Billionaire Games Boxed Set 1-3 (19 page)

Just as he suspected, a victorious smile spread over her face. “Really?”

“You find that hard to believe?”

“Well, yeah. Kind of.”

“Why?” He hadn’t shown Madeleine any sort of particular favor since he and Camille had returned from America. Perhaps it had something to do with Madeleine being a guest at the house.

“Well, you know…” Her words drifted into a hushed whisper and she looked away shyly.

Julian laid his hand on the table, regretting they were so far apart that he couldn’t touch her. “Chéri…?”

“Look, I know it’s really none of my business who or what you do.” Her tone was lit with a possessive desperation. “But since you’re the one who wants it to look real, you probably should use a bit more discretion in your dalliances with Madeleine.” She looked almost embarrassed.

Julian laughed. Camille thought he was carrying on a running affair with Madeline. And she was jealous. Huh. Imagine that. “Did she tell you we were…?” Or maybe she didn’t like having it thrown in her face.

“Yes.” Camille nodded. “In graphic detail.”

No wonder she was angry.

“Chéri, have you forgotten…?” He paused, and managed to contain his laughter to just a thought. “Madeleine is the reason I married you.”

A look of torment crossed her face. “I just don’t get that.” She paused, waving a gesture into the air. “Why didn’t you just marry her? In your room this morning, she made it clear you’ll be continuing your affair.”

“What are you talking about?” He tried to hide his confusion, but it escaped in his coolly disapproving tone.

“She was in your room this morning.”

“No, she wasn’t.”

“Yes, she was.”

“When?” There was no way Madeleine was in his room, and he didn’t understand why Camille thought otherwise.

“Oh, she was there. You were in the shower.”

He shook his head, hardly able to believe Madeleine’s nerve. “She must have come in when I got in the shower.”

“Of course.” Camille closed her eyes and seemed to be letting reality sink in. “You said she’d do this.” She shook her head in a slow, rhythmic movement and looked at Julian. “I feel like an idiot,” she said, almost laughing at herself. “She insinuated she’d been there all night.”

A sense of sadness hung a long brittle silence in the air. He shook his head regretfully. “She’s crazy. She was no more in my room last night than I was in yours.”

“You did say she’d set out to have me catch the two of you in bed together,” Camille said. “I just didn’t realize it would all be a charade.”

He felt bad now, that Madeleine—who thought the marriage was authentic—had thrown a faux affair in his wife’s face.

“Chéri, I’m so sorry.” He closed his eyes for a second or two and then looked back at Camille. “Even in a business arrangement, you didn’t deserve to be humiliated.”

Her cheeks reddened a tinge. He could see it, even in the dimly lit candles’ glow.

Should he make his move? Or, should he bid her goodnight and let her contemplate all she’d learned?

He had to be very careful. Moving too quickly could ruin his chances forever.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

AT SOME POINT DURING THE NIGHT the storm had passed and the Naoma Louise had set sail. The night had been restless for Camille. What possessed her to think she could pretend to be married to a guy like Julian de Laurent for six months and not develop a consuming desire to have sex with the man?

All night long, he’d invaded her thoughts, her dreams, her heart. The only place he hadn’t invaded was her bed. And that was the one place she wouldn’t have turned him away, even though it was the smart thing to do. But he’d slept on the sofa in their bedchamber.

She’d thought it looked uncomfortable, but he’d fallen asleep almost instantly and hadn’t awakened, even after she’d started moving around in the bathroom that morning.

Sunshine and blue skies peeked in through the window. She slipped into a black bikini that fit like it had been made specifically for her body. Camille studied herself in the mirror, surprised at how good she looked. She grabbed a towel and her sunglasses and ventured outside.

Finding a swimming pool on the upper deck surprised and pleased Camille. She grabbed a lounge chair and made herself at home. For a while, she drank in the sight of the open sea, observing nothing but water and small dots of land off in the distance. Soon, drowsiness accompanied her into a nap.

She couldn’t be certain how much time had passed since she’d fallen asleep, but footsteps fell over the deck and Camille opened her eyes behind her sunglasses. Julian in a pair of deep green boxer shorts jolted her heart. She swallowed hard. Acting on such an attraction—no matter how much she wanted to—would be perilous, because in six months he’d send her packing.

His eyes raked daringly over her, and his mouth softened. “Good morning, Chéri.” He straddled the chair beside her. “I trust you slept well last night?”

Hell, no. She’d had the worst night ever. And how dare he tease her like that? “Fine, thanks.” Fortunately, she had the shades to cover her eyes, which probably contradicted her lie.

“How about lunch? Are you hungry?” He extended his hand, his knuckles skimming against her bare thigh.

She inched her leg away and tipped her sunglasses, peering at him with one eye closed. “What’s on the menu?”

“Whatever you want.”

Whatever I want
. A slight moan trickled up her throat. To stop it from blasting out in a full-blown expression, she lunged forward and threw her legs over the edge of the chair. “Lunch. That sounds like a plan.”

Julian chuckled and stood, reaching for her hand. She draped her fingers over his, igniting a quick shiver that rolled through her. On the far side of the boat, a fully furnished table under an umbrella commandeered her attention.

He let go of her hand and seated her with her back to the sun. She worried about him as he moved to the other side, hoping the umbrella would provide him with shade.

The attendant, Jonathan, appeared with two lobster tails, fresh fruits, and various green and pasta salads.

Lobster tails
?
For lunch
? “Oh, no,” she said, thinking about the fat and calories that came as a packaged deal with all this rich food.

“What?” Julian asked, as if his feelings had been hurt. “You don’t like lobster?”

“Oh, no…I like lobster just fine.” She didn’t want to sound ungrateful. “In fact, I love lobster.” She paused, and while she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, there were consequences for eating so recklessly. “But if I keep eating like this…in six months, I’ll be as big as a house.”

A flash of humor curled on Julian’s lips. He grabbed his champagne glass. “Make a list of the foods you’d prefer to eat and give it to Soren when we return home. He’ll relay your instructions to the kitchen.”

“Man, you sure are accommodating.” Camille dipped a piece of lobster in fresh butter. She popped it into her mouth and the flavors, sweet and rich, engaged her taste buds and filled them with immense pleasure.

“Well, I aim to please,” Julian said.

They focused on their meal with bits and pieces of small talk about the weather, the Naoma Louise, and the Mediterranean around them. Afterward, Julian suggested they have dessert indoors, and they moved inside to an informal dining area.

She followed his lead and slipped into a chair at one corner of a very large table. Jonathan brought them each a covered tray. The dish was cold. Very cold.

“What is this?” she asked, pointing to the silver lid.

Julian looked at her with amplified innocence.

“Is it ice cream?” A sense of defeat swept over her.
Please, don’t say yes
.

He smiled.

Damn. She was doomed. “You know, you’ve really got to start paying attention.” She paused, trying to gulp down the lump swelling in her throat. “Big as a house. Remember that.”

The smile spreading across his face was as intimate as a kiss. He lifted the cover, revealing an ice cream sundae. A diamond studded heart pendant on a gold chain was draped around the crystal bowl’s stem.

“That’s beautiful.” Camille sucked in a breath filled with joy and then sorrow and disappointment. Disappointment that she hadn’t been able to find a man such as Julian for real. Her very own Prince Charming. She sighed. “But why?” She summoned the courage to look at him. Their marriage wasn’t real. Why was he baiting her with the actions of a
real
husband?

“After all you put up with yesterday,” he said. “It’s the least I could do.”

The look on his face, genuine regret, softened her concern and eased her doubt. She wanted to hug him, kiss him, tell him she was his for the taking. But that wasn’t wise. The only thing it would get her was some serious heartbreak time.

“You’re very kind,” she said, and dropped it at that. Filling with reluctance, she unwrapped the necklace from the dish.

Her heart pounded as Julian rose and moved around behind her. He slipped the trinket from her hand in a slow, seductive movement. Gentle strokes pulled her hair out of the way and he looped the bauble around her neck. No matter how hard she fought it, her desire for him intensified.

Julian’s hands skimmed down her bare arms, patted them twice and then he returned to his seat. Of course he’d touch her like that, seductively, and then walk away.

She studied him with a calculated gaze. There was no way in hell she’d survive being teased by him for the next six months. No way.

She pulled her attention away from him and let it roam around the deck. Nothing. Not a thing to use as a viable distraction—except the inner cabin.

She pushed herself up from the table and sauntered toward the double doors. She hurried inside, met by a blast of cool air. A wall on the far side displayed a group of family photographs. Maybe there’d be one from his childhood…that she could poke fun at. That would lighten the mood.

She perched her hands on her hips and scanned the images. A picture of two boys sitting in a woman’s lap caught her eye. The children were nothing more than toddlers, and Camille assumed they were Julian and Andre. The woman in the picture, presumably their mother, had a wonderful smile and laughing eyes that reminded her of Julian when he got really excited.

Pointing to the picture, she glanced over her shoulder. “Is this your mother?”

He nodded, a pleased look crossing his face. In an instant, Julian was at Camille’s side and removing the photograph from its place on the wall. Stilling, he studied the picture, drawing a heavy breath. Finally, when he did move, he took the photograph and went to the couch on the other side of the room. Camille followed.

“This was taken just weeks before she…” His words faded, and he looked at Camille. The memory had stolen the laughter that usually resided in his eyes.

“Well, it’s nice of Claudette not to complain about your mother’s pictures being displayed here.”

“While Claudette has been a wonderful mother-figure—” He almost laughed. “—This is not the family’s boat. It’s mine.” He glanced around. “Much of what you see here…the décor, the photographs…it all belonged to my mother. These were her personal items.”

“Wow.” A frenzy of sudden, spinning sorrow toppled her poise. The tribute to his mother said something about what Julian valued in life. “This is a great way to honor your mother and keep her memory alive.”

“Papa thinks I’m spending too much effort on the past,” he said trivially, setting the framed picture on the coffee table. Julian shrugged and leaned back on the couch, spreading his arms along the back.

Camille relaxed, crossed her legs, and folded her arms over her chest. “I wouldn’t say that.” Phantom tears stained her heart. “It shows a devotion to your mother’s memory. And that’s a very appealing quality.”

A lonesome sort of smile gave way to lips skewing into a tight pucker on his face. Clearly, the hurt over losing his mother was getting to Julian.

Physical need and a longing drove Camille toward him. A knot rose in her throat. She felt like a breathless teenager. The notion that this might be a bad idea slipped into her mind, but she cast it aside in favor of an inherent craving to comfort him—something she thought no one had ever attempted.

Camille snuggled up to Julian and trailed her soft, silk-like fingertips over his face. Her touch was affectionate and soothing and on the verge of becoming too powerful to resist. Julian closed his eyes and skimmed his hand up her arm.

She dropped her forehead on his chest and let out a pleasurable sigh. His hands trailed over her shoulder, as if they had a mind of their own, and explored the hollow of her back.

“If you’re going to stop me,” he whispered into her hair, “please have mercy and do it soon.”

She lifted her head slowly and implored him with her eyes before leaning in and kissing him with a hunger that contradicted her outward composure. “I’m not going to stop you.” Her lips brushed against his as she talked.

Julian caressed her untamed hair out of her face. “
Chéri
—” He traced his fingers along her cheek. “—if you become uncomfortable at anytime, just tell me and I’ll stop.”

“I want to be with you. That’s all I know.” She said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my whole life.”

Julian led her down onto the couch and trailed soft, sensuous kisses across her face and down the length of her neck. His hand brushed against the patch of fabric covering her breast. She sighed.

He grazed his pelvis against her thigh and felt himself growing hard. She turned herself toward him as if she wanted the contact.

Julian watched his own actions intently, pushing the triangles of fabric away from her breasts, first one and then the other, exposing her nakedness. He swallowed hard; he’d been wanting to do this from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. Cupping her breast in his hand, he leaned down and teased her playfully, running his tongue over her nipple. She moaned and arched her back, trying to find him.

“Patience,
Chéri
.” He gave her a smile born from affection, wanting to taste her lips now. He seized her mouth, kissing her hard and long. Watermelon. She tasted like watermelon.