One Perfect Night (7 page)

He tried to focus on their exchange instead of the memory of her shapely thighs brushing against his legs and her nipples drilling pleasurably into his chest. Tormenting images. “Yes. I prefer running and climbing over manufactured exercise and I think it’s important to take time away from the office to clear the head occasionally.”

“That makes sense.”

Had to be about the only thing that did. Because right now, he wanted to forget about confronting Penelope, or Peppa, or whatever she wanted to be called, forget about helping Auntie Rose and simply focus on the feelings of the present. Feelings of mind-shattering attraction. Feelings of lust. Feelings of
her.

How easy it would be to stride around the desk, pull her against him and press his lips against hers.

Dammit! He had to get a grip.

She glanced fleetingly at the client chairs on the other side of his desk but he resisted the urge to ask her to sit. The last thing he needed was Penelope getting ideas when he was having enough trouble keeping his own randy thoughts under control, which was bizarre. He’d been no stranger to women since Kristen’s death—the distractions they offered kept his mind off his despair—but he’d never felt temptation like this.

“Thanks for coming, Penelope, or should I say Peppa?”

He watched her brow crease and her body tense at his accusing tone. What looked like confusion played across her features. “That’s up to you. Usually I prefer Peppa, but when you say my name, I forget that I don’t really like it.”

A strange jolt of happiness zapped him at her confession. He didn’t like the feeling so he scoffed and tried to ignore it. “Why didn’t you tell me you worked for me?”

She flinched and her head snapped upright as if his accusation had been a bullet.

“What?” she asked eventually, hugging herself and rubbing her hand up and down her arms in an action that made her seem small and defenseless. Pain stared back at the bitterness in his own eyes. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew?” He couldn’t keep the skepticism from his voice. “You were dressed as a fairy and performing for the children. I thought you were the entertainer I’d asked Molly to organize.”

Peppa gulped, painful goose bumps multiplying on her skin at his words.
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

She finally managed a reply. “The entertainer had food poisoning. I stepped in at the last minute. I assumed Molly would have filled you in. I was rushing to park after renting a costume when I saw the cat and sideswiped your car.” The words gushed out. “How do you think I knew who you were or that the car was yours when you came to talk to me? Oh God.”

She watched as he ran a hand through his luscious sun-kissed hair.

He closed his eyes briefly then spoke in a serious tone. “I wasn’t thinking when we met. Well, not about cars, employees or logistics. All I could think about was your pert behind in that illegally short skirt.”

A smile threatened at his frank yet resentful compliment but utter mortification crushed it. “You mean you wouldn’t have taken me to your aunt’s. You wouldn’t have…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. “Come
home
with me if you’d known who I was.”

“Of course not. I don’t make a habit of seducing my staff.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Peppa quipped, forcing her chin upward. Despite his accusatory tone, this wasn’t her fault and, boss or not, she wouldn’t let him make her feel cheap.

“I’m glad you’re glad.”

A bitter cold flooded Peppa’s bones at this inane conversation. She tried to second-guess his thoughts. “You needn’t worry. You have my promise I won’t tell anyone what happened between us.”

“What I do in my private life is no concern of anyone else’s.” He sat back in his swivel chair and finally gestured that she take a seat in front of his desk.

Despite wishing she could stand tall and show she wouldn’t be overpowered, she flopped back in the comfy chair, grateful for the support against her shaky legs.

He continued. “Although I can see no reason why anyone at Lyrique should need to know about our night together, I do have another favor to request.”

“Oh?” She barely got the word past her tonsils, her wayward imagination already conjuring up a number of possible scenarios.

“Uh huh.” He cleared his throat but the sound didn’t hold his usual air of confidence. She frowned, wondering what it could be that was making him so uncomfortable.

She waited. The anxiety and anticipation compounding with each long second.

Finally, he found his voice. “I’d like you to dress up as a fairy again for my niece’s birthday party on Saturday. Sing some songs and play some games with her five-year-old friends.”

Her heart sank, she couldn’t help the disappointment. He wanted her to what? Although she hadn’t exactly realized, she now knew in her heart of hearts she’d been hoping he’d want her again for himself.

When she didn’t reply, he rushed to add, “Of course, I’ll pay you for your time and more for the inconvenience.”

“And the charade?” she asked, feeling a little bitter, a little used. “How much is that worth?”

His brow creased. “Charade?”

“I’m assuming you’re asking me because there’s been a problem with whoever was already booked?”

He nodded.

“And your cousin thought of me?”

“Actually my aunt did,” he said glumly.

Worse. Something told her Cameron didn’t like to let his aunt down. “And she thinks we’re together and that I’ll happily drop all my weekend plans to save your niece’s party?”

“Something like that.” He actually looked guilty. It softened her heart a bit. “
Do
you have big plans?”

With the TV, a box of chocolates and her new kitten, Fred. “This and that but to be honest, Cameron, I know you’re my boss and everything, but I don’t like lying to people.”

He was silent for a moment. “I respect that. But we never told my family we were getting married or anything, right?”

“Right.”

“Just dating.”

“I think they came to that conclusion themselves.”

“Exactly,” he said, his lips succumbing to a gorgeous grin. “So, you do this one thing for me and I’ll take you to dinner at a fabulous restaurant. It’ll be a date so we won’t be lying to anyone.”

His hot gaze rested on her in anticipation.

Oh geez. She placed her hand against her belly as it did a little flip. Thank God she was sitting down because her bones had turned to warm liquid. She hadn’t been on a date since Tim. Had never even felt the desire to go out with a man since her horrible loss but suddenly she really, really, really wanted to go out with Cameron. It had to be her hormones recalling their night together. Or the way he wanted to do this one thing for his aunt playing with her soft-hearted nature.

“Okay.” The word slipped out before she could give it any more thought—for better or worse. Before she could question whether the date was purely for maintaining-the-truth purposes or because he too wanted another hot night.

“Fabulous.” Relief washed over Cameron’s face. “I’ll pick you up at ten on Saturday.”

There was no need for her to give him her address but just as she was about to agree, she recalled her awkwardness when Rose had ambiguously discussed Cameron’s past with her. “No, make it eight-thirty and we’ll have breakfast first.”

He opened his mouth—assumingly to object—but she got in first. “I’m happy to do this for your family, Mr. McCormac, but I want to be better prepared than I was last time. Before we go, I need to understand how you tick. I need to know why your family is so desperate to marry you off and you’re so desperate to stay single.”

His shoulders slumped but he answered positively anyway. “Half eight it is then.”

Cameron navigated the streets to Penelope’s Manly apartment and fought the urge to bang his head against the steering wheel.

A date?
A proper one.

What the hell had he been thinking? He hadn’t needed to bribe Penelope with a night at a fancy restaurant. He had plenty of practice at sweet-talking women to do what he needed. Besides, did he really want his aunt and the rest of the family to think he had a serious thing going with the children’s entertainer? That was asking for all kinds of trouble. Penelope had been right about one thing—he shouldn’t be lying to Auntie Rose.

But no matter the facts, one persistent, uncomfortable, irrational thought tormented him. He wanted to see Penelope again. Wanted to hear her laugh, to watch her woo a room of people and, most detrimentally, he wanted to sleep with her again.

Just the thought had his muscles constricting and his heartbeat accelerating. He hadn’t felt such an intense need to be with someone since Kristen. In Penelope’s presence he’d forgotten about the stresses of everyday life and just let live. That in itself was not a realization he wished to dwell on.

He was pleased when he arrived at her apartment—the quicker the day began, the quicker it would be over.

He parallel parked on the road, beeped his car locked and walked along the path to her building. He frowned as he recognized her little vintage Beetle—still horribly dented—parked outside. It was the first thing he said when she spoke through the security intercom system.

“Why haven’t you had your car fixed yet?” he practically barked.

“And a good morning to you too, Cameron.” Her bemused tone slid out on the sexiest voice he’d heard in a long time. Warm, smooth, inviting.

He gulped. Where the hell had his charm gone today? That was no way to greet a woman, even one you didn’t know what you wanted to do with.

“Sorry, Penelope.” He leaned toward the intercom system. “Can you buzz me up?”

“Sure,” Penelope replied brightly.

Yet, when she peeled back her door less than a minute later, he forgot all about her little car. She smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling, showing she was happy to see him. He’d probably be hard pushed to recall his name, for at the sight before him all the blood rushed to his groin. It ached. He ached. With the need to reach out and touch her. Kiss her.

Did she have to be so irresistible?

“Hello, Cameron.” She made his name sound like an illegal cocktail as she spun around on gold sparkly heels. The skirt of yet another fairy costume—this time all pink and ruffly and girly—flared out as she turned. Scarlett would love it.

He swallowed again—his throat suddenly parched—as Penelope treated him to a lovely glimpse of tanned, shapely thigh. He forced his eyes to focus on her eyes instead of what was packaged so delightfully in that little girls’ fantasy outfit.

She aimed a wand with a glittery star on the end at his chest. “Come through for some breakfast.”

He frowned for a second, not wanting to step any farther inside her house again. Even standing at the door, he could smell something delicious, something that made the place a home. “I thought we’d go someplace to eat.”

“No need. I’ve made pancakes.” She turned and there was nothing for him to do but follow her down her tiny hallway into the cozy kitchen.

She’d made enough pancakes for ten people—a characteristic that reminded him a lot of Auntie Rose. He sat at the table and downed the glass of orange juice she poured for him. She stared at him intently as if she wasn’t a woman dressed as a fairy but a cop about to interrogate him. Suddenly he wished the juice was spiked with something stronger.

“So.” She smiled. “Dig in. I’ve got maple syrup, sugar and lemon, strawberries, cream.”

He raised a brow as she laid two thick pancakes on his plate. “Are you trying to fatten me up?”

She threw her head back in a delicious laugh. “I’m trying to get to your heart and Mum always said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

He stiffened.

“Relax,” she said. “I didn’t mean in
that
way. I told you I wanted to know all about you before I met your family again. The least I can do before I pry into your soul is give you a good meal.”

Her words were terrifying but the smiling way she delivered them put him at ease. He didn’t have to tell her any more than he wanted to tell.

He cut a piece of pancake and lifted it to his lips, but before he slipped it into his mouth, he said, “So, what is it you want to know?”

“That’s simple.” She began prepping a pancake for herself as she talked. “Why don’t you want to settle down?”

He looked at her, wondering if he could spin some spiel about wanting to put all his energies into his work but she was going to spend the afternoon with his family as a favor to him and there was no guarantee they wouldn’t mention Kristen. He took a deep breath for courage—as a rule, he didn’t talk about this with anyone.

“I used to be married.”

Peppa’s mouth dropped open. Married? Past tense. She would never have picked Cameron for a divorcee—he didn’t seem the type to fail at anything. “Oh.” It sounded stupid as soon as she said it but she really couldn’t think of anything better.

He smirked slightly and kind of laughed. “Most people apologize when I tell them I’m a widower, but ‘oh’? Now that’s classic.” He reached for his juice and almost downed the drink in one gulp.

Peppa forced her gaping mouth closed and bit her lip on the inane “I’m sorry.” There were so many questions she wanted to ask. She was curious by nature but she hardly knew the guy and she suddenly realized no matter their charade, she didn’t have the right to pry into his personal heartbreak.

“Don’t look so forlorn.” He reached her hand out and lifted her chin with his rough-skinned thumb. “Life isn’t fair. Bad things happen and all I can do is my best to make sure they don’t happen again.”

By not getting married, not getting attached…the end of his sentence lingered in the air between them. The thought shouldn’t make her heart ache the way it did.

“What was she like?” She kicked herself the minute she’d asked.
No right to pry, remember?
But she was curious. Curious to know what kind of woman had made this sexy, charming but a little bit aloof, successful man turn gooey at the center. She wondered how he’d been different before, how the tragedy had changed him. Hardened his soul.

He tore his hand from her skin like she’d scorched him and she truly thought for a moment, he might up and leave.

But he didn’t.

“She was beautiful.” He paused for breath. “Funny. Intelligent. Crazy for life. A whirlwind.”

As he spoke about his dead wife, Peppa could see the genuine love in his eyes, hear it in his slightly choked voice. A lone tear trickled over her cheek as overwhelming sadness flooded Peppa’s senses. Sadness for Cameron, sadness for his wife, sadness for true love cut short. Such emotion should have lessened this rampant desire for him, should have made her wary and want to back off, but it didn’t.

From the moment he’d appeared at her doorway again—hell, from the moment he’d spoken through the intercom—she’d been a weak-at-the-knees lost cause. But it seemed the fluttering of her heart and libido was exactly that. A lost cause. Because, sitting across her kitchen table was a big, gorgeous hunk of a man still hopelessly in love with his dead wife.

Life could be so horrifically cruel.

“What about you?” His question broke through her silent pondering. “Any serious relationships?”

She recognized his question as a tactic to take her attention away from his personal life. And she couldn’t blame him—she had no desire to talk about her tragedies either.

She shrugged as she poured syrup on another pancake. “Kind of. I’ve been put through the ringer by my fair share of jerks. Last relationship ended suddenly six months ago. My ex is now married and his new wife is having a baby.”

“Ouch!”

He didn’t know the half of it. “It was painful at the time, of course, but distance brought wisdom. He wasn’t the right man for me.” It had taken time but she now firmly believed this.

He shifted in his chair and reached for more juice. “So, are you on the hunt again? For Mr. Right?”

Yes. No.
“No.”
Her firm answer was as much for her own benefit as his. “Not yet. Our breakup was messy. I’m gonna need a while.”

They drank and ate in silence for what seemed like quite some time. He finished his last mouthful of pancake and wiped his mouth on a napkin. “That was delicious, but totally undeserved. It should be me buying you breakfast since you’re the one doing me the favor.”

She tried to smile. “Yes, but I’m the one who wanted the chat and you’re buying me dinner, remember?”

“I do.” He peered intently at her and she couldn’t tell from his tone or the slight lift of his lips, whether he was looking forward to or dreading the date.

She didn’t know herself. Either way, there was an intense mood hanging in the air between them and she had to break it. She glanced at her watch. “Right, we have five minutes before we have to leave. Tell me everything there is to know about the birthday girl.”

He raised a brow. “I can tell you that in five seconds. She’s turning five. She likes pink, some band called Hi-5 and playing with dolls. As far as I can tell that’s pretty much it.”

“You don’t have much to do with your nieces, do you?”

He shrugged. “I’m busy and, technically, they’re not actually my nieces. They’ve got enough real aunts and uncles that they don’t need me hanging around.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“That’s the way it is. Besides, kids aren’t really my thing.” He pushed to a stand and began to clear the table.

“It’s okay,” she rushed, feeling a little off-kilter at his mention of children. “I can do it later.”

“Why? When we still have four minutes left.” His tone was flirty and she couldn’t argue with his logic.

“Suit yourself.”

It had been so long since she’d washed up alongside a handsome man. Scrap that, she’d never shared such mundane chores with anyone like Cameron. The knowledge was strangely arousing. In three years with Tim, she’d never seen him near the kitchen sink and she’d bet money on the fact he wouldn’t know a tea towel if she whacked him over the head with one. Which six months ago she would have happily done.

She didn’t glance up as the water sloshed into the sink and Cameron squeezed liquid from the nozzle. But she couldn’t help peering down, her insides roiling as she took in the perfection of his large hands.

How could she help her mind traveling back to that perfect night when his hands took liberties all over her body?

As her body reacted in ways she’d never experienced before, she threw the tea towel down on the bench and decided it was time to leave. How crazy had she become to be turned on by washing up? “I’ll just grab my bag, then we’d better be going.”

She slipped away to her bedroom to take a moment. Deep breaths, a little cold wipe across her brow, a stern talking to her hormones. When she was ready, she found Cameron waiting at her living room door, leaning against the frame. He smiled as she approached and brushed his palm against the small of her back as she slipped out the door ahead of him. It was totally innocuous, yet she felt as if her clothes had gone up in flames against her skin.

She actually shivered.

Cameron frowned as he pulled the door shut behind him. “You’re not cold, are you?”

She bit down hard on her lip but was unable to lie. Their eyes met as she answered, “No.”

The muscles in Cameron’s neck visibly tensed, his eyes smoldering in a way that told her he understood and that she wasn’t the only one with irrational hormones racing through her veins. For a second, she wondered if he’d lean forward to kiss her. Grasp her face in his strong bold hands and ravage her lips with his own. If they’d bypass the party altogether and head back inside. Despite not wanting to disappoint a five-year-old birthday girl, Peppa couldn’t help but hope.

Instead, Cameron expelled air through tight lips, and marched right past her. Gruffly adding, “Let’s go.”

The journey to his cousin’s was stifling. Granted it was hot January weather but his car air-conditioner had never had a problem combating the heat before. Cameron couldn’t deny it was Penelope’s presence that had his insides a sweltering mess. Usually the simple fact that he was attracted to an employee would be more than enough to douse the fire but such thoughts weren’t working where this particular voice talent was concerned.

All he could think about was how her soft curves had felt in his hands and her words about not looking for Mr. Right. All he could think about was whether having an affair with an employee was really a blatant no-no.

For once he couldn’t wait to get to his aunt’s place and give himself something else to focus on. This constant focus on Penelope and another proposition he wanted to offer her was driving him insane.

When they pulled up at his cousin Chelsea’s inner-city townhouse, pink and purple balloons attached to the fence were waving in the wind. He couldn’t help notice Penelope’s face light up at the sight. The children were already inside and he could hear their noise from the driveway. His heart pounded against his chest cavity. He knew the ridiculousness of a businessman like himself being scared to face a group of little girls but it was what they signified that left him cold. A dream lost. A life wasted.

Cut the philosophy,
he told himself as he marched round to help Penelope and her wings out of the car. “You ready?”

She breathed deeply and smiled refreshingly. “Sure. I hope I don’t disappoint.”

“You won’t,” said Cameron. There was something about Penelope—an aura or something if he bought into that new-age sort of rubbish—that made her the type of person everyone wanted to be around. He knew the party-goers would be as enamored by her as he was; only they wouldn’t have to keep such emotions in check.

Penelope reached down to grab a mammoth bag but he scooped it up first.

“Thanks,” she said, as he beeped the car locked and they headed round the back as Auntie Rose had instructed.