“What about your family?” she asked, curiosity overriding any ability to mind her own business. “Surely there’s a dinner or something.”
Clasping her arm through the coat, Cam stopped her forward progress. “This is my car,” he said, ignoring her question as he opened the passenger door of a sleek black BMW. “You can buckle yourself this time.”
The reminder of her condition the night before stung. She clammed up and climbed in. When Cam settled gracefully into the driver’s seat—far too gracefully for a man his size—Veronica pressed her luck.
“Seriously? Do you not have anyone to celebrate with today?”
His seat belt clicked into place before he entered her address into his navigation system—revealing an impressive memory—and finally looked her way. “No, I don’t.”
With a turn of a knob, Cam put the car in gear and pulled from the parking space. This would not do. No one should be alone on Christmas. Especially not this uptight, rich bar owner who’d been decent enough to give a drunk stranger a place to sleep.
Chapter Three
“I’m not kidding,” Veronica repeated for the third time. “You can celebrate with my family.”
Cam had no desire to crash anyone’s holiday gathering. “That isn’t necessary.”
“Of course, it is. You probably saved my life last night. The least I can do is offer you a holiday meal with all the trimmings.” Growing more animated, she turned to face him. “My mother makes way more food than the ten of us can eat. One more person won’t hurt anything.”
“Ten?” he repeated. He hadn’t been in the same room with ten family members since a Rhodes reunion when he was five.
“Ten,” she affirmed. “Mom and Dad, two sisters, two brothers-in-law, one nephew, and two nieces. Plus me, of course.”
That sounded like a nightmare. “I appreciate the offer, but—”
“You won’t be intruding.”
Yes, he would. But that was beside the point. “I don’t—”
“All right, fine,” Veronica cut in. “I have an ulterior motive.”
Cam mentally kicked himself for not letting Trina take care of their unconscious customer.
“An ulterior motive?” he asked. She’d turned him into an echo machine.
“The person I was trying to drink away last night is my ex-husband. This is the first Christmas I’m not bringing him with me, and I don’t have the energy to deal with the questions and pitying looks.”
He’d never been married, but Cam knew the pain of a tough breakup. Fresh off a divorce, especially at the holidays, was a good reason to tie one on. But he didn’t see what this had to do with him.
“Then don’t go.”
She laughed—a deep, sexy laugh—as if he’d made a joke. When he glanced over with a straight face, she sobered. “You’re serious.”
“I am. If you don’t want to go, don’t go.”
Veronica crossed her hands in her lap, and the ends of his coat sleeves flopped together. “You’ve clearly never met my mother.”
He preferred to keep it that way. “Tell them you’re sick.” The green tint had left her cheeks, but Cam doubted the headache had faded.
“Being sick does not excuse you from Christmas. Not in my family.”
Then he was out of ideas. Following the GPS, he made a left at the stop sign. When Veronica held silent, Cam thought the conversation had ended.
He was wrong.
“All you have to do is pretend we’ve been on a few dates, eat as much ham as you want, and maybe show my dad this car.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He would love this car.”
She couldn’t really believe he’d do this. “We’re complete strangers. I know nothing about you.”
Undeterred, she said, “How much would we know about each other after a couple of dates?”
“More than occupation and home address.” The GPS said her house was ahead on the right. There was no driveway, so he parked along the curb in front of the one with the correct street number displayed on a gray porch post. “I’ll walk you to the door, and then take my coat.”
Veronica turned pleading eyes his way. “I know what I’m proposing sounds crazy, but it’ll be virtually painless. A few hours of your day, and then you never have to see me again.”
In Cam’s experience, large family gatherings were never painless. And he never said he didn’t want to see her again.
Of course you don’t want to see her again. Get her out of the car and drive off. Hell, let her have the damn coat; just don’t fall for those baby blues.
He held silent long enough for the hope to leave her eyes, and his willpower snapped. The club wouldn’t open until after five anyway.
“Fine,” he said, cutting the engine. “I can spare a few hours.”
* * *
Veronica took the quickest shower of her life, afraid that if she left Cam alone for too long, he’d change his mind. Or maybe she’d change hers. She’d concocted some goofball ideas in the past, but this one went way into crazy pants territory.
For one, Veronica couldn’t lie to save her life. With strangers, she might be able to maintain the front for the few hours he’d offered. With her family, not a chance. Which meant she had to convince herself that she and Cam were dating, if only casually. Technically, she had slept with him. Okay, not with him with him, but in his bed with him sleeping down the hall. And she’d seen him somewhat undressed. Not as much as she would like, but that tight tee and those pjs had been enough to fuel plenty of late-night fantasies. If only a panic attack hadn’t been brewing when Cam had strolled into the bedroom looking enticingly lickable.
Was lickable a word? She’d have to ask Olivia. Schoolteachers knew those sorts of things.
As she bent to wrap a towel around her head, a tiny voice in the back of Veronica’s mind whispered, You’ve never considered Ash lickable.
Her head snapped up so quickly the room spun. Not two months ago, Veronica had let Ash know that she’d been comparing other men to him. It made sense that even a pretend boyfriend would get the same treatment, but there was no comparison between Ash and Cam. Not that Ash wasn’t attractive. He was tall and sweet, with the kindest eyes she’d ever seen. He never pushed, raised his voice, or made Veronica feel anything but comfortable. His gentle nature had been the reason they’d become friends, and eventually more.
Gentle was not a word she’d use for Cam, but he wasn’t rough either. In their brief acquaintance, he’d been kind and generous, but rigid, too. She’d yet to hear him laugh. To see him smile. Then there was the status level. Ash was a highly successful songwriter. He lived a more-than-comfortable life. But not a penthouse and BMW kind of life.
If the magazine article was accurate, Cam was ridiculously wealthy. No one owned prime property on Lower Broadway and lived in such an exclusive building without pulling in eight-plus figures a year. Thanks to her success producing chart-topping and award-winning hits for Nashville’s biggest names, Veronica possessed an impressive financial portfolio of her own. She’d just never felt the need to show it off. There was nothing wrong with having nice things, and Cam seemed to display his status in an understated way. Quality over flair. But did he enjoy it?
Maybe that’s what she’d tell her mother and sisters when they asked about her Christmas date. Once they got over the shock of his identity, of course. Cam offered structure and stability for Veronica’s impulsive nature, and she loosened him up. Brought a little spontaneity to his austere life.
She was doing a little of that already, really. Persuading him to play a part. A little spin in her mind and voila—she and Cam were in the early stages of a budding relationship. No lying needed.
* * *
On her way up the stairs, his hostess had suggested Cam make himself comfortable. After several minutes spent pondering the insanity of what he’d agreed to do, he finally settled into a well-loved brown leather chair. A matching sofa rested on the opposite side of a rustic wood and metal coffee tabl
e strewn with tattered magazines.
The house offered an open floor plan, as was the fashion, and one shiplapped feature wall painted dark blue in stark contrast to the softer tones of the rest of the space. He’d had the same shiplap detail applied to the fronts of all of the Rhodes Tavern bars back in the spring, only painted black. Less scuff marks that way.
The tree in front of the picture window was neat and festive, with thick blue ribbons trailing out of a large matching bow at the top. Garland decorated the stair railing, as well as the window and door frames. The holiday spirit was abundance but not ostentatious.
Cam was more surprised by what the house lacked. No gold records on the walls. No trophy case full of awards. The home was uniquely Nashville, including a large oil painting of the city skyline and the distinct mix of retro and modern decor the hipster crowd had brought to the area, but there was no evidence the owner had anything to do with the music business.
In all fairness, Cam didn’t decorate his apartment with liquor shelves and neon signs. His home bore few personal touches of any kind. He’d hired a decorator a month before his move-in date, and she’d followed his preferences. Modern, clean, and functional. He might have added a family picture or two, if he’d had one, but Cam had disposed of those mementos long ago.
Veronica’s place was littered with them. At the back of a collection on the end table was a picture he could only assume featured the once-happy couple. Veronica wore a simple white dress, her hair stacked loosely on her head with wavy strands dancing around her delicate face. The man wore a navy suit and tie in place of the standard tuxedo. The young lovers stared into each other’s eyes over a modest wedding cake, both wearing blissful expressions.
Cam flipped the frame photo side down. Why keep a wedding picture around when she was clearly struggling with the divorce? Annoyed, he took the extra step of slipping the photo into the drawer of the coffee table, burying it beneath magazines and Sudoku puzzle books.
Steps sounded on the stairs, and Cam leaned back in his chair, pasting an impassive expression on his face. Before she reached the bottom step, he drew a startling conclusion. Veronica Shepherd looked sexier in jeans and an oversized sweater than she had in the red slip of nothing from the night before. Damp, wheat-colored hair swung from a ponytail, and she’d gone light on the makeup. If she was trying to impress him with her incredible looks, she was being subtle about it.
“All ready?” Veronica asked while pulling a coat from the closet at the base of the stairs.
A bit dumbstruck, Cam remained seated. “You’re beautiful,” he said.
She blushed while pulling on the coat. “Not as beautiful as the women you’re probably used to dating, but thank you.” One sleeve on, she froze with a stricken look on her face. “I didn’t even ask if you have a girlfriend. I mean, of course you do. Look at you.” One hand jerked up and down in his direction. “I can’t ask you to pretend to date me while you’re really dating someone else. That’s just wrong.”
Rising from the chair, Cam closed the distance between them in three strides to help her finish putting on the coat—a pale pink number with a double row of black buttons and an attached scarf.
“I don’t have a girlfriend, Veronica. Just you for the next few hours.”
She smiled and buttoned herself up. “Whew. I have a strict policy against taking other women’s boyfriends. And spouses, of course. Even if only for pretend.”
Her words barely registered as the temptation to taste the smile on her lips nearly set him into action. But then she flipped the ponytail out of her collar, smacking Cam in the face, and he was snapped back to his senses.
Kissing was not part of this arrangement. Then again, if they’d been on multiple dates, as she’d suggested, they’d have kissed several times by now. They should probably try it to make sure their fake relationship was believable.
“You ready?” she said, turning innocent eyes his way.
Cam banked the idea for future discussion. “Yes, let’s go.”
* * *
Cameron Rhodes thinks I’m beautiful.
Veronica could still feel the heat in her cheeks—and other places—from the unexpected flattery more than five minutes later. So much for bringing spontaneity to his life. More like the other way around. He’d tossed one compliment her way, and she was damn near ready to spontaneously combust.
Attempting to play it cool, she cast furtive glances his way while attempting not to turn her head. The effort was making her eyes hurt. Maybe she was taking this believe it’s real thing a little too far, because watching his hands on the wheel was putting images in her brain. Images of those hands touching her in intimate places.
“What should I know?” Cam asked, breaking the silence and making her fear he’d read her dirty mind.
“Excuse me?”
“If we’ve been on enough dates for you to take me home for Christmas, I should know something about these people.”
He had a point. All he really needed to know was that her family was crazy and overbearing, but that confession might send him running.
“My dad is a lawyer, and my mom runs the family.”
“You mean a family business?”
“No,” Veronica replied. “She runs the family. Birthday parties, school plays, soccer games. She keeps everyone’s schedules, and makes sure we all know where to be and when to be there.”
“What if you don’t want to be there?”
This she had an answer for. “If you have a really good reason, you’re excused, but only so many times.”
“She sounds like a tyrant.”
He didn’t know the half of it. “Just an engaged mother who likes to keep her family close.”
This was how Ash had described Marsha Hamilton once, when Veronica had declared her a pearl-clutching dictator. By their first anniversary, she’d become convinced that her mother liked Ash more than her own daughter. He’d agreed and took full advantage of his favorite son-in-law position.
“What about your siblings?”
“Olivia is the oldest. A schoolteacher married to Chet, a physics professor at Vanderbilt. They have Braden and Briley, fourteen and twelve respectively.”
“Braden and Briley?”
“Yes. They’re popular names these days.”
“I’m sure they are.” Cam said nothing more, and Veronica felt secure in assuming he wouldn’t insist on giving their children such trendy names.
Not that they would be having children. What a ridiculous thought.
“On to Emma,” she said, ignoring the crazy lady in her head. “She’s the youngest, married to Nick, and they have Penelope, who’s four and adores her Uncle Ash. Don’t be offended if she doesn’t take to you right away.”
“Kids tend to like me,” he said, as if making a general statement of fact. Like the sky is blue or water is wet.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Okay, then. His confidence was about to take a hit, but he couldn’t say she hadn’t warned him.
“Emma might be a little. . .excited when she sees you. She’s a fan.”
“A fan of what?”
“Of you.”
“I don’t have fans.”
Pretty clueless for such a smart man. He could have made his fortune on looks alone, but Veronica doubted so.
“She practically memorized your article. But don’t worry, I’ll rein her in. No touching the muscles, sniffing the neck, or staring at your ass.”
That one earned her an unamused expression. “I appreciate that. You should know that I’m originally from Indiana, started in the restaurant business as a dishwasher at sixteen, and prefer bourbon over whiskey.”
Each bullet point—which she’d already known from Emma’s fangirl ravings—was said without inflection. She couldn’t help but notice what he’d left out.
“What about your family?”
“No family.” This time, Veronica watched his hands instead of his face. The knuckles
were white.
“None?”
His grip on the wheel tightened. “None.”
Interesting. If they were entering a real relationship, she might push a little harder—since there had to be a relative out there somewhere—but since they’d be parting ways in a matter of hours, he could keep his secrets.
“Well, don’t worry about facing a full-on interrogation. Everyone in my family likes to talk, so you probably won’t have to say much at all.”
The hands relaxed, and Veronica felt more than saw the tension leave his body. “Good to know.”
Chapter Four
“You scared us to death, young lady,” her mother declared the moment the door flew open, and then blue eyes much like her own shifted left. For the first time Veronica could recall, Marsha Hamilton was struck speechless.
“Let her in, Marsha,” Daddy said, opening the door wider. Bushy gray brows shot up and a smile curved his lips. “Howdy, stranger. We didn’t know Veronica was bringing a friend.”
“I hope you don’t mind,” Cam said, handing over the bottle of wine he’d insisted they stop and buy. If he was going to crash a party, he’d not do so empty-handed. Veronica had rolled her eyes when he’d picked the one-hundred-and-fifty-dollar bottle. Her assurances that the twenty-dollar bottle would be fine had gone ignored.
“We don’t mind at all.” Daddy took the wine, examined the label, then glanced by them to the BMW in the driveway. The smile broadened. “We’re happy to have you, young man. Come on in.”
He had to hip Mama out of the way to let them in as she continued to stare, mouth gaping inelegantly.
“This is Cameron Rhodes,” Veronica said as she unbuttoned her coat.
“Yes, it is,” Mama said in a hushed tone as if she were in the presence of royalty. “Nice to meet you, Cameron.” She extended a hand, palm down, and Cam did the last thing Veronica expected. He kissed her mother’s knuckles.
Among The Stars: A Shooting Stars Novella Page 3
