He shook his head, still smiling a small smile that helped maintain the warmth she’d felt at his laugh. “You didn’t push me into it. The place was the way it was because I just didn’t know what to do with it and I didn’t want my family doing it by fluttering around and being overly concerned about me. You didn’t handle it that way and I appreciate that you do know what to do with the whole decorating thing. That’s sort of what’s going on here, isn’t it? We’re each finding our way through new territory. I’m helping you out where I can, and you helped me out where you could.”
He was just so much less flummoxed than she was.
But he was right, they both were finding their way through new territory and it did help not to be alone in it.
They were finding their way through new territory and maybe through a little of the old since that warmth lingered in her and she was having a whole lot of trouble keeping her eyes from meandering to the knee that was directly in front of her and up his thick thigh to jeans-encased anatomy that she certainly shouldn’t even peek at let alone be thinking about...
“But so far we’re doing okay,” he went on, pulling her back to her senses. “Immy seems all right, so I don’t think we’ve done any harm. And my house looks better so this is bound to help get my family off my back about it.”
“That’s good, I guess. And, no, I don’t think there’s been any harm done to Immy,” Kyla agreed.
“When it comes to the business stuff,” he said then, “we’ll talk through it when you feel up to it, or a little at a time along the way, and, like I said from the start, I’m here for you for that, too—”
“You said something about your family being left in a situation not too different from this,” she said, recalling a comment he’d made early on. “Was that when you were a kid and your parents and aunt and uncle and GiGi’s husband—your grandfather—were killed in the plane crash you told me about years ago?”
“It was. I was eight and my brothers, and Jani and I, and all of our cousins moved in with GiGi. H.J. had to come out of retirement because there was nobody left to run Camden Incorporated. He was eighty-eight.”
“He went back to work at eighty-eight?”
“He was tough as nails right to the end. But he knew he wasn’t likely to be around to run things until we’d all grown up and were ready to take over the business. So he handpicked people he knew he could trust to keep things going after he was gone and until we could step in. I can help you do that for Immy and the travel centers, if you decide to keep them.”
“That seems risky...”
“Not if you can trust the people you pick. And I’ll help you find those people. You’d still have to become the CEO or the chairman of the board so you’ll be able to keep an eye on things and have final say on major decisions—that’s what GiGi did after H.J. was gone. But any decision you might need to make you can run by me, or someone in my family or someone knowledgeable in Camden Incorporated who can give you recommendations, too. Who can point out what might not be sound. I’m just saying that it isn’t as if you have to personally do everything yourself. The business can continue and thrive and even grow with the right people in place and you just loosely holding the reins, not letting it take over your life.”
“And you know the right people?”
“I don’t. But I’m related to nine other people who do. And in case you missed it, Camden’s is a big organization,” he said with a hint of that smile again. “We can dip into our own pool of managers and directors and financial advisors, not to mention the people in Camden’s trucking division who will know about that business specifically. I’m sure we can find more than enough applicants whose experience with us vouches for their trustworthiness, who know what you need them to know and who’d be willing to move into a new arena.”
“So you don’t think I should consider selling?”
“I think we should have some of our financial people take a look at projections and give us an opinion. Then, ultimately, it’s up to you. But at least you’ll have something to base your decision on. And if you do sell, I’ll make sure you get all the help you need managing the money, investing, keeping it growing and safe. One way or another, what I’m saying is that you aren’t in this by yourself. I’m here to help.”
He’d said that before and she’d merely resented him all the more for the tardiness of his support. She didn’t feel that way now. Now there was some comfort in hearing the words.
But just some because the only real comfort for Kyla—ever—was in knowing that she could handle anything she needed to handle on her own. Relying on anyone else had always been a disaster for her. In fact, Beau was living, breathing proof of what happened the last time in her life she’d allowed herself to do that—when she’d thought she could rely on him and when she had relied on her father to deal with the pregnancy situation.
But in this there wasn’t anything else she knew to do.
She had to accept what Beau was offering.
But, as with Beau’s assistance with Immy now, she swore to herself that she would only accept his help with the business and financial aspects for the time being. As soon as she knew enough to make the decision about Immy’s inheritance and had found those trustworthy people he was so certain would be available to her, she would employ them, watch them like a hawk and take over.
It was the only way she could rest.
And then Beau could go on with his everything-by-the-book, regimented life, and she would move back to her own life—one that might not look exactly the way it had before but certainly wouldn’t look like his did.
“When it comes to your job,” he went on to say, interrupting her thoughts, “your cousin and her husband knew if something happened to them they were leaving you with a full plate, that you might not be able to keep teaching. That’s why they also left you an annual income and the lump sum you’ll inherit when Immy turns twenty-one, so you don’t have to worry about reentering the job market if you don’t want to. I’m not sure you heard all of that when the lawyer said it.”
She’d heard it only vaguely in the midst of feeling as if she needed to duck for cover from everything that seemed to be coming at her like fastballs from a pitching machine.
“It’s all overwhelming right now, but like I said before, we’ll just take it one step at a time,” he added.
One step at a time until she could stand on her own two feet with everything, then she was out the door, she vowed to herself.
But she didn’t say it. She merely took a deep breath, exhaled and said, “Okay.”
“Feel better?”
“Some” was all she could concede to.
“It’s been a long day. Why don’t you get some rest? The more you rest the stronger you’ll be, and that will help you feel like you can handle all this.”
Back where today had begun—with him telling her what to do.
But she knew what he was saying was true, so she stood up from the chair. “When you’re right, you’re right.”
He got off his perch on the desk and they both left the den and headed for the stairs in the entry.
“What about you? Are you turning in early tonight?” she asked along the way, knowing she’d be surprised if he said he was. She was beginning to wonder if he ever slept.
She’d spent two nights here and although she’d gone upstairs before him and been weary both nights, she hadn’t found it easy to fall asleep. Thoughts of him—of how near he was, wondering about him, remembering something small or silly either from the past or from the time they’d spent together since then—had made her mind whirl and given her insomnia. But despite being awake late both nights, she hadn’t heard him come upstairs to go to bed himself. And he was getting up with Immy for her middle-of-the-night feeding, and then again first thing in the morning, too, long before Kyla went downstairs.
So there was no surprise in his answer. “Me, turn in early? I don’t think so. I’ll stay down here for a while. I’m not doing
too well with sleep since I’ve been home.”
Kyla stopped at the foot of the steps and looked up at him. She constantly catalogued each small detail of his appearance, but now she wondered if, in the process of that, she was missing something else about him—the way she’d overlooked that he was in a pretty big transition of his own.
His family was hovering around him, worrying about him, trying to help.
He was impatient with them.
He was trying to figure out where he fit in.
Those were all things he’d mentioned in passing. But now it occurred to her that he might be going through more than he was revealing.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He smiled again—a soft, thoughtful smile that once more raised her temperature. “As in, am I carrying around secret physical or emotional tolls of war?”
She nodded.
“I’m not. I’m fine. Fortunately. But I am a little off-kilter. I’m having some adjustment issues. And keeping a different pace than I’ve been used to is getting to me some—it just never seems like I’ve done enough to wind down to sleeping much.”
“You don’t look tired,” she observed.
“Good,” he said with a hint of rare vanity, his smile stretching into a grin.
And she was inexplicably pleased that she was seeing so much more of that grin today for some reason. It made his striking blue eyes light up and gain a sexy glint.
Or maybe that was from something else.
She had caught him ogling her earlier.
And now he was looking intently at her face, too. Into her eyes...
Then he did something she’d been trying to avoid.
He touched her.
Innocently enough—he just reached out one of those big hands and clasped her shoulder in a bolstering grasp.
But it did exactly what Kyla had been afraid it would—it set off tiny shards of something glittery all through her.
And while she was trying to stop that, his voice got deeper, sexier, too, and he said, “Everything really will be okay. I will not let you down.”
Then he leaned over and kissed the top of her head.
Kyla froze and silently shouted to herself that it was nothing!
And yet it made her heart beat hard and fast—exactly the way it had when he’d touched her for the first time when she was sixteen, when he’d kissed her.
But he’d kissed her for real, then, she was quick to remind herself.
This was nothing. Nothing!
This was something he could have done to his sister or one of his cousins or his grandmother or any platonic friend, and it wouldn’t have made any of them feel what she was feeling.
So she needed to stop feeling it, she told herself firmly.
But his lips were still pressed to her head and his hand was still on her shoulder and her pulse was still racing.
And even though she didn’t want to, she was instantly pondering the possibility that he might kiss her a second time...
On the mouth...
And wishing he would...
Then all in one movement he was gone—he straightened up and took his hand from her shoulder.
Her response didn’t stop that quickly. Or at all. But she tried not to let it show and merely nodded her acceptance of his comfort and support as if his touch, his kiss, hadn’t meant anything but that.
Then she said good-night and went up the stairs.
But try though she might, she couldn’t keep her traitorous mind from wondering if any of it had meant anything.
And fighting to stomp out the ridiculous and unwanted hope niggling at her from deep inside that it might have...
Chapter Five
Friends and employees of Eddie and Rachel were responsible for the memorial service held on Saturday, and Kyla was grateful to have Beau there with her.
She didn’t know anyone who attended except Eddie’s secretary and David Cannary. But while no one else knew her, either, the fact that she had Immy and they were the only two family members there meant she was the recipient of all condolences.
Kyla hadn’t expected that and wasn’t prepared for it. As a result, it was one more thing that felt like too much coming at her. But Beau never left her side, offering her support in that tall, sentry-like way of his that exuded strength and somehow helped her get through it.
“Ready to go home and crash?” Beau guessed when it was finally over. They were back in his SUV with Immy sound asleep in her car seat.
But actually Kyla wasn’t ready to go home and crash, she realized. Healthwise she’d been right in assuming that each day she would feel better and stronger. Her aches and pains were dwindling, and even her bruises were fading into something less angry looking. Her wrist and hand were no less weak or sore if she tried to use them, but other than that, she was well on the mend.
And now that the memorial service was behind her, being in the fresh summer air, away from the confinement of a hospital, a motel room or even Beau’s beautiful house, felt good.
So she told him that. “You said everything about Denver seems different and you don’t remember how to get places anymore—want to just drive around until it all gets familiar again?” she suggested.
“We could. Or if you’re up to it and don’t want to go home...how do you feel about rugby?”
“Rugby?” she repeated. “I don’t have any feelings about it because other than knowing that it’s a sport of some kind, I couldn’t even tell you what kind of game it is. You like rugby? Did that happen in college or something? Did you play?”
“I played football for USNA. But today is the International Defense Sevens Rugby Tournament at Buckley Air Force Base and navy is playing army—”
“That’s a big deal?” she said, interpreting his tone.
“Oh yeah! We wouldn’t have to stay long, but I’d like to see some of it.”
“With Immy?” Kyla said skeptically.
“She just went to sleep, so she could be out for a couple of hours. We’ll keep her shaded, and we have diapers and an emergency bottle if we need them. And we can always leave if she gets unhappy or you get tired or start to wilt or just hate it—”
“Do they have hot dogs?” That was the only redeeming quality she’d ever found in sporting events.
He laughed. “I don’t know, but I’d say it’s likely. And I’ll buy you all you want.”
“Rugby...” she said, making the single word a goad. “In a suit and tie?”
The suit and tie she’d had to help him choose because he was too used to having an assigned uniform for every occasion. The black suit he looked fantastic in.
“Rugby,” he confirmed. “In a shirt and pants.” He’d removed the suit coat before getting behind the wheel and now he tugged on the knot of his gray tie to unfasten it, pulling the tie free of his collar and disposing of it in the console between them before he loosened his top collar button.
All with Kyla watching and enjoying the sight far more than she wanted to.
“At least you’re not in a dress,” he added with a nod at the black slacks and white blouse she’d worn.
Kyla was not a sports person. But he seemed almost excited by the prospect—something she hadn’t seen in him since they’d reconnected—so she couldn’t say no. “Okay. But if there aren’t hot dogs...” she pretended to threaten.
“I’ll ask at the gate—no hot dogs, no rugby,” he promised as he started the engine.
But Kyla knew that whatever the hot dog answer was at the gate, she was about to attend a rugby game.
Because while she had no interest in it, she was curious to see if the new Beau Camden might be able to let himself go—even a little—cheering on his team.
* * *
It was almost nine o’clock that night when Kyla headed downstairs after her second shower of the day. Sitting in a stadium in the August heat had left her hot and sticky, and she’d come home with the goal of a shower to cool off.
It was something B
eau said he also wanted, but after sleeping through the entire rugby match, Immy had woken up cranky and out of sorts, putting a delay on everything while they both tried to calm her down.
Fearing the baby had gotten too hot—in spite of keeping her shaded—they’d given her a lukewarm bath. But that had only made her madder, and she’d really been unappeasable after that.
Kyla had finally told Beau to go ahead and take his shower while she tried all the various choices of movement of the bouncy seat—none of which had worked—and then he’d taken over so she could shower.
Kyla had hurried, but her shower had still taken longer than his. She’d washed her hair and had to dry it and use the curling iron again. Plus, although the sun had left her with plenty of color in her cheeks, she’d reapplied a bit of eyeliner and mascara—because although she insisted to herself that she shouldn’t care how she looked to Beau, she did care and no amount of calling herself vain changed it.
She’d opted for a pair of khaki capri pants and a cap-sleeved green boatneck T-shirt, but she skipped shoes, relishing the feel of cool flooring under her bare feet.
The nursery door was still open when she left the guest room and passed by it, so she knew Beau hadn’t put the baby to bed yet. But as she went down the stairs she couldn’t hear Immy’s crying, either, and wondered if he’d finally persuaded the two-month-old to take the bottle she’d been refusing.
Fingers crossed, Kyla nearly tiptoed across the entryway for fear of making a sound that might startle Immy and begin the crying again.
At least I’m not alone with it this time, she thought as she went in search of Beau and the baby, recalling her miserable night at the truck-stop motel.
Beau didn’t have the baby in the kitchen, so Kyla padded through there to get to the family room connected to it, and that was where she found them.
But Beau wasn’t feeding Immy.
He was watching a muted television and didn’t see Kyla, and for a moment she stood there taking in the sight of him. And Immy.
After his shower he’d returned wearing a pair of worn-thin jeans and a white crew-neck T-shirt, his short hair slightly damp and his face cleanly shaven. Now he was stretched out on the sofa with the pajama-clad baby lying on his chest, sound asleep on her tummy, her tiny body molded to him, peacefully riding up and down with each of his breaths as he rubbed her back with a hand that was nearly as big as she was.
Her Baby and Her Beau Page 9
