “As I recall, you weren’t shy about showing off that body of yours when it looked like hers.” Then, turning to Camila, Poppy says, “Ignore her. Women our age envy youth. You always remind us of our greatest regrets.”

  Camila is taken aback. She’d never met anyone whose manner of speaking was cuttingly honest yet sincere.

  “Won’t you join us?” Dahlia asks.

  “Thank you, but we’re meeting some friends soon,” Camila replies quickly before Shoshana can accept. “It was lovely meeting all of you,” she says already backing away toward her table.

  Chapter 51

  “Brunch with the Barons wasn’t on the itinerary.” Camila slumps in the back of their Uber car as it drives away from the Beach.

  “We wouldn’t have had to accept if you just sat down at dinner last night,” Shoshana rejoins.

  “Elbowing me in the back was really uncool by the way. I think I have a bruise.”

  “Don’t be a baby.”

  “A baby? Now I’m going to have a huge mark on my back when I put on my swimsuit. Not that it matters because we’re not going to the pool or the beach during what you promised would be a fun vacation.”

  “Oh, enough already,” Shoshana scoffs. “Just admit that you’re nervous seeing Marshall. You’re not sure if it’s all going to be different in the light of day.”

  Camila purses her lips. “As a matter of fact I wasn’t thinking about that. Thanks for bringing it to my attention.” She gives her cousin a look.

  Shoshana laughs. “Better to get it over with and see what’s changed, if anything. Besides, there was no way I was going to get away with running into Poppy down here and refusing her invitation. My mom would’ve killed me if she found out. No one refuses an invitation from that woman.”

  “How does one woman yield so much power?”

  Now it’s her cousin’s turn to give her a look. “While you were spending all that time studying influential women in history, you should’ve spent some of it reading about her.”

  “She’s a socialite and philanthropist. What else is there to know?”

  Shoshana shakes her head. “You consider yourself a feminist? Then you should know how hard Poppy worked to establish equal pay at Baron Media and how she was one of the first to implement decent maternity leave standards at the company before it was mandated. Her name and influence extended toward a lot of women’s causes in the City.”

  “I hadn’t heard,” Camila replies quietly. “It still doesn’t change the fact that we could be lying poolside, sipping daiquiris instead of making polite brunch conversation with the Barons or Marshall’s mom.”

  Shoshana laughs out loud. “That woman is a riot. She didn’t pull any punches last night.”

  “At my expense,” Camila reminds her.

  “Oh please. That was pettiness talking. You’re just not the person she’d choose for her son. Marshall doesn’t care, so you shouldn’t either.”

  “How old is she anyway?” Norah pesters Marshall as they head out onto the driveway toward his rental car.

  “Twenty-five,” he answers, realizing despite the hours and days and weeks he spent with Camila, he never learned her birthday.

  “Twenty-five?” Norah Douglas asks incredulously. Never in her son’s thirty years has she ever thought him capable of such poor judgment. Marshall was her baby, the one male in her life who proved to be more reliable than her two ex-husbands. She firmly believed she raised him to respect women, to see them as his equal and to expect of them what he expects in himself—to rise above the paternal establishment perpetuated by his father and so many men who purport to be her equal or her superior.

  Seeing that woman in her guesthouse and again at dinner calling herself Marshall’s girlfriend was enough to send her already high blood pressure through the roof. Not even her best friend’s humor was enough to assail her many fears of her son being trapped by some working-class tramp.

  “I raised you better than this,” she insists, lowering her visor and slipping on her sunglasses. “The sun is so bright down here. I can’t understand how Poppy can tolerate it.”

  “You raised me to be my own person and make my own decisions. I don’t expect you to like Camila, but I expect you to be respectfu
l.”

  “Respect is earned, not given.”

  “It would be nice if you could leave your judgment on the bench sometimes.”

  “It’s served me well for almost twenty years. Mark my words, this girl is not good for you.”

  “And Ellen was? I’ll have to object to your assessment of my girlfriend.” Marshall hides his smile when he says that last word. He knows Camila won’t accept the title for a while, perhaps even longer than that.

  “Come off it, Marshall. She’s a rebound. You’re entitled to be guided by your . . . your needs. At some point soon you’ll wake up and realize she’s a . . . a . . . .” Norah snaps her fingers. “What is it you said she does?”

  “Bartender,” he replies quietly, feeling badly that he hasn’t been that forthcoming about Camila’s status as a law student, knowing full well his mother will put two and two together.

  “Twenty-five and a bartender? Has she even been to college?” She shakes her head, disgusted that her own son would compromise his immaculate pedigree and connections for a piece of ass. “You are proving to be no better than your father.”

  Marshall shakes his head, knowing better than to argue. He’s rarely if ever won an argument with her and doesn’t want to try now. He’s too excited to see Camila and hopeful he can at least get fifteen minutes alone with her. The very thought of that kiss last night was enough to keep him awake until the early dawn.

  “Thank god you made it.” Dahlia greets them at the porte-cochère. “My mother is on a tear since she got up this morning.”

  “It’s a sign that she’s feeling well,” Norah assures her.

  “I know, but two of Lily’s housekeepers threatened to quit this morning if my mom doesn’t back off. As it is, she’s had them set three different tables for brunch. You know how she prefers to have options.”

  Norah pats her cheek and starts up the steps to the house. “Poppy is a force, darling, but doesn’t always know when to stop. I’ll go speak with her.”

  As soon as his mom is out of earshot, Marshall says, “It’s just us. Why does she care so much?”

  “Habit, I guess,” Dahlia replies plainly. She threads her arm through his. “I didn’t have a chance to ask last night. Since when did Camila become your girlfriend?”

  “Since I saw her last night. Although you probably shouldn’t use that word around her or my mother. Neither of them likes it very much.”

  “Your mom unhappy it’s not Ellen?”

  He nods.

  “Ugh. I say good riddance to her. Excuse me for saying, but she was tough to be around. But this Camila, from what little she said and what you’ve told me, seems great.”

  “Yeah, she is,” Marshall agrees.

  Chapter 52

  “Be cool and try not to fidget,” Shoshana whispers to Camila as they exit the car.

  Camila wouldn’t normally be intimidated by another person or her wealth, but after listening to her cousin describe Poppy Baron’s influence and massive wealth, she can’t help but be aware of her own limitations.

  As she glances up at Poppy’s daughter’s house, which could contain her uncle and aunt’s own Hampton’s home, she’s acutely aware she’s entering another world, which, up until now, she’s only experienced peripherally.

  “Ladies, how good of you to make it,” Poppy greets them on a veranda overlooking the pool. “It’s generous of you to share some of your vacation time to visit us.”

  “We wouldn’t have it any other way.” Shoshana leans in for two kisses and then brings Camila forward to do the same.

  “You’ll have to excuse Lily and her family’s absence. They were expected at her mother-in-law’s today.”

  “Excuse away. It means a few hours of peace for me,” Dahlia says, jumping up to greet the young women. “Rodrigo took the girls over there. It makes his mom happy to have all of her grandchildren under one roof.”

  “Hopefully we’ll get a chance to meet them the next time you’re in New York,” Shoshana suggests politely.

  “More like when you visit Miami again. We’ll be moved down here permanently by the end of the year.”

  “I hadn’t heard,” Shoshana says. Turning toward Marshall’s mother, she says, “Justice Douglas, so wonderful to see you again. You remember my cousin, Camila.”

  Noticing her cousin talking to Dahlia, she tugs on her arm. “C.C.”

  Camila pivots and takes Norah’s hand. Mustering all the humility and compassion she can, she says, “It’s very lovely to see you again.”

  Marshall’s mother narrows her eyes at Camila. “I’m sure, dear.”

  Camila doesn’t flinch. Instead she smiles and turns to Dahlia. “At least you’ll be out of New York by winter. The cold can be unbearable,” she comments.

  Poppy notices her emphasis on the word “cold” and smiles at Camila’s self-confidence. “The more time I spend here in Miami, the more I realize how much more pleasant New Yorkers would be if they didn’t have winter. Then again, it makes New Yorkers what they are, tough and unapologetic.”

  Norah and Camila know Poppy is directing this at them, but neither will acknowledge it. Both are used to having best friends or family who make oblique and occasional direct references to their tenacious personalities.

  “And since the sun has graced us with its presence yet again, how about we dine al fresco?” Poppy directs them to the dining area adjacent to the outdoor kitchen, one of the few places where the housekeepers hadn’t set up for brunch. She eyes the empty table critically and clucks her tongue. “Excuse me momentarily while I . . . .”

  “I’ll join you,” Norah jumps in, in an attempt to thwart a walk-out of the housekeeping staff, as well as to have a reason to get away from her son, with that smitten look on his face, and his girlfriend. She shakes her head at the thought of that word.

  “No one says you have to like her, but you should try to be cordial,” Poppy advises Norah as they make their way along the pool to the main house.

  “I’m not sure I can,” Norah sighs. “You probably didn’t notice the way Marshall was looking at her. I swear I thought my son had more sense than he’s showing today.”

  “Men are encouraged to appreciate beauty, you know that. At least this one has brains.”

  Norah stops walking, forcing Poppy to do the same. She needs the break. Walking is becoming more difficult, but she doesn’t want anyone to know. It’s hard enough having her daughters fuss over her. Of course a part of her loves the attention from her daughters, who never showed her any before, but her pride won’t allow her to admit it.

  “What did Dahlia tell you? Marshall mentioned she’s a bartender. Twenty-five and a bartender. Can you believe it?” She throws up her hands. “My Yale educated son, who clerked for a federal court judge and two Supreme Court justices, is dating a bartender.”

  Poppy purses her lips to keep from laughing. Norah’s lapse into dramatic wailing always amuses her. She touches her friend’s arm. “Relax before your hypertension gets worse. She isn’t just a bartender. Camila is a third-year law student at NYU.” Now she can smile as Norah’s eyes go wide. “It isn’t difficult to guess why he left out that detail.”

  “Oh no!” Norah turns to look at the veranda and points. “Are you telling me that my son is fucking one of his students?”

  Poppy folds her arms in front of her. “Says the woman who gave her Criminal Law professor a blow job at a party. You were only a 2L then.”

  “It’s not the same. Everything I’ve worked for . . . , that he’s worked for . . . .” Norah stops. She can feel her temperature begin to climb. “If that ever comes out . . . . He could kiss any future political appointments good-bye.” She starts to walk back to the veranda to confront Marshall, but Poppy pulls her back. Norah glances at her friend’s hands. “Good to know you still have your strength.”

  “You are seriously testing it. Listen to me, Norah. You see those two young women?” She waves a hand at Shoshana and Camila, who are sitting on chaises tal
king and laughing as Dahlia and Marshall recount stories from high school.

  Her friend nods. “Of course, woman. I’m old, not blind.”

  “Speak for yourself. Shoshana Cohen is Art and Natalie Cohen’s only daughter.”

  “You know I don’t know all your Jewish friends.”

  “It’s not about being Jewish in this case, it’s about being land owners. Art is the head of Cohen Real Estate.”

  “So Camila has family with money. It doesn’t buy class, and it certainly doesn’t explain why she’s a bartender.” The way Norah says it shows her distaste for the job.

  “Camila’s father is Bernie Cohen. William introduced us years ago. Bernie used to run in some of the same circles as William.” Poppy starts to walk slowly toward the house again. “Bernie was dating some actress at the time, although he was too bookish for that crowd. In any case, he fell off the map never to be seen or heard from. It was later that William told me there was a huge family scandal. Bernie upped and married an Afro-Cuban/Puerto Rican woman, who wasn’t Jewish. His father cut him off, and his brother inherited the company.”

  Poppy stops recounting the story when they reach the house. Norah smiles when she hears footsteps scurrying away. “You really should try to be nicer to them. You don’t want to make life difficult for Lily and her family.”

  “The only ones making life difficult are her staff. I’m doing Lily a favor. She’ll have a better-run household when I’m finished.”

  “You realize how much you sound like your mother-in-law at the moment?”

  “Of course, I do.” She leans toward her friend. “Sometimes you have to learn to live like your enemies to beat them. And you and I know who won that war.” Poppy notices Esmeralda and waves. In broken Spanish, she motions toward the door outside and says, “Comemos afuera, outside.” After miming a few more times, the housekeeper nods at Poppy.

  “Now, where was I?” Poppy sighs, hating how easily off-track her thoughts can get now. “Oh right. Well, one other thing William told me about that scandal was one of the lawyers for the Cohens had let it slip that the senior Cohen had a clause put into his will, which stipulated that only a Cohen can take over the company.”