Fred mewed and she realized she was clutching him too tightly. “Sorry, little man,” she said, loosening her grip as she placed a kiss on the kitten’s head. A kiss that was as much an attempt at calming her as it was Fred.
But annoyance quickly stamped out the unease.
If Cameron were any kind of gentleman, the least he could have done would have been to wake her and say goodbye. Instead, he’d run under the cover of darkness, while she’d been sleeping soundly and it made what had been an amazing experience somehow seem tacky.
It made her feel like some cheap…
Perhaps that’s all she meant to him. A simple means to his release. A case of Peppa being in the right place at the right time…or the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on the way she chose to look. He obviously hadn’t felt a smidgen of the magical connection she had. Just like Tim, he’d only wanted her for one thing.
She shuddered, swallowed a sniff and laid Fred back on the pillow before pushing herself out of bed. She ought to get these pathetic, stupid, futile thoughts out of her mind. God knew she’d wasted enough time in the last few months crying over her belittling break-up with Tim and she’d been with him three years. It wasn’t right to let some hot, inconsiderate, selfish tool of a man ruin her Christmas.
Peppa took a deep breath—recalling her yoga techniques—as she located a fresh towel for her shower. Inhale. Exhale. She tried to tell herself there was no point wallowing over the best sex of one’s life. And, no matter what she thought of her partner in lust, his prime spot in her very limited circle of lovers was a no-brainer. She didn’t indulge in one-night stands on a regular basis—okay never before last night, which is probably why she felt so bereft—but she should have known from the word coffee that’s all it could ever be.
It was stupid to feel so affronted.
And she’d be a fool to deny it had served its purpose—her room still smelled of his enigmatic presence and her body still sung, reminding Peppa just how much of a woman Cameron had made her feel.
He’d given her the perfect Christmas present.
Unable to stop a slow, satisfied smile stretching across her face, she hopped in the shower with a newfound confidence, letting the hot shards soothe her aching muscles as she sang the hit classic “Oh, What a Night” at the top of her lungs. She couldn’t wait to get to her parents’ place, give them the present she’d spent eons choosing—a stunning sculpture for their beloved cottage garden—gorge herself on her mum’s roast…
Her hands froze in the midst of massaging shampoo into her scalp. Sadie. Her faithful Volkswagen Beetle still sat on the second floor of the office car park.
Blast!
Of all the stupid things she’d done, letting Cameron sweet-talk her into forgoing her car ranked highly. She hated public transportation at the best of times. Her job required her to be punctual or whole recording schedules could be delayed and she’d learned quickly not to rely on buses and trains. Taxis were a marginally better option…but on Christmas day? She’d have to be damn lucky.
She finished her hair quickly, not shampooing twice as she usually did so she could get straight on to calling a taxi. As she hastily wrapped a towel around her body, tucking it in at her chest, a persistent boom sounded at the front door. She frowned at her reflection in the mirror. Who could possibly be visiting at eight o’clock on Christmas morning? She hadn’t buzzed anyone up.
The knock sounded again and she reasoned it must be one of her neighbors. Mrs. Parker from across the hall had no doubt locked herself out of her flat yet again. And she could be very determined.
“Coming,” she called, collecting Mrs. Parker’s spare key from its spot in her fruit bowl as she padded across the kitchen. Hopefully the old woman—forgetful as anything when it came to the mundane but sharp as a spear when it came to being a busy-body—had gone to bed early last night. Who knew what noises could have drifted through the wall from Peppa’s bedroom to her neighbor’s living room? In fact, Mrs. Parker had probably manufactured an excuse to come visiting in order to poke her nose into the flat foraging for gossip. At least that was one good thing about Cameron having done a vanishing act. No evidence.
Still she’d have to concoct some story. Perhaps something about Fred missing his mother?
When Peppa opened the door, all thoughts of Mrs. Parker evaporated.
“Good morning.”
The air left her lungs, the key fell from her grasp and her hands shot to her chest, griping the towel to ensure it stayed put. Her visitor was not Mrs. Parker.
Definitely not.
Mrs. Parker could never look so breathtaking in camo-cargo trousers and a tight black T-shirt. Mrs. Parker could never make Peppa’s temperature soar, her legs wobble and her ovaries jump up and down simply by standing in the doorway. Mrs. Parker didn’t leave her tongue-tied and at a loss for words.
Cameron did all this. And more.
“Bit late for modesty, don’t you think?” He stretched one hand out to grip the door frame and shot her a wicked smile.
She swallowed, willing her brain to kick into gear while thinking he was a sight she could easily get used to.
“What are you doing here?” Her words sounded accusing but she’d only just got her head around his vanishing act and now he was here. In the flesh. Standing on the worn welcome mat like some X-rated gift from Father Christmas. ’Cos even fully clothed, he ought to come with a warning.
As she took a quick breath, he held out a brown paper bag and a holder bearing two disposable cups. “Aside from delivering fresh croissants and hot coffee, you mean?” He tilted his head to one side as if in deep contemplation. “I think the plan was I’d take you to collect your car.”
“Yes but…” A man who gave her multiple orgasms and brought food? Her heart soared and her nose smiled at the enticing smell but she let her words fade. Anything she said would betray the disappointment she’d felt waking up to find him gone. Such emotions weren’t part of the “coffee” deal and she didn’t want him to think her weak.
“Never mind.” He stepped into the tiny hallway, placed breakfast on a side table and then put his hands against her bare shoulders as he spun her round. Stopping indecently close, he whispered right into her ear, “Why don’t you go get dressed and I’ll set this stuff on the table.”
With his fingers searing her shoulders, Peppa yearned to twist her head and touch her lips to his once again. She breathed in his aroma of masculine soap, her mind envisioning his early morning shower. She hadn’t expected Cameron to return to collect her but now he was here, she didn’t want to go anywhere.
She was weak. And right now, Christmas Day in bed sounded like a mighty fine plan.
Peppa turned around and met his gaze. “I don’t have to be at my parents’ for another few hours.”
Cameron groaned and rested his head against her forehead. His thumb slipped up to stroke her lips. “Don’t tempt me, vixen.”
The rapture that erupted within at his touch spurred her. “Why not?”
“Because unfortunately I have to be somewhere in half an hour.”
That was a lie. Although Cameron had arranged to meet Johno, his rock-climbing partner and fellow Christmas avoider, just before nine, he could easily cancel or postpone.
“Oh.” Penelope’s down-turned eyes betrayed her disappointment. “I won’t be long then.”
Cameron’s heart squeezed at her accompanying pout and he summoned all the willpower he had not to haul her over his shoulder and stomp into her bedroom like a cave man. Instead, he stepped back, forcing distance between himself and the alluring smell of citrus in her freshly washed hair. If they’d chosen a more neutral setting for their shenanigans the night before, then perhaps he’d be able to seduce her again without a battering from his conscience.
But in the early hours of the morning, when he’d done his usual trick of escaping before sleep, before the nightmares started, he’d taken a moment to glance around. While Penelope slept, a tiny ginger
cat had jumped onto the bed to make his acquaintance. It had followed him out into the kitchen and while he’d poured a tall glass of ice-cold water for himself, he’d given the kitten a bowl of milk.
It was then, under the light of the moon peeping in through the curtains, that he’d seen just how homey Penelope’s small flat was. Every available surface housed what his aunt would call knick-knacks and he called clutter. A Christmas tree took pride of place in the tiny living room and tinsel hung across the ceiling. The walls and shelves—even the fridge for Pete’s sake—held photos. On closer look many had been of a middle-aged couple he guessed to be her parents but there had also been a fair few of children. Some sort of Girl Scout choir or something.
These things told him one thing. While Penelope wasn’t like the blonde glamazons who chased him purely for status and wealth, she also wasn’t someone he could afford to become entangled with. She was the type of woman you could confine to a jail cell and she’d find some way to make it welcoming and comfortable.
She wasn’t a fling type of girl. And he wasn’t a commitment type of man. Not anymore.
In this case, logic had to win out over lust.
“Don’t rush.” He watched the sway of her hips as she walked down the hall. “I don’t have to go far.”
He’d barely located the plates, cutlery, butter and jam when Penelope appeared again. The sight of her, classically beautiful in a knee-length sundress that looked as though it had been splashed with huge red flowers and with her wet golden hair piled behind her head and held together with two chopsticks, almost made him drop the plates on her black-and-white-checkered tiles. As if the tiny towel and all that dripping, bare-naked skin hadn’t been distracting enough!
He recovered in time to save the plates and glance theatrically at his watch. “You trying to break some kind of female-getting-ready record?”
She let out a half laugh and crossed the room to pick up a croissant. She tore it in two, then without slathering on butter or jam, took a healthy bite. An appreciative noise escaped her lips.
“I’m serious,” he said, trying not to get all hot-and-bothered over her very sexy eating techniques. “You didn’t have to rush.” Every woman he’d ever known intimately had taken ten times as long to get ready as Penelope and had only achieved a fraction of the impact. He couldn’t recall one who stole his breath away like she did.
“I didn’t.” She took another bite and scooped up one of the coffees. “Shall we make a move?”
Her words were innocent, at least he thought so. But his overactive imagination couldn’t help envisioning the kind of move he’d like to make. Right now. With his fairy.
He should never have come. And he certainly shouldn’t have prolonged the visit with the offering of breakfast. Why hadn’t he listened to his gut when it said to call Penelope a car?
Peppa took the stairs two at a time to keep up with Cameron. Her cheeks as warm and no doubt as color-filled as a glowing lava lamp. Once she’d recovered from the shock of seeing his lovely hard body and sinful smile standing in her doorway, she’d realized what the tension tightening his features and his staccato-like sentences meant. If she’d greeted a man wearing nothing but a towel before, she’d have flushed from embarrassment, but the heat in her cheeks as she greeted him had been from something else entirely. And she knew he felt it too.
The fact he’d returned spoke volumes. He could easily have feigned memory loss on the little matter of her abandoned car. Yet, despite having a pressing prior engagement, he’d made good on his promise and even ensured she didn’t start the day on an empty stomach. It made her wonder if the office grapevine had him terribly, terribly wrong. It made her wonder if he wanted more than one night. She blinked, pushing the thought away.
“So, whose place are you at today?” she asked as they reached the lobby.
He held the door of her apartment block open, gesturing for her to go before him. “Place?”
“Yes. You said you have somewhere to be in half an hour.”
“Oh that.” He dug keys out of his pocket and pressed the immobilizer. The lights of a top-of-the-range 4WD flashed in front of them.
Peppa tried not to do a double take. This rugged vehicle was in complete contrast to his man-about-town convertible. But surprisingly not in complete contrast to him. Spending time with Cameron was like a roller coaster of surprises.
“Mother Nature’s.”
Now she was totally lost. Either Cameron was talking mumbo jumbo or the lack of sleep was getting to her. She jumped as he touched his hand to her elbow and realized she’d frozen on the path to his car. Despite feeling as if she’d been branded with his fingerprints, her heart dived when he let go.
“I’m sorry,” she said, striding toward the car. She paused as he opened the door for her, then climbed in, careful not to catch the skirt of her dress in the door when he shut it. She had about five seconds to pull herself together as he strode around the car. When he slid onto the driver’s seat, she was smiling and ready. “So, where exactly are you are going today?”
As the car roared to life, his long, tanned fingers caressed the steering wheel. She forced herself to focus on the white lines dividing the road, so not to relive his hand caressing her.
“Rock climbing with a mate.”
She frowned. “You’re not seeing your family?” The idea didn’t sit right. She loved abseiling herself and as for the idea of his lithe body leaping down a cliff face? Well… She forced her attentions back to the road. But what was Christmas about if not spending time with the people you couldn’t bear to live without?
He shook his head. “No. Auntie Rose does her family thing on Christmas Eve. Having five children, nine grandchildren and me, she says it’s too hard to coordinate on the actual day. My cousins all go to their in-laws.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Although inside, Peppa didn’t think any such thing. She recalled the Christmas two years ago when her parents had been cruising the Caribbean and how utterly bereft she’d felt. Her heart ached for Cameron and she wondered what he’d say if she invited him to her family Christmas.
“Yes. And it suits me just fine. Will there be crowds at your family get together?”
Peppa swallowed the lump in her throat. “No. Just me, Mum and Dad.”
“Half your luck,” he replied. “Don’t you have any brothers or sisters, cousins, or great uncles who tell horrific jokes?”
She tried to laugh. “No. Both sets of grandparents are dead. My dad has a twin but he married a French girl in his twenties and we’ve never seen much of them. Mum was an only child and unfortunately—” she caught herself before she spilled out the story of her mother’s devastating miscarriages, “—so was I.”
“Unfortunately?” He snorted. “Consider yourself blessed.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Uh. Yes. I do.” His strong tone rang of conviction.
“But you were so fabulous with your nieces last night. They’re clearly besotted with you and your choice of presents was spot on.”
He tossed her a wry smile. “You mean my personal assistant’s choice of presents. I don’t have the time to go toy shopping. Besides Molly’s got granddaughters, she knows what they like.”
“I see.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” He seemed amused by her statement. “What exactly is it you ‘see’?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “You seemed too good to be true.”
He laughed at that. “Trust me, honey. I’m not good at all.”
Before she could concoct a retort to that, he spoke again. “By the way, I wanted to say thanks for playing the part so well last night.”
Playing the part? At his words, she didn’t think about dinner at his aunt’s but rather how convincing she’d been afterward. Her cheeks instantly betrayed her and unfortunately he chose that moment to glance her way.
He chuckled, his devil lips twisting upward. “That’s not what I meant, although while we’re on that
subject, I’ve no complaints about what happened at your place and I hope you don’t have any either.”
Her mouth went dry. Complaints? Every nerve ending in her body tingled but she surprised herself with a quick-thinking, witty response. “You mean aside from the fact you ran off without giving me a proper goodbye?”
“Sorry about that.” He rubbed the side of his jaw line, a maneuver that told her his apology didn’t sit comfortably. As he turned the car into the office high-rise, he explained, “I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to wake you with all my tossing and turning.”
Personally Peppa would have preferred the night he described to the empty feeling she’d experienced that morning when she’d woken to find him gone.
His 4WD pulled up alongside her Beetle.
Placing a hand on the door handle, she turned to him and smiled. “Next time, let me worry about my sleep, okay?”
She noticed his grip tighten on the steering wheel and his thigh muscles tense. Blast! Of all the stupid things to say! Next time? It was too much to hope he hadn’t noticed. Too much to hope she’d imagined his unease.
“Look, Penelope.” He turned to face her and even before he said a word, she knew what he was going to say.
She wished the seat would swallow her.
“I had an undeniably fabulous night. But, as much as I’d like to go there again, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
She nodded, unable to speak above the ridiculous lump in her throat and desperately hoping he didn’t start the old not-a-good-idea-to-mix-business-with-pleasure argument. Or worse, the tired it’s-not-you-it’s-me one. Although at least that would be something new—Tim had been more than clear the problem was all hers.
“We’re just not compatible.”
This time, lifting her chin high, she turned the handle and opened the door. Before stepping out, she glanced back. “I’m sorry about your car. Thank you for a really lovely night.”
One Perfect Night Page 6
