by Barbara Lohr
“Right.” But it wasn’t right. Not at all. Harper set the kitchen table. No dining room tonight. She wanted to stay close to the door.
Connie’s pot roast was one of Cameron's favorites, and Harper wanted him to be able to eat it hot. When Connie had everything ready, Harper and Bella sat down to eat. Jack came to the door, and Connie got her coat. The couple went to their cottage in the back. Every time Harper checked Bella’s plate, she was just fiddling with the carrots. No serious eating was happening here.
“Hey, Bella. You haven’t eaten a thing.” The dainty pieces of meat were right where Harper had cut them. “Not even the carrots?”
“I’m not hungry.” Resting her head on one hand, she wouldn’t look up. No way was Harper reminding her to take her elbows off the table. The past came rolling back in Harper's mind. Weren’t they past this? But tonight felt different. “Okay. I’m not hungry either.” Picking up the plates, Harper rinsed them off and filled the dishwasher. While she tidied up, Bella went back to her TV shows, the louder the better. Tonight Harper didn’t have the heart to lay down the law and ask her to turn it down.
Thanksgiving was one week from today. Cameron and Harper decided to stay in Savannah because they had so much to do. Cameron said he did not want to travel to Hazel Hurst to be with his family, about a two-hour drive away. Not with the wedding right around the corner, and his mother still on the wire about coming.
Hearing a car pulled up, she pushed back the curtain. The white pickup belonged to Rick, one of Cameron’s project managers. What the heck? Had the Bentley broken down?
“Is that Daddy?” Bella stood anxiously in the doorway of the TV room. Usually she ran to greet him. Her run-in with Mrs. Powers had put a cork in her bubbly personality.
Harper’s attention went back to the truck. “Oh, my God.” In the dim light, she watched Rick help Cameron out. His right foot was all wrapped up. Heart thumping, she watched Rick reach inside and pull out some crutches.
Next to her, Bella climbed up on a chair and peered out. “Is Daddy hurt?”
“We don’t know, sweetheart. I’m sure he’s fine.” But her heart was thumping in her chest. Flinging open the door, she rushed down the back steps. “Bella, stay inside,” she called over her shoulder.
“Cameron, what happened?” He looked a wreck. Now, she never minded when the man was sweaty and rumpled. Just made taking a shower more interesting. But tonight was different. Cameron looked like he was way beyond a bad day. Torn slacks, rumpled shirt. Messed up dirty blond hair and stubble that went beyond dreamy.
But the white boot on his right foot concerned her the most.
“Just had a little accident. Nothing serious.” Clearly not accustomed to crutches, he wielded them with a clumsy swing and started through the garden. From beneath lowered brows, Rick shot Harper a cautious look. Her heart sank.
Pipsqueak had escaped and trotted down to nip at the strange sticks Cameron wielded. Bella scooted down right behind her. Panting with excitement, the dog wanted to play with the guy who could toss a ball to the corner of the yard. Only it was clear they wouldn’t be playing ball for a while. When Bella slipped two fingers into her mouth, Harper knew she was worried about her daddy. That habit had been left behind months ago.
“What happened?” Harper glanced from Cameron to Rick.
Opening his mouth, Rick quickly clammed up when Cameron said between grunts, “I was checking something out up on the scaffolding. My foot went between two boards.”
“Scaffolding? What were you doing up there?” Terror froze her to the spot. The thought of something happening to Cameron, well, it cut her to the quick.
“Jed Buchanan ordered custom crown molding. The pattern is tricky. I wanted to see it.” When one crutch sank through a patch of moss, he wrenched it free with disgust.
Since Cameron was a perfectionist, this wasn’t a strange story. He liked to supervise his teams but scaffolding? They’d talked about him not taking risks. Matching her pace to his slow progress, she aimed for a lighter tone. He wasn't a man who would take well to a worrying wife. Truth be told, the depth of her concern amazed even her. She was used to him taking care of her. Suddenly the tables had turned. “I’m getting you a pair of binoculars for Christmas.”
She could see from his expression that her joke fell flat.
“Yeah, right.” He kept walking, but a grin teased one corner of his mouth.
“And you couldn’t call me from the hospital? I’ve been, you know, waiting.”
He slid her a guarded look. “I wanted to know what we were dealing with before I alarmed you. Rick took me to Memorial’s ER, and things got kind of busy after that. Thought I’d make it home for dinner. Guess I’m a little late.” The words came in choked groupings as he worked with the new crutches.
“Watch your step now.” She felt like Pipsqueak, dancing along beside him. By the time they reached the stairs, his chest was heaving. Sweat beading on his forehead, he leaned back on his good leg and looked at the stairs leading to the back porch as if they were Mt. Everest.
“Hey Boss Man, why don’t you let me help you?” Not waiting for an answer, Rick swept the crutch from under Cameron’s right arm and replaced it with his shoulder. Harper wanted to hug Rick. While she stepped back, he half carried Cameron up the steps. Scurrying around him, she rushed to open the back door, calling Pipsqueak and Bella back inside.
“Daddy? You okay?” Eyes glued to her father, Bella edged backwards into the house.
“Just fine, darlin’. Nothing I can’t handle.” Always confident, he was putting on a good show. But beneath that bravado, Harper heard shredded pain. Saw it in the set of his jaw.
No matter, her dad’s words worked miracles on Bella and that's what counted. After all, he was her hero. If Dad wasn’t well, then nothing would go right. He was home and she threw her arms around his legs. Cameron winced.
“Hey, Bella, let’s give Daddy some room,” Harper said softly.
From where Harper was standing, this wasn’t encouraging. His baby blues that always told her everything were hooded tonight. And here she thought she’d had a bad day.
“What did the doctor in the ER say?”
Cameron shrugged. “Just stay off it. Not much more.”
Although she was tempted to wring a full explanation from Rick, he’d never say anything in front of Cameron. He just helped his boss to a chair. A Christmas carol came on the TV, still blaring in the next room. “Bella, turn the TV down, sweetheart,” Cameron said, his lips tight.
She disappeared and when she returned she kept her distance, unlike Pipsqueak squirming at his feet, tail just about wagging right off. Cameron let a hand fall, caressing the dog’s head while his mind looked a million miles away. Disgust and pain contorted his features.
“Thanks, Rick. You go on home to your family.” Lifting the hand, Cameron waved him away. “Maybe two of you can drive the Bentley back here tomorrow?”
“You left the Bentley out on the street?” Harper didn’t like that.
“It’s in the driveway at the Buchanan house.” His eyes got blurry. “I think I locked it. Don’t worry, okay?”
She bit her lip. This wasn’t the time to trouble him about anything.
“Yeah, you locked it, Cameron. Here are the keys. Guess I’ll be on my way. Talk to you tomorrow.” Tossing the keys on the table, Rick couldn’t get out of there fast enough. The door slammed behind him, probably a lot harder than he intended.
“Oh, Cameron. What were you doing up there?” Harper sank into a chair. Scaffolding was set up to work on high places. Since she had a pretty active imagination, scenarios ran through her mind. They all ended with Cameron a lot worse off than in this cast. The realization should have made her feel better but it didn’t.
Lifting bloodshot eyes, Cameron shrugged. “I was just checking the crown molding. You know how particular Jed Buchanan is.”
Yes, indeed. Harper did know. “We never should have taken on that renovation. H
is wife Kristie isn’t any better. Remember the seven rolls of fabric I had to send back?”
The chair creaked when Cameron leaned back. “I just wanted to make sure, you know...”
“That the edges were crisp. That the swirls were soft.” Did she know this man or what?
“But Daddy, what’s a....” Bella’s small hand went out to tug on her daddy’s slacks.
“Bella, no.” His entire body jerked back, which just made everything worse.
In a flash, Bella was out of the room, her shoes sliding on the marble floor of the foyer, Pipsqueak yipping behind her, glad that finally someone was doing something. Harper would go and find her. But not yet.
“Guess that’s just one more thing I messed up today.” Cameron stared after his daughter, looking totally disgusted with himself. Moving closer, she rocked his head onto her chest, sweat and all. What did she care? This Boss Man was hers. She smoothed his damp curls, glad the situation wasn’t any worse than this cast.
“Damn. Harper, I’m so sorry.” He gave the cast on his foot a disgusted look.
“Is it broken?”
“So they tell me. Wasn’t watching what I was doing. My foot slipped between the boards and caught. I grabbed a railing on the way down. Jerked sideways so hard, I snapped it. Of all the stupid things...”
Her heart broke just to look at him. He knew what this meant. How it would complicate everything. She massaged her fingers a little deeper into his scalp. “We’ll get through this.”
“But the wedding?” His words were muffled as he nuzzled deeper between her breasts, and lordy, it felt good. Kind of twisted. The man came home broken, and she was getting turned on.
But Cameron could do that to her. Always.
“I’m saying, we’ll get through it.” Her fingers left his scalp to work down to his strong neck.
His hands found her waist and then skimmed up under her sweater. “You wouldn’t think of just not...”
“Nope. Never. You know how my folks are. We are having this Christmas ceremony.” She pushed away. His hands on her body felt way too good, and she had to find Bella. “Hungry?”
Heat smoldered in his eyes. “Yep. Always.”
She tugged his ear lobe. “You know what I mean. No time to get creative. How about some roast?”
But he seemed distracted. Cameron’s sigh filled the room as he ran his hands down her thighs. The tights were so soft and she felt his fingerprints. They were imprinted on her body, just as he was imprinted on her heart.
So. Hard. To break. Away. But she did.
“When did you start wearing black?” His brows drew together as she stepped back.
“This is my new mature look.” She ran her hands over the black mini skirt. The sweater had enough color.
“Now let's not get too crazy. I like the wild colors.” He grinned. “You never cease to amaze me.”
She was trying to become a mother who wouldn’t draw stares when she went to a parent-teacher conference. Rummaging around in the refrigerator, she found the roast, potatoes and the carrots. She arranged them on a plate and covered them with wax paper before they went in the microwave. While she punched a few buttons, Cameron asked her how her day had been. “You don’t want to know.”
“Yes, I do.” He lounged back in his chair, eyes draped over her like a bed sheet.
“Well, since you asked. Honestly, babe, why does Georgina Darlington have to be such a bitch? And after I’ve ordered the inventory to make her centerpieces. Who else would want all the lime green and aqua ornaments?”
“High maintenance clients come with the territory,” Cameron said when she whisked the plate from the microwave and set it in front of him. Sometimes this just felt so weird. Like she was playing house.
“Yeah, I guess. Thank goodness we aren’t going anywhere for Thanksgiving. I have to work and...” She could hardly look at him.
“Sorry, darlin’. I know I said I’d help you with the setup.” He put his fork down. “Isn’t there any work I can do sitting down?”
“Don’t even think about it.” She took his chin in one hand. “We’ll manage.”
His slow smile usually promised trouble. The kind she liked. Bending over, she gave him a lingering kiss and tasted his salty sweat mixed with the roast beef. When she drew back, he patted her behind. “Thanks. I needed that.”
“Now eat.” She pointed and he picked up his fork.
Not that she didn’t want to fool around but they didn’t have the time. Not right now, anyway. “Okay. Gotta run up and get Bella settled. I’ll be right back.”
Taking the steps two at a time, she shook herself out of the heat Cameron could ignite with one look, one touch. From the first moment she saw him, glowering at the foot of the stairs when she showed up late as entertainment for his bachelor party, she knew he was trouble she wanted to explore. Oh, that night had been entertaining all right.
When she reached the top of the stairs, she called out, “The Cookie Monster is coming to get you, Bella Bennett!”
Growling, she tromped into the room to find Bella tussling with Pipsqueak on top of her bed. The Ninja girl motif had been Harper’s birthday present for Bella last year and suited the little girl perfectly.
“Aw, I’m too big for the Cookie Monster,” Bella giggled, trying to keep a straight face and failing.
Wrapping her arms around Bella’s slender little body, Harper tumbled back on to the bed. Delighted, Pipsqueak piled on top of them. Being with Bella had brought her so much happiness. Such a sense of purpose. And it had brought her Cameron, a young widower at the time.
But sometimes Bella could still be a handful. Pushing her dark, witchy hair from her eyes, she sat up, suddenly serious. “Did you tell Daddy?”
“What? Oh no, Bella. But I will.” Harper wanted to think about it. The game plan had just changed.
“When are we going to put up the Christmas tree?”
Whoa, that caught her sideways. “But it’s not even Thanksgiving yet.” The thought of hauling that artificial tree down from the attic depressed her for some reason. Just one more thing they had to do before the wedding. She wasn't feeling the fa-la-lah.
“Everybody’s talking about their Christmas tree at school. How their tree is the biggest and the prettiest.” Harper almost laughed at Bella’s huffy expression.
“Your dad and I will talk about it. How’s that?”
“Soon, okay?”
“I’ll do what I can.” She remembered what it felt like to be Bella's age. “Right now, it’s time for PJs and a story. Your dad’s waiting for me.”
Fifteen minutes later, Harper shot back down to the kitchen. Just as she feared, Cameron wasn’t at the round kitchen table. And somehow he’d put his dishes in the dishwasher. The rack was still pulled out. She pushed it in, filled the soap dispenser and started the dishwasher. He must be in the TV room.
“Cameron?” Football blared from the TV. But Cameron wasn’t watching it. In fact, he’d nodded off on one side of the sofa that could fit eight people. One section was a sleeper sofa. Seeing how things were right now, that might come in handy. No way could Cameron make it up the stairs tonight to his master suite. Despite his objections, she still slept in her room on the third floor. After all, she’d gone to St. Edmund’s and had her standards.
Oh, so carefully, she swung his legs up and onto the sofa very slowly. For a while, she sat and watched a game she didn’t care about, afraid that he’d wake up if she changed the station or clicked the TV off. But looking at Cameron lying there, something stirred inside. One muscular arm thrown above his head, he looked so hot and adorable. Worn out by the end of the day, he always headed straight for the shower when he came home. But tonight he couldn’t.
He’d feel terrible if he woke up like this.
Only concern for his comfort made her fill the basin with warm water. Really. She stirred it lazily with one hand and smiled.
Chapter 4
He’d really messed up. Thank God Rick
got him home. Facing Harper? Pure hell. Maybe all girls from Chicago were this tough, but Harper could always handle herself. Tonight? One look at the expression on that beautiful face killed him. For a second, he thought she just might faint. And Bella? Poor little thing was so confused. He wanted to chase after her when she ran upstairs. But man, between the medications and the pain, no way. He felt hot, sweaty and sick. He’d failed them. Not only did they have a wedding coming up, they both were crazy busy with work.
And now this. A compound fracture that hurt like hell. He was going to keep that “compound” part to himself so Harper didn’t freak out. Sinking onto the sofa, he found the remote and clicked over to a game. But his eyes felt so damn heavy.
Later, a tickling feeling woke him up. The lights were low with the TV off. Sitting on the sofa where he lay stretched out, Harper had a pair of scissors. Holding out his shirt, she began to snip.
“Whatcha doing?” His tongue felt dry and thick.
“Nothing.” But she had a wicked gleam in her eye. He knew that look. This was just how she smiled when she’d stepped onto his bar downstairs in her Catwoman suit for Beau’s bachelor party. This was her I’ll-show-you look.
Bring it on. Kind of kinky, her cutting off his clothes. “So, Connie can’t wash these?” he mumbled, drifting in and out. How he wished the damned meds would work. Maybe they were.
“Nope. These babies are gone.” She kept cutting. Weird, but he liked the cool metal sliding across his skin. He was burning up.
“Can you turn up the air, sugga?” he whispered. But he missed her when she left with a soft rustle. Felt relieved when she came back. The metallic slide of the scissors started again. Felt good when the grubby shirt was gently pulled from his body. “Shreds, probably shreds.”
“Shredded. Right, baby.”
Drifting in and out, he rode the waves of the meds. When she started on his face with a soft sponge, it felt so damn good. He hated to be grubby. Hated dirt. Reminded him too much of his folks’ place back in Hazel Hurst, where his mother could hardly get his dad to wash his hands before dinner. His hometown might be only two hours away but his past? He’d gotten away from all that.
