by Jane Peden
With that his hand slipped back under her bottom, lifting her, and she felt his mouth close over her nipple, circling it with his tongue. Her knees were still straddling him, and he slipped his hand between her legs, teasing her through her panties, while he sucked hard on her nipple.
She came in a sharp flash, her hands fisting in his hair. She could hear her heart pounding, feel the blood rushing through her veins, feel the roughness of his chin scrape against her breast as he shifted his mouth to her other nipple. Incredibly her orgasm built again, breaking in waves as he hooked his finger under the lace of her panties and tugged, ripping the thin silk and leaving her totally exposed. She pressed hard against his hand, her back arching, and moved her hands down, frantically trying to undo his pants. She could feel the hard length of him straining against the fabric.
Her fingers fumbled with the fastenings on his tuxedo. She had lost all shame and she didn’t care. She’d beg to have him inside her if she had to.
“Sam, Sam,” she cried out, as he lifted his head from her breast and let her slide back down onto his lap. “Ohmigod Sam, take me right now. Please.”
“No,” he said, and she stared at him uncomprehendingly as he grasped her wrists and pulled her hands to her sides. He lowered his voice. “As tempting as it is, darling, to nail you right here in the back of the limo, that’s not an option tonight.”
She struggled to clear her head as her body still quivered.
“I don’t have any condoms.”
“Oh.” Relief shot through her, and she tried to pull her hands free. “It’s okay, I’m on birth control pills. And I haven’t, I mean, it’s been…” Her voice trailed off as he stared at her coldly, his grip on her wrists firm.
“Really? Your husband has been dead for six months, Camilla. If you’re not sexually active, why are you on birth control pills?”
She felt herself flush. “Lots of women take birth control pills… I used to get really bad cramps,” she finished weakly. It was the truth, but it sounded ridiculous to be discussing it, sitting on his lap with one shoe missing and her dress bunched around her waist, her panties…somewhere, and every nerve ending tingling with arousal. And the man who had gotten her in this state with his skillful hands and his demanding mouth was now leaning back in his seat, staring at her coldly.
“And lots of women lie about taking birth control pills. If you have another baby while we’re married, you could pretty much write your own ticket, couldn’t you, Camilla?”
It was as if he’d tossed cold water on her. “How dare you.” She kept her voice from trembling even as she felt the color drain from her face.
“Don’t play the innocent with me,” Sam said. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you practically threw yourself at me all evening.”
“You started it. Damn you.” She pushed herself back off his lap and retreated to the other side of the limo, trying to put her disarrayed clothes back together. Now she was angry. Good. As long as she held on to her temper, she could fight back the urge to start crying. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
He leaned forward. “Trust me, Camilla, you’ll get plenty of what you were begging for tonight once we’re married and I have you in my bed. But there won’t be any ‘accidental’ pregnancy you can use to your advantage.”
She turned away from him, curling toward the window, looking up above the lights of the city to the black sky speckled with stars, and wishing, as she had countless times before, that she was back in her old life, with her sweet Danny at her side. Wishing she’d never come to Miami, that she wasn’t going to marry a man who could so easily reduce her to a quivering puddle of desire, even as he despised her. Then she steeled her will and made herself a promise. She was done wishing for things that could never be. Her decisions had been made, and there was no other course but forward.
She couldn’t help being attracted to Sam, so she’d give herself permission to enjoy the physical part of their relationship for as long as the marriage lasted. But she wasn’t about to lose her heart over a man who clearly didn’t trust or respect her. She’d found love once before, with Danny, and lost it all too soon. She’d never again settle for anything less.
Chapter Six
Sam was sitting at his desk, planning his strategy in a new case when his assistant put the call through. It was an out-of-state lawyer, she said, who insisted he was calling about an urgent personal matter.
“I have a rather sensitive issue to discuss with you,” the man said, after introducing himself as a partner in some New York law firm that Sam imagined was supposed to impress him, but that he’d never heard of.
“What can I do to help you, Mr. Rutherford?” Sam asked, grabbing a legal pad and picking up his pen.
“Well. I’m not sure how to begin,” he said, and Sam waited, tapping his pen against the pad.
“I represent a certain party who has dealings with Camilla Winthrop. I’m calling to ask you the nature of your relationship with Ms. Winthrop.”
“Are you asking if this firm represents her as a client?”
“Well, as a client. Or if you have any other relationship with her.”
“Can I ask who you represent, Mr. Rutherford?”
“My clients would prefer that I not discuss their involvement at this time.”
Sam’s tone cooled. “Then I’m afraid I can’t help you. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“Mr. Flanagan, please don’t hang up. I’m sorry this is so…unconventional. Right now I’m making inquiries for another party, but I’ve actually known Camilla Winthrop since she was a child. Her father was a client of mine.”
“Frederick Billington?”
“No, no, not her stepfather. Her father, Reginald Jones. I handled some trust matters for him much earlier in my career, and I’m afraid I was not, perhaps, as forceful as I should have been in my recommendations.”
“And you are contacting me with respect to those matters?”
“No. I’m afraid that is long past. I only wanted to give an understanding that I am not entirely unsympathetic to the position Ms. Winthrop finds herself in.”
Sam scratched his head and leaned back in his chair.
“Mr. Rutherford, I have no idea what you are talking about. And even less of a clue as to why you are calling me. What exactly do you want to know?”
“Do you represent Ms. Winthrop in legal matters?”
“I wasn’t aware she had any legal matters pending at this time.”
“So your relationship is more of a, shall we say, personal nature?”
“Yes, let’s just say that. May I ask where you got my name?”
The man paused a moment. “It was brought to my attention that there were several photos of you and Ms. Winthrop attending a charity event a week or so ago. She had not advised her family of her plans, and there was some…concern. Particularly since a young child is involved.”
“I wasn’t aware Camilla had any family.”
“Well, this would be on her deceased husband’s side, actually.”
“I see. What concerns exactly would Ms. Winthrop’s former in-laws have about her spending time in Florida with her son?”
“Quite, quite right, Mr. Flanagan. I’m sure no concern is warranted at all. I want to thank you for being forthcoming,” Rutherford said, leaving Sam wondering exactly what he had been forthcoming about. And what was going on that Rutherford hadn’t told him.
The phone call was still weighing on his mind later that afternoon when he stopped by Jonathon’s office.
“You ever run across a firm called Smith, Lane & Barlow?”
“New York? They do mostly estate planning, complex trusts, tax law. Represent a lot of old money. Why do you ask?”
“Got a call today from a Charles Rutherford. Asking questions about Camilla.”
He looked at Jonathon. “Wouldn’t tell me who his client is, but it was pretty obvious it’s her former in-laws.”
Sam sat down in the chair op
posite Jonathon’s desk. “I’m not sure exactly what he was fishing for. And he indicated he had done some work for Camilla’s father, years ago. I don’t know where he was headed with that.”
“Maybe testing the water to see if he had a conflict of interest taking some action against her?”
“Maybe. The whole thing was just kind of … off.”
“I’m thinking it’s time to move forward with the marriage and the adoption. The sooner the better.”
“Yeah. That’s what I’m thinking, too.”
…
Camilla was sitting on the floor with JD playing with action figures, a pirate ship, and a scattering of smaller vessels when Sam came in. Olivia was lying on the couch, flipping through a magazine, looking bored. He stood in the doorway for a moment just watching as JD climbed onto Camilla’s lap, brandishing a miniature cannon from his ship, and demanded surrender. Camilla toppled over backward, pulling a giggling JD with her, and Sam felt an odd sort of longing. And wondered for the first time if maybe Camilla really had tried to call him when she discovered she was pregnant. And how differently things might have turned out if he’d gotten that call.
“Surrender? I’d sooner walk the plank!” Camilla said, in a mock pirate voice, then dissolved into laughter herself as JD dropped the cannon and dug his little fingers into her ribs.
Sam tossed his keys on the table and two identical sets of blue eyes, bright with laughter, turned and looked at him.
“Hey, JD.” He crouched down on the floor and picked up the pirate ship to get a closer look.
The little boy scrambled back over to the little fleet and smiled shyly up at Sam.
“You like boats?”
JD nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“Well, how would you like to take a trip on a real boat?”
“Is it a pirate ship?”
“No, but it goes really fast.”
JD pressed his lips together in a tight line. “Okay.”
“Good.”
Camilla stood up, looking puzzled. “Why the boat trip?”
Sam set the pirate ship back down, and JD started rearranging the other boats around it. Sam gestured to the hallway with his head, and Camilla followed him.
“So are you sending us on a boat trip or joining us?”
“I’ll definitely be going with you,” Sam said.
“I remember you telling me in Vegas how much you liked fast boats. You were going to buy one after your first big win.” She paused. “JD’s been crazy about boats since before he could walk. I guess he got that from you.”
“Well, I never outgrew it.” Watching JD, he could see himself at that age, playing with pirate ships and imagining his dad taking him out on a real boat someday. Not that it ever happened.
Camilla studied him quizzically. “There’s more to this, though, than giving JD a boat ride.”
Sam nodded. “I got a call from a lawyer representing your in-laws today.”
Her face paled. “What’s going on?” She looked back to the room were JD was slowly pushing the pirate ship up the side of the couch toward Olivia’s shoulder while she pretended not to notice.
“Nothing to worry about yet. But I think it might be a good idea to accelerate our timetable. The sooner you’re my wife, the closer I am to adopting JD and officially cutting off any action the Winthrops might be contemplating.”
“So this boat trip—”
“—is to a destination wedding resort in the Keys.”
“How soon are we leaving?”
”Tomorrow.”
“Who was the lawyer, Sam?”
“A guy named Charles Rutherford. Ever heard of him?”
She frowned, then shook her head. “I don’t know. The name’s familiar. I feel like I should know who he is but I can’t place him.”
“He mentioned he’d done some work for your father years ago.”
“Oh.” Her face cleared. “Charles Rutherford. I remember my parents arguing, my mother screaming and crying. My father telling her not to worry.”
She looked up at Sam. “I didn’t find out until years later what it was all about. Apparently this lawyer Rutherford wanted my father to set up something called a ‘spendthrift trust’ so that when he died, my mother and I would be taken care of. Basically, so that my mother couldn’t blow all the money.”
“I’m guessing your mother objected?”
“Vigorously,” Camilla said. “Rutherford and his law firm would have served as trustee. My mother would have been humiliated, going to those lawyers asking them for money.”
“So your father refused?”
“Right. There was so much money I’m sure he couldn’t imagine my mother possibly running through it.” Camilla smiled wryly. “She gave it her best shot. But there was still plenty left for her to entrust to my stepfather and his investments. And you know how that turned out.”
“I’m sorry.” Maybe this was the real reason Camilla had been so quick to marry the millionaire she hadn’t been in love with. Had she been that desperate to regain the security she’d known as a child, before her father died?
Camilla shrugged. “It’s over and done with now.”
“What about this Rutherford?”
“What do you mean?”
“I got the impression that he might have some regrets about not convincing your father to set up the trust. But I don’t think we can count on that to keep him from taking whatever action the Winthrops want.”
“If he doesn’t, they’ll just hire another lawyer who will.”
Which was all the more reason they needed to move forward as quickly as possible with the marriage. Once he completed his adoption of JD, his son would be removed from the possible interference of the Winthrops forever. Then he’d take whatever steps were necessary to make sure no one would ever be able to interfere with his son’s future—not even Camilla.
Maybe if Camilla’s father had insisted on setting up the trust his wife was so opposed to, Camilla would have become a different person. He’d seen glimpses of that person, watching her play with JD as if nothing else in the world was more important than her son. But he reminded himself that this was the same woman who had married a man she obviously didn’t love, then driven a wedge between her husband and his parents. The same woman who stole the first four years of his son’s life from Sam. He wondered how much her apparent devotion to JD was based on love and how much was based on her desire to keep anything from threatening her control of the $10 million trust fund. He couldn’t get away from the fact that there was one common denominator in all her actions. Money.
Camilla’s father had failed to protect his young daughter from the damaging influence of a mother who cared more about her extravagant lifestyle than she did about her child’s welfare. Sam wasn’t going to make the same mistake where his own son was concerned.
Chapter Seven
If she hadn’t been so nervous, Camilla might actually have enjoyed the trip to the Florida Keys on the sleek yacht owned by Sam and his partners. She was no stranger to luxury, but neither her father nor her stepfather had been flashy in his taste.
Her memories of her father were from when she was very young, lying on her stomach on the faded Oriental rug in his private library with her coloring book and the crayons she was very, very careful not to squish into the rug, while he read in a huge upholstered armchair. When she tired of coloring, sometimes she would crawl into his lap and he would read to her from books she was too young to understand, and she would fall asleep with her head against his shoulder, smelling the faint scent of peppermints and cigar smoke that still, to this day, evoked a sense of quiet contentment. Even standing at the rail of the boat, with the spray of salty water touching her face and the hot Florida sun warming her despite the breeze, she could still close her eyes and see him sitting in that chair, hear the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner, in time to the slow sweep of its pendulum.
But when she was six, her father died of a heart attack. Then
came the year Camilla preferred not to remember, ever. Her mother had always been prone to mood swings. But that year she had seemed to disappear inside herself, spending most of the time in her dimly lit bedroom, forgetting to eat and leaving Camilla to fend for herself. Sometimes her mother slept for days, until Camilla was convinced she would simply never wake up again. Finally, she was hospitalized, and Camilla was handed off to a succession of friends and relatives she barely knew.
Then her mother rebounded in a series of relationships with a succession of wealthy men and a whirlwind of European holidays and fancy hotels, not to mention a memorable year when they’d lived in a restored palazzo in Abruzzo, Italy, with a brilliant but temperamental artist. Finally, stability had returned when, after a chance meeting at an art auction, her mother married financier Frederick Billington.
At her mother’s insistence, Camilla had taken his name. She couldn’t say she’d ever felt anything stronger than a mild sort of affection for him, but neither had he shown any particular love for her. They circled each other like polite strangers, united only in their unspoken agreement to protect Camilla’s mother from the anxiety attacks that would occasionally incapacitate her for a week at a time.
Otherwise, Camilla was mostly left to her own devices while her mother and stepfather entertained and traveled whenever his business required, which was quite often. She’d spent her early adolescence feeling like she was just going through the motions, putting in time until her real life would begin.
Then the miracle happened. Olivia was born, and Camilla’s heart swelled with so much emotion for her tiny half sister that she thought she would burst.
What’s more, Frederick, who considered his wife a trophy and his stepdaughter a mild inconvenience, discovered there actually was someone in the world whom he loved more than himself. And as Olivia grew, her laughter and the sheer joy of her filled up their lives and transformed them into a family. Which is why Camilla knew with absolute certainty that no matter how desperate Frederick Billington had been, no matter if the press was snapping at his heels, if his investors were threatening lawsuits and the Feds hovering on the verge of criminal indictments, he would never have intentionally caused the accident that took his own life and the life of Camilla’s mother. For the simple reason that Olivia had also been in the car.
