She had to clear her throat before she could answer. She also noted that she didn’t pull back away from his touch. She probably should. In a second.
“I didn’t realize I was in a position to let you stay… or not,” she said.
“I’m not staying if you’re completely against it,” he said, brushing his thumb over her cheek.
“What if I’m a little bit against it?” she asked.
He gave her a half smile. “That I can work with.”
They just stood staring at each other for several heartbeats. His touch felt hot against her cheek, but she also wanted more. More of her body getting hot from him touching.
“We need to figure this out. You have to realize that,” he finally said. “I don’t know if this is all just left over from ten years ago or if it’s real now.”
She knew exactly what he was talking about. The chemistry. The wanting to be closer. The wondering about his life and what he was like now.
She did want to know.
She was just scared.
Because she was pretty sure that she would like all of it. A lot.
“Okay,” she finally said softly.
She did want her grandma to be safe and happy and she wanted to let Didi make as many decisions for herself as possible as long as she could. If Didi wanted Cam around, then Whitney shouldn’t be against it.
She’d be at work all day anyway. She’d be here, with Cam, only a few hours a day. And Didi would be there with them. How intimate could it be?
And maybe if he was here all the time, in her space, in her way, she’d realize that she was over him. That she didn’t want him around all the time. That they didn’t match up anymore. That they’d outgrown each other.
Yeah.
Maybe.
“You know those suggestions I’m going to be making and you’re going to have the chance to say no to?” he asked huskily.
She nodded.
“Here’s one.”
He leaned in, close enough that she could feel his breath on her lips when he said, “Let me kiss you.”
Oh damn. She wanted that. She wanted it so much. She was weak. Some of it was that she simply didn’t feel wanted very much. Not just in the man-woman-naked-bodies way but just in general. That sounded pathetic, she knew, but it wasn’t so much that it made her sad, it was just what she was used to. She wasn’t sad about not being wanted. It was more that she was surprised to be wanted.
No one sought her out for her opinions, no one gave her big, important tasks. People always took her no answers seriously. If she was invited to a function and she declined, that was it. No one pressed. If someone asked her out and she said no, the guy always let it go. She knew it came from being a Lancaster. The Lancasters had power in Appleby and she knew that people were, in general, intimidated by them. Her grandfather and father had put a lot of effort into making sure that people believed the Lancasters were better than everyone else.
So to have Cam pressing to be with her, to get closer, was new. And felt good.
Plus, it was Cam.
She’d never stopped wanting him.
“I—” she started.
“The tea is getting cold!” Didi bellowed from the kitchen.
Whitney and Cam stilled. Then she felt him sigh. But he didn’t pull back. “You going to let me do this or not?”
He was already practically kissing her. When his lips moved as he spoke, they brushed hers ever so lightly. His body heat surrounded her. She swore she could feel his heartbeat pounding. Or maybe that was hers.
She found it funny that they were standing so close, almost kissing, talking about kissing, but not really doing anything. It still felt incredibly intimate. They were very much in each other’s personal space. They both clearly wanted this. She certainly wasn’t pushing him away or stepping back. But the only actual connection was his hand on her face. And their mingling breaths.
Clearly he was going to insist that she make this decision. He wasn’t going to just sweep her up and kiss the hell out of her before she could protest and then let the chemistry take over.
That also seemed intimate. Him coming as close as he could but then wanting actual acquiescence from her. Verbal acknowledgment that she was agreeing.
“Whit,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Push me back or pull me closer.”
She slid her hands up to his chest, not sure until the last moment if she was going to fist his shirt and pull him in or push him away.
Cam, however, didn’t look surprised when she pushed.
He let go and stepped back though. He didn’t seem angry or even frustrated. It seemed that he’d been expecting her reaction actually.
“Okay,” he finally said.
She wet her lips. “Thanks,” she said, hoarsely. And she meant it. She appreciated that he was giving her these choices. Kind of.
It would be a lot easier to just climb him like a tree and give in to everything zipping between them if he’d just back her up against the wall, seal his mouth over hers, and start running his big hands over her body. Then she could pretend she was just caught up in the moment and enjoy the hell out of it without actually admitting she wanted any of that.
Which he knew.
She could see it.
He knew that she wanted him, but that she didn’t want to admit it.
So, of course, he was going to make her confess before he did anything more.
“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m very stubborn,” he said.
Whitney gave him a nod. “I remember.”
“And something you should know about me and the past ten years,” he said, holding her gaze steadily, “I’ve also gotten very used to winning. “
That actually made her heart trip and her inner muscles clench.
See, she should really feel trepidation at that implied promise from him. But she didn’t. Right along with liking the feel of being wanted was a flutter of excitement over being pursued. No one came after her. Outside of invitations to fundraisers or, again, the occasional dinner date that she almost always said no to, she wasn’t asked for much. And no one ever asked more than once.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, trying desperately not to act excited about the idea of him trying again and again to get close to her.
He looked at her for a long moment and a thought flickered through her mind—he knows.
It was possible. Cam knew her well. Or he had known her well. But back in high school she’d been a lot more sought after. People had wanted her on school committees and projects. She’d been a cheerleader, runner-up for Homecoming Queen, invited to parties. She’d been popular. Wanted.
For stupid things like picking a winter dance theme or helping girlfriends do their hair for pool parties.
But she’d absolutely been wanted by Cam back then. He’d wanted everything then. He’d planned on them getting married. He’d planned for them to spend their lives together.
But now, no one wanted her for important things.
Until Aiden and the guys had taken over Hot Cakes.
Until Cam had decided he wanted to date her again.
She blew out a breath. It was crazy how important both of those things were to her.
She shouldn’t lead Cam on. She shouldn’t tease him and make him think there was a chance if there wasn’t.
But maybe it was okay to relish being wanted for a little while.
And for sure Camden McCaffery could handle being teased. He might even enjoy it.
“You gonna show me to my new room?” he asked, his tone changing to a more playful note. His eyes told her that he was onto her.
“I’m sure you can find your way,” she said, feeling a jolt of… something. Playful and teasing could be fun. It was clear that Cam was going to let her call some of the shots. That made her feel less jittery about everything. “Third door on the left is probably the best choice.” She moved to step around him, planning to join Didi while he headed upstairs. She didn’t need
to show him the way. She shouldn’t show him the way. They might not make it back down here.
“Why is that?”
“It’s one of the bigger rooms,” she said. “It has its own bathroom.”
“And how many doors are there between that one and yours?”
Her belly flipped and she felt warmth rush over her. She glanced over her shoulder feeling something she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Sassy.
“A couple. And several squeaky floorboards,” she tossed back to him. She paused. “But it’s not like Didi can hear squeaky floorboards when her hearing aids are out.”
Then she turned and headed down the hall before he could say—or do—anything else.
* * *
It wasn’t as if he’d never been mixed up and wound up because of Whitney Lancaster before.
She was the only woman who had ever actually confused him. But he knew why. She was the only woman he’d ever cared enough about to try to figure out. He was sure that had he ever tried to figure another woman out, he would have been confused then too.
But as he took his suitcase up to his new temporary bedroom, he was trying to figure out what was going through Whitney’s mind for sure.
She’d given in on him staying here with Didi far easier than he’d expected. It was a little crazy when he first thought it or said it out loud. But when he was talking to Didi about it, or explaining it to Whitney, it actually made sense.
Bottom line, he wanted to be here, Didi wanted Katherine to not to be here, and Whitney needed someone to be here with Didi.
Win-win-win.
Whitney had agreed, if reluctantly. Then she’d let him almost kiss her. Sure, in the end, she’d pushed him back, but she hadn’t done it with any feeling. She’d seemed reluctant about that too.
He meant it when he said he was stubborn and used to winning.
The question really was, what was he trying to win?
He’d gone into this with Whitney thinking that they just needed to figure out what they were going to be going forward. They needed to see what was still there and what was real now.
It had taken less than twenty-four hours for him to shift to wanting her. Period. Not just physically—though that was as strong as ever, if not stronger—but just her. He wanted to be the one she leaned on when she needed help. He wanted to be the one coming home to her as he’d done tonight. He wanted to be the one she came home to.
He was shocked by how quickly that shift had happened and how strong those wants were.
They still needed to get to know each other again. They still needed time to go over the past ten years. And for what the next ten would look like.
He was still going to have to come to terms with how important Hot Cakes was to her. He was willing to help her do what she wanted at work. He wanted to support her. He wanted her to feel included and valued the way her family apparently hadn’t included or valued her.
But he also wanted to show her there was more to life than that company.
He felt a ball of frustration tighten in his gut thinking about how much she’d given the company and how determined she was now to make it the most important thing in her life.
He knew many strong, independent women. He’d been raised by two, was the older brother to one, got to work with one—Piper—every day. He loved strong women. He wanted Whitney to be one.
But his grandmother, mom, sister, and friend knew there was more to life than work.
Whitney didn’t seem to.
He wanted to show her that as well.
And, yes, he wanted to be one of those things that mattered more to her than work.
This was complicated.
But complicated was something he was used to. It was something he was good at. He was the lead attorney for a multimillion-dollar company. He loved a good fight. He loved going toe to toe with people who could stand there and argue back and make him work at it.
That was Whitney.
She knew what she wanted. She’d fight him on it. He just needed to have his arguments ready.
Feeling better about everything, he tucked his clothes into the drawers in the dresser in the bedroom. He checked out the bathroom, felt the mattress, and looked at his view out the window.
It was all nice. Very nice. Five-star hotel-level nice.
He still really mostly cared about where Whitney’s bedroom was from here.
He left the room, heading back for the kitchen. He thought for one second—maybe two—about opening doors along the hallway to find her room.
But he didn’t.
He wanted to be invited into that room. He wanted her opening that door for him.
And she would.
Eventually.
Probably.
* * *
Cam slipped back inside from the back patio. He’d given Aiden a call to let him and Zoe know he wouldn’t be home tonight. He’d left a message, feeling a little relieved that Aiden hadn’t picked up. He wasn’t sure what his best friend’s reaction would be to him living with Whitney and he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear about what a dumb idea it was at the moment. There would be time for that later.
There was a single light glowing over the sink. The rest of the first floor was dark. And quiet.
Uh-huh. Whitney had taken advantage of him being outside to slip upstairs.
Cam had cooked. Pasta primavera with grilled chicken. They’d had a nice meal, during which Didi had told stories about her and Letty growing up. Stories he’d never heard before and loved. They’d been like sisters from the time they’d met as little girls. He and Aiden had been like that.
He’d snuck glances at Whitney as they talked. She’d seemed happy. Didi had been downright delighted. Maybe it was because she had a bigger audience than usual for her stories. Or maybe the two women didn’t actually spend their mealtimes talking and sharing stories. He could imagine Whitney reading files or working on her laptop while she ate.
Well, that ended now. If he had anything to say about it.
Which he probably didn’t.
At least he could listen to Didi’s stories. He enjoyed hearing about his grandmother as a little girl.
But he couldn’t help but wonder if Whitney had a friend like he and Aiden had been or like Didi and Letty had been? She’d had friends in high school, but they hadn’t been close like he and Aiden had. She’d been amazed by how close he and Aiden were and often commented on how nice it would be to have someone like that. What about now? Did she have people—even one—that she could truly confide in and be herself with?
Well, she did now.
He was going to be that friend. Even if that’s all she would let him be.
Of course, she had to stay up past 9 p.m. if they were going to talk and share and get to know each other.
He debated his move here. He didn’t know which room was hers and he wasn’t about to go knocking on doors when one of them was Didi’s. Also, he should give Whitney space. He knew that spending time together on more neutral territory—where there weren’t beds a few feet away or a tub big enough for two—was probably a good idea.
Then again, he thought maybe just kissing the hell out of her, getting her naked, and showing her some other ways he’d gotten better over the past ten years might not be a terrible idea. They could talk after. After he made her face, very directly and intimately, the chemistry that was still alive and well.
Or he could play it cool. Be patient. Do what he’d come here to do, hang out with Didi, make Whitney’s life easier and wait for her to come to him.
He wanted to do that.
But he was really afraid that the kissing the hell out of her and getting her naked part would take a lot longer with that approach. And he wasn’t sure how long he could wait on that.
He’d liked talking dirty to her that first night. He’d loved watching her respond.
He pulled out his phone and texted her.
I’m making chocolate chip cookie dough. You should come down.
He set the phone on the counter and moved around the kitchen, checking the cabinets and pulling out ingredients. He was a great baker, taught by one of the best ever. But chocolate chip cookies were his specialty. He knew that the sound of that didn’t impress most people. How special could chocolate chip cookies really be anyway? But that’s because they’d never had his. He was the best. Even better than his grandmother.
And, yes, she’d even admitted it to him. Though only to him. And only when they were alone.
It was several minutes later, but finally Whitney replied.
I’m already in bed.
Cam grinned. That was almost too easy. Okay, I’ll bring it up to you. The horizontal surfaces up there are probably softer than the ones down here.
He started measuring and mixing, knowing that it would be a bit before she responded again.
But he’d only gotten the flour and baking powder combined before his phone chimed.
He looked over, wiping a hand on a dish towel.
I don’t want to have to shower tonight. I’m a morning showerer.
He grinned. Yes, this had the potential to get sticky.
I promise to be sure to remove all traces of cookie dough from your nipples. And elsewhere. I’ll be very thorough.
He waited, just in case she got right back to him.
She didn’t.
He went back to mixing. He got everything but the chocolate chips mixed in before he heard anything from her.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. That was a jerk move, Cam.”
He turned toward the kitchen doorway.
And nearly dropped the bowl he was holding.
10
She’d apparently come straight down, without bothering to change her clothes.
Her hair was up in a high ponytail on the top of her head, the long strands falling around her freshly washed face. She had a bed sheet wrapped around her body and tucked under her arms but he could see the spaghetti straps of the pale green nightgown she wore underneath. He really wanted to know how far down that nightgown hit on her thighs. And if she was wearing panties.
Semi-Sweet On You: Hot Cakes Series Page 13
