by Darcy Burke
He shook his head and gave her a wry, friendly smile. “Good to know you’re cataloguing my meals.”
She pursed her lips. “Someone has to. Your mother likes to know what you’re eating.” Marcia played in his mom’s Bunco group, and Cam had known her for probably twenty years. “She’d also like to know that you’re eating with someone.” She looked at Brooke inquisitively.
Great, just what Cam needed: Marcia reporting to his mother that he was on a date or something. Wanting to date someone and wanting your family to know about it were two very different things. Mom would probably fall prostrate with shock if she thought he was dating—right before she harangued him for every detail. That her stepson was married and a father and none of her own sons were remotely close to that drove her nuts. Cam rushed to quell any misunderstanding. “Uh, we’re neighbors, and we work together. We’re not eating together.” He inwardly flinched and thought about how to cushion that lie as soon as he and Brooke left.
Marcia frowned and then sighed. “Well, that’s too bad. You’d make a cute couple.” She winked at Brooke. “That’s twenty-eight thirty-three. Brooke, right?”
Brooke nodded. “Thanks.” She swiped her debit card and completed her transaction. Then she turned to Cam with a cool stare and said, “Nice seeing you. Bye.”
Disappointment coursed through him as he watched her leave. He shouldn’t be disappointed—or surprised, since he’d said they weren’t eating together. She couldn’t know he’d only said that for Marcia’s benefit.
Marcia made more small talk as she scanned his items slowly. He tried not to be visibly antsy but had already swiped his card and entered his PIN long before she’d finished. At long last, she was done. He bid her a hasty good-night and left the store at a fast pace. He looked down the street and saw that Brooke was already across the street at the corner a block down.
He dashed out into the street without looking and stopped short at the sound of a horn blaring. The car hadn’t come close to hitting him, but the driver held up his hands and clearly mouthed, What the hell?
Cam waved at him and mouthed, “Sorry!” before continuing across. He looked toward the corner and saw Brooke was waiting for him, her head cocked to the side. When he reached her, he saw that her expression was one of concern but also mild annoyance.
“Nice move,” she said. “You have a death wish?”
“Definitely not. I was trying to catch up with you.”
She arched a brow before pivoting and walking around the corner. “At your own peril.”
He caught up to her. “Evidently. Hey, I didn’t mean what I said back there. We are eating together—if you still want to.”
Brooke didn’t slow her pace. “Why’d you lie to Marcia?”
“She plays Bunco with my mom. She’s already going to tell her that she saw me with you at the store, and my mom will get a zillion ideas.” He rolled his eyes, wondering when their next Bunco night was so that he could avoid his mom’s inevitable phone call.
“What sort of ideas?”
“That we’re dating or whatever.”
Brooke cast him a narrow-eyed look. “I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know what ‘whatever’ is.”
What did she mean? “I just meant that she’ll draw her own conclusions.”
“Oh, I know what you mean. Given your history, I can only imagine what those conclusions might be.”
Shit, this was not going well. And they’d had such a great conversation at the store. He snagged her elbow and drew her to a stop as they reached the corner across from the entrance to her building. “Wait. Let me explain. My mom is desperate for grandchildren. My stepbrother just had a kid a few months ago, but their relationship is a bit strained, and she’d like a grandchild of her own blood—her words, not mine.”
Brooke looked past him and started to cross the street. “That’s too bad.” She sounded terse and cool.
He realized he hadn’t painted the best picture of his mother, and she wasn’t a bad person. “My mom’s a bit high-strung, I guess. She loves Emma—Dylan’s daughter—really.”
“I would hope so. She should feel blessed to have a grandchild at all.”
“Yes.” Cam followed her onto the curb outside the entrance to her building. “So, dinner?”
Brooke turned to look at him. “I think it’s best if we skip it. I’ll e-mail you a link to a knife you should buy. Really, it will make a huge difference.”
He longed to touch her, to soothe the creases in her forehead. He wondered if there was more to this than his idiot behavior. “I will. And hey, I’m sorry if I upset you. My family can be meddlesome, and I didn’t want them to get the wrong idea.”
“Absolutely. I don’t want them—or you—to get the wrong idea either. We’re coworkers. Friends. That’s it. We’ll have dinner another time.” She gave him a warm smile, but he had the sense it wasn’t completely genuine. “Enjoy your pork.” She turned and went into her building, leaving him to stare after her.
Why did he feel like he’d just royally screwed up?
By the time Brooke walked into her loft, her pulse was hammering a staccato rhythm. She’d kept herself together in front of Cam, but hearing about his mother had summoned those terrible feelings of inadequacy, of being…broken.
She set her purse and the bag of groceries on the kitchen island and walked into the living room. Any thoughts of dinner had fled during their conversation as she stared out the bank of windows toward his townhouse. She clenched her fists, angry with herself for her debilitating reaction. Why did this seem to be so prevalent lately?
Because she had a man in her life, something she’d strove to avoid since her divorce. Whether she wanted him there or not, Cameron Westcott was in her life. She liked him. She was attracted to him. She looked forward to being with him.
But there was no future for them. Not when he talked of a family who was champing at the bit for him to provide grandchildren.
Still…could there be a right now? Could she find a way to be with him in the present? A way that would allow them to enjoy what they had for a while and split ways amicably so they could continue their working relationship.
Sure, right after monkeys flew out of her butt.
She retraced her steps to the kitchen and fished her phone from her purse. She dialed Rhonda and waited anxiously for her sister to pick up.
“Yo, sissy!” Rhonda answered in a goofy voice she often used.
“I need help. Tell me how to make this work with Cameron.”
“Whoa, you sound stressed. Let’s just take a deep breath.” Rhonda breathed deeply on the other end of the phone, and Brooke inhaled with her. “How to make what work?”
Brooke had told her about hooking up with Cameron in the bathroom, but had insisted it was a one-time thing and that she was okay with that. “A…relationship. A casual one,” she quickly amended.
“Did you have sex again?”
“No.”
“Then what’s got you so wound up?”
“I ran into him at the grocery store, and we ended up talking about his family. Apparently, his mom is dying for grandkids.”
Rhonda sighed. “And that sent you over the edge. Sis, you might need to find a therapist up there.”
“I don’t need a therapist. This is only bothering me because of Cameron. He’s the first guy I’ve met since Darren that I…like.”
“That’s true.” Rhonda made a high-pitched sound like she was sucking on her lip. “Okay, let’s figure this out. You like him. He likes you. There’s absolutely no reason to think this is a forever thing, hence any discussion about procreation isn’t necessary. There. Done. Now go get him.”
Brooke rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. She realized this was why she’d called Rhonda. Yes, she was oversimplifying things, but maybe that was what Brooke needed. She was the one making it into a Thing. “Say we get together—like date and stuff. We still work together. Remember when you thought my hooking up with him was a bad idea? What hap
pens when one of us is ready to move on?” She didn’t voice the fear she was desperately trying to tamp down—that he would dump her long before she wanted to dump him. He didn’t do long-term, right?
“You break up like grown-ups. People actually do this. Look at my friend Kara. She and Doug broke up after four years together, and it was perfectly civilized. They even share custody of the dog.”
Brooke knew Kara and Doug and Spreckles. They had made it work. Maybe she and Cam could do this. Assuming he even wanted to. “Cam might not be interested.”
“You’re making a lot of assumptions about him—about what he wants, about his dreams for the future, and whether he wants kids. Why don’t you spend some time finding out the truth? Do that, and then you can bail if you see red flags.”
Now Brooke felt a bit foolish. “It all seems so straightforward when you say it.”
Rhonda laughed. “Because it is. You’re caught up in it though, so of course it seems complicated to you. Just take a step back tonight and see where you are tomorrow. I bet you’ll feel much more clearheaded.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Brooke exhaled, and this time she felt the stress start to dissipate. “Thanks, sis. I appreciate you talking me off the ledge. Again.”
More laughter. “That’s what I do. Okay, I need to tuck Isla in to bed. Text me tomorrow and let me know what happens!”
“Will do. Kiss Isla and Will for me.”
“Of course.” She blew a kiss into the phone. “Night!”
“Night.” Brooke ended the call and set the phone on the counter, feeling much better. She still wasn’t completely certain what to do, but she wasn’t in a panic anymore. She could do this. She was ready for the next step.
She just hoped that step didn’t send her tumbling off a cliff.
Chapter Fourteen
Cam scrubbed his hand over his face as he stared at his computer monitor. He’d reread this e-mail he was drafting to Sara at least twenty times and still kept thinking of things to add. He’d be better off just talking to her in person to make sure they captured everything that needed to be done for the winery dinner. She’d laugh and tell him he was obsessing. Which was probably true.
Just not about this.
He couldn’t stop thinking of Brooke. He’d started texting her a dozen times today, but never sent anything. He didn’t know what to say about last night. Things had taken a weird turn, and he was sure it was his fault. But that wasn’t why he didn’t text her. No, it was because he was pretty sure she’d given him a definite brush-off this time. She’d been friendly at the grocery store, but not necessarily flirty. Then when he’d become flirty, she’d started to distance herself. Then he’d stuck his foot in it with Marcia, and Brooke had completely left the building as far as he was concerned.
Time to figure out a way to move past her once and for all. He sat straight in his chair and inhaled sharply before refocusing on his screen.
A moment later, his resolve took a major hit when a light knock on his door was preceded by Brooke stepping into his office.
Her gaze met his. Searching. Tentative. Beautiful in its clarity—he could stare into her eyes all damn day. “Am I bothering you?” she asked.
“No.” He coughed past the cobwebs that had suddenly crisscrossed his throat.
“Oh good.” She smiled softly and came farther into his office. “I, ah, came to pick up that case of chardonnay I need for next week. I’m headed to the beach tomorrow morning.”
“You can’t be working Labor Day weekend.”
“Actually, my sisters are meeting me for a girls’ weekend.”
Cam sat back in his chair and rested his right elbow on the arm. “Sounds like trouble.”
Now she grinned. “Probably. But that’s how we Ellis girls roll.”
“Damn, now I wish I could come along.”
“It’s a girls’ weekend.” She lifted a shoulder. “The condo’s in Lincoln City.”
The one owned by her employer—he knew it well. “Willamette’s? I’ve been there for an after-party or two. Nice place. There’s a hot tub on the deck.” He sat up in the chair and dropped all pretense. “Am I nuts, or are we flirting? I am so confused. After last night—”
“I’m flirting. Are you flirting?”
“I’m trying not to. But you make it impossible, sorry.”
“So do you.” She laughed softly. “That’s the other reason I’m here. I’m sorry about last night. I was trying really hard to keep things platonic, and then we made plans to have dinner at my loft, and, well, that just didn’t seem like it would support the whole platonic thing.”
He couldn’t disagree with her there. He stood up slowly and circled the desk. “I don’t disagree. But I was really disappointed. I also felt like a major jackass for saying that at the store. I was just trying to be private, I guess.”
“I get it. This is a small town. I think I glommed on to that as a good reason to put the brakes on.”
Cam moved in front of his desk to face her and leaned against it. “Makes sense. So we’re flirting. And it seems like platonic is tough for both of us.”
She dropped her purse into one of the chairs facing his desk. “It seems that way.” Her gaze was hot and intense.
He swallowed, his body tightening with desire. He eyed her purse and tried to process why she’d dropped it. She planned to stay? She wanted her hands free? She was about to touch him? All of the above? His skin tingled with anticipation.
She took a step toward him. “I was thinking that one-and-done business didn’t really pan out for me. How about you?”
“Not even a little bit,” he rasped. Need catapulted through him. He put his hands on the desk on either side of his hips and squeezed the wood lest he launch himself forward and crush her against him.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” She moved closer and laid her hand against his chest.
He was sure she had to feel the wild pounding of his heart. “So you’re here to…?”
“Negotiate terms.” She arched a brow at him and curved her lips into the sexiest smile he’d ever seen. “You told me that you make no promises, that you like to live in the present and take one day at a time. Is that right?”
He wanted to live in this moment forever. “Yes.”
“Perfect. No expectations. No demands. And we have to agree that we can still work together.”
“Yes, of course.” He vaguely realized that he’d probably surrender his firstborn right now if that were part of her terms, but that was his Y chromosome talking. He meant what he said. “I respect and value you too much to let anything else happen.”
“Then I guess we’re settled.” She started to remove his shirt, slowly, her fingers slipping the buttons through the holes.
“I guess so. And we’re going to move on this now?”
Her hands stilled. She blinked at him, her head cocking to the side. “Unless you’d rather not?”
“I’d rather die than not.” He swooped forward and clasped her against him as his mouth claimed hers.
She clutched at his shirtfront, her fingers digging into his flesh as they clenched the fabric. He held her against him, his head tipping opposite hers to kiss her deeply. Her tongue slid against his as she thrust into him.
She started in on his buttons again, her hands fumbling between them. She pulled back slightly so she could better complete her task, and as soon as the shirt was open, he shrugged it off his shoulders with her help. Her hands caressed his bare shoulders as she kissed him again.
He pushed at the little cardigan she was wearing. It was white and flimsy and slid from her shoulders with ease. He found the hem of her red-and-white sleeveless top, and he pushed his hands up under the fabric. His fingertips skimmed along her rib cage and didn’t stop until he cupped her breasts.
She arched into him, moaning softly into his mouth. Her hips gyrated against his so that he could feel her heat against the raging length of his cock.
He tugged h
er shirt up and broke their kiss so he could whip the garment over her head. He tossed it away and realized his office door was still open.
“Just a second,” he said, his voice dark and full of gravel. He crossed to the door and closed it firmly, then locked it for good measure. He was pretty sure that Jamie was in his office and that Luke was in the vineyard somewhere.
When he turned to come back to her, he froze. She’d kicked off her sandals and was now shimmying out of her bra. She dropped it to the floor and gave him a torrid, come-hither look that momentarily turned his knees to water.
But then the savage beast within him that couldn’t wait to be inside her stalked forward and drew her against him. “You are so beautiful.” He bent her backward and shoved the items on his desktop to the side, some of them toppling to the floor. Thankfully, his primary workspace with his monitor was on the side that faced the window. Although in this moment, he wasn’t sure he would’ve given a damn about any of it.
He laid her flat on the desk and turned her lengthwise so that the desk could support her comfortably. He stared down at her breasts, so full and perfect, their pink tips hard and beckoning. He cupped them firmly and lightly pinched her nipples. She came up off the desk, her eyes closing in ecstasy as she moaned again. Desperate to taste her, he leaned down and took one in his mouth, using his lips and tongue to drive her mad.
Her hands tangled in his hair, holding him to her. “Cam. Yes.”
He stroked and kissed her for several minutes, moving from breast to breast—taunting one and then the other with his mouth and hands until she was writhing on the desk.
“You’re torturing me.” Her words came out on a gasp.
“Actually, I’m torturing myself.” He wanted to prolong this time with her, but was also seething with impatience. “You’re killing me.”
She rolled to her side to face where he was standing and started to undo his belt. She quickly had his shorts unfastened and pushed them down, along with his boxer briefs. Her hands stroked his cock. He moaned as wave after wave of pleasure cascaded over him. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, reveling in her touch. Then her mouth was on him and he had to grab the edge of the desk to keep his legs from buckling.
